The Lost Valley
They spent a week on the slope, sleeping securely and warmly
under their blankets in the pine alcove, and fortune favored them
throughout that time. It did not rain once, and there was not a
sign of the Sioux. Dick did not revisit the pass after the first
three days, and he knew that the wolves and buzzards had been
busy there. But he stripped quite clean the wagon which had
fallen in the gully, even carrying away the canvas cover, which
was rainproof. Albert wondered that the Sioux had not returned,
but Dick had a very plausible theory to account for it.
"The Sioux are making war upon our people," he said, "and why
should they stay around here? They have cut off what is
doubtless the first party entering this region in a long time,
and now they have gone eastward to meet our troops. Beside, the
Sioux are mostly plains Indians, and they won't bother much about
these mountains. Other Indians, through fear of the Sioux, will
not come and live here, which accounts for this region being
uninhabited."
"Still a wandering band of Sioux might come through at any time
and see us," said Albert.
"That's so, and for other reasons, too, we must move. It's
mighty fine, Al, sleeping out in the open when the weather's dry
and not too cold, but I've read that the winter in the
northwestern mountains is something terrible, and we've got to
prepare for it."
It was Dick's idea to go deeper into the mountains. He knew very
well that the chance of their getting out before spring were too
slender to be considered, and he believed that they could find
better shelter and a more secure hiding place farther in. So he
resolved upon a journey of exploration, and though Albert was now
stronger, he must go alone. It was his brother's duty to remain
and guard their precious stores. Already bears and mountain lions,
drawn by the odors of the food, had come snuffing about the
alcove, but they always retreated from the presence of either of
the brothers. One huge silver tip had come rather alarmingly
close, but when Dick shouted at him he, too, turned and lumbered
off among the pines.
"What you want to guard against, Al," said Dick, "is thieves
rather than robbers. Look out for the sneaks. We'll fill the
canteen and all our iron vessels with water so that you won't
have to go even to the brook. Then you stay right here by the
fire in the daytime, and in the den at night. You can keep a bed
of coals before the den when you're asleep, and no wild animal
will ever come past it."
"All right, Dick," said Albert courageously; "but don't you get
lost over there among those ranges and peaks."
"I couldn't do it if I tried," replied Dick in the same cheerful
tone. "You don't know what a woodsman and mountaineer I've
become, Al, old boy!"
Albert smiled. Yet each boy felt the full gravity of the
occasion when the time for Dick's departure came, at dawn of a
cool morning, gleams of silver frost showing here and there on
the slopes. Both knew the necessity of the journey, however, and
hid their feelings.
"Be back to-morrow night, Al," said Dick.
"Be ready for you, Dick," said Albert.
Then they waved their hands to each other, and Dick strode away
toward the higher mountains. He was well armed, carrying his
repeating rifle and the large hunting knife which was useful for
so many purposes. He had also thrust one of the revolvers into
his belt.
Flushed with youth and strength, and equipped with such good
weapons, he felt able to take care of himself in any company into
which he might be thrown.
He reached the bottom of the slope, and looking back, saw Albert
standing on a fallen log. His brother was watching him and waved
his hand. Dick waved his in reply, and then, crossing the creek,
began the ascent of the farther slope. There the pines and the
distance rendered the brothers invisible to each other, and Dick
pressed on with vigor. His recent trips over the lower slopes
for supplies had greatly increased his skill in mountain climbing,
and he did not suffer from weariness. Up, up, he went, and the
pines grew shorter and scrubbier. But the thin, crisp air was a
sheer delight, and he felt an extraordinary pleasure in mere
living.
Dick looked back once more from the heights toward the spot
where their camp lay and saw lying against the blue a thin gray
thread that only the keenest eye would notice. He knew it to be
the smoke from Albert's fire and felt sure that all was well.
While the slope which he was ascending was fairly steep, it was
easy enough to find a good trail among the pines. There was
little undergrowth and the ascent was not rocky. When Dick stood
at last on the crest of the ridge he uttered a cry of delight and
amazement.
The slope on which he stood was merely a sort of gate to the
higher mountains, or rather it was a curtain hiding the view.
