A strange excursion—A fairy scene—Joe is puzzled and frightened—A
wonderful discovery—Navigation of the upper regions—A crash—No bones
broken.
Several weeks had elapsed since the incidents recorded in the last
chapter. The repulse of the Osages was succeeded by the arrival of a
war-party of Pawnees, and a deadly feud existing between these tribes,
the latter readily joined the whites, and speedily chased the enemy far
beyond the settlements. Boone had returned to his family on the other
side of the river; and Sneak, having made peace with Joe, had likewise
withdrawn to his own domicil, to pursue his avocations of hunting and
trapping in solitude.
Glenn sat before a blazing fire in his little castle, his left hand
clasping a closed book he had been reading, while his dextral elbow was
resting on the rude arm of a chair which he had constructed and
cushioned with furs, and his palm supported his chin. He thus sat
silently, looking steadfastly through one of the little square windows
at the snow-encrusted branches of the trees beyond the inclosure, and
apparently indulging a pleasing train of reflections.
Joe, on the contrary, was engaged in boisterous and mirthful exercise
on the deep and frozen snow without. He was playing with the kitten,
the fawn, and the hounds, and occasionally ran into the stable to
caress the horses.
At length, with no other object than a dreamy impulse to wander among
the wild scenes in the vicinity, Glenn started up, and donning a warm
overcoat and seizing his rifle, set out along the cliff up the river,
(a direction which he had never yet traversed,) accompanied by Joe, who
seemed to look upon his master’s pale composed face, and determined
though gentle motions, with curiosity, if not mystery.
“Why do you stare at me so often?” inquired Glenn, pausing, after they
had walked some distance in silence.
“Because I don’t know what you’re after,” replied Joe.
“You’ll see what I’m after,” said Glenn, setting forward, and
continuing his course along the cliff.
A snow of several feet in depth rested on the earth, and the sun that
shone forth at noon had melted the surface so frequently, that the
freezing nights which had as often succeeded had formed an icy
incrustation quite strong enough to bear the weight of a man. Though it
was a dreary waste, yet Glenn gleaned a satisfaction in casting his
eyes around where his glance beheld no one striving to oppress his
fellow being that he might acquire riches and power, to be again
snatched from his grasp by others, but a peaceful scene, fresh from the
hand of God, and unmarred by the workmanship of meaner creatures. The
broad river far below was covered with a massy plate of ice, and the
snow that rested upon it gave it the appearance of an immense plain,
rather than an incrusted surface of the most perturbed and erratic
stream in the world. The geese and other fowl that wandered over the
frozen surface in quest of their native element, from the great
distance down, seemed to be no larger than sparrows.
Ere long, Glenn and his man reached the valley above, and commenced a
descent through the timber in a diagonal direction, that would conduct
them, after numerous windings, to the edge of the frozen stream, along
which a narrow pathway ran northward about a mile. Glenn paused at an
abrupt angle in his descent, after having proceeded a few paces through
the undergrowth, and stood long in wonderment and admiration, gazing at
the scene that suddenly burst in view. His towering position overlooked
the whole valley. The ten thousand trees beneath, and their ten million
branches and twigs all completely clothed in crystal—while not the
slightest breeze was stirring—presented a view of fairyland, such as
flits across the vision in dreams, that the memory fain would cling to,
but which is lost in the real and conflicting transactions of returning
day. The noonday sun was momentarily veiled by a listless cloud, which
seemed to be stationary in the heavens, as if designed to enhance the
effect of the beauty below, that outvied in brightness even the usual
light above. Not a squirrel was seen to leap from bough to bough, nor a
bird to flit across the opening between the lofty trees; but all was
stillness, silence, and beauty. As Glenn stood entranced, Joe seemed to
be more struck with the operation of the enchantment on his companion’s
features and attitude, than with any effect from the same source
experienced on himself.
“Ain’t you going down to the bottom of the valley?” asked Joe.
