THE DANGERS OF THE WILDERNESS--AN UNEXPECTED CATASTROPHE, WHICH
NECESSITATES A CHANGE OF PLANS--A DESCENT UPON ROBBERS PROPOSED AND
AGREED TO.
There are few passages in Holy Writ more frequently brought to
remembrance by the incidents of everyday life than this--"Ye know not
what a day or an hour may bring forth." The uncertainty of sublunary
things is proverbial, whether in the city or in the wilderness, whether
among the luxuriously nurtured sons and daughters of civilisation, or
among the toil-worn wanderers in the midst of savage life. To each and
all there is, or may be, sunshine to-day and cloud to-morrow; gladness
to-day sadness to-morrow. There is no such thing as perpetual felicity
in the world of matter. A nearer approach to it may perhaps be made in
the world of mind; but, like perpetual motion, it is not to be
absolutely attained to in this world of ours. Those who fancy that it
is to be found in the wilderness are hereby warned, by one who has dwelt
in savage lands, that its habitation is not there.
March Marston thought it was. On the morning after the night whose
close we have described, he awoke refreshed, invigorated, and buoyant
with a feeling of youthful strength and health. Starting up, he met the
glorious sun face to face, as it rose above the edge of a distant blue
hill, and the meeting almost blinded him. There was a saffron hue over
the eastern landscape that caused it to appear like the plains of
Paradise. Lakelets in the prairies glittered in the midst of verdant
foliage; ponds in the hollows lay, as yet unillumined, like blots of
ink; streams and rivulets gleamed as they flowed round wooded knolls, or
sparkled silvery white as they leaped over rocky obstructions. The
noble river, on the banks of which the camp had been made, flowed with a
calm sweep through the richly varied country--refreshing to look upon
and pleasant to hear, as it murmured on its way to join the "Father of
waters." The soft roar of a far-distant cataract was heard mingling
with the cries of innumerable water fowl that had risen an hour before
to enjoy the first breathings of the young day. To March Marston's ear
it seemed as though all Nature, animate and inanimate, were rejoicing in
the beneficence of its Creator.
The youth's reverie was suddenly broken by the approach of Theodore
Bertram.
"Good morrow, friend," said the latter, grasping March's hand and
shaking it heartily. "You are early astir. Oh, what a scene! What
heavenly colours! What a glorious expanse of beauty!"
The artist's hand moved involuntarily to the pouch in which he was won't
to carry his sketch-book, but he did not draw it forth; his soul was too
deeply absorbed in admiration to permit of his doing aught but gaze in
silence.
"This repays my toils," he resumed, soliloquising rather than speaking
to March. "'Twere worth a journey such as I have taken, twice repeated,
to witness such a scene as this."
"Ay, ain't it grand?" said March, delighted to find such congenial
enthusiasm in the young painter.
Bertram turned his eyes on his companion, and, in doing so, observed the
wild rose at his side.
"Ah! sweet rose," he said, stooping eagerly down to smell it.
"Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air."
"He was no poet who wrote that, anyhow," observed March with a look of
disdain.
"You are wrong, friend. He was a good poet and true."
"Do you mean to tell me that the sweetness o' that rose is _wasted_
here?"
"Nay, I do not say that. The poet did not mean to imply that its
sweetness is utterly wasted, but to assert the fact that, as far as
civilised man is concerned, it is so."
"`Civilised man,'" echoed March, turning up his nose (a difficult feat,
by the way, for his nose by nature turned down). "An' pray what's
`civilised man' that he should think everything's wasted that don't go
in at his own eyes, or up his own nose, or down his own throat? eh?"
Bertram laughed slightly (he never laughed heartily). "You are a severe
critic, friend."
"I don't know, and I don't care, what sort o' cricket I am; but this I
do know, that roses are as little wasted here as in your country--mayhap
not so much. Why, I tell ye I've seen the _bars_ smell 'em."
"Indeed."
"Ay, an' eat 'em too!"
"That was not taking a poetical view of them," suggested Bertram.
"Perhaps not, but it was uncommonly practical," returned March,
laughing.
