THE LITTLE GIANT
Boyd rode in front, Will was just behind, and then came the two heavily
laden pack horses, following their masters with a faith that nothing
could shake. The hunter seemed to have an instinct for choosing the
right way, or else his eyes, like those of an owl, were able to pierce
the dark. He avoided chasms and cliffs, chose the best places on the
slopes, and wherever he wound he always led deeper and deeper into the
vast maze of high mountains.
Will looked back toward the plains, but he could see no trace of them
now, and he did not believe that the Sioux, however skilled they might
be, could follow their trail up the ridges in the dark. Meanwhile the
stars came out, and a half moon rode in a medium sky. The boy's eyes,
grown used to the night, were now able to see quite clearly, and he
noticed that the region into which they were riding was steadily growing
wilder. Now and then they passed so close to the edge of chasms that he
shivered a little, as he looked down into the dark wells. Then they
passed up ravines where the lofty cliffs, clothed in stunted pine and
cedar, rose high above them, and far in the north he caught the
occasional glimpses of white crests on which the snow lay deep.
Boyd became quite cheerful, and, for a while, hummed a little air under
his breath. When he ceased singing he said:
"I don't know where we're going, Will, but I do know that we're going
away from the Sioux. They'll try to trail us tomorrow when the light
comes, and they may be able to do it, but we'll be moving on again, and,
however patient trailers may be, a trail that lengthens forever will
wear out the most patient trailer of them all."
"Isn't that a creek down there?" asked Will, pointing to a silver flash
in the dusk.
"So it is, and while these mountain streams usually have rough beds,
scattered with boulders, we'll ride up it as far as we can. It may be a
great help in hiding our trail."
They rode down the slope and urged the horses into the water, although
the good beasts showed reluctance, fearful of the bowlders and the rough
footing, but, when they were in, the two riders allowed them to pick the
way, and thus they advanced slowly and with extreme caution a distance
of five full miles. They heard a roaring and approached a fine fall of
about thirty feet, over which the creek tumbled, sending up much white
foam.
"This watery road is now blocked, that's quite sure," said Boyd. "But
we've been able to use it a much greater distance than I thought, and it
may throw off the Sioux entirely."
They emerged from the water and the horses climbed a steep slope to the
crest of a ridge, where they stood panting. Boyd and young Clarke
slipped from the saddles and stood by. The half moon and clusters of
stars still made in the sky a partial light, enabling them to see that
they stood upon a sort of broad shelf, sprinkled with large trees
without undergrowth, but well covered with long grass. The only way of
approach from the south was the rocky brook, along the bed of which they
had come. What lay to the north they did not know, but the shelf seemed
to narrow there.
"A large part of the night is spent," said Boyd, "and as it's not
possible for the Sioux to overtake us before dawn I vote we camp here,
because we're pretty well worn out, and the horses are dead tired. What
does the other half of the army say?"
"It says this place was just made for us," replied Will, "and we
shouldn't go forward another inch tonight."
"Then we'll unsaddle, tether the horses and take to our blankets,
though, if you say so, we will first draw a little on the commissariat."
"No. I'm too tired to eat. I'd rather go to sleep."
"The two halves of the army are in agreement. So will I."
The horses fell to cropping the rich grass, but their riders, seeking
the softest place they could find, folded themselves in their blankets
and soon slumbered as soundly as if they were in the softest beds
civilization could furnish.
Will awoke before dawn, and instantly remembered where he was. But while
all had been strife and strain and anxiety before he slept, he felt now
an immense peace, the great peace of the mountains. The horses having
eaten their fill were lying down. The murmurs of the swift brook below
came up to his ears, and with it the sound of a faint breeze playing in
just a whisper among the leaves. Far above him soared peaks and ridges,
so many and high that they seemed to prop up the eternal blue.
Will realized that he loved the mountains. Why shouldn't he? They had
given him refuge when he needed it most, saving him and Boyd from
dreadful torture and certain death. Somewhere in the heart of them lay
the great treasure that he meant to find, and they possessed a majesty
that appealed not merely to his sense of beauty, but to a spiritual
feeling that was in truth an uplift to the soul.
He was awake scarcely a minute, but all the events of the last few days
passed in a swift panorama before his mind--the warning of Red Cloud,
the silent departure by night from the camp of the troops, the pursuit
by the Sioux, and the escape into the high ranges. Rapidly as it passed
it was almost as vivid as if it were happening again, and then he was
asleep once more.
When he awoke the dawn was an hour old, and Boyd was kindling a low fire
down by the edge of the stream.
"We'll draw on the coffee once more this morning," he said. "After all
that we've passed through we're entitled to two cups of it apiece. I'll
make bread and warm some of the dried beef, too. Suppose, while I'm
doing it you climb to the crest over there, and use those glasses of
yours for all they're worth."
