AT LAST.
INTERESTING and thrilling as was the descent of the Columbia, a detailed
description of the voyage of the little party of explorers would become
monotonous. They were hardly ever out of sight of Indians, all of whom
were friendly, although precautions had to be taken against many of them
that were thieves and eager to steal anything upon which they could lay
hands.
You need not be told that the Columbia is one of the most important
rivers on our continent. The scenery in many places is picturesque,
grand and inspiring. The boys felt that the sight was well worth the
journey across the country. Their enjoyment increased day after day as
they drew near the sea. Game was so abundant that they never lacked for
food, and the Indians were always ready to share with them. At different
times they saw natives who gave evidence of having met white men at the
mouth of the Columbia. There were numbers of guns, civilized coats and
trousers, brass buttons and various ornaments which could have been
obtained from no one else, and, now and then, some intelligent Indian
showed himself able to speak a few words of English.
One of the counties in the present State of Washington is Wahkiacum,
which received its name from a tribe of Indians that have been extinct
for years. Our friends paid a visit to a Wahkiacum village on the right
bank of the river. After procuring some food and a beaver skin, the
explorers climbed to the crest of an adjoining hill and with feelings of
expectant wonder gazed to the westward.
At last! As the vision ranged over plain and wood and elevation they saw
stretching away to the horizon the mightiest expanse of water on the
globe. North, west, south, rolled the Pacific Ocean, extending at its
widest part to more than one-third of the distance around the world.
No one spoke, but, grouped together, the spyglass was silently passed
from one to the other, and each gazed in rapt admiration and awe. George
first offered the instrument to Deerfoot, but he shook his head. He then
handed it to Mul-tal-la, but he also declined, as did Victor, and then
George leveled the instrument and held it for several minutes, while the
others made the best use they could of their eyes. Finally George sighed
and passed the glass to his brother. When he had finished he proffered
it to the Shawanoe, but he indicated by a gesture that Mul-tal-la’s was
the next turn.
At last Deerfoot, standing erect, with his gun leaning against a near
boulder, where his companions had placed-their weapons, slowly directed
the instrument westward, while all looked at him instead of at the
ocean.
The Shawanoe’s eye roved over the immense expanse, as he gradually
shifted his gaze from point to point. Over hundreds of square miles
nothing was to be seen but the limitless waste of waters. Ridges of foam
and a faint roar showed where the long swells broke upon the beach. From
the tops of cone-like lodges climbed little twisting wreaths of smoke,
indicating the villages of the dusky inhabitants of the region between
the ocean and the spectators.
Deerfoot now descried something which the others had not seen. In a
direct line to the westward and almost on the rim of the horizon was a
tiny white object, like a peculiarly shaped cloud that would soon
dissolve into thin air. It was a ship, and the snowy spread was its
sails that caught the favoring breeze.
The vessel was many miles distant and heading for the mouth of the
Columbia. It was the only vessel visible in that vast sweep of ocean.
The Indian watched it as it gradually grew more distinct. He wondered as
to the people on board, and speculated as to what part of the world they
had come from. He finally lowered the instrument and peered in the
direction without the artificial help. Yes; he could now see the vessel
with the eye alone.
Pointing toward the right point he handed the glass to George Shelton
and said:
“Let my brother look.”
The lad did so and the next moment exclaimed:
“It is a ship! Victor, you must see it!”
“I do,” replied the other, who nevertheless took the spyglass, which was
next passed to Mul-tal-la. Then it went around in turn again, and the
feast of vision was enjoyed to the full.
For an hour the party held their place on the elevation, studying the
sea and the grand and varied panorama spread before them. They could
have stayed all day and been content, for there was much that was
impressive in the thought that they had reached the end of their long
journey over mountain, through tangled wilderness and across prairie and
river. Victor Shelton suggested that they should keep on down the
Columbia to the mouth and take a bath in the chilling waters of the
Pacific, but Deerfoot shook his head. It had been the understanding from
the first that they were to press westward until they saw the ocean, but
to go no farther. They had touched tidewater some time before, and could
feel that at times they were really paddling through the waters of the
Pacific. It would take several days to reach the mouth of the river and
time had become valuable. The season was so far advanced that winter
would be upon them by the time or before they arrived in the Blackfoot
country, for a good deal of the return journey must, from its nature,
prove much more laborious than the one just completed had been.
Deerfoot unexpectedly revealed one cause of anxiety. He was disquieted
over Whirlwind, whom he had left with Amokeat, the Nez Perce chieftain.
He could not free himself of the belief that trouble was to come from
what he declared was a wrong act on his part. Had the stallion been only
an ordinary “every day” animal, the owner would have felt no concern,
but the steed was sure to be coveted by more than one warrior, and
Amokeat could not have understood the worth of the treasure he had
undertaken to guard and keep for the return of the owner.
“Deerfoot did not use Whirlwind right,” said the Shawanoe, shaking his
head. “The heart of Whirlwind was grieved when he saw Deerfoot leave
him.”
“But,” said Victor, sympathizing with the depression of his friend, “he
is so wise a creature he surely understood why you left him.”
“Yes; he understood, and that is why his heart was sad, for he knew that
Deerfoot had no right to treat him so.”
The Blackfoot now summed up the question by a remark with which the
brothers ardently agreed.
“They will not kill Whirlwind, for they have no reason to do so. He will
be alive _somewhere_; he will seek Deerfoot and Deerfoot will hunt for
Whirlwind, and _he will find him_!”
The boys noted the flash in the eyes of the Shawanoe as he said:
“Yes; Deerfoot will find him if he has to hunt many moons and follow
Whirlwind among tribes that are hundreds of miles away and who seek the
life of Deerfoot.”
All understood the feelings of the youth who thus condemned himself for
an act whose wisdom at the most was an open question.
Having uttered the words, the Shawanoe showed an indisposition to say
anything further about the matter. He took the spyglass from the hands
of George and once more pointed it at the incoming ship. He could make
out the sails more plainly, and even caught the white rim of foam
curling from the bow. He noted too that the wind was blowing briskly
enough to make the vessel careen considerably under the impulse of the
bellying canvas.
As it was still early in the day, it was evident the ship would be at
the mouth of the river by nightfall. It would have been an interesting
visit if the little party had pressed on and met the captain and his
crew. It is not impossible, too, that had it not been for Deerfoot’s
anxiety over his horse he would have modified the original plan to the
extent of rounding out the journey across the continent by touching the
Pacific itself.
But after all, what did it matter? The continent had already been
crossed and, as the leader had said, the days and nights had become of
the utmost value. Mul-tal-la believed it was safe to return to his
people, and in point of fact he had grown homesick. Moreover, there was
something in the fact that they were so many hundred miles from home
that made George and Victor Shelton quite ready to give up the plan of
going any farther.
And so our friends now turned their backs upon the Pacific and once more
faced eastward. “Now for home!” was the thought in the minds of all
four.
And here we must pause for the time. The incidents through which our
friends passed and their adventures will be told in the final volume of
the NEW DEERFOOT SERIES, under the title of
“DEERFOOT IN THE MOUNTAINS.”
[THE END.]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
● Transcriber’s Notes:
○ Missing or obscured punctuation was corrected.
○ Unbalanced quotation marks were left as the author intended.
○ Typographical errors were silently corrected.
○ Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent when a
predominant form was found in this book.
○ Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
End of Project Gutenberg's Deerfoot on the Prairies, by Edward S. Ellis