I open the log at random, as it were, and first and foremost I find the
wanderers--where? Why, among the Rocky Mountains. The _Gloaming Star_
is safe and sound in New York harbour, under the charge of no less a
personage than Rory O'Reilly himself, who is second mate of her.
To cross the vast stretch of country that lies between the Atlantic
Ocean and this wild mountain range was in those days a daring deed in
itself. As long as they were in the midst of comparative civilisation
they were safe, but this once left behind, with only the rolling prairie
in front of them, hills, glens, woods, and forests, and a network of
streams, the danger was such that many a brave man would have shrunk
therefrom.
There were friendly tribes of Indians, it is true, but there were others
who hated the white man with an implacable hatred. And this hatred, it
is only right to add, was returned with interest. It is terrible to
think that the red man was looked upon in those days as if the brand of
Cain were carved on his brow, so that whoever should meet him should
kill him; that he was hunted down even as the wild beasts were hunted,
and that the war declared against him was one of extermination, one to
the bitter end.
On the other hand, the cruelties practised by the Indians on their white
brethren of the outlying districts, when they succeeded in capturing a
station or fort, were such as one cannot read of without a shudder of
horror and a feeling of anger as well.
But our heroes and their party, including Captain Blunt, five friendly
Indians, and a trapper--a Yankee of the real old school and a thorough
backwoodsman--had made the long journey in safety. The mules that had
carried their packs were even now quietly feeding in a rude enclosure,
near the log hut which had been a home to the party for months.
But although these wanderers did not fear danger, they knew it existed,
and no sooner had they arrived in the woodland glen close by a beautiful
river, than they proceeded to make their encampment as like a fort as
they could. Strong were their arms to work, and willing were their
hearts. To Leonard and Douglas there was something quite delightful in
this new free, wild life of independence; fishing by lonely streams,
wandering through the still, quiet forests, or bearding the wild beasts
in their favourite haunts. The very knowledge that hostile Indians
might be encountered at any time only added a zest to their adventures.
But before they, entered into their sports with earnestness, they
fortified the site they had chosen as a camp. The trees were cut down
all round, and a complete rampart, with ditch and drawbridge, was
erected.
When all was complete the sport began in earnest; but it was not sport
for the simple sake of killing. No, for they slew and fished but to
fill their larder, and lay up a wealth of skins, which would help to pay
for this pleasant outing when they returned to the great city of New
York. Thereupon bears and beavers became their especial prey, to say
nothing of innumerable furry denizens of forest, hill, and river bank.