PRESSING NORTHWARD.
YOU know, of course, that the Blackfoot was describing the grizzly bear,
though he did not call it by that name, any more than he referred to the
Rocky Mountains as such. George and Victor were inclined to think that
Mul-tal-la was exaggerating, for it was hard to believe that so
formidable a creature existed. They had learned in Ohio and Kentucky
that no brute traversed the solitudes that could not be slain by a
single bullet if rightly directed, and several bullets, even when not
aimed at the most vulnerable point, were generally sufficient to do the
business.
Deerfoot, however, was impressed by the words of his friend. He had
hunted with Mul-tal-la long enough to know his bravery and skill. He
knew that if he entered any conflict with man or beast he would give a
good account of himself. It was certain that he had put up a sturdy
fight with his companions, but the fact that a single animal had
defeated the four and slain two proved that he must have been a
formidable monster indeed.
When Mul-tal-la, after answering further questions, gave it as his
belief that they were likely to meet one or more of these terrors, the
eyes of Deerfoot sparkled. He dearly hoped that such an encounter would
take place, for he could never forget the ecstatic thrill of a fight in
which all his unequalled prowess had to be brought into play.
But the Shawanoe saw the danger that threatened the boys. Inasmuch as
all four were likely to be separated for hours at a time while on their
journey, it might fall to the lot of George and Victor to meet a grizzly
bear. If so, the most natural thing for them to do would be to open
hostilities at once. Deerfoot warned them against such fatal rashness.
“My brothers must not try to shoot or hurt the bear unless they have no
other way of saving themselves.”
“What shall we do?” asked Victor.
“Run as hard as my brothers can.”
“Victor is mighty good at _that_. You don’t know how fast _he_ can run,
Deerfoot.”
The Shawanoe looked inquiringly at George, who at that moment caught a
warning grimace from his brother. Deerfoot saw the by-play and had his
own suspicions, but kept them to himself. He was determined to learn the
truth from Mul-tal-la, and he did so before the close of day.
The halt had already extended beyond the time set by the Blackfoot, and
the journey was now taken up and pushed till night. Mul-tal-la kept in
the lead, with the Shawanoe next and the boys at the rear. When the
afternoon drew to a close they were well through the narrow portion of
the range and among the foothills on the farther side. Although the
country was broken and rough in many places, the traveling was not
difficult, and the party hoped to make good progress until at the end of
a few days they would again enter a mountainous region. This would take
a long time to traverse, and when it was passed they would be on the
border of the Blackfoot country, though still a long way from the
Pacific.
That night Mul-tal-la and Deerfoot shared the watch between them, the
boys resting undisturbed throughout the darkness. The weather remained
clear, and at an early hour they were on the road again and pressing
forward with vigor. The Blackfoot showed that peculiarity which comes to
many in drawing near their destination; the closer he approached to home
the greater became his haste.
The following day the boys met a pleasant experience. At the noon halt,
while Mul-tal-la and Deerfoot were sitting on a fallen tree and talking,
with the horses browsing near, George and Victor wandered off to look
for fruit. They had seen some of it earlier in the forenoon, but it was
too unripe to be edible. After living so long on meat they felt a
natural craving for lighter food. The Blackfoot told them they ought to
find that for which they were hunting, for they were in a region where
fruit was plentiful and the season was now far enough advanced for some
of it to be ripe.
George was the first to succeed in the hunt. A shout brought his brother
to his side. George was busy among some bushes that were crimson with
wild currants, and he was picking and eating them greedily.
“Better not eat too many,” warned Victor, proceeding straightway to
violate his own advice. “You know we are not used to this kind of stuff,
and it may play the mischief with us.”
“If I ate as much as _you_ I should expect to die,” was the rather
ungracious response of George, who nevertheless heeded the counsel and
began searching further for some other kind of fruit that had less
acidity.
He succeeded sooner than he expected, for he ran directly into a growth
of raspberries, many of which were purplish black in color, soft, mild
and delicious to the palate. He called to Victor and the two enjoyed a
veritable feast. In the midst of it they were joined by Mul-tal-la and
Deerfoot, who partook as bountifully as they. Later in the season they
found an abundance of plums, wild apples and no end of mulberries.
The journey continued for several days without special incident. When
they reached the stream now known as the Great Horn they faced a serious
problem. The current was rapid and deep, coursing violently between high
ridges, some of which were so lofty that a regular cañon was formed.
Mul-tal-la said they had come upon this river a considerable distance
above the place where he and his companion forded it, and on the
suggestion of Deerfoot he began searching for the ford or ferry, as it
might prove. When nightfall came it had not been found, and the
Blackfoot expressed doubts of his being able to locate it.
This unexpected difficulty gave Whirlwind an opportunity to display his
skill and intelligence. The party had paused at a place where the stream
was a hundred feet or more in width, and with the current so roiled that
there was no way, except by actual test, of ascertaining its depth. By
hard work the horses might be able to swim or work their way across, but
the necessity of taking care of the property on the back of Zigzag added
to the difficulty. It was important that it should be protected from
wetting. It would take a long time to build a raft on which to carry the
stuff to the other side, and even then there would be risk of its being
swept down stream. A dull roar that came to the ears of our friends
through the solitude showed that there were falls or violent rapids at
no great distance below, into which the raft would be likely to be
driven with the loss or irreparable injury of much of the merchandise.
