The Wild Huntress Part 22

"Maybe, sir, you would not mind writing to us--only a very short letter, to tell us how you get on with the clearing, and whether you have made it much bigger, and built a great house upon it, as I have heard father say you intended to do. I shall always like to hear that you are in good health, and that you are happy.

"I have to tell you of a very strange thing that happened to us. At the mouth of the Obion river, when we were in the canoe at night-time--for we travelled all that night--we heard some one shouting to us, and O Sir! it was so like your voice that I trembled when I heard it, for it appeared as if it came down out of the clouds. It was a thick mist, and we could see no one; but for all that, I would have cried out, but father would not let me speak. It appeared to be right above our heads; and father said it was some wood-cutters who had climbed into a tree. I suppose that must have been it; but it was as like your voice as if it had been you that shouted, and as I knew you could not be there, it made me wonder all the more.

"We arrived at this place yesterday. It is a large town on the Arkansas river: and we came to it in a steam-boat. From here we are to travel in a waggon with a great many other people in what they call a 'caravan,'

and they say we shall be many months in getting to the end of the journey. It is a long time to wait before I can write again, for there are no towns beyond Van Buren, and no post to carry a letter. But though I cannot write to you, I will not forget to think of the words you said to me, as I am now thinking of them every minute. In one of my mother's books which I brought with me, I have read a pretty piece. It is in poetry; and it is so like what I have been thinking of you, that I have learnt it off by heart. It is so true-like and so pretty a piece that I thought you might like to read it, and hoping it may please you, I write it at the end of my letter, which I fear I have already made too long; but I hope you will have patience to read it all, and then read the poetry:--

"I think of thee when Morning springs From sleep with plumage bathed in dew; And like a young bird lifts her wings Of gladness on the welkin blue.

And when at noon the breath of love O'er flower and stream is wandering free, And sent in music from the grove-- I think of thee--I think of thee!

"I think of thee, when soft and wide The Evening spreads her robe of light, And like a young and timid bride, Sits blus.h.i.+ng in the arms of Night.

And when the moon's sweet crescent springs In light or heaven's deep, waveless sea, And stars are forth like blessed things-- I think of thee--I think of thee!

"O sir! it is very, very true! I do think of you, and I am sure I shall do so as long as I live.

"Lilian Holt."

Ah, Lilian! I too think of thee, and thy sweet song! Simple, but suggestive words. Knew I but where to address thee, you should know how responsive to them are the echoes of my heart!

CHAPTER FORTY.

THE CARAVAN.

We rode on to Memphis as rapidly as our horses could travel--far too slow for our desires. Thence a steam-boat carried us to Little Rock, and another to Van Buren. Many days had been consumed while waiting for each boat--so many that on arriving at Van Buren, we found that the caravan had the start of us by full two weeks! Its probable route we ascertained without any difficulty--up along the Arkansas to the Rocky Mountains, through the valley of the Huerfano, and the pa.s.ses Robideau and Coochetopa--thence across the head waters of the Colorado, and by the old Spanish trail to California. It was princ.i.p.ally a caravan of gold-seekers: adventurers of all nations. Even Indians had gone with it--of the half-civilised tribes of the frontier--red and white equally tempted by the yellow attractions spread out for them in California.

Though large, it was what is termed a "light train"--having more pack-animals than waggons. On this account, it would make way all the faster; and unless delayed by some accident, we might be a long time in coming up with it. It was not without a large measure of vexation that we learnt how far it had got the start of us.

I should have submitted with less resignation to the necessary delays, but that my mind had been to some extent tranquillised by the contents of Lilian's letter. They had inclined me to the belief that the emigrants were simply _en route_ for California--as was all the world just then--and that the Mormon was, after all, not so strong in his new faith as to resist the universal golden lure. His design in taking the squatter with him might be merely of a secular character--having for its object the securing of a partner, in whose brawny arms the wash-pan and rocker might be handled to advantage. That they whom we sought were gone with the caravan, we were soon satisfied. Holt was too marked a man to have escaped observation, even in a crowd of rough squatters like himself; but more than one eye had rested upon his fair daughter that longed to look upon her again. _Her_ traces were easily told--as testified by the answers to my shy inquiries. Like some bright meteor, whose tract across the heavens remains marked by its line of luminous phosph.o.r.escence, her radiant beauty was remembered. I needed not to inquire of her. Scarcely a coterie of which she was not the subject of conversation--to my infinite jealousy and chagrin. Not that aught was said of her, that should have given rise to such feelings: they were but the offspring of love's selfishness.

