BOUNCE COGITATES UPON THE EMBARRASSING CIRCUMSTANCES OF HIS CONDITION--
DISCOVERY OF BLACK GIBAULT--TERRIBLE FATE IN STORE FOR THEIR COMRADES--A
MODE OF RESCUE PLANNED--DREADFUL EFFECTS OF FIRE-WATER--THE RESCUE.
About ten minutes after making his escape from his Indian foes, Bounce
seated himself on the trunk of a fallen tree and began to think upon
"Number One."
A little red squirrel had been seated on the trunk of that tree just two
minutes before his arrival. It was now seated on the topmost branch of
a neighbouring pine, looking with a pair of brilliant black eyes
indignantly at the unceremonious intruder.
Possibly the reader may think that it was selfish of Bounce, at such a
time, to devote much attention to Number One. He had just escaped; he
was in comparative safety; he was free; while there could be little or
no doubt that his late companions were prisoners, if not killed, and
that, in the ordinary course of things, they would eventually suffer
death by torture. At such a time and in such circumstances it would be
more natural, even in a selfish man, to think of any or of all the other
numerals than number one.
But, reader, I need scarcely tell you that things are not always what
they seem. Men are frequently not so bad as, at a first glance, they
would appear to be.
Bounce always reasoned philosophically, and he often thought aloud. He
did so on this occasion, to the immense edification of the little red
squirrel, no doubt. At least, if we may judge from the way in which it
glared and stared at the trapper--peeped at him round the trunk of the
tree, and over the branches and under the twigs and through the leaves,
jerking its body and quirking its head and whisking its tail--we have
every reason to conclude that it experienced very deep interest and
intense excitement. Pleasure and excitement being, with many people,
convertible terms, we have no reason for supposing that it is otherwise
with squirrels, and therefore every reason for concluding that the
squirrel in question enjoyed Bounce's visit greatly.
"Now this is wot it comes to," said Bounce, calmly filling his pipe,
from the mere force of habit, for he had not at that time the most
distant idea of enjoying a smoke. "This is wot it comes to. Savages is
savages all the wurld over, and they always wos savages, an' they always
will be savages, an' they can't be nothin' else."
At this point Bounce recollected having seen an Indian missionary, who
had been taken when a boy from his father's wigwam and educated, and who
had turned out as good and respectable a Christian gentleman as most
white men, and better than many, so he checked himself and said--
"Leastwise they can't be nothin' but savages so--so long as they is
savages."
This argument, although exceedingly obvious, seemed even to his own mind
to possess so little power, that he endeavoured to enforce it by
slapping his thigh with such energy that the body of the red squirrel
nearly jumped out at its own eyes. It clasped the tree stem to its
beating heart bravely, however, and, judging from its subsequent
conduct, speedily recovered its self-possession.
"That's how it is," continued Bounce; "an' that bein' the case, savages
always invariably thinks o' number one before they thinks on anythin'
else. Now, as men judges theirselves so they judges of others--that's a
fact, as all feelosophy has preclaimed, an' all experience has pruven.
Wot then? Why, them savages 'll think I've cleared off--made tracks--
thankful to git away with my own skin whole, and carin' no more for my
comrades than if they wos so many stumps. Thinkin' that, of coorse
they'll think it's o' no use to try to cross the river and give chase,
'cause I've got a long start o' 'em, an' so, d'ye see, they'll give me
up an' think no more about me. Good! very good! But p'r'aps it's jest
poss'ble that feller whose paw I tickled _may_ sometimes recall me to
mind."
This last idea tickled the trapper so powerfully that he chuckled in a
quiet way, and in doing so exposed such a double row of white teeth that
the squirrel, which had remained for some time in an attitude of deep
attention, began to show symptoms of uneasiness.
"Now I'll tell you wot I'll do," continued Bounce, resuming his look of
grave anxiety as the thought of his comrades recurred to him; "I'll go
up the river till I comes to opposite the place where I shoved the canoe
into the water. By the time I git there it'll be dark; then I'll swum
across an' foller the redskins an' save my comrades if I can. If I
can't, wot then? why, I'll leave the scalp of Bob Ounce to dangle in the
smoke of a redskin's wigwam."
We have elsewhere hinted that when a Rocky Mountain trapper makes up his
mind to do a certain thing he usually does it at once. Having settled
the plan of his future proceedings, Bounce did not waste more time in
thought or speech. He thrust his unsmoked pipe into his bosom, leaped
up from the trunk of the fallen tree, and darted from the spot with such
sudden promptitude, that the horrified squirrel sprang wildly into empty
space and vanished from the scene for ever!
For a quarter of an hour Bounce glided noiselessly through the forest,
keeping a course parallel with the river. In the deepening gloom of
evening, he appeared more like a spectre than a human being--so quick
and agile were his motions as he flitted past the tree stems, yet so
noiseless the tread of his moccasined feet. The bushes were thick and
in places tangled, compelling him to stoop and twist and diverge right
and left as he sped along, but, being unencumbered with weapons or
weight of any kind, he advanced so rapidly that in the short space of
time we have mentioned he stood opposite to that part of the bank where
the attack had been made, and below which he had been swept for a great
distance in the canoe by the rapid stream.
