The Wild Man of the West by Robert Michael Ballantyne (classic novels for teens .TXT) 📖

things are not always what they seem. Men are frequently not so bad as, at a first glance, they would appear to be.

Bounce always reasoned philosophically, and he often thought aloud. He did so on this occasion, to the immense edification of the little red squirrel, no doubt. At least, if we may judge from the way in which it glared and stared at the trapper--peeped at him round the trunk of the tree, and over the branches and under the twigs and through the leaves, jerking its body and quirking its head and whisking its tail--we have every reason to conclude that it experienced very deep interest and intense excitement. Pleasure and excitement being, with many people, convertible terms, we have no reason for supposing that it is otherwise with squirrels, and therefore every reason for concluding that the squirrel in question enjoyed Bounce's visit greatly.

"Now this is wot it comes to," said Bounce, calmly filling his pipe, from the mere force of habit, for he had not at that time the most distant idea of enjoying a smoke. "This is wot it comes to. Savages is savages all the wurld over, and they always wos savages, an' they always will be savages, an' they can't be nothin' else."

At this point Bounce recollected having seen an Indian missionary, who had been taken when a boy from his father's wigwam and educated, and who had turned out as good and respectable a Christian gentleman as most white men, and better than many, so he checked himself and said--

"Leastwise they can't be nothin' but savages so--so long as they is savages."

This argument, although exceedingly obvious, seemed even to his own mind to possess so little power, that he endeavoured to enforce it by slapping his thigh with such energy that the body of the red squirrel nearly jumped out at its own eyes. It clasped the tree stem to its beating heart bravely, however, and, judging from its subsequent conduct, speedily recovered its self-possession.

"That's how it is," continued Bounce; "an' that bein' the case, savages always invariably thinks o' number one before they thinks on anythin' else. Now, as men judges theirselves so they judges of others--that's a fact, as all feelosophy has preclaimed, an' all experience has pruven. Wot then? Why, them savages 'll think I've cleared off--made tracks-- thankful to git away with my own skin whole, and carin' no more for my comrades than if they wos so many stumps. Thinkin' that, of coorse they'll think it's o' no use to try to cross the river and give chase, 'cause I've got a long start o' 'em, an' so, d'ye see, they'll give me up an' think no more about me. Good! very good! But p'r'aps it's jest poss'ble that feller whose paw I tickled _may_ sometimes recall me to mind."

This last idea tickled the trapper so powerfully that he chuckled in a quiet way, and in doing so exposed such a double row of white teeth that the squirrel, which had remained for some time in an attitude of deep attention, began to show symptoms of uneasiness.

"Now I'll tell you wot I'll do," continued Bounce, resuming his look of grave anxiety as the thought of his comrades recurred to him; "I'll go up the river till I comes to opposite the place where I shoved the canoe into the water. By the time I git there it'll be dark; then I'll swum across an' foller the redskins an' save my comrades if I can. If I can't, wot then? why, I'll leave the scalp of Bob Ounce to dangle in the smoke of a redskin's wigwam."

We have elsewhere hinted that when a Rocky Mountain trapper makes up his mind to do a certain thing he usually does it at once. Having settled the plan of his future proceedings, Bounce did not waste more time in thought or speech. He thrust his unsmoked pipe into his bosom, leaped up from the trunk of the fallen tree, and darted from the spot with such sudden promptitude, that the horrified squirrel sprang wildly into empty space and vanished from the scene for ever!

For a quarter of an hour Bounce glided noiselessly through the forest, keeping a course parallel with the river. In the deepening gloom of evening, he appeared more like a spectre than a human being--so quick and agile were his motions as he flitted past the tree stems, yet so noiseless the tread of his moccasined feet. The bushes were thick and in places tangled, compelling him to stoop and twist and diverge right and left as he sped along, but, being unencumbered with weapons or weight of any kind, he advanced so rapidly that in the short space of time we have mentioned he stood opposite to that part of the bank where the attack had been made, and below which he had been swept for a great distance in the canoe by the rapid stream.