It was a stiff climb to the summit, but once there Will had a tremendous
view in all directions. Far to the south he was able to catch through
the powerful lenses the dim line of the plains, but on all other sides
were mountains, and yet more mountains. In the north they seemed very
high, but far to the west was a mighty rounded peak, robed at the top in
white, towering over every other. The narrow valley and the ridges were
heavy with forest, but the glasses could find no sign of human life.
He descended with his report, and found the coffee, the bread and the
meat ready, and while he had been too tired to eat the night before he
had a tremendous appetite now. When breakfast was over they sat by the
stream and considered the future. Boyd was quite sure the Sioux were
still following, and that they would eventually strike the trail, though
they might be two or three days in doing so. He was of the opinion that
they should go farther into the high ranges.
"And what becomes of our quest?" asked Will.
"You know, lad," responded the hunter, whimsically, "that the longest
way round is sometimes the shortest way through, and those that are in
too great a hurry often fall over their own feet. If you are careful
about your health and don't get shot you ought to live sixty or seventy
years yet, because you are surely a robust youngster, and so you're
richer in time than in anything else. I am, too, and for these reasons
we can afford to go into the very heart of the high mountains, where
we'll be well hidden, and bide until the danger of the Sioux pursuit has
passed."
"A long speech, Jim, but probably a true one. Do we start right away?"
"Aye, lad, the sooner the better. Both the horses and ourselves are fed
and refreshed. We don't know what this shelf leads to, but we can soon
find out."
They resaddled, but did not mount, letting the well-trained horses
follow, and proceeded along the shelf, until they entered a narrow pass,
where they were compelled to go in single file, the hunter leading the
way. Far below him Will heard the creek roaring as it foamed forward in
rapids, and he was glad that the horses were, what Boyd had declared
them to be, trained mountain climbers, walking on with even step,
although he felt an instinctive desire to keep as far as he could from
the cliff's edge, and lean against the slope on the other side. But
Boyd, made familiar with such trails by his years of experience in the
mountains, whistled gaily.
"Everything comes our way," he said. "If we were at the head of a trail
like this we could hold it against the entire Sioux nation, if we had
cartridges enough."
"I hope it won't go on forever," said Will. "It makes me feel a little
dizzy."
"It won't. It's opening out now. The level land is widening on either
side of the creek and that means another valley not much farther on."
But it was a good four miles before they emerged into a dip, covering
perhaps two square miles, covered heavily with forest and with a
beautiful little blue lake at the corner. Will uttered a cry of pleasure
at the sight of the level land, the great trees green with foliage, and
the gem of a lake.
"We couldn't have found a finer place for a camp," he said. "We're the
children of luck."
But the wise hunter shook his head.
"When the morning's cold we hate to pull ourselves out of comfortable
beds," he said, "and for mountaineers such as we've become I'll admit
that this valley looks like the Garden of Eden, but here we do not
bide."
"Why not?"
"Because it's too good for us to live in. The Sioux, of course, know of
it, and what draws us draws them, too. For a long time the finer a spot
becomes the more dangerous it is for us. No, we'll ride on past this
happy valley straight into the mountains."
"But at least let me take a little swim in that blue lake."
"Well, there's no harm in that, provided you're quick about it. When you
come out I'll take one myself."
Will undressed in a couple of minutes and sprang into the water, which
he found extremely cold, but he swam joyously for five minutes or so,
when he emerged and was followed by Boyd. When they were in the saddle
again both felt that their strength had been renewed and Will waved one
hand in farewell to the little blue lake.
"Good-bye, Friend Lake," he said. "You're not large, but you're very
beautiful, and some day I hope to come back and bathe in you again."
"The great ranges of mountains which run all about over the western part
of the continent are full of such pleasant valleys and cool little
lakes," said the hunter. "Often the lakes are far up the slopes, many
thousands of feet above the sea, and sometimes you don't see 'em until
you break right through the trees and bushes and come square up against
the water. If we keep on, as I intend we shall, it's likely that we'll
see a lot of 'em."
The lad's eyes kindled.
"That being so," he said, "I don't mind turning aside a while from our
real hunt, because then we'll be explorers. It will be glorious to find
new lakes and streams."
"Yes, it'll make the waiting easier, provided, of course, that we don't
have rain and storms. Rain can turn a wilderness paradise in fifteen
minutes into a regular place for the condemned. We've almost as much to
fear now from the sky as we have from the Indians on the ground. When
you see a little cloud up there you can begin to worry."
"But I don't see any, and so I refuse to worry yet."
They reached the farther edge of the valley and began to climb a slope,
which, easier at first, soon became rather stiff. But the horses once
more justified the hunter's praise and pressed forward nobly. He and
Will dismounted again, and they let Selim lead where he would.
"All horses have wilderness sense," said Boyd, "and Selim, having both
an educated sense and a wild sense, is sure to pick out the best way."