Not long had I to submit to such torture. Our stay in Van Buren was of the shortest. In less than twenty hours after our arrival in the village, we took our departure from it--turning our faces towards the almost limitless wilderness of the west. I had endeavoured to add to our company but without success. The caravan had cleared Van Buren of its unemployed population; and not an idler remained--at least not one who felt inclined to adventure with us. Even the needy "loafer" could not be induced to try the trip--deeming ours too dangerous an expedition. To say the least, it was reckless enough; but impelled by motives far more powerful than the thirst of gold, my comrade and I entered upon our journey with scarce a thought about its perils. The only addition to our company was a brace of stout pack-mules, that carried our provisions and other _impedimenta_; while the old horse of the hunter had been replaced by a more promising roadster.

It would be idle to detail the incidents of a journey across the prairies. Ours differed in no way from hundreds of others that have been made, and described--except, perhaps, that after reaching the buffalo range, we travelled more by night than by day. We adopted this precaution simply to save our scalps--and along with them our lives-- since the buffalo range--especially upon the Arkansas--is peculiarly the "stamping" ground of the hostile savage. Here may be encountered the p.a.w.nee and Comanche, the Kiowa and Cheyenne, the Waco and fierce Arapaho. Though continually engaged in internecine strife among themselves, all six tribes are equally enemies to the pale-faced intruders on their domain. At this time they were said to be especially hostile--having been irritated by some late encounters with parties, of ill-behaved emigrants. It was not without great peril, therefore, that we were pa.s.sing through their territory; and what we had heard, before leaving Van Buren, had made us fully conscious of the risk we were running.

To meet with one of the hunting or war-parties of these Indians, might not be certain death; but certain they would be to disarm and _dismount_ us; and that, in the midst of the great prairie ocean, is a danger that often conducts to the same _denouement_. It was not preference, then, but precaution, that led us to adopt the "secret system" of travelling by night. Our usual plan was to lie by during the day or for the greater part of it, concealed in some selected cover--either among rocks or copsewood. By stealing to a conspicuous eminence, we were enabled to view the route ahead of us, and map out our journey for the night. Upon this we would enter an hour or two before sundown: for then the Indian hunter has returned to his encampment, which can be easily avoided, by seeing its smoke from afar. We often saw their smokes, and more than once the Indians themselves; but were never seen by them--so cautiously did we carry out our measures.

In this fas.h.i.+on we "groped" our way with considerable rapidity. Guided by the waggon tracks--especially when there was a moon--we could travel almost as fast as by daylight. Only upon dark nights was our progress r.e.t.a.r.ded; but, notwithstanding every impediment, we were enabled to travel faster than the caravan, and we knew that we were rapidly gaining upon it. We could tell this by the constantly freshening trail; but we had a more accurate criterion in _the count of the camps_. By the number of these, we knew to a certainty that we were approaching the caravan. We were in high hopes of being able to come up with it, before it should enter the mountain-pa.s.ses--more dangerous to the traveller than even the plains themselves: because at that season more beset by bands of marauding savages. Under the influence of these hopes, we were pressing forward, with all the haste it was in our power to make; when our journey was varied by an incident of a somewhat unexpected character.

CHAPTER FORTY ONE.

AN UN-PRAIRIE-LIKE APPARITION.

The incident referred to occurred high up the Arkansas, at the celebrated grove known as the "Big Timbers." We had started about two hours before sundown, and were riding in a due westerly direction, over a "rolling" prairie--the ridges of which, as ill-luck would have it, ran transversely to our course: causing the path to be constantly going upward or downward. It was not this that troubled us; but the fact that, as we crested each swell, we were freshly exposed to observation from a distance; and this recurring so often, kept us continuously on the alert.