Here he spent some time in reconnoitring the opposite bank, but without
gathering much information from his observations. No symptom of the
presence of human beings could be discovered. No column of smoke rising
above the trees to tell of the watch-fire of white man or red. The
trapper listened intently, then he bethought him, for the first time, of
giving the signal which, at setting out on their journey, they had
agreed to use in all circumstances of danger. It was the low howl of a
wolf followed immediately by the hoot of an owl. The reply to it was to
be the hoot of the owl without the cry of the wolf when danger should be
imminent and extreme caution necessary, or the howl of the wolf alone if
danger should have passed away.
To the first utterance of the signal no reply was made. After waiting a
few seconds, Bounce gave it forth again. Immediately after, the low
howl of a wolf was heard on the opposite bank, and a figure appeared at
the edge of the river. Darkness prevented the trapper ascertaining who
it was, but a repetition of the cry convinced him that it could be none
other than Black Gibault.
With a grunt of satisfaction, Bounce at once proceeded to make
preparations for crossing the river. Cutting a large piece of bark from
a neighbouring tree, he hastily formed it into a species of dish or flat
boat; then, stripping off all his garments, he tied them up in a tight
bundle, and placed them in this miniature canoe; after which he plunged
boldly into the stream and made for the opposite shore, pushing his
little ark before him. In five minutes he had crossed, and entered into
a hasty conversation with Gibault in low, eager tones, while pulling on
his clothes.
"First of all, lad," said Bounce, laying his hand impressively on the
other's shoulder, "are they all safe?--none killed?"
"Non; dey be all alive, for certain."
"I'm thankful for that--_very_ thankful. Now go ahead, lad, and tell me
what ye know, while I pull on my leggins."
"Vell, dey be alive, as I have say. Mais dey not live long."
Gibault said this with such a look of woebegone despair that Bounce
paused in the midst of his dressing and said with much anxiety--"Wot's
wrong?--why not, lad?"
"'Cause dey vill be tortured to death demain, or de day apres de morrow.
Stay, I vill tell to you all I knows. You mus' know, ven I run avay
from you, I do so 'cause I know dat canoe ver' probabilie git opturned,
so I come to river bank before every von. Dere is von big tree dere, so
op I go like von skvirrel. You know vat come to pass apres dat. You
smash de head of de Injun, aussi you smash de paddil. Den you escape,
an' de Injuns howl vid passion!
"Ver' soon after dat, dey all come to de bank of river--forty of 'em, I
tink--draggin' our comerades vid dem, all tied by de wrist--Redhand, an'
Big Valler, an' March, an' Hawksving, an' poor Monsieur Bertram. Mais,
dat Monsieur Bertram, be most 'straordinary man! He terriblement
frightened for every leetle ting, but him not fright von bit for big
ting! Hims look at de sauvage dat hold him as if him be a lion. I do
tink Monsieur Bertram vould fight vell if hims obleeged.
"After good deal of consultoration an' disputerin', dey vas about for go
avay; so I sit ver' still, but I move my foot von leetle morsil, an' von
small leaf fall to de ground. It vas ver' small leaf, but Hawksving him
see it. Ah! he be von cliver Injun. Ver' sharp in sight too! I tink
him should be named Hawkseye. No von else notice it, but I see
Hawksving visper to Big Valler. Dat man be sharp feller too. He turns
hims back to de tree, nevair vonce looked up, but him burst into loud
laugh, like von tondre-clap, an' cry out, `Vell done, Gibault! Keep
close, old feller; their village is one day off towards the sun!' An'
den he laugh again. Ah! ho! how my heart him jump ven he speak my name!
But de Injuns tink hims yell out to some von cross de river, for him
looks dat vay. Vell, off dey go, and I begin to breathe more easy; but
ven dey git far-off, I hear the voice of Big Valler come back like
far-avay tondre, cryin', `Dey're goin' to roast us alive to-morrow; look
sharp!' Dat vas de last I hear. Den de darkness come, an' den you
come, an', now, vat is to come nixt?"
Poor Gibault spoke fast, and perspired very much, and looked wild and
haggard, for his nature was sensitive and sympathetic, and the idea of
his comrades meeting with such a horrible fate was almost too much for
him.
Bounce's honest face assumed an expression of deep anxiety, for, fertile
though his resources usually were, he could not at that moment conceive
how it was possible for two unarmed men, either by force or by
stratagem, to rescue five comrades who were securely bound, and guarded
by forty armed warriors, all of whom were trained from infancy in the
midst of alarms that made caution and intense watchfulness second nature
to them.
"It looks bad," said Bounce, sitting down on a stone, clasping his hard
hands together, and resting an elbow on each knee. "Sit ye down,
Gibault. We'll think a bit, an' then go to work. That's wot we'll do--
d'ye see?"
"Non, I don't see," groaned Gibault. "Vat can ve do? Two to forty! If
it was only swords ve had to fight vid--Hah! But, alas! we have
noting--dey have everyting."
"True, lad, force won't do," returned Bounce; "an' yit," he added,
knitting his brows, "if nothin' else 'll do, we'll try at least _how
much_ force 'll do."