His confidence was not misplaced, as the horse instinctively chose the
easiest path, and, before the twilight came, they reached the crest of a
lofty ridge, from which they saw a sea of mountains in all directions, a
scene so majestic that it made Will draw a sharp breath.
"I think we'd better go down the slope until it becomes too dark for us
to see a way," said Boyd, "because we're up so high now that the night
is sure to be biting cold here on the very top of the ridge."
In an hour they found a glen sheltered well by high trees all about and
with a pool of icy cold water at the edge. It was a replica on a small
scale of the valley and lake they had left behind, and glad enough they
were to find it. They drank of the pool, and the horses followed them
there with eagerness. Then, eating only cold food, they made ready for
the night.
"Get an extra pair of blankets from your pack, Will," said Boyd. "You
don't yet know how cold the night can be on these mountains, at any time
of the year."
The hunter's advice was good, as Will the next morning, despite two
blankets beneath him and two above him, felt cold, and when he sprang up
he pounded his chest vigorously to make the circulation brisk. Boyd
laughed.
"I'm about as cold as you are," he said, "and, in view of the winter
into which we've suddenly dropped, we'll have hot coffee and hot food
for breakfast. I don't think we risk anything by building a fire here.
What's the matter with our horses?"
They had tethered the horses in the night, and all four of them suddenly
began to rear and stamp in terror.
"There's a scout watching us!" exclaimed Will.
"A scout?" said Boyd, startled.
"Yes! See him standing on the big rock, far off there to the right."
The hunter looked and then drew a breath of relief.
"Old Ephraim!" he said.
A gigantic grizzly bear was upreared on a great rocky outcrop about
three hundred yards away, and the opalescent light of the morning
magnified him in the boy's eyes, until he was the largest beast in the
world. Monstrous and sinister he stood there, unmoving, gazing at the
strange creatures in the little camp. He seemed to Will a symbol of this
vast and primeval new world into which he had come. Remembering his
glasses he took them and brought the great grizzly almost before his
eyes.
"He appears to be showing anger and a certain curiosity because we're
here," he said. "I don't think he understands us, but he resents our
invasion of his territory."
"Well, we're not going to explain who we are. If he don't meddle with us
we won't meddle with him."
The grizzly did not stay long, retreating from the rock, then
disappearing in the underbrush. Will had qualms now and then lest he
should break through the bushes and appear in their little glen, but
Boyd knew him better. He was content to leave alone those who left him
alone.
The breakfast with its hot coffee and hot food was very grateful, and
continuing the descent of the slope they passed through other narrow
passes and over other ridges, but all the while ascending gradually, the
world about them growing in majesty and beauty. Four days and a large
part of four nights they traveled thus after leaving the little valley
with the blue lake, and the bright air was growing steadily colder as
they rose. Boyd talked a little now of stopping, but he did not yet see
a place that fulfilled all his ideas of a good and safe camp, though he
said they would soon find it.
"How far do you think we've come into the mountains?" asked Will.
"About a hundred miles, more or less," replied the hunter.
"Seems to me more like a thousand, chiefly more. If the Sioux find us
here they'll have to be the finest mountain climbers and ravine crossers
the world has ever seen. Just what are you looking for, Jim?"
"Four things, wood, water, grass and shelter. We've got to have 'em,
both for ourselves and the horses, and we've got to find 'em soon,
because, d'you see, Will, we've been wonderfully favored by Providence.
The rains and storms have held off longer than they usually do in the
high mountains, but we can't expect 'em to hold off forever just for our
sakes. Besides, the hoofs of the horses are getting sore, and it's time
to give 'em a long rest."
They were now far up the high slopes, but not beyond the timber range.
The air was thin and cold, and at night they always used two pairs of
blankets, spreading the under pair on thick beds of dry leaves. In the
morning the pools would be frozen over, but toward noon the ice under
the slanting rays of the sun would melt. The march itself, and the air
laden with odors of pine and spruce, and cedar and balsam, was healthful
and invigorating. Will felt his chest expand. He knew that his lung
power, already good, was increasing remarkably and that his muscles were
both growing and hardening.
Another day and crossing a ridge so sharp that they were barely able to
pull the horses over it, they came to a valley set close around by high
mountains, a valley about three miles long and a mile wide, one-third of
its surface covered by a lake, usually silver in color, but varying with
the sky above it. Another third of the valley was open and heavy in
grass, the remainder being in forest with little undergrowth.
"Here," said Boyd, "we'll find the four things we need, wood, water,
grass and shelter, and since it's practically impossible for the
original band of Sioux to trail us into this cleft, here we will stay
until such time as we wish to resume our great hunt. What say you?"
"Seems to me, Jim, that we're coming home. This valley has been waiting
for us a great many years, but the true tenants have arrived at last."
