MARCH, THOUGH WILLING IN SPIRIT, FINDS HIS BODY WEAK--HE MAKES MARY A
PRESENT--THE TRAPPERS SET OUT TO SEARCH FOR THEIR LOST COMRADE--AN
UNEXPECTED MEETING--BIG WALLER WAXES PUGNACIOUS--NEWS OF MARCH--DICK
BECOMES MORE MYSTERIOUS THAN EVER--A RECKLESS PROPOSAL AND A HAPPY
MEETING.
Next morning, before daybreak, March Marston attempted to set out for
the Mountain Fort with Dick; but he was so thoroughly knocked up before
the end of the first mile that he had to call a halt, and admit that he
could not think of going further. This was just what Dick wanted; so he
laughed, told him to go back and take care of Mary, and he would advance
alone.
March returned, very much humbled, excessively pained in all his joints,
and feeling as if he had reason to be ashamed of himself.
"Oh! you com back?" cried Mary as he entered the cavern with a
crestfallen air. "Me so glad! Me know very well you no was poss'ble
for travel."
Mary was perfectly artless. She made no attempt whatever to conceal her
satisfaction at the youth's return, so he felt amazingly comforted, and
even began to recover his self-esteem.
"Yes, Mary, I've come back, 'cause I can't go forward. It's o' no use
tryin'; I'd just have knocked up on the way, which would have been
awkward for Dick, you know, as well as for me. Besides, I couldn't
fight just now to save my life."
"Well, you is right. You stop here an' git strong an' well. Me tell
you stories 'bout Dick, or other mans if you likes. We'll have no
fightin' to do. If there is, me take care of you. Me can doos a littil
in that way."
March opened his eyes very wide at this, and stared at the pretty little
vision in leather, but there was no smile or sly wrinkle on her
countenance. She was looking quite gravely and sedately into the iron
pot, which she happened to be stirring at that moment.
"Mary," he said, sitting down beside her, "Dick tells me you can read."
"Yis, me can read littil. But me only got one book." She sighed
slightly as she said this.
"Would you like to have another book?"
"Oh yis, very very much. Have you got one?"
"Ay, one; the only one I have in the world, Mary; an' you're the only
person in the world I'd give it to. But I'll give it to you, 'cause
you've no chance of gettin' one like it here. It's a Bible--the one my
mother gave me when I left home."
March pulled the little volume out of the breast of his coat as he
spoke, and handed it to the girl, who received it eagerly, and looked at
it with mingled feelings of awe and curiosity for some time before she
ventured to open it.
"The Bibil. Dick have oftin speak to me 'bout it, an' try to 'member
some of it. But he no can 'member much. He tell me it speak about the
great good Spirit. Injins call him Manitow."
"So it does, Mary. I'll leave it with you when I go away. You say Dick
couldn't remember much of it; neither can I, Mary. More shame to me,
for many an' many a time has my poor mother tried to make me learn it
off by heart."
"You mother?" repeated Mary earnestly. "Is you mother livin'?"
"That is she. At least, I left her well an' hearty in Pine Point
settlement not many weeks agone."
"Me wish me had mother," said Mary with a sigh.
March gazed at the sad face of his fair companion with a perplexed yet
sympathetic look. This was a new idea to him. Never having been
without a mother, it had never entered into his head to think of such a
thing as wishing for one.
"What you mother called?" said the girl, looking up quickly.
"Her name is Mary."
"Yis! that very strange. Call same as me."
"Not very strange, after all. There are a good number of Marys in the
world," replied March with a laugh. "See, here is her name on the
flyleaf of the Bible, written with her own hand, too: `To my dear March,
from his loving mother, Mary Marston, Pine Point settlement.' Isn't it
a good round hand o' write?"
"Very pritty," replied Mary. But she had now begun to spell out the
words of the book which had at last fallen into her hands, and March
could not again draw her into general talk; so he was fain to sit down
and help her to read the Bible.
Leaving them thus occupied, we will now return to the trappers, three of
whom, it will be remembered--Bounce, Redhand, and Gibault--had reached
the Mountain Fort and given the alarm. Soon afterwards the Indians
arrived there; but finding everything in readiness to give them a warm
reception, they retired at once, preferring to wait their opportunity
rather than have a fair stand-up fight with the white men. About an
hour after they had retired, Big Waller, Hawkswing, and the artist, came
tearing towards the fort, and were at once admitted.