“It is a scene such as is beheld by infants in their slumbers, when
they dream of paradise!” said Glenn, paying no attention to Joe, his
eyes immovably riveted on the innumerable sprigs of alabaster which
pointed out in every direction in profuse clusters, while his pale lips
seemed to move mechanically, and his brow expressed a mournful
serenity, as if entertaining a regret that he should ever be separated
from the pearly labyrinths before him, amid which he would delight to
wander forever.
“I think you must be dreaming yourself,” said Joe, staring at him.
“How composed is every object!” continued Glenn; “such must be the
abode of angels and departed spirits, who are not permitted longer to
behold the strifes of earth and its contaminations, but rove
continually with noiseless tread, or on self-poised wing, through
devious and delightful paths, surrounded by sedges of silver
embroidery, and shielded above by mazy fretwork spangled with diamonds,
or gliding without effort through the pure and buoyant air, from bower
to bower of crystal”
“Ugh—talking of the icy trees makes me chilly!” said Joe.
“With life everlasting and unchangeable!” continued Glenn, after a
momentary pause from the interruption of his man, which he only noticed
by a significant motion of the hand for him to be silent.
“But I wouldn’t like the eternal _frost-work_,” said Joe.
“Pshaw!” replied Glenn, pursuing his way downwards. When they reached
the bottom of the valley, they were yet a hundred paces distant from
its junction with the river, which was obscured by the many intervening
trees that grew along the frozen rivulet. Here Glenn again paused to
contemplate the scene. The hills that rose abruptly on either hand, and
the thick intertwining branches above, combined to produce a dusky
aspect scarce less dim than twilight. Glenn folded his arms composedly,
and looked thoughtfully round, as if indulging the delightful fancies
engendered when wandering forth on a summer’s pleasant evening. “There
seems to be a supernatural influence pervading the air to-day,” he
said, in a low-tone, “for I sometimes imagine that flitting spirits
become partially visible. On the pendent icicles and jewelled twigs, me
thinks I sometimes behold for an instant the prismatic rays of elfins’
eyes—”
“Don’t believe it,” said Joe; “or if it is so, they are weeping at the
cold, and will soon be frozen up.”
“And at each sudden turn,” continued Glenn, “they seem to linger an
instant in view, and then vanish sportively, as if amused at the
expense of impotent mortals.”
“I can’t hear ’em laugh,” said Joe.
“And then,” continued Glenn, “although beyond human consciousness,
there may be heavenly sounds in the air—the melody of aërial harps and
fairy voices—to which our ears may be sealed, when, perchance, our
vicinity to their presence may inspire the peculiar sensation I now
experience.”
“I heard a heap of curious sounds one warm sunshiny morning,” said Joe;
“but when I asked an old fellow jogging along the same road what they
meant, he said the day before had been so cold when the stage-driver
went by that his wind froze as it came out of the bugle, and was just
then thawing.”
“If such beings do exist,” continued Glenn, paying no attention to Joe,
“it would delight me to commune with them face to face.”
“I see a buck’s head!” cried Joe, looking down the dell, where the
object he mentioned was distinctly observable amid a cluster of
spicewood bushes, whence a slight jingling sound proceeded as the
animal plucked the nutritious buds bent down by the innumerable
icicles.
“Why should not the sylvan gods”—continued Glenn.
“Hush! I’m going to fire!” said Joe.
“Why should they not resort hither,” said Glenn, unmindful of Joe,
“where no meaner beings abide?”
Joe fired, and Glenn started in astonishment, as if he had had no
intimation of his companion’s intention.
“Hang it all! Isn’t he going to die, I wonder?” said Joe, after the
buck had made one or two plunges in the snow, his sharp hoofs piercing
through the crust on the surface, and with much struggling extricated
himself and stood trembling, and looked imploringly at his foe.
“What in the world are you about?” exclaimed Glenn, casting a listless
glance at the deer, and then staring his companion in the face.
