CHAPTER VIII.

The “Ole Bar’s Hole.”

Next morning, after a hasty breakfast, the boys saddled their horses,

and, led by the trapper, set out to find the wagon. Now it was that

the latter showed the young hunters his extraordinary “travelin’

qualities,” as he expressed it; for as soon as the boys were in their

saddles, he shouldered his rifle and started off, at a rapid pace,

which he did not slacken at all until they arrived on the banks of a

small stream, where they stopped to quench their thirst.

“Now, youngsters,” said the trapper, seating himself on the ground,

and wiping his forehead with his coat sleeve, “There’s the place. The

Comanche’s camp war pitched jest in the edge of them ar’ willows, an’

right where you see them bushes war where I stood afore I started to

run the gauntlet. The chief’s wigwam stood thar then. I tell you, it

warn’t healthy fur a feller to go foolin’ ’round here them days.”

The boys gazed long and earnestly at every object the trapper pointed

out, and listened to his narration of the various incidents that had

transpired during his captivity, until they almost fancied they could

see the prairie covered with painted savages, and their guide, in the

midst of his foes, awaiting the signal to begin his race for life.

Dick, himself, was no less interested, for he sat for a long time

feasting his eyes on every familiar object; now and then casting

suspicious glances toward the distant willows, as if he almost

expected to catch a glimpse of a hostile warrior, or hear the

war-whoop which had so often awoke the echoes of those very mountains.

“Wal, youngsters,” said he, at length, “let’s be movin’! I never

expected to see the time when I could travel over these ere prairies

without bein’ in danger of havin’ my har raised; an’ if you live to be

as old as I am, you’ll see the day that ’em city chaps will ride

through here on ’em steam railroads; an’ if they see this place,

they’ll never dream that such things as I have told you about ever

happened here.”

The travelers again set out, Dick leading the way, at a still more

rapid pace, and in two hours they arrived at the camp. Mr. Winters and

old Bob were lying in the shade of the wagon, and as the boys

approached, the former raised himself on his elbow, and inquired:

“Well, boys, how do you like traveling on your own hook? Do you think

you could find your way to California without a guide?”

“Oh, they war all right!” exclaimed Dick, leaning his rifle against

the wagon, and picking up the antelope skin which Archie had thrown

down, and which contained some choice pieces of meat. “They war all

right! Me and Useless found ’em down on Muddy Creek, Bob. They had

killed this prong-horn, made their camp, an’ war takin’ matters easy

like, as though they had never heered tell on a Comanche--the keerless

fellers.”

While Frank and Archie were unsaddling their horses, the trapper

proceeded to recount their adventures, to which both Mr. Winters and

old Bob listened attentively. The latter was not a little astonished

to learn that the boys could so readily accommodate themselves to

circumstances, and was more firm than ever in his belief that “the

youngsters would make good trappers.”

Mr. Winters had, at first, been considerably alarmed at their absence;

but, upon reflection, he remembered that the boys had often been in

positions fully as dangerous, from which they had always succeeded in

extricating themselves, and he soon fell in with the trapper’s

opinion, that they would “turn up all right.” He did not think it

necessary to caution them, for, from the description the trapper gave

of their adventures, it was not at all probable that they would ever

again be placed in a like situation.

After a hearty dinner, which Dick speedily served up, they again set

out toward the mountains, which they reached about the middle of the

afternoon. After riding along the edge of the willows, for half a

mile, they came to a wide but very shallow stream, into which the

trapper turned, and after following it for some distance, drove out on

the bank and stopped.

“Here we are,” said he, as he climbed down out of his wagon. “Now,

youngsters, you’re at the ole bar’s hole. But if you didn’t know it

war here, you might hunt fur it till your har war whiter nor Bob’s,

an’ then you wouldn’t find it, an’ that wouldn’t be no wonder neither;

fur many a sharpeyed Comanche has looked an’ peeped fur it, but only

one ever found it that I know of, an’ it didn’t do him no good, fur he

never lived to tell of it.”

While the trapper was speaking, old Bob had dismounted from his horse,

and, walking up to a thicket of bushes which grew at the foot of a

high rock that overhung the bed of the stream, began pulling them

aside, and finally disclosed to view an opening that appeared to lead

down into the very bowels of the earth. Meanwhile, Dick had gathered

some dry wood for a torch, and, after lighting it, he backed down into

the hole and disappeared, followed by Frank and Archie, who were

impatient to see the inside of the cave which had so often served

their guide as a secure retreat from his enemies. The passage was long

and winding, and it was with considerable difficulty that the boys

worked their way into it. Besides, it was in some places so narrow

that they could scarcely squeeze themselves through it. The trapper,

however, worked his way along with a celerity that was surprising, and

soon both he and the torch were out of sight, and the boys were left

in pitch darkness. But there was little danger of their being lost in

that narrow passage, and they crawled along as rapidly as possible,

until at length Archie, who was leading the way, stopped, and began to

rub his elbows and knees, which had received some pretty severe

scratches from the sharp rocks.

“I say, Frank,” he exclaimed, “how do you suppose Dick ever squeezed

his broad shoulders through a narrow place like this? What’s that?” he

added, in a terrified voice, as they heard a savage growl, which

seemed to sound directly over their heads.