"That's the right spirit. Hark to Selim, now! He, too, approves."
The great horse, probably moved by the sight of grass and water, raised
his head and neighed.
"If we had felt any doubts the horses would have settled it for us,"
said Will. "I understand their language and they say in the most correct
English that here we are to bide and rest, as long as we wish. The
presence of the lake indicates a running stream, an entrance and exit,
so to speak. I think, Jim, it's about the most beautiful valley I ever
saw."
They descended the last slope, and came to the creek that drained the
lake, a fine, clear, cold current, flowing swiftly over a rocky bottom.
After letting the horses drink they forded it, and rode on into the
valley. Will noticed something white on the opposite slope, and
examining it through his glasses saw that it was a foaming cascade.
"It's the stream that feeds the lake," he said. "It rushes down from the
higher mountains, and here we have a beautiful waterfall. Nature has
neglected nothing in preparing our happy valley, providing not only
comfort and security but scenic beauty as well."
The hunter looked a moment or two at the waterfall, and the tremendous
mountains about them with a careful eye.
"What is it, Jim?" asked Will.
"I'm looking for tracks."
"What tracks? You said we wouldn't find any Sioux in here."
"Not the footprints of the Sioux."
"It's not in the range of the Crows, Blackfeet or Assiniboines. Surely
you don't expect them."
"I don't expect Crows, Blackfeet or Assiniboines."
"Then what do you expect?"
"Wild animals."
"Why bother about wild animals? Armed as we are we've nothing to fear
from them."
"Nothing to fear, but a lot to hope. I think we're likely to stay here
quite a spell, and we'll need 'em in our business. Remember that for the
present, Will, we're wild men, and we'll have to live as wild men have
lived since the world began. We want their meat and their skins."
"The meat I understand, because I'd like to bite into a juicy piece of
it now, but we're not fur hunters."
"No, but we need the skins of big animals, and we need 'em right away.
This weather can't last forever. We're bound to have a storm sometime
soon. We must first make a wickiup. It's quite simple. The Sioux always
do it. A Sioux warrior never sleeps in the open if he can help it, and
as they've lived this sort of life for more hundreds of years than
anybody knows they ought to know something about it."
"But I don't see that cloud you told me several days ago to watch for."
"It will come. It's bound to come. Now here's the lake ahead of us.
Isn't it a beauty? I told you we'd find a lot of these fine little lakes
all along the slopes of the ridges, but this seems to be the gem of them
all. See how the water breaks into waves and looks like melted silver!
And the banks sloping and firm, covered with thick green turf, run right
down to the water's edge, like a gentleman's park."
"It's all that you claim for it," said Will, making a wide, sweeping
gesture, "and, bright new lake, I christen thee Lake Boyd!"
"The lake accepts the name," said the hunter with a pleased smile, and
then he added, also making a wide, sweeping gesture:
"Green and sheltered valley, I christen thee Clarke Valley."
"I, too, accept the compliment," said Will.
"The far side of the valley is much the steeper," said the hunter, "and
I think it would be a good idea for us to build the wickiup over there.
It would be sheltered thoroughly on one side at least by the lofty
cliffs."
"Going back a moment to the search you were making a little while ago,
have you noticed the footprints of any wild animals?"
"Aye, Will, my lad, so I have. I've seen tracks of elk, buffalo and
bear, and of many smaller beasts."
"Then, that burden off your mind, we might as well locate the site of
our house."
"Correct. I think I see it now in an open space under the shelter of the
cliff."
They had ridden across the valley, and both marked a slight elevation
under the shadow of the cliff, a glen forty or fifty yards across,
protected by thick forest both to east and west, and by thin forest on
the south, from which point they were approaching.
"It's the building site that's been reserved for us five hundred years,
maybe," said the hunter. "The mountain and the trees will shelter us
from most of the big winds, and if any of the trees should blow down
their falling bodies would not reach us here in the center of the open
space. There is grass everywhere for the horses, and water, both lake
and running, for all of us."
They unsaddled the riding horses, took the packs off the others and
turned them loose. All four neighed gratefully, and set to work on the
grass.
"They've done a tremendous lot of mountain climbing, and they've carried
heavy burdens," said Boyd, "and they're entitled to a long rest, long
enough to heal up their sore feet and fill out their sides again. Now,
Will, you'll make a great hunter some day, but suppose, for the present,
you guard the packs while I look for an elk and maybe a bear. Two of
them would furnish more meat than we could use in a long time, but we
need their skins."
"I'm content to wait," said Will, who was saddle-tired.
He sat down on the thick, soft grass by the side of the packs, and his
physical system, keyed up so long, suffered a collapse, complete but not
unpleasant. Every nerve relaxed and he sank back against his pack,
content to be idle as long as Boyd was away. But while his body was weak
then, his mind was content. Clarke Valley, which had been named after
him, was surely wonderful. It was green and fresh everywhere and Boyd
Lake was molten silver. Not far away the cataract showed white against
the mountainside, and its roar came in a pleasant murmur to his ears.