“Whip me if there was any lead in the gun!” said Joe. “I drew the
bullets out yesterday, and forgot to put them in again. But no
matter—he can’t run through the snow—I’ll kill him with the butt of my
musket.”
“Move not, at your peril!” said Glenn, authoritatively, when Joe was
about to rush on the defenceless buck.
“I do believe you are out of your head!” said Joe, staring Glenn in the
face, and glancing at the tempting prize, alternately.
“At such an hour—in such an elysian place as this—no blood shall be
spilled. It were profanity to discolor these pearly walks with clotted
gore.”
“The deuce take the pearls, say I!” said Joe.
“Perhaps,” continued Glenn, “a god may have put on the semblance of a
stag to tempt us.”
“And hang me, if I wouldn’t pretty soon spoil his physiognomy, if you
would only say the word!” said Joe, shaking his head sullenly at the
buck.
“Come,” said Glenn, sternly; and, leading the way, he passed within a
few feet of the terrified animal without turning his head aside, and
directed his steps down the valley towards the river. Joe said nothing
when opposite the buck, awed by the impressive tone and mysterious
bearing of his master; but he grinned defiance at him, and resolved to
embrace the first opportunity to steal out alone, and fully gratify his
revenge; for such was the feeling he now harboured against the animal.
When they reached the margin of the river, they wandered along the
narrow path that turned to the left, and continued up the stream, with
the ice but a few feet distant on one hand, and the precipitous
acclivity of rocks on the other. They maintained a brisk pace for about
thirty minutes, when the range of cliffs terminating abruptly, they
entered a low flat forest.
“_Now_, what do you say to my firing?” exclaimed Joe, staring at an
enormous wolf, a short distance on the left, that seemed to be tearing
the flesh from the carcass of a deer.
“You must not fire,” replied Glenn, viewing the scene with no interest.
“Why not? If the deer’s a sylvan god, the wolfs sure to be a black
devil, and it’s a duty to take the god’s part,” said Joe.
“No!” replied Glenn, still striding on.
“Where are you going to, I should like to know? I hope you haven’t any
idea of going closer to the haunted island!” said Joe, following
reluctantly.
“What haunted island?” asked Glenn.
“Why that one right ahead of us!” replied Joe, pointing to a small
island a few hundred paces distant.
“Who says it is haunted?” demanded Glenn.
“Why, everybody in the country _knows_ it’s haunted. Didn’t you hear
Miss Mary telling all about it?”
“What did she tell about it?”
“That several years ago a man flew up the river riding on a black cloud
of smoke, and after scaring all the Indians and everybody else away,
took up his abode in yonder island. Not a soul, from that day to this,
has ever been nearer to it than we are now. But strange sights have
been seen there. Once a great big swan, as large as our house, was seen
to come out of the willows and leap into the water. After seeing it
paddle about an hour or two in every direction, an old beaver trapper
and deer hunter took it into his head that it was nothing more than a
water-fowl of some large species; and resolving to have a crack at it
anyhow, he crept behind the rocks at the end of the cliff, and blazed
away when it swam past the next time. Mercy on us! when he fired, they
say the thing turned his head towards him, and came at him in a
straight line, and as fast as lightning, blowing sparks of fire out of
its nostrils, while the poor man stood stock still, spell-bound, until
it seized upon him, and he has never been heard of since.”
“Nothing more?” asked Glenn, lightly, and smiling.
“Good gracious! what more would you want? But there _was_ more; for the
very next day, when the people were looking at the island from a
distance, and wondering what had been the fate of old Odell, another
large bird came out. But this was like an eagle, and instead of going
into the water, it flew up into the air, and kept going higher and
higher, until it was no bigger than a sparrow, and soon vanished
altogether! I declare we are too near the island now, Mr. Glenn; let us
go back; we have gone far enough!” said Joe, beseechingly, his own tale
having roused all the terrors which his nature was capable of
harboring.
Glenn seemed to pay no attention to what his companion was saying, but
strode onward directly towards the island.