Frank did not stop to answer, but throwing himself on his hands and

knees, began to make the best of his way out of the passage, closely

followed by his cousin, who urged him to go faster. They had not gone

far when they were startled by the report of a rifle, which was

followed by a roar that echoed and reëchoed through the cave like a

heavy clap of thunder. What it was that had uttered that roar the boys

were unable to determine; but they knew, by the report of the

trapper’s rifle, and the sounds of a fierce struggle that came faintly

to their ears, that Dick had found his old harboring-place occupied

by some animal which did not feel disposed to give up possession; and

they got out of the passage in much less time than it had taken them

to get into it. When they reached the open air, the old trapper, who

had heard the report of his “chum’s” rifle, threw himself on his hands

and knees, and crawled into the cave, followed by Mr. Winters. The

boys at once ran to the wagon after their weapons, but by the time

they had secured them, the fight was ended, and Dick made his

appearance at the mouth of the passage. But he did not look like the

man who had gone into that cave but a few moments before. His

hunting-shirt and leggins were torn almost into shreds, his arms were

bare to his shoulders, and were covered with wounds that were bleeding

profusely. The boys were horrified; but their fears that the trapper

had received serious injury were speedily set at rest, for he smiled

as if nothing had happened, and exclaimed:

“Now you see what it is to be a trapper, youngsters. I shall allers

think that ’ar cave has a good name, fur if me an’ Useless didn’t find

the biggest grizzly bar in thar we ever sot eyes on, then thar aint no

more beaver in the Missouri River.”

As he spoke, he divested himself of what remained of his

hunting-shirt, and walked down to the creek to wash the blood off his

hands and face, in which he was assisted by Mr. Winters. While this

was going on, old Bob crawled out of the cave, carrying two cubs in

his arms, which he presented to the boys, saying:

“Them’s young grizzlies. They don’t look now as if they would ever get

to be as big and fierce as their mother war.”

As the boys took them, they both set up a shrill cry, and fought most

desperately for such small animals, and their sharp little claws left

more than one mark upon the hands and faces of the young hunters.

“Keep an eye open, Bob,” shouted Dick, who was seated on the ground,

while Mr. Winters was bandaging his wounds. “Keep an’ eye open, ’cause

the old man of the family may be ’round.”

Upon hearing this, Archie dropped his cub, and seizing his rifle, cast

anxious glances upon the surrounding woods. But if the father was in

the vicinity, he evidently thought it best to keep out of sight.

When Dick’s wounds had been cared for, and he had put on another suit

of clothes, he seated himself on the ground, near the boys, while Bob

kindled a fire and began preparations for supper.

“It aint allers fun to be a trapper, youngsters,” said Dick, puffing

away at his pipe, “’cause, afore a man can earn that name, he’s got to

go through a heap of skrimmages, like the one I jest had. When I’m on

the prairy, or in the mountains, I allers keep my eyes open, an’ the

fust thing I seed as I crawled out of that passage into that ar’ cave

war that grizzly bar. She seed me, too, and set up a growl, as if to

tell me that I couldn’t get away from thar any too quick; but she

didn’t wink more’n twice afore I sent a chunk of lead into her. The

light of the torch, however, bothered me, an’ I didn’t shoot atween

her eyes, as I meant to; an’ afore a feller could say ‘Gin’ral

Jackson,’ she war comin’ at me. Now, I’ve been in jest such scrapes

afore, an’ the way I’ve got pawed up, an’ seed other fellers that were

bigger and stronger than me, clawed an’ torn, has showed me that no

one man that ever lived is a match fur a full-grown grizzly; an’ when

I seed ole Bob poke his rifle out of the passage an’ draw a bead on

that bar’s head, I’ll allow it made me feel a heap easier. If he had

stayed away five minits longer, I don’t believe I’d ever showed you

the way to Californy. As it war, I got pretty well clawed up.”

This was the way the trapper described the fight in the cave, which

was one of the most desperate he had ever engaged in, as the severe

wounds he had received proved. But he looked upon such things as a

matter of course. He expected to be engaged in many similar fights;

always held himself in readiness for them, and when they were over,

another notch was added to those on the handle of his knife (for Dick

kept a strict account of the number of grizzlies he killed,) and he

had another story to tell by the camp-fire.

After supper, the trappers procured torches, and, accompanied by Mr.

Winters and the boys, proceeded to explore the cave. There, lying

where she had fallen in defense of her young, was the grizzly, which

was the first of these animals the boys had ever seen. As near as they

could judge, she was fully twice the size and weight of the bear Frank

had killed in the woods, and her claws, which she had used with such

effect upon the trapper and his dog, (for, in defending his master,

Useless had been most roughly handled,) measured eight inches in

length. Every thing in the cave bore evidence to the fact that the

fight had been a severe one. The floor and walls were covered with

blood, and on the bear’s body were numerous wounds, made by the knife

of the trapper, and the teeth of the faithful Useless.

After the boys had examined the bear to their satisfaction, old Bob

began to remove the skin, while Dick pointed out other objects of

interest in the cave. There were the withered hemlock boughs which had

many a time served him and Bill Lawson for a bed, and under them was a

hole about two feet square, which the trapper called his “pantry.” He

told Mr. Winters the story of the “struggle in the cave,” and showed

him the passage that led to the top of the hill where the Comanches

had entered, and where he had for two days kept watch, awaiting the

coming of old Bill.

They remained in the cave for an hour, listening to Dick’s stories;

for in his mind the “Ole Bar’s Hole” was associated with many exciting

events, and it was dark before they returned to the camp.

Frank on the Prairie · 第 8 / 19 章