He heard a distant shot, but it did not disturb him. He knew it was
Boyd, shooting something, probably the elk he wished. After a while he
heard another report, and he put that down as the bear. His surmise was
correct in both instances.
Boyd, with his help, skinned both the bear and the elk, and they hung
great quantities of the flesh of both in the trees to dry. Boyd
carefully scraped the skins with his hunting knife, and they, too, were
hung out to dry. While they were hanging there Will also shot a bear,
and his hairy covering was added to the others.
A few days later Boyd built the wickiup, called by the Sioux tipiowinja.
Taking one of the sharp axes he quickly cut a number of slender, green
poles, the larger ends of which he sharpened well and thrust deep into
the ground, until he had made with them a complete circle. The smaller
ends were bent toward a common center and fastened tightly with withes
of skin. The space between was thatched with brush, and the whole was
covered with the skins of elk and bear, which Boyd stitched together
closely and firmly. Then they cut out a small doorway, which they could
enter by stooping. The floor was of poles, made smooth and soft with a
covering of dead leaves.
It was rude and primitive, but Will saw at once that in need it would
protect both their stores and themselves.
"I learned that from the Sioux long ago," said Boyd, not without some
admiration of his handiwork. "It's close and hot, and after we've put
the stores in we'll have to tuck ourselves away in the last space left.
But it will feel mighty good in a storm."
The second night after the wickiup was finished his words came true. A
great storm gathered in the southwest, the first that Will had seen in
the high mountains, and it was a tremendous and terrifying manifestation
of nature.
The mountains fairly shook with the explosions of thunder, and the play
of lightning was dazzling on the ridges. When thunder and lightning
subsided somewhat, the hunter and the lad crept into the wickiup and
listened to the roaring of the rain as it came. Will, curled against the
side upon his pack, heard the fierce wind moaning as if the gods
themselves were in pain, and the rain beating in gust after gust. The
stout poles bent a little before both wind and rain, but their
elasticity merely added to their power of resistance, as the wickiup, so
simple in its structure and yet so serviceable, stood fast, and Boyd had
put on its skin covering so well that not a single drop of water
entered.
In civilization he might have found the wickiup too close to be
supportable, but in that raging wilderness, raging then at least, it was
snug beyond compare. He had a thought or two for the horses, but he knew
they would find shelter in the forest. Boyd, who was curled on the other
side of the wickiup, was already asleep, but the lad's sense of safety
and shelter was so great that he lay awake, and listened to the
shrieking of the elements, separated from him only by poles and a
bearskin. The power of contrast was so great that he had never felt
more comfortable in his life, and after listening awhile he, too, fell
asleep, sleeping soundly until day, when the storm had passed, leaving
the air crisper and fresher, and the earth washed afresh and clean.
They found the horses already grazing, and their bear and elk steaks,
which they had fastened securely, safe on the boughs. The valley itself,
so keen and penetrating was the odor of balsam and pine, seemed redolent
with perfume, and the lake itself had taken on a new and brighter tint
of silver.
"Boyd Lake and Clarke Valley are putting on their best in our honor,"
said Will.
Then they ate a huge breakfast, mostly of elk and bear meat, and
afterward considered the situation. Will had the natural impatience of
youth, but Boyd was all for staying on a couple of weeks at least. They
might not find another such secure place, one that furnished its own
food, and nothing would be lost while much could be gained by waiting.
It was easy enough to persuade the lad, who was, on the whole, rather
glad to be convinced, and then they turned their thoughts toward the
improvement of a camp which had some of the elements of permanency.
"We could, of course, build a good, strong cabin," said Boyd, "and with
our stout axes it would not take long to do it, but I don't think we'll
need the protection of logs. The wickiup ought to serve. We may not have
another storm while we're here, but showers are pretty sure to come."
To provide against contingencies they strengthened the wickiup with
another layer of poles, and Boyd spread over the leaves on the floor the
skin of a huge grizzly bear that he killed on one of the slopes. They
felt now that it was secure against any blizzard that might sweep
through the mountains, and that within its shelter they could keep warm
and dry in the very worst of times. But they did not sleep in it again
for a full week, no rain falling at night during that period. Instead
they spread their blankets under the trees.
"It's odd, and I don't pretend to account for it," said Boyd, "but it's
only progressive white men who understand the value of fresh air. As I
told you, the Sioux never sleep outside, when they can help it. Neither
do the other Indians. In the day they live outdoors, but at night they
like to seal themselves up in a box, so to speak."
"Rushing from extreme to extreme."
