A CACHE DISCOVERED--BERTRAM BECOMES VALOROUS--FAILURE FOLLOWS, AND A
BRIEF SKIRMISH, FLIGHT, AND SEPARATION ARE THE RESULTS.
The sun was high, scattering the golden clouds in the bright sky,
gilding the hilltops, flooding the plains, vivifying vegetable life, and
gladdening the whole animal creation, when, on the following morning,
our wearied trappers raised their heads and began to think of breakfast.
To do these trappers justice, however, we must add that their looks,
when they became wide enough awake to take full cognisance of the
scenery, indicated the presence of thoughts and emotions of a more
elevated character, though, from the nature of their training from
infancy, they wanted words to express their feelings.
It was otherwise with Bertram and March Marston. Their exclamations,
the instant they arose, showed that both their hearts were keenly alive
to the good and the beautiful which surrounded them--and their tongues
were not altogether incapable of uttering the praise of Him who clothes
so gorgeously the lovely earth and peoples it with millions of happy
creatures--yes, happy creatures, for, despite the existence of death and
sin and sorrow everywhere, and the croaking of misanthropes, there _is_
much, very much, of pure, overflowing happiness here below.
"Come, March--Mr Bertram, time presses," said Redhand, interrupting the
two friends in the midst of earnest conversation; "we've got a long day
before us, and, mayhap, a fight with redskins at the end o't, so it
behoves us to make a good breakfast and set off as soon as we can.
We're late enough already."
"Ah, Redhand!" exclaimed March, "you're a terrible fellow for duty an'
business, an' all that sort o' thing. It's always `time to be off,' or
`time to think o' this or that,' or `we mustn't put off,' with you. Why
won't ye let us take a breathin' spell once in a way to enjoy ourselves,
eh?"
The old man pointed to the sun. "You've enjoyed yourself late enough
to-day, han't ye?"
"Come, March, you're in a fault-finding humour this morning," said
Bertram as they walked towards the camp. "Let's enjoy ourselves in
spite of circumstances. Do you know, I hold it to be exceedingly wise
as well as philosophical, to make the best of things at all times."
"Do you?" exclaimed March in a tone of affected surprise; "now that's
odd. You must be a real clever fellow to have made up your mind on that
point. But somehow or other I'm inclined to think that most o' the
trappers hereabouts are as wise as yourself on it, though, mayhap, they
don't say it just in the same words. There's Waller, now, as 'll tell
ye that when he `can't help it he guesses he'll jist grin an' bear it.'
And there's an old Irish trapper that's bin in the mountains nigh forty
years now, and who's alive at this day--if he bean't dead--that used to
say to himself when ill luck came upon him, `Now, Terence, be aisy, boy;
an' av ye can't be aisy, be as aisy as ye can.' So you see, Mr
Bertram, we have got a few sparks of wisdom in these diggins."
"Now, then, stop yer feelosophy," cried Bounce, hitching his shoulders
so as to induce his light load to take up a more accommodating position.
"Ye didn't use to be a slow feller, March; wot's to do? Ye ain't
a-goin' to cave in 'cause we're gettin' nigh the redskins, are ye?"
To this March deigned no reply, but, swinging his bundle over his
shoulder, set off at a pace that speedily left his laughing comrades far
behind. When, in the course of an hour after, they overtook him, he was
discovered lying flat on his back, with his head resting on his bundle,
and smoking his pipe with an air of perfect satisfaction.
During the course of that day the trappers walked about thirty miles.
Towards the afternoon they came to a large river, along the banks of
which they pursued their way, led by Redhand, who seemed as familiar
with the country as if he had dwelt there from infancy. The old
trapper's kindly visage was lighted up with a smile of recognition, ever
and anon, when some new and striking feature of the landscape opened up
to view, as if he had met with and were greeting some personal friend.
He spoke occasionally in a low tone to March, who usually kept close to
his side, and pointed to spots which were associated in his memory with
adventures of various kinds. But Redhand's observations were few. He
preferred to listen to the conversations of his comrades, as they
plodded steadily along, enlivening their march with many an anecdote and
legend.
At last Redhand called a halt, and gazed inquiringly around him, as if
in search of some object.
"Wot's up?" inquired Bounce earnestly.
"It was hereabouts, somewhere," muttered Redhand, to himself rather than
to his friend; then added quickly, as he threw down his pack, "Ay, there
it is--never touched. Now that's what I call luck."
"_Wot's_ luck?" inquired Waller.
"Ah, dat is de keevestion," added Gibault with a look of surprise.