Before him, range on range and peak on peak, lay mighty
mountains, some of them shooting up almost three miles above the
sea, their crests and heads hid in eternal snow. Far away to
northward and westward stretched the tremendous maze, and it
seemed to Dick to have no end. A cold, dazzling sunlight poured
in floods over the snowy summits, and he felt a great sense of
awe. It was all so grand, so silent, and so near to the Infinite.
He saw the full majesty of the world and of the Power that had
created it. For a little while his mission and all human passions
and emotions floated away from him; he was content merely to
stand there, without thinking, but to feel the immensity and
majesty of it all.
Dick presently recovered himself and with a little laugh came
back to earth. But he was glad to have had those moments. He
began the descent, which was rougher and rockier than the ascent
had been, but the prospect was encouraging. The valley between
the ridge on the slope of which he stood and the higher one
beyond it seemed narrow, but he believed that he would find in it
the shelter and hiding that he and Albert wished.
As he went down the slope became steeper, but once more the
pines, sheltered from the snows and cruel winds, grew to a great
size. There was also so much outcropping of rock that Dick was
hopeful of finding another alcove deep enough to be converted
into a house.
When nearly down, he caught a gleam among the trees that he knew
was water, and again he was encouraged. Here was a certainty of
one thing that was an absolute necessity. Soon he was in the
valley, which he found exceedingly narrow and almost choked with
a growth of pine, ash, and aspen, a tiny brook flowing down its
center. He was tired and warm from the long descent and knelt
down and drank from the brook. Its waters were as cold as ice,
flowing down from the crest of one of the great peaks clad,
winter and summer, in snow.
Dick followed the brook for fully a mile, seeking everywhere a
suitable place in which he and his brother might make a home, but
he found none. The valley resembled in most of its aspects a
great canyon, and all the fertile earth on either side of the brook
was set closely with pine, ash, and aspen. These would form a
shelter from winds, but they would not protect from rain and the
great colds and snows of the high Rockies.
Dick noticed many footprints of animals at the margin of the
stream, some of great size, which he had no doubt were made by
grizzlies or silver tips. He also believed that the beaver might
be found farther down along this cold and secluded water, but he
was not interested greatly just then in animals; he was seeking
for that most necessary of all things--something that must be
had--a home.
It seemed to him at the end of his estimated mile that the brook
was going to flow directly into the mountain which rose before
him many hundreds of feet; but when he came to the rocky wall he
found that the valley turned off at a sharp angle to the left,
and the stream, of course, followed it, although it now descended
more rapidly, breaking three times into little foamy falls five
or six feet in height. Then another brook came from a deep cleft
between the mountains on the eastern side and swelled with its
volume the main stream, which now became a creek.
The new valley widened out to a width of perhaps a quarter of a
mile, although the rocky walls on either side rose to a great
height and were almost precipitous. Springs flowed from these
walls and joined the creek. Some of them came down the face of
the cliffs in little cascades of foam and vapor, but others
spouted from the base of the rock. Dick knelt down to drink from
one of the latter, but as his face approached the water he jumped
away. He dipped up a little of it in his soft hat and tasted
it. It was brackish and almost boiling hot.
Dick was rather pleased at the discovery. A bitter and hot
spring might be very useful. He had imbibed--like many
others--from the teaching of his childhood that any bitter liquid
was good for you. As he advanced farther the valley continued to
spread out. It was now perhaps a half mile in width, and well
wooded. The creek became less turbulent, flowing with a depth of
several feet in a narrow channel.
The whole aspect of the valley so far had been that of a
wilderness uninhabited and unvisited. A mule deer looked
curiously at Dick, then walked away a few paces and stood there.
When Dick glanced back his deership was still curious and
gazing. A bear crashed through a thicket, stared at the boy with
red eyes, then rolled languidly away. Dick was quick to
interpret these signs. They were unfamiliar with human presence,
and he was cheered by the evidence. Yet at the end of another
hundred yards of progress he sank down suddenly among some
bushes and remained perfectly silent, but intently watchful.