"Maybe, but as for me, I want no better bed than the soft boughs of
balsam, with blankets and the unlimited blue sky, provided, of course,
that it isn't raining or hailing or sleeting or snowing. It's powerful
healthy. Since we've come into Clarke Valley I can see, Will, that
you've grown about two inches in height and that you're at least six
inches bigger around the chest."
"You're a pretty big exaggerator!" laughed Will, "but I certainly do
feel bigger and stronger than I was when I arrived here. If the Sioux
will only let us bide in peace awhile I think I may keep on growing.
Tell me more about the Sioux, Jim. They're a tremendous league, and I
suppose you know as much about 'em as any white man in this part of the
world."
"I've been in their country long enough to learn a lot, and there's a
lot to learn. The Sioux are to the West what the Iroquois were to the
East, that is, so far as their power is concerned, though their range of
territory is far larger than that of the Iroquois ever was. They roam
over an extent of mountain and plain, hundreds and hundreds of miles
either way. I've heard that they can put thirty thousand warriors in the
field, though I don't know whether it's true or not, but I do know that
they are more numerous and warlike than any other Indian nation in the
West, and that they have leaders who are really big men, men who think
as well as fight. There's Mahpeyalute, whom you saw and whom we call Red
Cloud, and Tatanka Yotanka, whom we call Sitting Bull, and Gray Wolf and
War Eagle and lots of others.
"Besides, the Sioux, or, in their own language, the Dakotas, are a great
nation made up of smaller nations, all of the same warlike stock. There
is the tribe of the Mendewakaton, which means Spirit Lake Village, then
you have the Wahpekute or Leaf Shooters; the Wahpeton, the Leaf Village;
the Sisseton, the Swamp Village; the Yankton, the End Village, the
Yanktonnais, the Upper End Village, and the Teton, the Prairie Village.
The Teton tribe, which is very formidable, is subdivided into the
Ogalala, the Brule, and the Hunkpapa. Red Cloud, as I've told you
before, is an Ogalala. And that's a long enough lesson for you for one
day. Now, like a good boy, go catch some fish."
Will had discovered very early that Lake Boyd, which was quite deep,
contained fine lake trout and also other fish almost as good to the
taste. As their packs included strong fishing tackle it was not
difficult to obtain all the fish they wanted, and the task generally
fell to the lad. Now, at Boyd's suggestion, he fulfilled it once more
with the usual success.
Game of all kinds, large and small, was abundant, the valley being
fairly overrun with it. Boyd said that it had come in through the narrow
passes, and its numbers indicated that no hunters had been there in a
long time. Will even found a small herd of about a dozen buffaloes
grazing at the south end of the valley, but the next day they
disappeared, evidently alarmed by the invasion of human beings. But the
deer continued numerous and there were both bears and mountain lions
along the slopes.
Will, who had a certain turn for solitude, being of a thoughtful,
serious nature, ceased to find the waiting in the valley irksome. He
began to think less of the treasure for which he had come so far and
through such dangers. They _had_ found a happy valley, and he did not
care how long they stayed in it, all nature being so propitious. He had
never before breathed an air so fine, and always it was redolent with
the odor of pine and balsam. He began to feel that Boyd had not
exaggerated much when he talked about his increase in height and chest
expansion.
Both he and the hunter bathed every morning in Lake Boyd. At first Will
could not endure its cold water more than five minutes, but at the end
of ten days he was able to splash and swim in it as long as he liked.
Their days were not all passed in idleness, as they replenished their
stores by jerking the meat of both bear and deer. At the end of two
weeks the hunter began to talk of departure, and he and Will walked
toward the western end of the valley, where the creek issued in a narrow
pass, the only road by which they could leave.
"It's likely to be a mighty rough path," said Boyd, "but our horses are
still mountain climbers and we'll be sure to make it."
They went a little nearer and listened to the music of the singing
waters, as the creek rushed through the cleft. It was a fine, soothing
note, but presently another rose above it, clear and melodious.
It was a whistle, and it had such a penetrating quality that Will, at
first, thought it was a bird. Then he knew it sprang from the throat of
a man, hidden by the bushes and coming up the pass. Nearer and nearer it
came and mellower and mellower it grew. He had never before heard anyone
whistle so beautifully. It was like a song, but it was evident that
someone was entering their happy valley, and in that wilderness who
could come but an enemy? Nearer and nearer the whistler drew and the
musical note of the whistling and its echoes filled all the pass.
"Wouldn't it be better for us to draw back a little where we can remain
hidden among the brakes?" said Will.
"Yes, do it," replied the hunter, "just for precaution against any
possible mistake, but I don't think we really need to do so. In all the
world there's not another such whistler! It's bound to be Giant Tom,
Giant Tom his very self, and none other!"
"Giant Tom! Giant Tom! Whom do you mean?" exclaimed Will.
"Just wait a minute and you'll see."
The whistler was now very near, though hidden from sight by the bushes,
and he was trilling forth old airs of home that made the pulses in the
lad's throat beat hard.
