WE TURN BACK
The sun was burning away the fog that had overlain the country since
we left the base of the Ice Mountain, and the West breeze carried to
our ears the odd muffled booming noise that we had heard once before
that day. As the fog lifted, the noise increased. It was like the
pounding of great waters over a cataract, but there was no brume in
the air such as marked that of Jagara, and we were wholly at a loss
until at sunset we fought our way through the briary walls of the
forest upon the surface of an open bluff.
The booming noise was the beating of surf upon a rocky shore.
Westward and north and south the waters rolled, blue-green off-shore,
inland a smother of foam. The combers came lunging in, one after the
other, in an endless succession of charges, smashing themselves into
fine spray and spume against the cliffs. The bluff on which we stood
was spattered by them; the breeze carried a fine mist to drench the
near-by forest foliage.
"Here is a sea as vast as the Cadaraqui Lake, brothers," commented
Tawannears, as our eyes drank in the picture.
I laughed, for a drop of the spray had reached my mouth.
"Cadaraqui, and all this wonderful land we have traversed, could be
dropped into the bosom of this sea, and still fail to span it," I
answered. "'Tis the South Sea, the Pacific Ocean, which, the
geographers tell us, stretches from this western verge of our
continent to the shores of the farther Indies."
"How can Otetiani know that?" exclaimed Tawannears.
"Taste it. 'Tis salt, the water of the open sea."
Both he and Peter stooped and scooped handfuls of it from pools in
the rocks--and quickly spat it out again.
"_Ja_," agreed Corlaer. "Sea water. We hafe gone to der endt of der
landt."
Tawannears nodded dispiritedly.
"We have traveled as far as men may go," he admitted. "And we have
failed. Hawenneyu has veiled his face from us, after all."
"We have not seen all the land," I reminded him.
"_Ja_," spoke up the Dutchman. "We go sout' along der shore, eh?"
But Tawannears made no reply. He dragged behind us, dejected and
dismayed, as we skirted the irregular shoreline, looking for a
convenient camp site. When we found what we sought he aided in the
routine duties of the evening, ate his share of the meager meal which
was all we could afford, and then took his stand upon a lonely rock
that jutted out into the angry waters. An hour later he strode back
into the circle of firelight.
"Tawannears forgot that he was a grown warrior," he announced with
proud humility. "His heart turned to water. He was very sad. He
was afraid. But now he has driven the fear out of his heart.
Whatever is worth while the Great Spirit makes difficult to find. We
have come a long trail, my brothers, but it may be we have even
farther yet to go. Tawannears will not cry again if the thorns cut
his feet. Shall we continue?"
"Until you are satisfied, brother," I said.
Peter simply wagged his big head affirmatively.
"It is good," said the Seneca. "In the morning we will start south.
Tawannears will take the first watch. A spirit bird is singing in
his ear tales of the past."
That was all. When my eyes closed he was sitting outside the range
of the firelight, his back against a tree-trunk, his musket across
his knees, his eyes fixed on the shadows. His disappointment must
have been almost unfathomable. To have come so far, beyond the
wildest imaginings of his race, to have risked the legendary as well
as the absolute, to have withstood so many risks--and then to find
that it was practically all to do over a second time! 'Twas no
ordinary shock. And he, who had so lately achieved audience--as he
supposed--with the very spirit of Tamanoas, who had inhaled the
breath of the Life-giver, was all the more disheartened. Yet he
rallied to the shock; he refused to yield to the disappointment.
From his reserves of courage he mustered the strength to embark
afresh upon the quest he had been confident was approaching a
conclusion.
Two days' journey southward we were halted by the estuary of a mighty
river, and we turned inland, following its northern bank in search of
means to cross. We passed several deserted villages, and on the
third day were attacked from ambush by a tribe of tall, lean savages,
with heads that sloped back from the eyebrows to a peak. They fled
from our musketry, and we pursued them into their village of long,
well-built log houses, and helped ourselves to a dug-out canoe in
repayment for the ammunition we had expended upon them. They stood
at a distance the while, silent and plainly fearful lest we should
burn the village, but 'twas never a point with us to do more harm or
foray goods other than need required.