They had nothing new to tell. They had met together by accident, as the
others had done, on nearing the fort, and would have been in sooner, had
not Big Waller been obliged to take charge of poor Bertram, who, owing
to the suddenness and violence of all these recent events in savage
life, had got into a muddled condition of mind that rendered him
peculiarly helpless. But they knew nothing of March Marston--they had
expected to find him there before them.
As March was well mounted, and known to be well qualified to take care
of himself, his non-arrival threw his friends into a state of the utmost
anxiety and suspense. They waited a couple of hours, in order to give
him a chance of coming in, hoping that he might have merely been
detained by some trifling accident, such as having lost his way for a
time. But when, at the end of that period, there was still no sign of
him, they gave up all hope of his arriving, and at once set out to sweep
the whole country round in search of him, vowing in their hearts that
they would never return to Pine Point settlement without him if he were
alive.
McLeod tried to persuade them to remain at the fort for a few days, but,
feeling sympathy with them, he soon ceased to press the matter. As for
the wretched chief of the fort, Macgregor--the excitement of the recent
transactions being over--he had returned to his bosom friend, and
bitterest enemy, the bottle, and was at that time lying in a state of
drivelling idiocy in his private chamber.
A few days after quitting the fort, Bounce and Gibault, who chanced to
be riding considerably in advance of their companions, halted on the top
of a ridge and began to scan the country before them. In the midst of
their observations, Bounce broke the silence with a grunt.
"Fat now?" inquired his companion.
"What now?" replied Bounce contemptuously. "Use yer eyes now; d'ye see
nothin'?"
"Non, no ting."
"That comes o' the want of obsarvation, now," said Bounce in a grave,
reproachful tone. "Ye shouldn't ought to be so light-headed, lad. If
ye wos left to yer lone in them sort o' places, ye'd soon lose yer
scalp. It's _obsarvation_ as does it all, an' in yer partikler case
it's the want o' that same as doesn't do it, d'ye see?"
"Non, vraiment, me shockable blind dis day; mais, p'r'aps, git more
cliver de morrow," replied the good-humoured Canadian with a grin. "Fat
you see?"
"I see fut-prints," replied Bounce, dismounting; "an' as fut-prints
implies feet, an' feet indicates critters, human or otherwise, it
becomes men wot be lookin' for a lost comrade to examine 'em with more
nor or'nary care."
"Hah!" shouted Gibault with unwonted energy. "Look! voila! behold!
Bounce, you hab great want of `obsarvation.' See!"
Now it chanced that, while Bounce was on his knees, carefully turning
over every leaf and blade of grass, his comrade, who remained on
horseback, and kept gazing at the horizon, without any particular object
in view, did suddenly behold an object coming towards them at full
gallop. Hence the sudden outburst, and the succeeding exclamation from
Bounce--"It's a hoss!"
"A hoss!" repeated Gibault. "Him be one buffalo I see hims bump."
"The bumps that ye see is neither more nor less than a man leanin'
forard--it is."
At this moment the rest of the party rode up, and Redhand confirmed
Bounce's opinion.
"There's only one, I guess, an' he's in a powerful hurry," observed Big
Waller. "But we may as well be ready to fix his flint if he means to
cut up rough."
He brought forward his gun as he spoke, and examined the priming.
"I b'lieve he's an evil spirit, I do," said Bounce; "wot a pace!"
"More like to de Wild Man of de Vest," observed Gibault.
"Think you so?" whispered Bertram in an anxious tone, with an
involuntary motion of his hand to the pouch in which lay that marvellous
sketch-book of his.
"Think it's him?" said Redhand to Hawkswing.
The Indian gave a slight grunt of assent.
But the strange horseman soon put all doubt on the point at rest by
bearing down upon them like a whirlwind, his long hair and tags and
scalp-locks streaming in the wind as usual. Dick had a distinct purpose
in thus acting. He wished to terrify men, or, at least, to impress them
with a wholesome dread of him, in order that he might simply be _let
alone_!
He did not check his slashing pace until within four or five bounds of
the party. Reining up so violently that he tore up the turf for a
couple of yards under his horse's heels, he looked at the trappers with
a grave, almost fierce expression, for a second or two.
"You come from the Mountain Fort?" he said.
"Yes," replied Redhand.
"All right there?"
"All right. The redskins threatened an attack, but we were too quick
for 'em."
A gleam of satisfaction passed across Dick's face as he added, "You've
lost a comrade, han't ye?"