“Mr. Glenn!” continued Joe, stepping ahead, and facing him by turning
round. “Oh, sir! you don’t certainly intend to venture any closer to
that fatal spot?”
“Pshaw!” replied Glenn, pushing him aside, and continuing on. When they
were opposite the island, Joe, whose alarm had almost deprived him of
the power of motion, was now struck with horror as he beheld his master
pause, and then descend to the ice, and walk deliberately to the
haunted ground! When Glenn reached the bank, he turned to his pale and
shivering companion, and motioned him to follow.
“Oh, Heaven! we’ll never be seen any more!” cried Joe, between his
chattering teeth.
“Come on, Joe! I’ll take care of you,” said Glenn, encouragingly, as
his man hesitated in doubt when midway on the ice.
“The holy saints preserve me!” said Joe, gliding over, quaking with
fear, and clinging to Glenn’s hand.
They walked up a gentle ascent from the water’s edge, whence Glenn
expected to see nothing more than a surface of snow, and the dense
growth of young timber incident to such a place. But what was his
surprise, on beholding, in the midst of the island, and obscured from
view to the surrounding country by an almost impenetrable grove of
young willows, a round chimney-top rising over a high circular granite
wall! Nothing daunted, he continued his steps directly towards the
mysterious dwelling, notwithstanding the protestations and prayers of
Joe. When they drew near, a thin slightly coloured vapor could be
distinguished ascending from the chimney, indicating that the tenement
was certainly inhabited. When they reached the wall, they pursued their
way round it until they found a small iron gate.
“Rap there, Joe,” said Glenn. Joe only turned his head, and looked at
him in silence.
“Knock,” continued Glenn.
“Oh!” exclaimed Joe, falling on his knees. “If ever you were prevailed
on not to do any thing you were doing, let me this one time persuade
you to leave this place.”
“Knock!” repeated Glenn, emphatically. Joe struck the gate several
blows with his knuckles, but so gently that he could not hear them
himself. Glenn seemed to grow angry, and seizing his man’s musket, was
in the act of applying the end of it violently, when the gate flew open
at one spring, and a hoary porter stood bowing and beckoning before
him.
“Do not enter!” cried Joe, throwing his arms around Glenn.
“It is too late, now—you have knocked, and it is opened unto you—your
mission must be accomplished before you turn back. Mine is not yet
effected—I am the one who dared to face the magic swan—and like me, all
who come hither must remain until it shall be the pleasure of the
fire-wizard to release them,” said the old attendant.
“Lead me to this fire-wizard!” said Glenn, firmly, stepping into the
inclosure. When they entered, the gate closed after them without any
apparent agency of the old hunter, and with such force that Joe sprang
several feet forward.
“Oh, goodness! we are nothing but poor rats in the trap, now!”
exclaimed he.
“I pledged myself for your safety, and will keep my word,” said Glenn.
“But what will the wizard care about your veracity?” asked Joe.
“Follow!” said the old porter, leading the way towards the house. After
passing several small buildings, Glenn found himself in a spacious
area, over which were scattered various and strange implements, and
divers nondescript machines. Some half dozen men were also observed,
their sleeves rolled up, and intently plying the chisel, the file and
other tools. These men cast a momentary and sullen glance at the
visitors, like convicts in the penitentiary, and resumed their labours
in silence. The party soon arrived at the door of the main building,
when the old porter entered alone, and after remaining a few moments
within, came forth and announced his readiness to conduct our hero into
the presence of the fire-wizard. Glenn motioned him to lead on, and
after following through a short hall, and turning into a large chamber,
the mysterious lord of the island was confronted, reclining before them
on a couch of furs. He appeared to be an emaciated and decrepit old
man, his long white beard extending down to his breast; and when he
motioned our hero to a seat, his hand seemed to tremble with
feebleness. Yet there was something in his eye that indicated no
ordinary spirit, and instantly impressed Glenn with the respect that he
conceived to be due to superior genius; for notwithstanding all the
miraculous things told of the fire-wizard, he rightly conjectured the
personage before him to be nothing more than a human being, a recluse,
perhaps, and, like himself, seeking in solitude the enjoyments which
(for peculiar reasons) could not be found among mankind.