"It's Giant Tom. There's no other such in the world," repeated Boyd more
to himself than to Will. "In another minute you'll see him. You can hear
him now brushing past the bushes. Ah, there he is! God bless him!"
The figure of an extraordinary man now came into view. He was not more
than five feet tall, nor was he particularly broad for his height. He
was just the opposite of a giant in size, but there was something about
him that suggested the power of a giant. He had a wonderfully quick and
light step, and it was Will's first impression that he was made of
steel, instead of flesh and blood. His face, shaven smoothly, told
little of his age. He was dressed in weather-beaten brown, rifle on
shoulder, and two mules, loaded with the usual packs and miner's tools,
followed him in single file and with sure step.
Will's heart warmed at once to the little man who continued to whistle
forth a volume of clear song, and whose face was perhaps the happiest he
had ever seen. Boyd stepped suddenly from the shielding brushwood and
extended his hand.
"Tom Bent," he said, "put 'er there!"
"Thar she is," said Giant Tom, placing his palm squarely in Boyd's.
"My young friend, Mr. William Clarke," said the hunter, nodding at the
lad, "and this is Mr. Thomas Bent, better known to me and others as
Giant Tom."
"Glad to meet you, William," said the little man, and ever afterward he
called the boy William. "Anybody that I find with Jim, here, has got on
'im the stamp an' seal o' high approval. I don't ask your name, whar you
come from or why you're here, or whar you're goin', but I take you fur a
frien' o' Jim's, an' so just 'bout all right. Now put 'er thar."
He grinned a wide grin and extended a wide palm, into which Will put his
to have it enclosed at once in a grasp so mighty that he was convinced
his first impression about the man being made of steel was correct. He
uttered an exclamation and Giant Tom dropped his hand at once.
"I never do that to a feller more than once," he said, "an' it's always
the first time I meet him. Even then I don't do it 'less I'm sure he's
all right, an' I'm goin' to like 'im. It's jest my way o' puttin' a
stamp on 'im to show that he's passed Tom Bent's ordeal, an' is good fur
the best the world has to offer. Now, William, you're one o' us."
He smiled so engagingly that Will was compelled to laugh, and he felt,
too, that he had a new and powerful friend.
"That's right, laugh," said Giant Tom. "You take it the way a feller
orter, an' you an' me are goin' to be mighty good pards. An' that bein'
settled I want to know from you, Jim Boyd, what are you doin' in my
valley."
"Your valley, Giant! Why, you never saw it before," said the hunter.
"What's that got to do with it? I wuz comin' here an' any place that I'm
goin' to come to out here in the wilderness is mine, o' course."
"Coming here, I suppose, to hunt for gold! And you've been hunting for
it for fifteen years, you've trod along thousands and thousands of miles
and never found a speck of it yet."
The little man laughed joyously.
"That's true," he said. "I've worked years an' years an' I never yet had
a particle o' luck. But a dry spell, no matter how long, is always broke
some time or other by a rain, an' when my luck does come, it's goin' to
bust all over my face. Gold will just rain on me. I'll stand in it
knee-deep an' then shoulder deep, an' then right up to my mouth."
"You haven't changed a bit," said Boyd, grinning also. "You're the same
Giant Tom, a real giant in strength and courage, that I've met off and
on through the years. It's been a long time since I first saw you."
"It was in Californy in '49. I was only fourteen then, but I went out
with my uncle in the first rush. Seventeen years I've hunted the yellow
stuff, in the streams, in the mountains, all up an' down the coast, in
the British territories, an' way back in the Rockies, but I've yet to
see its color. Uncle Pete found some, and when he died he left what
money he had to me. 'Jest you take it an' keep on huntin', Tom, my boy,'
he said. 'Now an' then I think I've seen traces o' impatience in you.
When you'd been lookin' only six or seven years, an' found nothin', I
heard you speak in a tone of disapp'intment, once. Don't you do it
ag'in. That ain't the way things are won. It takes sperrit an' patience
to be victor'us. Hang on to the job you've set fur yourse'f, an' thirty
or forty years from now you'll be shore to reap a full reward, though it
might come sooner.' An' here I am, fresh, strong, only a little past
thirty, and I kin afford to hunt an' wait for my pay 'bout thirty years
more. I've never forgot what Uncle Pete told me just afore he died. A
mighty smart man was Uncle Pete, an' he had my future in mind. Don't you
think so, young William?"
"Of course," replied Will, looking at him in wonder and admiration. "I
don't think a man of your cheerful and patient temperament could
possibly fail."
"And maybe his reward will come much sooner than he thinks," said the
hunter, glancing at the lad.
Will understood what Boyd meant, and he was much taken with the idea.
The Little Giant seemed to be sent by Providence, but he said nothing,
waiting until such time as the hunter thought fit to broach the subject.