The conversation was abruptly terminated at this point by a flock of
wild ducks, which, ignorant of the presence of the two youths, swept
close past their heads with a startling _whirr_. The artist leaped
backwards, and March, partly in the exuberant glee of his heart and
partly to relieve his own startled feelings, gave utterance to a hideous
yell.
"Hi! hallo!" roared Big Waller, starting up and replying to the yell
with compound interest. "Wot's to do? Bars or savages--which? Oh!
_savages_ I see," he added, rubbing his eyes, as he observed March
laughing at him. "Ha! lad, d'ye know there's a sort o' critter in other
diggins o' this here world as they calls a hi-eeno, or somethin' o' that
sort, as can _laugh_, it can; so you're not the only beast as can do it,
d'ye see!"
The camp was now thoroughly roused, and the trappers set about making
preparations for a start; but little was said. It is generally the case
at early morning--at least among healthy men who have work to do before
breakfast in the wilderness--that tongues are disinclined to move.
After the first somewhat outrageous and rather unusual burst, no one
spoke again, while they carried their goods down to the water's edge,
except in a short grumpy way when an order or a remark was needful. In
about ten minutes after the utterance of Big Waller's roar, they were in
their places in the little red canoe, paddling blithely up the river.
Bertram's place in the canoe was the centre. He was placed there as a
passenger, but, not being by any means of a lazy disposition, he
relieved all the men by turns, and thus did a good share of the work
during the day.
Towards evening the travellers came to a cataract, which effectually
barred their further progress, and rendered a portage necessary. Just
above the cataract there was a short stretch of comparatively smooth
water, in which, however, the current was very strong. Immediately
above that there was a rapid of considerable length and strength, which
boiled furiously among the rocks, and seemed to be impassable to a
canoe. After close inspection of it, however, Redhand and Bounce, who
were tacitly recognised as joint leaders of the party, agreed that the
canoe could easily enough be hauled up by means of a line. To make a
long portage, and so avoid the whole obstruction, was desirable; but the
precipitous nature of the banks at that place rendered the carrying of
the canoe and goods a work not only of severe labour, but of
considerable danger.
The mode of proceeding having been settled, all hands went to work
without delay. The goods were carried to the top of the fall, which was
about fifteen feet high, then the canoe was shouldered by Waller and
Bounce, and soon it floated in a calm eddy near the head of the
cataract. Having replaced the cargo, a strong line or rope was fastened
to the bows, and Redhand and Bounce proceeded to take their places in
the canoe, in order to guide it through the rapid, while the others were
engaged in hauling on the track-line.
"Stay," cried March Marston as Bounce was stepping in, "let me go in the
canoe, Bounce. You know well enough that I can manage it; besides,
you're a heavy buffalo, and more able to track than I."
"Nay, lad," replied Bounce, shaking his head, "you'll only run the risk
o' gettin' a wet skin--mayhap somethin' worse."
"Now, that's too bad. D'ye think nobody can manage a canoe but
yourself? Come, Redhand, do let me go."
"It's not safe, boy. The rapid looks bad, and you're not much used to
the bow-paddle."
"Tut, nonsense," exclaimed March, pushing Bounce aside and stepping into
the canoe. "Now hold on."
Before the men on the bank of the river were well aware of what the
reckless youth was about, he shoved the bow of the canoe off. The
instant it passed the still water of the eddy and caught the powerful
stream, the light bark darted like an arrow from the bank, and Redhand
was obliged to use his paddle with the utmost dexterity, while the men
on shore had to haul on the line with all their might, to prevent it
being swept over the brink of the fall. In a second, however, the
danger was past, and, putting their strength to the track-line, they
dragged the canoe slowly but steadily upstream, while Redhand and March
guided it past rocks and dangerous eddies. Seeing that the youth used
his paddle dexterously, Bounce, after a little thought, resolved to let
him encounter the more dangerous rapid above. Redhand silently came to
the same conclusion, though he felt uneasy and blamed himself for
allowing the ardour of the boy to get the better of him.