Once or twice, we thought of halting again till after the sun had gone down: for we knew that we were treading upon dangerous ground; but, failing to perceive any fresh Indian sign, we gave way to our irresolution, and continued on. We proceeded with caution, however: always ascending in stealthy silence, and peeping carefully over the ridges before crossing them. After reconnoitring the intervening valleys, we would ride rapidly across, to make up the time we had lost in our reconnoissance. In this way we had travelled some eight or ten miles--until the sun was so far down, that his lower limb rested on the horizon. We were ascending a ridge, and had got our eyes on a level with its crest, when upon the face of another ridge--about half a mile further on--we beheld two forms outlined against the declivity. We saw that they were human forms; and that they were Indians was our first thought; but a moment's observation convinced us we were in error. They were afoot--Indians would have been on horseback. There was no floating drapery about their bodies--Indians would have had something of this sort; besides there were other circ.u.mstances observable in their figures and movements, that negatived the supposition of their being red-skins.

They were singularly disproportioned in size: one appearing at least a foot the taller, while the shorter man had twice this advantage in girth!

"What, in Old Nick's name, kin they be?" inquired my companion--though only in soliloquy, for he saw that I was as much puzzled as himself.

"Kin ye make 'em out wi' your gla.s.s, capt'n?" I chanced to have a small pocket-telescope. Adopting the suggestion, I drew it forth, and levelled it. In another instant, I had within its field of vision a tableau that astonished me.

The figures composing it were but two--a very tall man, and a very short one. Both were dressed in round-about jackets and trousers. One, the shorter, had a little dark cap upon his head; while the height of the taller man was increased full ten inches, by what appeared to be a black silk or beaver hat. The cut of their respective costumes was nearly the same; but the colour was entirely different--the tall personage being all over of a bottle-green tint, while his shorter companion shone more conspicuously in sky-blue. Notwithstanding their vivid colours, neither costume had anything Indian about it: nor was it like any other sort of "rig" that one might expect to encounter upon the prairies. What fas.h.i.+on it was, did not occur to me at the moment; for the sun, glancing upon the object-gla.s.s of the telescope, hindered me from having a fair view. Moreover, my attention was less directed to the dress of the men, than to their movements. The backs of both were towards us; and they were going forward in the same direction as ourselves. The tall man was in the lead, carrying what appeared to be two guns--one over his left shoulder, and another in his right hand. He was advancing in slow irregular strides, his thin body slightly stooped forward, and his long neck craned out in front of him as if trying to look over the ridge, whose crest he was just approaching. The short man was some half-dozen paces in the rear; and moving in a fas.h.i.+on altogether different. His body was bent against the hill at an angle of less than forty-five degrees with the horizon; and his short stout legs were playing in rapid steps, as if keeping time to a treadmill! He appeared to be pus.h.i.+ng something before him; but what it was, I could not guess: since it was completely covered by the disc of his body spread broadly against the hill. It was not till he had reached the summit, and made a slight turn along the ridge, that I saw what this object was. The exclamation of ludicrous surprise, that escaped my companion, told me that he had also made it out. "Good gosh, capt'n!" cried he, "look yander! Consarn my skin! ef 't ain't a _wheelberra_!" A wheelbarrow it certainly was: for the two men were now traversing along the top of the ridge, and their bodies from head to foot, were conspicuously outlined against the sky.

There was no mistaking the character of the object in the hands of the shorter individual--a barrow beyond the shadow of a doubt--trundle and trams, box, body, and spoke-wheel complete!

The sight of this homely object, in the midst of the savage prairies, was as ludicrous as unexpected; and we might have hailed it with roars of laughter, had prudence permitted such an indecorous exhibition. As it was, my companion _chuckled_ so loudly, that I was compelled to caution him. Whether my caution came too late, and that the laughter was heard, we could not tell; but at that moment the tall pedestrian looked back, and we saw that he had discovered us. Making a rapid sign to his companion, he bounded off like a startled deer; and, after a plunge or two, disappeared behind the ridge--followed in full run by the man with the wheelbarrow! One might have supposed that the fright would have led to the abandonment of the barrow. But no: it was taken along-- hurried out of our sight in an instant--and in the next, both man and machine disappeared as suddenly as if some trap had admitted them into the bowels of the earth! The singular fas.h.i.+on of their flight--the long strides taken by the gander-like leader, and the scrambling attempt at escape made by the barrow-man--produced a most comic effect. I was no longer able to restrain myself, but joined my companion in loud and repeated peals of laughter.