Across the river and equipped with good store of smoked fish and
dried meat from the savages' huts, we skirted for several weeks a
wondrously healthy wooded country betwixt the sea and mountains
scarcely inferior in height to those snow giants we had beheld
surrounding the Ice Mountain. We saw or encountered Indians many
times, but they were poor creatures of less spirit than the fisher
folk by the river, and seldom offered us any hostility. A shot was
always sufficient to scatter them. Indeed, 'twas observed by all of
us that since we passed the Sky Mountains we had seldom met savages
as fiercely valorous as the warrior tribes of the vast central plains.
For these first weeks we wandered aimlessly. We had gone as far
Westward as we could, and we had not yet determined on another
definite course. But a series of damp winds and clinging sea-fogs
such as this country seemed disposed to, set us to figuring upon
plans for weathering the approaching Winter. We were clad now in the
rags of garments, insufficient to withstand the cold. Tawannears and
I were gaunt from hardship, hunger and abnormal physical effort, and
if the huge cask of blubber that covered Corlaer's bones was not
diminished appreciably, fatigue had grooved deep lines and hollows in
his flabby face.
Gone from us was the _élan_ that had enabled us to dash ourselves
without thought upon the barrier of the Sky Mountains. We wanted
rest, food in plenty, time to manufacture new clothing. For close on
a year and a half we had wandered thousands of miles from one side of
the continent to the other, conducting journeys such as no men had
ever attempted before--as Master Cadwallader Golden, the Surveyor
General of our Province of New York, has assured me to be the fact,
he having studied to much advantage the available data on the
geography of America.
So there came a night when we huddled close to a scanty fire under a
brush shelter and debated our future.
"When the snow comes we shall want more than this," I said, fingering
the holes in my moccasins. "I would we had the buffalo robes we
sacrificed on the Ice Mountain yonder."
"Otetiani speaks wisely," agreed Tawannears. "We do not know what
the Winter in this country will be, but it is not a warm land. There
is always snow on the mountain-tops. In Winter, then, the cold must
be felt in the low lands."
Corlaer, gnawing infinitesimal shreds of meat from a bone, shrilly
growled approval.
"We must have shelter," I continued. "We must have food in plenty.
We must take a sufficiency of meat and peltry."
"What of the fisher-tribes?" suggested Tawannears. "It may be they
would give us hospitality."
"Ay, and stab us separately some night whilst we slept," I retorted.
"I like not these people. They have shifty eyes. They will not
stand up in a fight. Moreover, we cannot speak to them, nor they to
us."
Corlaer cast aside his bone with a gesture of disgust.
"Go to der mountains," he squeaked. "In der valleys is cofer--andt
wood--andt game for der killing--andt no odder mans."
It was true what he said. We had proved it in our wanderings. The
valleys at the foot of the high ranges were the favorite haunts of
all the animals. They were well-wooded and watered. And the savages
of these parts seemed to shun the mountains for the tidal rivers. In
the right valley we might expect to find as perfect living conditions
as nature afforded. We adopted Peter's counsel, and in the morning
struck off southeast into the foothills.
The first valley we came to we rejected for lack of wood. The second
was forested, but showed no sign of attracting over-much game. The
third was too inaccessible. But after a fortnight of zigzag
wanderings we entered by accident a valley which promised all the
attractions we desired. It reminded us of the vale in the Sky
Mountains through which we had crossed to their Western side. Like
that it offered a contrast of forest and savannah. A small river
wound down its center. Snow-capped peaks rose all around it. The
tameness of its wild inhabitants proved they had never been hunted by
man.
We made our camp in the neck of the miniature pass by which the
valley communicated with the outside world, happy in the confidence
that at last we were assured a resting-place where we might forget
for a season the feverish impulses that had hurled us so far from
what we each called home. And that night, as we shivered in the wind
that blew off the glaciers we had consolation in planning the snug
cabin we would contrive in some elbow of the hillside, with a
fireplace of mud and bowlders fetched from the river's bed.