"March is a bold fellow," observed Bertram, who walked immediately
behind Bounce, hauling on the line like the rest.
"Bold he is, sir," replied Bounce; "an' if ye'd seed him, as I did not
many weeks agone, a-ridin' on the back of a buffalo bull, ye'd mayhap
say he was more nor that."
"Hah! he is mad!" cried Gibault, who, although the last in the line of
tracksmen, was sharp-eared, and overheard the conversation.
"Don't talk, Gibault," interposed Big Waller, "you need all the wind in
your little carcass, I guess, to enable ye to steam ahead."
"Oui, mon dear ami, you is right--I do ver' much require all mine
steam--mine spirits--for to push such a heavy, useless hulk as you
before me."
"Here's a steep bit, lads; mind your eye, Hawkswing," said Bounce, as
the Indian who led the party began to ascend a steep part of the bank,
where the footing was not secure, owing to the loose gravelly nature of
the soil.
As they advanced, the path along the bank became narrower, and the cliff
itself so precipitous that it seemed as if a jerk on the line would drag
the men off and send them rolling down into the flood below, in the
midst of which the canoe was buffeting its way through the hissing foam.
Bertram, who was unused to such a position of comparative danger, and
whose head was not capable of standing the sight of a precipice
descending from his very feet into a roaring stream, began to feel
giddy, and would have given the world to return; but he felt ashamed to
confess his weakness, and endeavoured, by gazing earnestly into the bank
at his side, to steady himself, hoping that the nature of the track
would improve as they advanced. Instead of this being the case, it
became worse at every step, and the trackers were at length obliged to
proceed cautiously along a ledge of rock that barely afforded them
foothold. Bertram now felt an almost irresistible desire to turn his
head to the left and glance at the river below; yet he knew that if he
should do so, he would become utterly unable to advance another yard.
While engaged in this struggle it suddenly occurred to him that it was
impossible now to turn, no matter how nervous he should become, as the
path was too narrow to permit one of the party to pass another! He
became deadly pale, and his heart sank at the thought. Little did the
hardy trappers think, as they plodded silently along, that such an
agonising conflict was going on in the breast of one of their number! A
slight groan escaped him in spite of his utmost efforts to restrain
himself. Bounce looked back in surprise.
"Hey! wot's to do, sir?"
"No matter; lead on--I will follow," said Bertram sternly between his
clenched teeth.
"Hallo! up there," shouted Redhand, who was at that moment, along with
March, exerting his utmost strength in order to keep the canoe off a
rock over which the water was bursting in volumes of thick foam; "haul
away! haul away! we're just about up."
The shout attracted Bertram's attention; he turned his eyes
involuntarily towards the river. Instantly his brain swam round; he
staggered, and would have fallen over the bank, had not Big Waller, who
was close behind, observed his situation and caught him by the collar.
In doing so he was compelled to let go his hold of the line. The
additional strain thus suddenly cast upon Gibault wrenched the line from
his grasp with a degree of violence that wellnigh hurled him into the
river. Bounce and Hawkswing held on for one moment, but the canoe,
having been eased off a little, caught a sweep of the rapid, and went
out with a dart that the united strength of the whole party could not
have checked. The two men had to let go to save themselves, and in a
shorter time than it takes to relate, the canoe went down the river
towards the fall, dancing like a cork on the heaving spray, while the
old man and the youth stood up in the bow and stern wielding their
paddles, now on one side, now on the other, with ceaseless rapidity in
their efforts to avoid being dashed to pieces on the rocks.
The sight of this catastrophe, superadded to his already agonised
feelings, caused the unhappy artist to swoon. Gibault, on seeing the
line let go, turned instantly, and sprang like a deer along the track
they had been following; intending to render what assistance he could to
his comrades at the foot of the rapid. The others could not follow,
because of Big Waller and the artist, who obstructed the path. Seeing
this, the powerful Yankee seized Bertram round the waist, and, heaving
him on his shoulder as one would swing a child, followed in Gibault's
footsteps as fast as he could run.