Deerfoot was disposed at first to divide this among the four, who could
hold the articles above their heads while their horses were swimming,
but he distrusted the ability of the boys to do their part.
The important thing was to learn the depth of the stream. He therefore
asked Whirlwind to cross to the other rocky bank. If he could do this
without swimming all difficulty was removed. The stallion was quick to
understand the request made of him, though it is hardly to be supposed
that he comprehended its full significance. When told to enter the
stream he did so with only natural hesitation, feeling his way as his
kind do when the ground in front is uncertain.
All attentively watched the noble animal as he waded out into the swift
current, his foothold firm and strong. The water crept higher and
higher, and when the middle was reached it touched his body. This was
encouraging, but the channel might run close to the farther shore, and
none breathed freely until the depth was seen to be decreasing. Finally
the steed stepped out without once having been in water that was four
feet deep, and at no point, despite the velocity of the current, did he
have serious trouble in keeping upright.
“No place for crossing could be better,” said the pleased Shawanoe.
“Here we will pass to the other side.”
He whistled to Whirlwind, who instantly stepped into the water again,
and came back much more quickly than he had gone over. His master leaped
on his back, and, giving the word to his horse, led the way, with
Mul-tal-la almost at his side.
“It will be just like Zigzag to take a notion to roll when he gets out
there,” said Victor, as he drove the packhorse in ahead of him.
“If he does it will be the worst roll of his life,” replied George, who
half feared the stubborn animal would try to do something of that
nature. But, of course, Zigzag had too much sense to attempt anything of
the kind. Indeed, he did his part so faithfully that he emerged from the
river with his load as intact as at the beginning.
Matters were not pleasant that night. No food had been eaten since
morning, for Deerfoot and Mul-tal-la had come to look upon the noonday
halt as solely for the horses. It was a waste of time to hunt and
prepare a dinner, and it had not been done since Deerfoot last joined
the party. The expectation, however, was that of having an evening meal,
which was welcome after the long day’s ride.
Although passing through a country abounding with game, our friends
could not catch sight during the afternoon of elk, deer, bison or even a
wild turkey. It was as if those creatures knew of the coming of the
strangers and kept out of their way. It was not a good season to fish,
though it was not so long since several meals had been made upon them.
Still, more for the sake of the boys than himself and Mul-tal-la, the
Shawanoe brought out the lines with a view to trying his luck in the
Great Horn, but he was unable to find any bait. Both he and the
Blackfoot searched until the growing darkness stopped them, without
finding so much as an angleworm or any insect that could serve them to
help woo the inhabitants of the river to shore. Still more, the ground
was so rough, broken and overgrown that the horses were unable to do any
better than their masters in the way of food.
And this was not the worst. They had been pestered by mosquitoes through
the day, and at night the insects swarmed about the camp by the
millions, tormenting animals as well as men. The poor beasts stamped the
ground, switched their tails, bit and kicked, and at times were on the
point of breaking off and dashing into the solitude. It was the turn of
George Shelton to stand guard throughout the first portion of the night,
and of Victor to act for the remainder of the hours of darkness.
Deerfoot told them that inasmuch as none could sleep with comfort he
would mount guard and divide the watch with Mul-tal-la. The boys did not
suspect what was the truth—that the kind-hearted Shawanoe did this out
of consideration for them.
Only partial relief was obtained by the recourse of travelers caught in
such a trying situation. By enveloping themselves in the smoke of the
fire until it was hard to breathe, they managed to fight off the pests
for a part of the time. When the boys lay down each left only the point
of his nose obtruding from the folds of the blanket. Even then that
organ was punctured as by innumerable needle points, and most of the
time was spent in slapping at the torturing insects.
There must have been a score of porcupines which busied themselves
nosing about the camp in search of food. They were so familiar that in
moving around one had to be careful to avoid stepping on the prickly
things. They did not molest our friends, but their society was anything
but agreeable. Victor expressed himself as envious of the protection
nature had given these things against the mosquitoes.
Amid these trials Deerfoot and George Shelton felt grateful over a fact
that had become apparent long before. It has been shown that from the
very hour when it was agreed that Victor should form one of the little
party to cross the continent, he began rallying from the decline into
which he was rapidly settling, and which threatened his life. Except for
some such radical change he must have been crushed by the incubus that
was bearing him to earth. But the rough out-door days and nights had
wrought their beneficent work. He had regained his former vigor and
rugged health, and even before they crossed the Mississippi was his old
self again. True, moments of sad depression came to him during the
lonely watches, when his grief over the loss of his parent brought tears
to his eyes and made him sigh for the sweet companionship that could
never again be his in this world.
It is a blessed provision that, if time cannot fully heal all wounds, it
can soften the pangs that otherwise would make existence one long misery
and sorrow.
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