"You must know, lads," said Redhand, turning to his comrades, who
observed his movements with considerable astonishment; "you must know,
lads, there was an old chap who once trapped beavers up in them parts--"
"Oh! it's a hanikdot," interrupted Big Waller; "then I guess we'd as
well sot down." So saying, he seated himself on his bundle and, as a
matter of course, proceeded to fill his pipe. The others followed his
example, with the exception of Redhand, who remained standing, and of
Bertram, who quickly opened his sketch-book, that being the first
opportunity he had enjoyed during the day of making an entry therein.
"Right," exclaimed Bounce. "It's allers more feelosophical to sot than
to stand--also more ekornomical, 'cause it saves yer moccasins. Go on
with yer story, old man."
"It ain't a story," said Redhand; "nor I don't think it can even be
called an anecdote. Well, this old chap that once trapped beaver in
them parts came down to Pine Point settlement one year with a load o'
furs, sold 'em all off, took a ragin' fever, and died." Redhand paused,
and gazed dreamily at the ground.
"I say," observed Bounce seriously, "ain't that wot ye may call raither
a short hanikdot--not much in it, eh?"
"But before he died," resumed Redhand without noticing the interruption,
"he sent for me an' said: `Redhand, I'm goin' onder, an' I've got some
property as I don't want lost. Ye know Beaver Creek?' `Yes,' says I,
`every fut of it.' `Well, then,' says he, `there's a spot there with
three mounds on the right side o' the Creek and a tall poplar in front
of 'em.' `I know it,' says I. `Well, w'en I last come from that part,'
says he, `I made a _cache_ at the foot o' that poplar, an' put one or
two things in, which it 'ud be a pity to lose--so I give 'em to you,
Redhand. I was chased by Injuns at the place, so I couldn't stop to
bring 'em away, d'ye see?' `An' what were the things ye put there?'
said I. But he gave me no answer; his mind began to wander, and he
never spoke sense again. Now, lads, this is Beaver Creek, and there
stands the poplar in front o' the three mounds."
Redhand pointed to the tree as he spoke, and the others started up with
alacrity, for the little touch of romance connected with the incident,
combined with their comparatively destitute condition, and their
ignorance of what the concealed treasure might be, powerfully stirred
their curiosity.
Arming themselves with strong staves, they began to dig away the earth
at the roots of the poplar.
After a few minutes' hard work, Bounce rose to wipe the perspiration
from his brow, and said--
"Wot for didn't ye tell us o' this before, Redhand?"
"Because I wasn't sure the _cache_ might not have bin discovered long
ago, and I didn't want to risk disappointin' ye."
"Hallo! here's _somethin'_," exclaimed Big Waller, as the point of the
stake with which he tore up the earth struck against some hard
substance.
"Have a care, boy," cried Bounce, stooping down and clearing away the
earth with his hands. "P'r'aps it's easy broken. No--why--it's a keg!"
"So it am," cried Gibault; "p'r'aps it am poudre."
At this moment Big Waller and Bounce gave the keg a violent tug and
disentombed it, an operation which proved Gibault's surmise to be wrong,
for the shake showed that the contents were liquid. In a moment the
plug was driven in, and Bounce, putting his nose to the hole, inhaled
the result. He drew back with a look of surprise, and said--
"Brandy!"
"Ha! here is one oder ting," cried Gibault, laying hold of a bundle and
dragging it to light. "Vat can dis be?"
The question was soon answered; the string was cut, the leathern cover
unrolled, and a considerable quantity of tobacco was disclosed to the
view of the trappers, whose looks showed pretty clearly that this latter
discovery was much more agreeable than the former.
After digging deep all round the tree, they came to the conclusion that
this was all that the _cache_ contained.
"Now," said Bounce, after some talk in reference to their newly-found
treasure, "wot's to be done with dis here keg o' brandy? As for the
baccy, we'll carry that along with us, of course, an' if Master
Redhand's a liberal feller, we'll help him to smoke it. But the brandy
keg's heavy, an' to say truth, I'm not much inclined for it. I never
wos fond o' fire-water."
"If you'd allow me, friends, to suggest," said Bertram, whose experience
among trappers in other regions had convinced him that spirits was a
most undesirable commodity, "I would recommend that you should throw
this brandy away. I never saw good come of it. We do not require it
for health, neither do we for sickness. Let us throw it away, my
friends; it is a dangerous and deceitful foe."
"Mais, monsieur," interposed Gibault with a rueful countenance; "you
speak de trooth; but though hims be dangereux an' ver' bad for drink
oftin, yet ven it be cold vedder, it doo varm de cokils of de hart!"
Big Waller laughed vociferously at this. "I guess Gibault's right,"
said he, "it 'ud be a powerful shame to fling it away."
"Well, lads," said Redhand, "it's evident that we can't drink it just
now, for it would unsteady our hands for the work we have to do this
night. It's also clear we can't carry it with us on a war expedition;
so I propose that we should put it where we found it an' come back for
it when we've done wi' the redskins."