"How long have you been here?" asked the Little Giant, looking at the
valley with approving eyes.
"Quite a little while," replied Boyd. "It belonged to us two until a few
minutes ago, but now it belongs to us three. We've been needing a third
man badly, and while I didn't know it, you must have been in my mind
all the time."
"An' what do you happen to need me fur, Jim Boyd?"
"We'll let that wait awhile, at least, until we introduce you to our
home."
"All right. Patience is my strong suit. Do you mean to say you've got a
home here?"
"Certainly."
"Then I'll be your guest until you take me into the pardnership you're
talkin' 'bout. Do you know that you two are the first faces o' human
bein's that I've seen in two months, an' it gives me a kind o' pleasure
to look at you, Jim Boyd, an' young William."
"Come on then to our camp."
He whistled to his two mules, strong, patient animals, and then he
whistled on his own account the gayest and most extraordinary variation
that Will had ever heard, a medley of airs, clear, pure and birdlike,
that would have made the feet of any young man dance to the music. It
expressed cheerfulness, hope and the sheer joy of living.
"You could go on the stage and earn fine pay with that whistling of
yours," said Will, when he finished.
"Others have told me so, too," said the Little Giant, "but I'll never do
it. Do you think I'd forget what Uncle Pete said to me on his dyin' bed,
an' get out o' patience? What's a matter o' twenty or thirty years? I'll
keep on lookin' an' in the end I'll find plenty o' gold as a matter o'
course. Then I won't have to whistle fur a livin'. I'll hire others to
whistle fur me."
"He's got another accomplishment, Will, one that he never brags about,"
said the hunter.
"What is it?"
"I told you once that I was as good a rifle shot as there was in the
West, over a range of a million and a half square miles of mountain and
plain, but I forgot, for a moment, about one exception. That exception
is Giant Tom, here. He has one of the fine repeating rifles like ours,
and whether with that or a muzzle loader he's quicker and surer than any
other."
The face of Giant Tom turned red through his tan.
"See here, Jim Boyd, I'm a modest man, I'm no boaster, don't be telling
wild tales about me to young William. I don't know him yet so well as I
do you, an' I vally his good opinion."
"What I say is true every word of it. If his bullet would only carry
that far he'd pick off a deer at five miles every time, and you needn't
deny it, Giant Tom."
"Well, mebbe thar is some truth in what you say. When the Lord sawed me
off a foot, so I'd hev to look up in the faces o' men whenever I talked
to 'em, He looked at me an' He felt sorry fur the little feller He'd
created. I'll have to make it up to him somehow, He said to Hisself, an'
to he'p me along He give me muscles o' steel, not your cast steel, but
your wrought steel that never breaks, then He put a mockin' bird in my
throat, an' give me eyes like an eagle's an' nerves o' the steadiest.
Last, He give me patience, the knowin' how to wait years an' years fur
what I want, an' lookin' back to it now I think He more than made up fur
the foot He sawed off. Leastways I ain't seen yet the man I want to
change with, not even with you, Jim Boyd, tall as you think you are, nor
with you, young William, for all your red cheeks an' your youth an' your
heart full o' hope, though it ain't any fuller than mine."
"Long but mighty interesting," said Boyd. "Now, you can see our wickiup,
over there in the open. We use it only when it rains. We'll help you
take the packs off your mules and they can go grazing for themselves
with our horses. You are not saying much about it, but I imagine that
you and the mules, too, are pretty nearly worn out."
"Them's good mules, mighty good mules, but them an' me, I don't mind
tellin' it to you, Jim Boyd, won't fight ag'inst restin' an' eatin'
awhile."
"I'll light the fire and warm food for you," said Will. "It's a pleasure
for me to do it. Sit down on the log and before you know it I'll have
ready for you the finest lake trout into which you ever put your teeth."
"Young William, I accept your invite."
Will quickly had his fire going, and he served not only trout, but bear
steaks and hot coffee to the Little Giant, who ate with a tremendous
appetite.
"I've got provisions of my own in my packs," he said, "but sometimes the
other feller's feed tastes a heap better than your own, an' this that
you're offerin' me is, I take it, the cream o' the mountains, young
William. A couple more o' them trout, if you don't mind, four or five
more pounds o' that bear meat, an' a gallon o' coffee, if you've got it
to spare. With them I think I kin make out. How are my mules gettin' on,
Jim?"
"First rate. They've already introduced themselves to the horses, which
have given their names, pedigrees and the stories of their lives. The
mules also have furnished their histories, and, everybody being
satisfied with everybody else's social station and past, they're now
grazing together in perfect friendship, all six of 'em, just beyond that
belt of woodland. And that being the case, I'll now give you the history
of Will and myself, and I'll tell you about the biggest thing that we
expect from the future."
"Go ahead," said the Little Giant, settling himself into a comfortable
position.