THE CAMP IN THE MOUNTAIN GAP
Joseph Morris was now coming up, gun in hand, to learn the meaning of
the shot which had been fired. He looked with surprise at the dead
snakes and then at his nephew and the stranger.
“This is Mr. Washington, the surveyor,” said Dave, and then he added:
“This is my uncle, Mr. Joseph Morris. I am Dave Morris. We come from
back of Will’s Creek.”
“I have heard of the Morrises before,” said Washington, as he shook
hands with Joseph Morris.
“And I have heard of you, sir, and have met your brother Lawrence,”
answered Dave’s uncle. “You seem to have had a lively time of it,” he
continued, and kicked one of the snakes with his foot to make sure that
it was dead.
“Yes, I did have. But your nephew came to my aid, and between us we
made short work of the reptiles. Master David, I owe you my thanks, and
more.”
Washington bowed as he spoke, and Dave bowed in return. “It wasn’t
much I did,” said the youth. “You frightened them pretty well when you
fired that shot. It’s lucky you had your gun in hand.”
At this the surveyor smiled faintly. “I was out trying to stir up some
dinner,” he said. “You see, I left all my traps over at Denton’s and I
did not wish to go back until to-morrow. I thought it would be easy to
pick up a bird or two, or a pair of squirrels.”
“If that is the case, will you not come and eat with us?” said Mr.
Morris. “We were just preparing our midday meal. We have a-plenty and
you will be heartily welcome.”
At first Washington demurred, not wishing to intrude, but soon he saw
that the invitation was genuine, and he consented to join the Morrises.
“I left some of my surveying outfit behind yonder rocks,” he said. “I
will bring them over and then help with your fire,” and this he did,
and soon he and Dave were bringing in armfuls of wood. In half an hour
the meal was ready and the three sat down to partake of it.
At first there was a reserve upon both sides, as was natural, but as
the eating progressed all warmed up and then the talk flowed freely.
Washington told of the work he was doing for Mr. Burger and what he
had done for some men Mr. Morris knew, and the latter related how
Dave’s father had gone west and established a trading-post on the
Kinotah, and how he and Dave were now on their way to purchase some
goods needed by the trader. From this the conversation branched off
to the difficulty with the French and the Indians, and Joseph Morris
asked Washington if he knew how matters stood in political circles with
regard to these difficulties.
“Matters are not very promising,” answered the surveyor. “I heard
some guests at Greenway Court talking strongly of another war. But I
sincerely trust it does not come.”
“Will the Indians side with us if war does come?”
“My brother thinks they will and so does Mr. Fairfax, and so do some of
the hunters and traders who have been among them. But the Indian is an
uncertain creature, often moved more by impulse than reason, and there
is no telling how he will stand when it comes to striking a blow.”
The meal over, Washington saw that Dave was curious to learn something
of the method of surveying, and so brought forth his outfit and
explained the uses of the various instruments. The youth was deeply
interested and listened closely to all that was said.
“I wouldn’t mind being a surveyor myself,” he remarked. “That is, if I
could make a living at it.”
“You could do that readily enough if you could command the work,”
answered Washington. “But it is no child’s play, especially in the
mountains. In a week or two I expect to have some work to do which will
be exceedingly hazardous.”
“And what will it be?”
“Do you see yonder mountain, over near the split?”
“I do.”
“I must survey along the face of that mountain and through the gap to
the north-east, and around the mountain torrent running there. That
will mean rough work and dangerous climbing.”
“It would just suit me!” cried Dave. “I wish I could go along. Don’t
you want some help?”
“My regular man will be with me. He is now over at Denton’s after
another chain, for he lost one in the river.”
“I have been to the tops of a dozen mountains,” went on Dave. “I like
climbing very well, and it never makes me the least bit dizzy.”
“That’s certainly in your favor,” said Washington, with a smile.
He liked Dave’s frankness--which frankness was a good deal like
Washington’s own.
Over an hour was thus spent in camp, and then with a handshake the
Morrises parted company with the surveyor, who went back to his search
for landmarks. Soon the camp utensils were repacked, and they were off,
to the best crossing place the river, in that vicinity, afforded.
“He’s a fine young man,” was Dave’s comment, as he urged his steed
forward, side by side with that of his uncle. “His face has a
thoroughly good look.”
“That it has, Dave, and his tongue is as honest as his face. I do
not wonder that folks like to do business with him. And he must be
uncommonly clever, too, to conduct surveys of estates worth thousands
of pounds.”
“I wish I could go and survey yonder mountain with him.”
“It might prove harder work than you anticipated.”
“I don’t care--I would like to do it anyway. Roughing it just suits me.
That’s why I would like to be out with father.”