He had seen a column of smoke rising above the pines and aspens.
Smoke meant fire, fire meant human beings, and human beings, in
that region, meant enemies. He had no doubt that Sioux were at
the foot of that column of smoke. It was a tragic discovery. He
was looking for a home for Albert and himself somewhere in this
valley, but there could be no home anywhere near the Sioux. He
and his brother must turn in another direction, and with painful
effort lug their stores over the ridges.
But Dick was resolved to see. There were great springs of
courage and tenacity in his nature, and he wished, moreover, to
prove his new craft as a woodsman and mountaineer. He remained
awhile in the bushes, watching the spire, and presently, to his
amazement, it thinned quickly and was gone. It had disappeared
swiftly, while the smoke from a fire usually dies down. It was
Dick's surmise that the Sioux had put out their fire by
artificial means and then had moved on. Such an act would
indicate a fear of observation, and his curiosity increased
greatly.
But Dick did not forget his caution. He crouched in the bushes
for quite a while yet, watching the place where the smoke had
been, but the sky remained clear and undefiled. He heard nothing
and saw nothing but the lonely valley. At last he crept forward
slowly, and with the greatest care, keeping among bushes and
treading very softly. He advanced in this manner three or four
hundred yards, to the very point which must have been the base of
the spire of smoke--he had marked it so well that he could not
be mistaken--and from his leafy covert saw a large open space
entirely destitute of vegetation. He expected to see there also
the remains of a camp fire, but none was visible, not a single
charred stick, nor a coal.
Dick was astonished. A new and smoking camp fire must leave
some trace. One could not wipe it away absolutely. He
remained a comparatively long time, watching in the edge of the
bushes beside the wide and open space.
He still saw and heard nothing. Never before had a camp fire
vanished so mysteriously and completely, and with it those who
had built it. At last, his curiosity overcoming his caution, he
advanced into the open space, and now saw that it fell away
toward the center. Advancing more boldly, he found himself near
the edge of a deep pit.
The pit was almost perfectly round and had a diameter of about
ten feet. So far as Dick could judge, it was about forty feet
deep and entirely empty. It looked like a huge well dug by the
hand of man.
While Dick was gazing at the pit, an extraordinary and terrifying
thing happened. The earth under his feet began to shake. At
first he could not believe it, but when he steadied himself and
watched closely, the oscillating motion was undoubtedly there.
It was accompanied, too, by a rumble, dull and low, but which
steadily grew louder. It seemed to Dick that the round pit was
the center of this sound.
Despite the quaking of the earth, he ventured again into the open
space and saw that the pit had filled with water. Moreover, this
water was boiling, as he could see it seething and bubbling. As
he looked, clouds of steam shot up to a height of two or three
hundred feet, and Dick, in alarm, ran back to the bushes. He
knew that this was the column of vapor he had first seen from a
distance, but he was not prepared for what followed.
There was an explosion so loud that it made Dick jump. Then a
great column of water shot up from the boiling pit to a height of
perhaps fifty feet, and remained there rising and falling. From
the apex of this column several great jets rose, perhaps, three
times as high.
The column of hot water glittered and shimmered in the sun, and
Dick gazed in wonder and delight. He had read enough to
recognize the phenomenon that he now saw. It was a geyser, a
column of hot water shooting up, at regular intervals and with
great force, from the unknown deeps of the earth.
As he gazed, the column gradually sank, the boiling water in the
pit sank, too, and there was no longer any rumble or quaking of
the earth. Dick cautiously approached the pit again. It was as
empty as a dry well, but he knew that in due time the phenomenon
would be repeated. He was vastly interested, but he did not wait
to see the recurrence of the marvel, continuing his way down the
valley over heaps of crinkly black slag and stone, which were
age-old lava, although he did not know it, and through groves of
pine and ash, aspen, and cedar. He saw other round pits and
watched a second geyser in eruption. He saw, too, numerous hot
springs, and much steamy vapor floating about. There were also
mineral springs and springs of the clearest and purest cold
water. It seemed to Dick that every minute of his wanderings
revealed to him some new and interesting sight, while on all
sides of the little valley rose the mighty mountains, their
summits in eternal snow.