We cast lots the next morning, using grass-blades, long and short, to
divide the first day's work. And it so fell out that Tawannears must
do the hunting, which was necessary to insure us ample food and to
start the collection of hides we should need--and we were all three
glad of this because he was our best bowman, and we could not afford
to use our fast-dwindling stock of powder and lead to fill our
bellies. Peter and I were to explore the valley's length, especially
with a view to determining a site for the cabin.
It was a glorious day, the sun shining warmly and the wind crisp and
invigorating. Footsore and tired as we were, we started upon our
errands at a swinging lope, and I shouted a cheery good-by to
Tawannears as he disappeared into the standing timber below the
little pass, and Peter and I undertook to climb to a narrow shelf of
level land that formed a platform midway of the valley's
gently-sloping Southern wall. From here we could secure a sweeping
view of that side of our domain and likewise gain some idea of the
opposite wall which we intended to examine on our way home.
Tawannears replied to me with the hunting-whoop, and Peter joined my
answering yelp. Then we were alone, only the crackling branches
underfoot and the crashing of deer, antelope and wild sheep in the
thickets to interrupt our silent progress.
The valley was a broad ellipse in shape, and the encircling hills
were terraced by such shelves as the one we trod. We did not keep to
it of course, but climbed down or up as the case might be, to examine
features of the landscape. But for the most part we held to the
hillside, for in the valley-bottom the forest trees obscured the
country twenty feet away--except in the occasional savannahs or parks
that bordered the river's banks. I think we had traveled all of two
French leagues when we came to a place where the shelf on the
hillside became a rocky ledge, strewn with pebbles, and a raw
out-crop of rock overshadowed it. Peter, in the lead, hesitated, his
rifle at the trail, and sniffed the air.
"Make haste," I exclaimed impatiently. "It grows toward noon, and we
have to compass the valley before dark."
"I smell something," he returned.
"Smell something!" I laughed. "Sure, man, I can smell a dozen forest
odors."
"I smell beast," said Peter gravely.
This made me laugh the more, and I thrust myself in front of the
Dutchman and took up the blind trail at a dogtrot.
"_Waidt!_" he called after me, as I came to a shoulder of rock that
projected across the ledge.
I waved my hand in answer, and trotted blithely on around the
shoulder. A snarl that sounded like the ripping of a thousand sheets
of sail-cloth greeted me. Straight in front, not twenty feet away,
stood the biggest bear I had ever seen. We had come from downwind,
so it had not smelled us; but its little beady eyes blinked
ferociously at me as it hovered over the half-devoured body of a
mountain sheep.
In my first burst of astonishment I lost my head. Forgetful of the
ground, I jumped backward and lifted my musket, intending to shoot
the beast before it could move. But my foot slipped on the pebbly
cliff-side, my ankle twisted under me with a stab of pain, and my
musket hurtled out of reach down-hill, leaving me crippled and
fearful lest the slightest movement should send me after it.
The flash of the steel barrel was enough for the bear. It sensed
that I had meant it harm; it saw me prostrate, my fingers tugging
frantically at the tomahawk sheathed at my side. And with a snarl
that became a bellow of rage it reared on hind-legs and waddled
toward me, a fearsome figure, taller than a tall man, thick brown fur
bristling, saliva dripping from gaping jaws, great fore-paws poised
like a boxer's arms, long, steel-tipped claws quivering out of the
immense pads.
I decided that my time had come--and then Peter trotted around the
rock-shoulder, a worried look on his fat face. For a bare instant
the Dutchman hung paralyzed, one foot off the ground. The next
moment his heavy musket had leaped to his shoulder, and the flame
darted from the muzzle. But the bear was no less quick. It lurched
forward and to one side, ignoring me with the changeable ferocity of
its kind, and all intent upon this latest intruder. By doing so it
took Peter's shot in the shoulder instead of in the brain, and this
served only to infuriate it the more. The creature's snarls were
demoniacal as it reared to its hind-feet again, and advanced at a
waddling run, heedless of the blood that streamed from the
bullet-hole in its furry hide.
"My gun, Peter!" I cried. "Down-hill! Never mind me."