This plan was finally agreed to; the keg was reburied at the foot of the
poplar, and the party continued their journey, carrying the much-prized
tobacco along with them.
The sun was still blazing above the mountains in the west, tingeing
their snowy spires with rosy red, when the trappers came upon the first
indication of the neighbourhood of Indians in the shape of recent
footprints and cuttings in the woods. A large canoe was also found
lying bottom up on the bank of the creek. This Redhand examined, and
found it to be in good condition, although, from the marks in the
vicinity, it was evident that it had not been recently used.
Men who spend their lives in the backwoods of America are celebrated for
the closeness with which they observe every object and circumstance
which happens to pass within the range of their perceptions. This habit
and acuteness of observation is the result of necessity. The trapper
and the Red Indian are alike dependent very much on this faculty for
their sustenance and for their safety. Surrounded as they are by perils
of every kind, their eyes and ears are constantly on the alert, as they
pass through the pathless wilderness on the hunt or on the war trail.
No object within the range of vision is passed with indifference.
Everything is carefully yet quickly noted--the breaking of a twig, the
crushing of a blade of grass, or the footprint of man or beast. Hence
the backwoodsman acquires the habit of turning all things in his path to
account, or notes them in case they should, by any possibility, be
required by him at a future time.
Redhand had no definite object in view when, with the assistance of
March Marston, he lifted the canoe and placed it in the stream to
ascertain that it was water-tight, and then replaced it on the bank with
the paddles close beside it. But he had a general idea, founded on
experience, that a good canoe was a useful thing in many supposable
circumstances, and that it was as well to know where such an article was
to be found.
"We shall have to go cautiously now," said he before resuming the march.
"The Injuns are not far off, as ye may see by yonder thin line o' smoke
that rises above the trees on the mountain side. If they are the men we
seek, they're sharp as foxes, so we'll have to step like the painter."
Bertram looked up quickly at the last word; then he smiled the next
moment, as he remembered that the panther was thus styled by trappers.
Proceeding cautiously forward in single file, they at length gained a
spot beyond which they could not advance without running the risk of
being discovered. Here another halt was made, and here it was agreed
that Redhand should advance alone, near enough to ascertain whether the
Indians, whose camp they were approaching, were actually the scamps who
had robbed Bertram of his horses. The old trapper was about to set
forward when Bertram stopped him.
"Methinks, old man," said he, "it were well that I should accompany you
on this expedition, which I foresee is one of no little danger; and as
the danger is encountered chiefly on my account, it seems to me right
and fitting that I should share it along with you. Besides, two are
better than one in a struggle, whether mental or physical."
Redhand looked a little perplexed. He did not like to tell the poor
artist that he was totally unfit to make a stealthy approach to an
Indian camp, yet he felt that the danger of failure would be increased
tenfold if he allowed him to make the attempt; but Bertram pleaded so
earnestly, and withal so resolutely, that he at length consented, on
condition of his doing nothing but what he was desired to do, and
keeping as quiet as a mouse. This the artist promised to do, and the
two accordingly set forth, armed with their knives and the two pistols.
Bertram also carried his sword. The rest of the party were to remain in
ambush until the return of the others.
During the first part of their advance through the wood Bertram trod as
softly and carefully as an Indian, and watched every motion of his
companion, who led him down into a ravine which conducted them to within
a few hundred yards of the camp. From the absence of such noises as the
barking of dogs and shouts of children, the old trapper conjectured that
this must be either a party of trappers or a war-party of Indians. A
few minutes' creeping on hands and knees through the underwood brought
them to a spot whence the camp could be seen, and showed that in the
latter conjecture he was right. The red warriors, forty in number, were
seated in a circle round their watch-fire smoking their tomahawks in
moody silence.
To the eye of Bertram they all seemed to be lost in dreamy reverie, but
Redhand observed, with a feeling of anxiety, that he who seemed to be
their chief sat in that peculiar attitude which indicates intense
attention. Laying his hand on Bertram's shoulder, the old man said in
the faintest possible whisper--
"Yonder sits the thief, an't he?"
Bertram at once recognised in the chief of the band before him Big
Snake, the Indian who had stolen his horses and property; so he nodded
his head violently, and looked excited, but wisely refrained from
speech, lest his voice should be overheard.
Redhand shook his head. "The thief," said he in a tone that was
scarcely audible, "has heard us; I see by his face that he suspects he
has heard _something_, and he knows that it was not the falling of a
leaf. If we break a twig now we're done for."
Redhand meant this to be a salutary caution to his companion, which
would ensure a noiseless retreat. To men of his own stamp it would have
been useful, but he little knew the peculiar temperament of his friend;
the mere idea of the success of the whole expedition depending upon his
extreme care unhinged the nerves of the poor artist, who, although
absolutely a brave man, in the true sense of the term, could no more
control his nervous system than he could perform an Indian war-dance.