A great relief was mingled with the intense interest that Dick
felt. He had been sure at first that he saw the camp fires of
the Sioux, but after the revulsion it seemed as if it were a
place never visited by man, either savage or civilized. As he
continued down the valley, he noticed narrow clefts in the
mountains opening into them from either side, but he felt sure
from the nature of the country that they could not go back far.
The clefts were four in number, and down two of them came
considerable streams of clear, cold water emptying into the main
creek.
The valley now narrowed again and Dick heard ahead a slight
humming sound which presently grew into a roar. He was puzzled
at first, but soon divined the cause. The creek, or rather
little river, much increased in volume by the tributary brooks,
made a great increase of speed in its current. Dick saw before
him a rising column of vapor and foam, and in another minute or
two stood beside a fine fall, where the little river took a sheer
drop of forty feet, then rushed foaming and boiling through a
narrow chasm, to empty about a mile farther on into a beautiful
blue lake.
Dick, standing on a high rock beside the fall, could see the lake
easily. Its blue was of a deep, splendid tint, and on every side
pines and cedars thickly clothed the narrow belt of ground
between it and the mountains. The far end seemed to back up
abruptly against a mighty range crowned with snow, but Dick felt
sure that an outlet must be there through some cleft in the
range. The lake itself was of an almost perfect crescent shape,
and Dick reckoned its length at seven miles, with a greatest
breadth, that is, at the center, of about two miles. He judged,
too, from its color and its position in a fissure that its depth
must be very great.
The surface of the lake lay two or three hundred feet lower than
the rock on which Dick was standing, and he could see its entire
expanse, rippling gently under the wind and telling only of peace
and rest. Flocks of wild fowl flew here and there, showing white
or black against the blue of its waters, and at the nearer shore
Dick thought he saw an animal like a deer drinking, but the
distance was too great to tell certainly.
He left the rock and pursued his way through dwarf pines and
cedars along the edge of the chasm in which the torrent boiled
and foamed, intending to go down to the lake. Halfway he
stopped, startled by a long, shrill, whistling sound that bore
some resemblance to the shriek of a distant locomotive. The
wilderness had been so silent before that the sound seemed to
fill all the valley, the ridges taking it up and giving it back
in one echo after another until it died away among the peaks. In
a minute or so the whistling shriek was repeated and then two or
three times more.
Dick was not apprehensive. It was merely a new wonder in that
valley of wonders, and none of these wonders seemed to have
anything to do with man. The sound apparently came from a point
two or three hundred yards to his left at the base of the
mountain, and turning, Dick went toward it, walking very slowly
and carefully through the undergrowth. He had gone almost the
whole distance seeing nothing but the mountain and the forest,
when the whistling shriek was suddenly repeated so close to him
that he jumped. He sank down behind a dwarf pine, and then he
saw not thirty feet away the cause of the sound.
A gigantic deer, a great grayish animal, stood in a little open
space, and at intervals emitted that tremendous whistle. It
stood as high as a horse, and Dick estimated its weight at more
than a thousand pounds. He was looking at a magnificent specimen
of the Rocky Mountain elk, by far the largest member of the deer
tribe that he had ever seen. The animal, the wind blowing from
him toward Dick, was entirely unsuspicious of danger, and the boy
could easily have put a bullet into his heart, but he had no
desire to do so. Whether the elk was whistling to his mate or
sending a challenge to a rival bull he did not know, and after
watching and admiring him for a little while he crept away.
But Dick was not wholly swayed by sentiment. He said to himself
as he went away among the pines: "Don't you feel too safe, Mr.
Elk, we'll have to take you or some of your brethren later on.
I've heard that elk meat is good."
He resumed his journey and was soon at the edge of the lake,
which at this point had a narrow sandy margin. Its waters were
fresh and cold, and wold duck, fearless of Dick, swam within a
few yards of him. The view here was not less majestic and
beautiful than it had been from the rock, and Dick, sensitive to
nature, was steeped in all its wonder and charm. He was glad to
be there, he was glad that chance or Providence had led him to
this lovely valley. He felt no loneliness, no fear for the
future, he was content merely to breathe and feel the glory of it
permeate his being.