The distance to the spot whence they had commenced to track the canoe
was not great, but before they reached it the frail craft had been
shattered against a rock, and was now hurrying, along with the scattered
cargo and the two men, towards the fall, to pass over which involved
certain destruction.
There is nothing more uncertain, however, than the action of the
whirling eddies of a great rapid. True, the general flow of its body of
water is almost always the same, but its superficial billows are more
variable--now tossing a drifting log to the right, anon to the left, and
casting it ashore, or dragging it with fearful violence into the raging
current. Although there was only the canoe's length between the old
trapper and the youth when they were left struggling in the water, they
were swept in totally different directions. Redhand was hurled
violently into the eddy where the canoe had lain before the ascent was
commenced, and was dragged safe to land by his comrades. March Marston,
on the other hand, was swept out near to the main current, and would, in
a few seconds more, have been carried over the fall, had he not, with
wonderful presence of mind and an almost superhuman exertion of muscle,
dashed into an eddy which was formed by a rock about fifty yards from
the top of the fall. The rock was completely covered with the bursting
spray, so that it formed no resting-place, and it, with the partial eddy
that tailed away from it, was about twenty yards from the shore, where
the trappers stood gazing in horror at their companion as he struggled
bravely to maintain his position by swimming; but to cross those twenty
yards of gushing water, so as to afford him aid, seemed beyond the power
of man.
Men bred in the wilderness are not usually slow to act in cases of
danger where action is possible. Each man was revolving in fervid haste
every plan that seemed likely to afford succour. Redhand's quick eye
observed that the rocks at the edge of the fall, on the side of the
river on which they stood, projected out so far that a straight line
drawn from the eddy to the fall would pass within a yard of them, and
that, consequently, if March would push straight across the stream and
make vigorously for the bank, he might hit the point of rocks referred
to before being carried over.
"Down, some of you," he cried, "to the point, an' be ready to catch him;
I'll shout to him what to do."
Big Waller and Gibault darted away. Poor Bertram, having recovered,
remained gazing in speechless agony at March, who, having made several
fruitless efforts to seize hold of the sunken rock, was evidently
growing weaker. Bounce also remained to gaze, as if he had lost all his
wonted self-command.
"Ho! March!" shouted Redhand. "Dash into the stream--straight for me--
with all yer might; don't be afraid, lad! do it boldly!" But March
heard not. The rush of water about him deadened all other sounds.
In an instant Bounce started at full speed up the river, plunged into
it, and, descending with fearful rapidity, swung round into the eddy
behind the stone almost before his companions could divine what he meant
to do.
Even in that moment of terrible suspense March Marston looked with an
expression of surprise at his friend as he swam up beside him. Bounce
did not waste time or words; he merely raised one hand for a second,
and, pointing to the bank of the river, cried, "Push for it--'tis your
only chance!"
March Marston made no reply, but at once obeyed; yet so exhausted was
he, that, in the effort, he lost strength and sank. Bounce was prepared
for this. He seized him by the hair and struck out with the energy of
despair. A moment more and he was within a foot of the brink of the
fall--but, also, within a foot of the point of rock on which Big Waller
was lying at full length, part of his body overhanging the cataract, his
arms extended, and Gibault and Hawkswing holding him firmly by the legs.
Bounce caught his comrade's hand, and swung close in to the bank, while
with the other hand he continued to grasp March by the hair of the head.
The force of the current was so great, however, that not one of the
party dared move, and it seemed for a moment as if all of them would be
lost, when Bertram rushed forward, and, seizing Bounce by the arm,
dragged him still nearer the bank, and relieved the strain upon the
others. Just then, Redhand came to the rescue, and in another moment
the two men were safe upon the land.
Poor Bertram fell upon his knees, and while he thanked God for the
deliverance of his companions, sobbed liked a little child.
For some time the trappers spoke little. Accustomed though they were to
danger, they were solemnised by the recent narrow escape from sudden
death. Perhaps, too, their minds were more deeply affected than usual
with a sense of their dependence upon the living God, by the example and
the heartfelt, unrestrained thanksgiving of Bertram. But men whose
lives are spent in the midst of alarms are not long seriously affected,
even by the most solemn events. The trappers quickly recurred to their
present circumstances, which were, in truth, of a nature calculated to
fill them with anxiety, and cause them to bend the powers of their quick
wits and iron energies to the simple consideration of how they were to
subsist and how proceed on their journey.