"We jist have," cried Big Waller in surprise. "If you've seed him, I
guess ye'd as well take us to his whereabouts."
"See you yonder pine?" said Dick, pointing back in the direction whence
he had come. "One day's journey beyond that, as the crow flies, will
bring you to a valley, level and well watered, with plenty o' beaver in
it. You'll find him there."
Without waiting a reply Dick turned to ride away.
"I say, stranger," cried Waller (Dick paused), "air you, or air you not,
the Wild Man o' the West?"
"Wild fools of the West call me so," replied Dick with a ferocious
frown, that went far to corroborate the propriety of the cognomen in the
opinion of the trappers.
"Wall, I tell 'ee wot it is, stranger, Wild Man or not, I guess you'll
ha' to take us to our comrade yourself, for I'm inclined to opine that
you know more about him than's good for ye; so if ye try to ride off,
I'll see whether a ball--sixteen to the pound--'ll not stop ye, for all
yer bigness."
A grim smile curled Dick's moustache as he replied, "If ye think that a
trapper's word ain't to be trusted, or that committin' murder 'll do yer
comrade a service, here's your chance--fire away!"
Dick wheeled about and cantered coolly away into the thickest part of
the forest, leaving the trappers gazing at each other in amazement.
Bertram was the first to speak.
"Oh, why did you not delay him a few seconds longer? See, I have him
here--all but the legs of his splendid charger."
The others burst into a laugh.
"If ye've got the body all c'rect, it's easy to calculate the legs by
the rules o' proportion, d'ye see?" observed Bounce.
"Come, lads, that's good news about March, anyhow," cried Redhand; "an'
I'm of opinion that the Wild Man o' the West an't just so wild as people
think. I, for one, will trust him. There's somethin' about the corner
of a man's eye that tells pretty plain whether he's false or true.
Depend on't we shall find March where he told us, so the sooner we set
off the better."
Without waiting for a reply, Redhand urged his horse into a gallop, and,
followed by his comrades, made for the valley indicated by the Wild Man.
Meanwhile, the Wild Man himself was already far ahead of them, keeping
out of sight among the woods, and galloping nearly in the same
direction--for his cave lay not more than four miles from the valley in
question. Being much better mounted than they, he soon left the
trappers far behind him, and when night closed in he continued his
journey, instead of halting to eat and take a few hours' rest as they
did. The consequence was that he reached his cave several hours before
the trappers arrived at the valley, where they expected to find their
missing comrade.
Of course March was filled with surprise at this second unexpected
return of Dick; but the latter relieved his mind by explaining, in an
offhand way, that he had met a man who had told him the Mountain Fort
was all safe, and that his comrades also were safe, and wandering about
in that part of the country in search of him. After a good deal of
desultory conversation, Dick turned to his guest with a sad, serious
air, and, fixing his large blue eyes on him, said--
"March, lad, you an' me must part soon."
"Part!" exclaimed the youth in surprise, glancing at Mary, who sat
opposite to him, embroidering a pair of moccasins.
"Ay, we must part. You'll be well enough in a day or two to travel
about with yer comrades. Now, lad, I want ye to understand me. I've
lived here, off and on, for the last fourteen or fifteen years--it may
be more, it may be less; I don't well remember--an' I've niver suffered
men to interfere wi' me. I don't want them, an' they don't want me."
He paused. There was a slight dash of bitterness in the tone in which
the last words were uttered; but it was gone when he resumed, in his
usual low and musical voice--
"Now, although I chose to bring you to my cave, because I found ye
a'most in a dyin' state, an' have let ye into one or two o' my secrets--
because I couldn't help it, seein' that I couldn't stop up yer eyes--an'
yer ears--yet I don't choose to let yer comrades know anything about me.
They've no right to, an' _you_ have no right to tell 'em; so, when ye
meet 'em again ye mustn't talk about me or my cave, d'ye see?"
"Certainly," said March, who was both surprised and annoyed by his
speech, "certainly you have a perfect right to command me to hold my
tongue; and, seein' that you've bin so kind to me, Dick, I'm in duty
bound to obey; but how can you ask me to put myself in such an awkward
fix? You don't suppose I can make my comrades believe I've bin livin'
on air or grass for some days past, an' they'll see, easy enough, that
I've not bin in a condition to help myself. Besides, whatever your
notions may be about truth, mine are of such a sort that they won't let
me tell a parcel o' lies to please anybody."