He picked up a pebble presently and threw it into the lake. It
sank with the sullen plunk that told unmistakably to the boy's
ears of great depths below. Once or twice he saw a fish leap up,
and it occurred to him that here was another food supply.
He suddenly pulled himself together with a jerk. He could not
sit there all day dreaming. He had come to find a winter home
for Albert and himself, and he had not yet found it. But he had
a plan from which he had been turned aside for a while by the
sight of the lake, and now he went back to carry it out.
There were two clefts opening into the mountains from his side of
the river, and he went into the first on the return path. It was
choked with pine and cedars and quickly ended against a mountain
wall, proving to be nothing but a very short canyon. There was
much outcropping of rock here, but nothing that would help toward
a shelter, and Dick went on to the second cleft.
This cleft, wider than the other, was the one down which the
considerable brook flowed, and the few yards or so of fertile
ground on either side of the stream produced a rank growth of
trees. They were so thick that the boy could see only a little
distance ahead, but he believed that this slip of a tributary
valley ran far back in the mountains, perhaps a dozen miles.
He picked his way about a mile and then came suddenly upon a
house. It stood in an alcove protected by rocks and trees, but
safe from snow slide. It was only a log hut of one room, with
the roof broken in and the door fallen from its hinges, but Dick
knew well enough the handiwork of the white man. As he
approached, some wild animal darted out of the open door and
crashed away among the undergrowth, but Dick knew that white
men had once lived there. It was equally evident that they had
long been gone.
It was a cabin of stout build, its thick logs fitted nicely
together, and the boards of the roof had been strong and well
laid. Many years must have passed to have caused so much
decay. Dick entered and was saluted by a strong, catlike odor.
Doubtless a mountain lion had been sleeping there, and this was
the tenant that he had heard crashing away among the undergrowth.
On one side was a window closed by a sagging oaken shutter, which
Dick threw open. The open door and window established a draught,
and as the clean sweet air blew through the cabin the odor of the
cat began to disappear.
Dick examined everything with the greatest interest and
curiosity. There was a floor of puncheons fairly smooth, a stone
fireplace, a chimney of mud and sticks, dusty wooden hooks, and
rests nailed into the wall, a rude table overturned in a corner,
and something that looked like a trap. It was the last that told
the tale to Dick. When he examined it more critically, he had no
doubt that it was a beaver trap.
Nor did he have any doubt but that this hut had been built by
beaver trappers long ago, either by independent hunters, or by
those belonging to one of the great fur companies. The beaver,
he believed, had been found on this very brook, and when they
were all taken the trappers had gone away, leaving the cabin
forever, as they had left many another one. It might be at least
forty years old.
Dick laughed aloud in his pleasure at this good luck. The cabin
was dusty, dirty, disreputable, and odorous, but that draught
would take away all the odors and his stout arm could soon repair
the holes in the roof, put the door back on its hinges, and
straighten the sagging window shutter. Here was their home, a
house built by white men as a home, and now about to be used as
such again. Dick did not feel like a tenant moving in, but like
an owner. It would be a long, hard task to bring their supplies
over the range but Albert and he had all the time in the world.
It was one of the effects of their isolation to make Dick feel
that there was no such thing as time.
He took another survey of the cabin. It was really a splendid
place, a palace in its contrast with the surrounding wilderness,
and he laughed with pure delight. When it was swept and cleaned,
and a fire blazing on the flat stone that served for a hearth,
while the cold winds roared without, it would be the snuggest
home west of the Missouri. He was so pleased that he undertook
at once some primary steps in the process of purification. He
cut a number of small, straight boughs, tied them together with a
piece of bark, the leaves at the head thus forming a kind of
broom, and went to work.
He raised a great dust, which the draught blew into his eyes,
ears, and nose, and he retreated from the place, willing to let
the wind take it away. He would finish the task some other day.