Peter's answer was to draw knife and tomahawk, jump over my body that
was sprawled out before him and meet the bear half-way with a
whirling wheel of steel. That was a battle for you! Peter, big as
he was, looked small beside the bear. The great beast's mask
overhung the Dutchman's head, and for a moment I thought it would
snap off Peter's neck. The cavernous mouth was distended; the little
eyes gleamed red; the jaws came together with a click. But Peter was
not there. With the amazing agility that was always so out-of-place
in connection with his awkward figure he had stooped, evaded the
beast's embracing paws and ripped it down the ribs with knife and
tomahawk.
The bear howled in mingled pain and anger, slumped to its four feet
and circled its enemy--and now Peter was at a disadvantage, for he
would not leave me uncovered, and this circumscribed the area he
could maneuver over. The bear seemed to comprehend this. It made a
quick dash at me, and when Peter stepped lightly betwixt us reared up
on hind-legs for the third time, and rushed at Peter, forepaws cast
wide to hug him in. And Peter met the rush without budging.
I expected to see the Dutchman toppled over, but he held his ground.
The bear caught him, its furry paws, so absurdly like a man's arms,
enfolded him, their claws ripping convulsively at his shirt and
breeches. But Peter was busy too. Hugged close to the big beast's
body, he was butchering for all he was worth with both his tools.
His knife worked in and out--in and out. His hatchet in his left
hand pecked remorselessly at groin and hams.
The bear's insane growls, low, tense, rasping drones of utter rage,
became instinct with pain. The creature yelped. Its grip slackened,
and Peter tore himself away. But I lay aghast at sight of the
Dutchman's reeking figure. He had dodged the snapping jaws
successfully, but no celerity of movement had availed against those
two fore-paws working with spasmodic energy. His back, flanks and
thighs were one mess of blood. His tattered clothing was in ribbons.
But he crouched unperturbed, his gaze fixed on the bear.
"Give over, Peter!" I cried again. "Run whilst you can. I will roll
down the hill."
"Stay!" he croaked at me, without shifting his eyes from his
antagonist. "I finish him dis time."
The bear felt the same way, and prowled forward on all-fours, its
roars echoing between the hillsides. Peter, anticipating its rush,
sprang in so swiftly that his tomahawk clattered on the lowered skull
and chopped out one of the little, red eyes. Then the bear went mad.
So far it had fought with the cautious circumspection of a great,
stupid man-beast, aware that it was at a disadvantage as regards
wits. Now it simply threw itself upon Peter. They met in a
desperate clinch, as the bear heaved itself erect, and it hacked at
him with all four sets of claws, rolling over and over on the ground,
until Peter slipped free and staggered off, wiping the blood from his
eyes.
He had no time to rest, however. The beast was on him once more,
bellowing wildly, its hide gashed and torn. They came chest to chest
in full career, Peter chopping and stabbing, the bear champing its
teeth and slashing with its claws; and I found myself crawling toward
them, dragging my injured ankle, fighting over a yard of pebbly slope
to gain a foot of distance. But before I could reach them the end
came.
The bear seemed to throw its weight forward with desperate energy and
Peter reeled back, exposing his throat so that the bear bent its head
and snapped for the throat. But Peter twisted violently and the
savage teeth met on his collar-bone. In its preoccupation with this
new hold the beast must have relaxed its grip upon him, for in that
very moment he slipped his knife home through a gash in its ribs and
reached its heart.
It tottered there, its eyes glazing slowly, whilst Peter frantically
whittled at its vitals and the blood pumped from the hole in its side
and its claws dug at him with dying energy. Then it slumped over on
its back, dragging Peter with it. When I reached the two bodies they
lay in one heap, the bear's teeth still gripped in the flesh of the
Dutchman's shoulder, his knife embedded in the beast's flank. I
pried loose the bear's teeth with my knife-blade before the final
rigor set in, and pulled Peter away as gently as I could. I was sure
his life was oozing with every gush of the red tide. But he opened
his eyes and grinned up at me.
"I make me a fine robe of dot pelt--_Ja_," he squeaked faintly.