In this merry mood, and without any apprehension of danger, we advanced towards the spot where the odd figures had been seen. Some broken ground delayed us; and as half a mile of it had to be pa.s.sed over, we were a considerable time in reaching the summit of the hill. On arriving there, and looking over the swell, behind which they had disappeared, neither tall nor short man was to be seen. A timbered valley lay beyond: into this they had evidently escaped. The track of the wheelbarrow, where it had pressed down the gra.s.s, alone indicated their recent presence upon the spot--as it did also the direction they had taken. Their retreating from us was easily accounted for: they could have seen only the tops of our heads, and had no doubt taken us for Indians!

CHAPTER FORTY TWO.

A FOOT OF THIRTEEN INCHES.

The presence of the wheelbarrow explained a point that had been puzzling us for some days. We had fallen upon its track more than once, and supposed it to have been made by the wheel of a cart; but in no instance being able to find the corresponding one, had given it up as a hopeless enigma. The only explanation we had succeeded in offering ourselves was: that some light cart had accompanied the caravan--the load of which, being badly balanced, had thrown the weight upon one wheel, allowing the other to pa.s.s over the ground without making an impression.

As it was only on dry gra.s.s we had traced it, this explanation had sufficed--though far from being satisfactory. Neither my companion nor myself ever thought of a wheelbarrow. Who would, in such a place?

"In the name o' Old Nick, who kin they be?" asked Wingrove, as we halted on the ridge, where the fugitives had been last seen. "I'm not without my suspicions," I replied, just then thinking of a peculiarity that had but slightly occupied my attention--the cut and colour of their dresses.

"If I am not mistaken, the two shy birds that have fled from us are a brace of uncle Sam's eagles."

"Sojers?"

"In all probability, and 'old sojers' at that."

"But what 'ud sojers be a doin' out hyar?"

"Travelling to California, like ourselves."

"Desarters, may be?"

"Just what I suspect. No doubt the pair have slipped off from some of the frontier posts; and having no opportunity to provide themselves with a better means of transport, have brought the wheelbarrow with them. It is ludicrous enough, but by no means improbable. There are some queer customers in the service of Uncle Sam."

"I think there be--ha, ha, ha! What shed we do, capt'n? Hedn't we better catch up to 'em?"

"That, comrade, may be easier said than done. If they're deserters--and they must be, if they're soldiers at all--they'll take precious good care not to let any one come near them, if they can help it. The escort that accompanies the train will account for their not being along with it. If they've caught a glimpse of my b.u.t.tons, they'll be _cached_ by this time."

"They only seed our heads. I reck'n they tuk us for Injuns?"

"In that case, they'll hide from us all the same--only a little more cunningly."

"Consarn their sojer skins! Ef they war as cunnin' as a kupple o'

possums, they can't a hide the track o' the berra; an' so long's they keep in the timber, I kalklate I kin lift thar trail. I reck'n I ain't quite forgot how: though I am bamfoozled a bit by these hyar parairies-- consarn them! Ah! them woods, capt'n! it diz one good to look at 'em!"

The eyes of the young hunter sparkled with enthusiasm as he spoke. It was a real forest that was before us--a large tract covered with gigantic cotton-wood trees, and the only thing deserving the name of forest we had seen for many days. As my companion stood gazing upon it, I could trace upon his countenance a joyous expression, that rarely appeared there. The sight of the "Big Timbers" recalled to him the forests of his own Tennessee--with happy memories of other times. They were not unmingled with shadows of regret: as I could tell by the change that came stealing over his features.

"We must try to overtake them," said I, without answering to the ebullition. "It is important for us to come up with them. Even if they be deserters, they are white men; and all whites are friends here. They muster two guns; and if these fellows are what I take them to be, they know how to handle them. We must follow them: there's no time to be lost."

"Ye're right thar, capt'n! The night's a comin' down fast. It's a'ready gettin' dark; an' I'm afeerd it'll be tough trackin' under the timber. If we're to catch up wi' them the night, we hain't a minnit to spare."