Then the clear waters of the brook tempted him. Just above the
cabin was a deep pool which may have been the home of the beaver
in an older time. Now it was undisturbed, and the waters were so
pure that he could see the sand and rock on the bottom.
Still tingling from the dust, he took off his clothes and dived
head foremost into the pool. He came up shivering and
sputtering. It was certainly the coldest water into which he
had ever leaped! After such a dash one might lie on a slab of
ice to warm. Dick forgot that every drop in the brook had come
from melting snows far up on the peaks, but, once in, he resolved
to fight the element. He dived again, jumped up and down, and
kicked and thrashed those waters as no beaver had ever done.
Gradually he grew warm, and a wonderful exhilaration shot through
every vein. Then he swam around and around and across and
across the pool, disporting like a young white water god.
Dick was thoroughly enjoying himself, but when he began to feel
cold again in seven or eight minutes he sprang out, ran up and
down the bank, and rubbed himself with bunches of leaves until he
was dry. After he had dressed, he felt that he had actually
grown in size and strength in the last half hour.
He was now ravenously hungry. His absorption in his explorations
and discoveries had kept him from thinking of such a thing as
food until this moment, but when Nature finally got in her claim
she made it strong and urgent. He had brought cold supplies with
him, upon which he feasted, sitting in the doorway of the cabin.
Then he noticed the lateness of the hour. Shadows were
falling across the snow on the western peaks and ridges. The
golden light of the sun was turning red, and in the valley the
air was growing misty with the coming twilight.
He resolved to pass the night in the cabin. He secured the
window shutter again, tied up the fallen door on rude bark
hinges, and fastened it on the inside with a stick--hasps for
the bar were there yet--but before retiring he took a long look
in the direction in which Albert and their camp lay.
A great range of mountains lay between, but Dick felt that he
could almost see his brother, his camp fire, and the pine
alcove. He was Albert's protector, and this would be the first
entire night in the mountains in which the weaker boy had been
left alone, but Dick was not apprehensive about him. He believed
that their good fortune would still endure, and secure in that
belief he rolled himself up in the blanket which he had brought
in a little pack on his back, and laid himself down in the corner
of the cabin.
The place was not yet free from dust and odor, but Dick's hardy
life was teaching him to take as trifles things that civilization
usually regarded as onerous, and he felt quite comfortable where
he lay. He knew that it was growing cold in the gorge, and the
shelter of the cabin was acceptable. He saw a little strip of
wan twilight through a crack in the window, but it soon faded and
pitchy darkness filled the narrow valley.
Dick fell into a sound sleep, from which he awoke only once in
the night, and then it was a noise of something as of claws
scratching at the door which stirred him. The scratch was
repeated only once or twice, and with it came the sound of heavy,
gasping puffs, like a big animal breathing. Then the creature
went away, and Dick, half asleep, murmured: "I've put you out of
your house, my fine friend, bear or panther, whichever you may
be." In another minute he was wholly asleep again and did not
waken until an edge of glittering sunlight, like a sword blade,
came through the crack in the window and struck him across the
eyes.
He bathed a second time in the pool, ate what was left of the
food, and started on the return journey, moving at a brisk pace.
He made many calculations on the way. It would take a week to
move all their goods over the range to the cabin, but, once
there, he believed that they would be safe for a long time;
indeed, they might spend years in the valley, if they wished, and
never see a stranger.
It was afternoon when he approached the pine alcove, but the
familiar spire of smoke against the blue had assured him already
that Albert was there and safe. In fact, Albert saw him first.
He had just returned from the creek, and, standing on a rock, a
fish in his hand, hailed his brother, who was coming up the
slope.
"Halloo, Dick!" he shouted. "Decided to come home, have you?
Hope you've had a pleasant visit."
"Fine trip, Al, old man," Dick replied. "Great place over
there. Think we'd better move to it."
"That so? Tell us about it."
Dick, ever sensitive to Albert's manner and appearance, noticed
that the boy's voice was fuller, and he believed that the dry,
piny air of the mountains was still at its healing work. He
joined Albert, who was waiting for him, and who, after giving his
hand a hearty grasp, told him what he had found.