"First of all," said Redhand quickly, "we must try what we can recover
of our odds and ends."
"Right," cried Bounce, who was none the worse for his late gallant
exertions; "the current won't stop for no man; an' the bales ain't
likely to stem it o' their own accord till we're ready to look for 'em."
Saying this, he set off down the river at a run, followed by all the
others, including March, who, after wringing the water from his
garments, and resting a few minutes, felt as well and strong as ever.
But, alas! their losses were grievous and irreparable. Their little
bundles of spare clothing and trinkets for trading with, or
conciliating, the Indians, were indeed saved, but their guns and all
their ammunition were gone. All that remained to them of the latter
were the few charges of powder in the horns suspended round their necks,
and a few slugs and bullets in their pouches. The only firearms left
were Bertram's cavalry pistols.
As for the canoe, it was smashed so thoroughly, that only a very few
shreds of bark were cast up on the shore; but entangled with these
shreds they were happy to find several of their steel traps--a most
fortunate circumstance, as it held out hopes that they might still be
enabled to prosecute to some extent the main object of their expedition.
As each man had been in the habit of carrying his axe and knife in his
belt, those indispensable implements of the backwoodsman were saved; but
the loss of guns and ammunition was a very severe misfortune, and one
which, for at least half an hour after every attempt to recover them had
failed, cast a damp over the spirits of the whole party. But these men
had neither time nor inclination to hang down their heads and sigh. Big
Waller, being a careless individual by nature, was the first to regain
somewhat of his wonted tone and manner. Sitting on a grassy knoll, on
which all the party had been resting for some time after their fruitless
exertions, in moody silence, Waller looked up suddenly and said, "Who's
afraid?"
As no one happened at that moment to be exhibiting symptoms of terror,
and there was no apparent cause for fear, the question seemed
irrelevant. We therefore conclude that the bold Yankee meant by it to
imply that _he_, at least, was not afraid of _circumstances_, no matter
how disastrous or heartrending they might be. Having said this, he
looked at the faces of his companions one by one. The last face he
looked at was that of Gibault Noir, and it wore such a lugubrious aspect
of hopeless melancholy that Big Waller burst into an uncontrollable fit
of laughter, and Bounce, without knowing why, joined him.
"Well, it's of no use looking blue about it," said March Marston, making
an effort to cheer up; "the question to be settled now is, What's to be
done?"
"Ay, _that_ is the question," observed Bertram gravely.
"Wall now, that _bein'_ the kee-westion," said Waller, "whose a-goin' to
answer it? There's a chance now, lads; but don't all speak at once."
"Right; that's wot it is," observed Bounce, nodding; "that's the
feelosophy on it. When a feller's turned upside down, wot's he a-goin'
to do nixt? You can't put no other construction on it in this here
wurld."
Redhand, who had been ruminating abstractedly for some minutes, now
looked round on his comrades and said--
"Here's a plan for you, lads. That outrageous villain the Big Snake
lives, for the most part, in a pretty little spot just three days' march
from this place. He stole, as ye all know, the horses belongin' to Mr
Bertram's party. Well, I propose that we shud go an' call on him, an'
make him stand an' re-deliver. What say you?"
"Agreed," cried Waller, tossing his cap into the air. "Hurrah!" shouted
March Marston. In one way or another, each gave his consent to the plan
of making a descent upon the robbers and causing them to make
restitution.
The plans of backwoodsmen, once formed, are always quickly put in
execution. They had no arrangements to make, no portmanteaus to pack,
no difficulties in the way to overcome. Each man strapped a portion of
the remaining property on his broad shoulders, and, pushing into the
forest with vigorous strides, they were soon far from the spot where
their late disaster had occurred, and gradually drew near to the wild
glens and gorges of the Rocky Mountains.