He could have rushed single-handed on the whole body of warriors with
ease, but he could not creep among the dry twigs that strewed the ground
without trembling like an aspen leaf lest he should break one.
It is wonderful, however, what necessity will enable men to do. Bertram
did creep after his friend, back towards the spot where the rest of his
party lay, as softly and noiselessly as if he had been bred to the work
from infancy. On regaining the edge of the ravine, they rose and
advanced in a crouching posture. Then Bertram sighed and felt that
imminent danger was over. Alas! that feeling of partial security cost
him dear. The step that succeeded the sigh was a careless one. His
foot caught in a projecting root, and next moment he went headforemost
into the centre of a decayed bush with a crackling crash that was
absolutely appalling in the circumstances.
Redhand cast upon the luckless man one glance of horror, and, uttering
the words, "Run for your life!" dashed down the bank, and coursed along
the bottom like a hare. At the same moment that terrific yell, which
has so often chilled the heart's blood of men and women in those western
wilds, rang through the forest, telling that they were discovered, and
that the Indians were in pursuit.
Bertram kept close to the heels of the old trapper at first, but before
he had run fifty yards he tripped and fell again. On attempting to rise
he was seized and thrown violently to the ground by an Indian warrior.
Looking back and observing this, Redhand turned at once, like a hare
doubling on its course, and rushed to the rescue; but before he reached
his friend he was surrounded by a dozen yelling Indians. At the
foremost of these he levelled his pistol, but the faithless weapon
missed fire, and he was in the act of hurling it at his adversary, when
a blow from behind felled him to the ground.
While this was going on, the trappers were bounding to the succour of
their comrades. When they came to the field of action and saw neither
of their friends (for they had been borne swiftly away), and beheld an
overwhelming band of armed savages rushing towards them, they at once
perceived that strength or courage could avail them nothing in such an
unequal conflict; so they turned and fled, scattering themselves among
the bushes so as to divert pursuit as much as possible.
Bounce and Gibault were the only two who kept together. These made for
the spot where the canoe had been left, but the latter outran the former
so quickly that he was soon lost to view ahead of him. In a few minutes
Bounce gained the bank of the stream, and seized the end of the canoe.
To his amazement Gibault was nowhere to be seen. But he had no time for
thought, for at that moment he was discovered by two Indians who ran
towards him. The canoe was launched, and a paddle seized in an instant,
but the trusty trapper was loath, even in his extremity, to push off
while his comrade might be in danger.
"Ho! Gibault! Gibault Noir!" he shouted. "Quick, lad; yer too late
a'most, ho!"
Grinding his teeth in an agony of anxiety, he made a sudden dart at the
foremost Indian, who little dreamed of such an attack, and hit him with
the paddle with all his force. The savage dropped like a stone, and the
paddle flew into a dozen splinters. This was a foolish act on the part
of Bounce, for the second Indian was now close upon him, and, seeing the
fate of his companion, he stopped short, and hastily fitted an arrow to
his bow. Just then several of the savages burst from the wood with
fierce cries. There was no time to lose. Bounce turned, pushed off the
canoe, and leaped in as an arrow grazed his neck.
The bold trapper's condition seemed hopeless; for, having broken the
paddle to pieces, he could not propel his little bark out of danger.
The stream was broad and rapid at that place, and swept him away
swiftly. Immediately a shower of arrows fell around him, some grazing
his person and piercing his clothes and the canoe, but fortunately not
wounding him.
Meanwhile three of the Indians darted downstream, and, throwing
themselves into the current, swam out so as to intercept the canoe as it
passed. Bounce, having lain down at full length in the bottom of his
tiny bark to avoid the arrows which were discharged at him, did not
observe these men, and the first intimation he had of what was taking
place was the canoe being nearly upset, as a powerful savage laid hold
of the side of it.
To draw his knife and pass it round the wrist of the Indian, so as to
sever the tendons, was the work of a moment. The savage fell back with
a yell of mingled rage and pain. The others seeing what had occurred,
wisely turned and made for the shore. This incident was the means of
saving the trapper, for the Indians, fearful of wounding their comrade,
had ceased to discharge their arrows, and when they again ventured to do
so, a tumultuous rapid had caught the canoe, and whirled it nearly over
to the opposite shore.
Bounce watched his opportunity. As he swept near to a rocky point, he
sprang towards it with all his might. He fell short, but happily the
water did not reach above his knees. Next moment he sprang up the bank
and stood on the edge of the underwood, where he paused, and, turning
round, shook his clenched fist at his enemies, and uttered a shout of
defiance.
The disappointed Indians gave vent to a fiendish howl, and discharged a
cloud of arrows, most of which fell short of their mark. Ere the last
shaft had fallen harmless to the ground, Bounce had entered the forest
and was gone.