“What brings thee hither?” demanded the aged man, after a few minutes’
silence, during which his brilliant eyes were closely fixed upon the
composed features of Glenn.
“That which induced thee to seek such a solitary abode,” replied our
hero.
“Have you no fears?” continued the old man.
“None!” replied Glenn, firmly.
“Give me your hand!” exclaimed the old man; “you are the only being
that ever confronted the fire-wizard without feeling terror—and for
those who know not fear there is no danger. Instead of a menial, or a
victim, I will make you my companion.”
“Thank him, Mr. Glenn,” whispered Joe, “and perhaps he won’t hurt us.”
“I am seeking amusement,” said Glenn; “and as long as I am pleased, it
matters not with whom or where shall be my abode. But the moment I
desire it, I will go hence.”
The fire-wizard motioned the attendant to withdraw, who instantly
obeyed, leading Joe out at the same time, the poor fellow evincing
great reluctance to be separated from Glenn.
“Before exhibiting to you the mysterious objects which have acquired
for me the name of magician,” said the old man, “I will briefly give
you my history. I was, in youth, they termed an idle dreamer—ever on
the alert for new discoveries—and was more laughed at than encouraged
in my pursuit of rare inventions. More than fifty years ago I
ascertained that steam might be made to propel machinery. I attempted
to explain the principles of this discovery to my fellow-men, and to
convince them of the vast benefits that might result from it. I was not
heeded—nay, I was insulted by their indifference—and made a solemn vow
that its advantages should never be reaped through my instrumentality.
In secret I constructed a small steamboat, and having placed on board
such materials as might be required, and secured the assistance of a
requisite number of artisans, I came hither, resolved to prosecute my
experiments to my own satisfaction in solitude, where the taunts of
skeptics could not reach me. Follow, and you shall behold what has been
the result of my unrestrained researches.” The old man arose, and
conducted our hero across the yard to a curtained shelter on one side
of the inclosure.
“La! if that ain’t its foot!” exclaimed Joe, who joined our hero, and
observing a large foot, resembling in shape that of the swan, under the
folds of the curtain, while the old wizard paused a moment before
unveiling the curious object. It was as Joe surmised: when the canvas
was withdrawn, an artificial swan of monstrous dimensions, though
perfect in all its proportions, was revealed to their wondering gaze. A
little beyond, another curtain was drawn aside, and an eagle, holding
in its beak a bloody crown, and in its talons a silken banner of
stripes and stars, stood before them in the attitude of springing up in
the air.
“Which will you try first?” demanded the fire-wizard, while a proud
smile played on his lips.
“Can _either_ of them be set in motion by your art?” asked Glenn.
“Both!” exclaimed the wizard. “If you will tarry till the ice is gone,
the swan shall rush through the strongest current as swiftly as the
wild horse careers over the prairie; or the eagle shall even now dart
beyond the clouds, and transport you in a few brief hours to where you
will see the briny waves rolling against the distant Atlantic coast!”
Glenn was incredulous, and his unbelief was betrayed by a smile, in
spite of his efforts to the contrary.
“Bring hither a lamp!” said the wizard to the attendant and was quickly
obeyed.
“Oh, don’t make him mad! He’s going to do something now!” whispered Joe
to Glenn. The wizard touched a spring; the breast of the eagle flew
open, and within could be seen polished wheels and other portions of a
complicated machinery. The old man next applied the blaze of the lamp
to some spirits within, and in a very few minutes particles of steam
could be seen to escape from the eagle’s nostrils. The wizard touched
another spring, and the enormous bird strode out and paused in the
centre of the area.