“I’m afraid, Dave, you’ll never care to settle down to steady farming
life,” said Joseph Morris, with a sigh. “It’s plain to see you have
your father’s restless spirit in you.”
“Well, we can’t all be farmers, Uncle Joe. Some men must be restless
or the world would stand still. Columbus was restless and that is what
made him discover America and Captain John Smith was restless, too,
and that brought him to Virginia and made him fight for his footing.
I don’t think it’s right to find fault with restless men, as you call
them, if they do what is right.”
“I am not finding fault, my lad. Only I want to caution you against
breaking away from habits that are steady. A steady farmer, who attends
strictly to his work, is worth a dozen such men as those restless
backwoodsmen for instance, who came into Winchester and raised a row.”
“But if a fellow doesn’t like farming?”
“Then try to find something else to do. There are many openings, and
more are springing up. You might get into some business in the town.
How would you like to be bound out as an apprentice?”
“I’d hate that! I don’t want to live in town. I would like trading, or
surveying, or something like that--something that would let me travel
around, and yet something that I could make money at.”
“Well, those openings are not so many. But perhaps your father will
need you soon, and out in that wild country you’ll get all the open air
you’ll want.”
The Shenandoah passed, their course was now directly for the gap in
the mountains which Washington had pointed out. Here the trail soon
plunged into the gloom of the mountain forest, where the cedars and
hemlocks were so thick the two could scarcely see a rod before them.
The road was rough to such a degree that the horses often came to a
standstill and had to be led forward by hand. The soil was black and
thick with insects and they had to watch carefully for fear of stirring
up such a snake’s nest as had been left behind.
“Mr. Washington certainly will have a task surveying through here,”
remarked Dave, as they came to a halt to catch their breaths after
toiling up a rocky hill.
“Such a forest as this must be hundreds of years old,” returned Mr.
Morris. “Look at that stately tree for example. It flourished probably
even before your grandfather was born. What a story it could tell could
it speak!”
“Probably it could tell more of the Indians than they know themselves,
Uncle Joe. It’s too bad the redskins couldn’t keep a written history,
isn’t it? It would make interesting reading, I’m thinking.”
Nightfall found them still in the mountains and no habitation of any
sort in sight. Mr. Morris climbed a tree and took a long view of their
surroundings.
“I can see no cabin,” he said, on descending to the ground. “We shall
have to spend the night in the open.”
“I shan’t mind,” answered Dave. “Let us start up a roaring camp-fire
and make ourselves comfortable.”
Searching around, they found a clump of bushes ten or a dozen feet
in diameter. With the hatchet Dave cut out the center of the clump,
leaving an opening large enough for his uncle and himself to sleep in.
Over the top of the remaining brush he fastened a canvas they carried,
and on the bottom of the improvised shelter he scattered some small
cedar branches. The latter gave forth a clean and wholesome smell and
would serve to keep the sleepers from the damp ground.
“There, that ought to make a good bunking-out place,” he declared when
he had finished.
“It will, Dave.” The boy’s uncle smiled. “You were cut out for a life
in the open, no doubt of that.”
While the boy was working around the brush, Joseph Morris had started
the camp-fire. The dry cedar caught fire readily and soon the generous
blaze made the surroundings decidedly cheerful. At the river they had
paused long enough for Dave to hook a fine fish, and this they baked on
a flat stone, and ate with some corn bread, washing the meal down with
a drink from a nearby brook. Then the horses were cared for, and they
laid down to rest.
Dave was tired and hardly had his head touched the cedar boughs when he
dropped off into a profound slumber. Mr. Morris sat up a little longer,
to finish a pipe of tobacco he had lit and to replenish the fire. But
presently the pipe went out, the fire was fed with an extra billet of
wood, and he too turned in, and in five minutes was snoring lustily.
Left to itself, the fire burnt merrily, the new fuel causing the flames
to shoot up far above the brushwood. The light attracted several
magnificent deer to the vicinity and the timid creatures came closer
and closer in their curiosity. On the trail of the deer came a large
and powerful panther, empty in stomach and longing for a meal of
venison.
Closer and closer to the camp-fire came the deer, sniffing the air
suspiciously and eyeing the fascinating blaze with nervous wonder.
Then the burning logs fell in a heap and they shrank back, startled by
the noise, slight as it was. As the blaze went down the panther crept
closer and still closer. Its hungry eyes gleamed ferociously and its
jaws began to work convulsively. Step by step it came up at the rear of
the largest of the deer, closer and still closer. Now it squatted flat
on the ground and gathered itself for a leap. Several seconds passed,
and the deer turned, as if told by instinct that something was wrong.
Then came a swift whirr of a heavy body through the midnight air and
the panther landed on the deer and brought it to the ground.