"Far be it from me, boy, to ask ye to tell lies. You can tell yer
comrades that you've bin took care of by a trapper as lives in a cave
among the mountains; but you don't need to tell 'em where the cave is;
an' if they worry ye to guide 'em to it, ye can refuse. Moreover, jist
speak o' me in an offhand, careless sort o' way, d'ye see? an' be
particular not to tell what I'm like, 'cause it might make 'em take a
fancy to hunt me up."
There appeared to be a dash of vanity in the latter part of this remark,
which surprised March not a little; for it seemed to him quite
inconsistent with the stout hunter's wonted modesty of demeanour and
speech.
"Well, I'm bound to think only o' your wishes in this matter," replied
March in a disappointed tone, "an' I'll do my best to prevent my
comrades interfering with ye, tho', to say truth, I don't think you need
be so cautious, for they ain't over-curious--none of 'em. But--" here
March paused and glanced at Mary, who, he observed, had dropped her head
very much during the conversation, and from whose eye at that moment a
bright tear fell, like a diamond, on the work with which she was
engaged.
"But--am I--the fact is, Dick, I feel a little sore that you should say
ye had a likin' for me, an' then tell me I must be off, an' never look
near ye again."
"That's wot I never did say, boy," returned Dick, smiling. "Ye may come
_alone_ to see me as often as ye like while ye remain in these parts.
An' if it please ye, yer at liberty to come an' live wi' me. There's
room in the mountains for both of us. The cave can hold three if need
be."
March Marston's heart beat quick. He was on the eve of forming a great
resolve! His bosom heaved, and his eye sparkled, as he was about to
close hastily with this proposal, when, again, the memory of his mother
crossed him, and a deep sigh burst from his lips as he shook his head,
and said sorrowfully, "It can't be done, Dick. I can't forsake my
mother."
"No more ye should, lad, no more ye should," said Dick, nodding
approvingly; "but there's nothin' to prevent your spendin' the winter
and spring here, an' returnin' to yer mother next summer."
"Done!" cried March, springing up as well as his bruised muscles would
permit him, and seizing his friend enthusiastically by the hand. "I'll
stop with you and send home word by my comrades that I'll be back in
summer. That's capital!"
Mary seemed to be quite of the same opinion, for she looked quickly up
with a beaming smile.
"Well, so it is a good plan," said Dick somewhat gravely; "but don't act
in haste, else ye may ha' to repent at leisure. Go an' speak to yer
comrades; see what they advise ye to do, an' come again an' let me know.
And, now we're on that pint, I may tell ye that yer friends will be at
the head of a valley not four miles from here this very night, an' they
expect ye there."
"How d'ye know that?" cried March, breathless with amazement.
"Well, ye see, the Wild Man o' the West knows that you're in them parts;
he has seed you, an' knows where ye are, an' he met yer comrades, the
trappers, no later than yesterday, an' told 'em they'd find ye in the
valley I spoke of just now; so we must be up an' away to meet 'em."
Dick rose as he spoke and began to make preparation to depart.
"But how came _you_ to know this?" inquired the astonished youth.
"Why, the Wild Man an' me's oncommon intimate, d'ye see? In fact, I may
say we're jist inseparable companions, an' so I come to know it that
way. But make haste. We've no time to lose."
"Good-bye, Mary," cried March with a cheerful smile, as he hurried out
of the cave after his eccentric companion. "I'll be back before long,
depend on't."
Mary nodded, and the two men were soon mounted and out of sight.
"I say, Dick," observed March as they rode along, "you _must_ get me to
see the Wild Man of the West; if you're so intimate with him, you can
easily bring him into the cave; now _won't_ you, Dick?"
"Well, as I can't help doin' it, I s'pose I may say yes at once."
"Can't help it, Dick! What mean you? I wish ye'd talk sense."
"Hist!" exclaimed the hunter, pulling up suddenly under the shelter of a
cliff. "Yonder come yer friends, sooner than I expected. I'll leave ye
here. They've not seed us yit, an' that wood 'll hide me till I git
away. Now, March," he added solemnly, "_remember yer promise_."
In another moment the wild hunter was gone, and March rode forward to
meet his comrades, who, having now caught sight of him, came up the
valley at full speed, shouting and waving their caps joyfully as they
approached. In a shorter space of time than it takes to tell, March was
surrounded, dragged off his horse, passed from one to another, to be
handled roughly, in order to make sure that it was really himself, and,
finally, was swallowed up by Bounce in a masculine embrace that might
almost have passed for the hug of a grisly bear.