“If you would behold the home of your youth, be it whithersoever it
may, so that you name it, follow me, and your eyes shall gaze upon that
spot within a few hours,” said the sage, as the wings of the stupendous
eagle slowly unfolded, and rising to a horizontal position, uncovered a
transparency in the side of the chest, through which could be seen a
gorgeous couch within, sufficiently ample to contain two men, and
separate from the fire and machinery by a partition of isinglass.
“Come!” exclaimed the sage, opening the tortoise-shell door under the
wing, and stepping into the couch.
“Don’t do any such thing!” said Joe.
“Ha! ha! ha! Do you think it can fly, Joe?” remarked Glenn, laughing.
“It _will_ fly!” said the old man, emphatically; “and I charge you to
be prepared to ascend beyond the clouds, if you have the courage to
occupy a portion of my couch.”
“Though I cannot believe it will rise at your bidding,” replied Glenn,
“yet, should it do so, I must be permitted to regard you as being only
flesh and blood, and as such, I do not hesitate to venture as much as
another mortal will;” Baying which, our hero seated himself beside the
reputed fire-wizard.
The old man closed the door, and drawing forth a small compass (his
companion intimating the course,) adjusted several screws within
convenient reach, accordingly; he then pressed a small lever with his
foot, and the wings, after quivering a moment, flapped quickly, and the
great eagle darted almost perpendicularly up in the air, and was beyond
the reach of vision in a very few seconds!
When a certain height was attained, the wizard turned the bird in the
course indicated by his companion.
“What think you now of the fire-wizard!” demanded the sage, with an air
of triumph.
“Still that he is a man—but a great one—and this, the perfection of his
art, the greatest extent the Supreme Being has permitted the mind of a
man to attain!” replied Glenn, gazing in admiration at the countries
far below, which he was passing with the velocity of a hurricane.
“And still you fear not!” demanded the wizard.
“And shall not!” replied Glenn, “so long as your features are
composed.” The old man pressed his hand and smiled.
“Yonder is St. Louis!” cried Glenn, running his eye along the valley of
the Missouri, down to its confluence with the Mississippi; and a short
distance beyond, descried the town in question, though it did not seem
to be larger than one ordinary mansion, with its garden and customary
appendages.
“We are far above the reach of vision from the earth,” said the wizard,
bounding forward to endeavour to regulate a part of the machinery that
had for some time attracted his attention, and which Glenn believed to
be not altogether right, from the abrupt movement of his companion.
“How far above the earth are we?’ asked Glenn.
“About twenty-five miles—but should this screw give way, it may be less
very speedily!” exclaimed the old man, almost incoherently, and
applying all his strength to the loosened screw to keep it in its
place.
“Let me assist!” exclaimed Glenn, springing forward.
“It’s gone!” cried the old man; “you have knocked it out! we are
falling—crushed!”
“That’s just what I expected,” said Joe, addressing the fawn, which had
been playing with the dogs, and at length ran against Glenn’s chair so
violently as to push it over.
“Oh! oh! oh!” exclaimed Glenn.
“Goodness! Are you hurt?” asked Joe.
“Is it possible? Am I alive, and _here_?” exclaimed Glenn, staring
wildly round, and doubting his own identity.
“Well, I never heard a dead man talk, as I know of, before; and as to
our being _here_, if your own eyes don’t convince you, I’ll swear to
it,” said Joe.
“Did I not go up to the island this morning?” inquired Glenn.
“No,” said Joe.
“Did you not accompany me, and fire at the buck?” interrogated Glenn,
resuming his seat.
“No—I’ll be hanged if I did!” said Joe somewhat warmly.
“What have I been doing all day?”
“You’ve been sitting there fast asleep, and I presume you were
dreaming.”
“Thank Heaven, it was but a dream!” exclaimed Glenn, laughing.
“A dream?” responded Joe, sitting down on his stool, and soliciting
Glenn to relate it to him. Glenn complied, and the narration was
nothing more than what the incredulous reader has been staring at all
this time. But we will make amends.