Here he spent some time in reconnoitring the opposite bank, but without gathering much information from his observations. No symptom of the presence of human beings could be discovered. No column of smoke rising above the trees to tell of the watch-fire of white man or red. The trapper listened intently, then he bethought him, for the first time, of giving the signal which, at setting out on their journey, they had agreed to use in all circumstances of danger. It was the low howl of a wolf followed immediately by the hoot of an owl. The reply to it was to be the hoot of the owl without the cry of the wolf when danger should be imminent and extreme caution necessary, or the howl of the wolf alone if danger should have passed away.

To the first utterance of the signal no reply was made. After waiting a few seconds, Bounce gave it forth again. Immediately after, the low howl of a wolf was heard on the opposite bank, and a figure appeared at the edge of the river. Darkness prevented the trapper ascertaining who it was, but a repetition of the cry convinced him that it could be none other than Black Gibault.

With a grunt of satisfaction, Bounce at once proceeded to make preparations for crossing the river. Cutting a large piece of bark from a neighbouring tree, he hastily formed it into a species of dish or flat boat; then, stripping off all his garments, he tied them up in a tight bundle, and placed them in this miniature canoe; after which he plunged boldly into the stream and made for the opposite shore, pushing his little ark before him. In five minutes he had crossed, and entered into a hasty conversation with Gibault in low, eager tones, while pulling on his clothes.

"First of all, lad," said Bounce, laying his hand impressively on the other's shoulder, "are they all safe?--none killed?"

"Non; dey be all alive, for certain."

"I'm thankful for that--_very_ thankful. Now go ahead, lad, and tell me what ye know, while I pull on my leggins."

"Vell, dey be alive, as I have say. Mais dey not live long."

Gibault said this with such a look of woebegone despair that Bounce paused in the midst of his dressing and said with much anxiety--"Wot's wrong?--why not, lad?"

"'Cause dey vill be tortured to death demain, or de day apres de morrow. Stay, I vill tell to you all I knows. You mus' know, ven I run avay from you, I do so 'cause I know dat canoe ver' probabilie git opturned, so I come to river bank before every von. Dere is von big tree dere, so op I go like von skvirrel. You know vat come to pass apres dat. You smash de head of de Injun, aussi you smash de paddil. Den you escape, an' de Injuns howl vid passion!

"Ver' soon after dat, dey all come to de bank of river--forty of 'em, I tink--draggin' our comerades vid dem, all tied by de wrist--Redhand, an' Big Valler, an' March, an' Hawksving, an' poor Monsieur Bertram. Mais, dat Monsieur Bertram, be most 'straordinary man! He terriblement frightened for every leetle ting, but him not fright von bit for big ting! Hims look at de sauvage dat hold him as if him be a lion. I do tink Monsieur Bertram vould fight vell if hims obleeged.

"After good deal of consultoration an' disputerin', dey vas about for go avay; so I sit ver' still, but I move my foot von leetle morsil, an' von small leaf fall to de ground. It vas ver' small leaf, but Hawksving him see it. Ah! he be von cliver Injun. Ver' sharp in sight too! I tink him should be named Hawkseye. No von else notice it, but I see Hawksving visper to Big Valler. Dat man be sharp feller too. He turns hims back to de tree, nevair vonce looked up, but him burst into loud laugh, like von tondre-clap, an' cry out, `Vell done, Gibault! Keep close, old feller; their village is one day off towards the sun!' An' den he laugh again. Ah! ho! how my heart him jump ven he speak my name! But de Injuns tink hims yell out to some von cross de river, for him looks dat vay. Vell, off dey go, and I begin to breathe more easy; but ven dey git far-off, I hear the voice of Big Valler come back like far-avay tondre, cryin', `Dey're goin' to roast us alive to-morrow; look sharp!' Dat vas de last I hear. Den de darkness come, an' den you come, an', now, vat is to come nixt?"

Poor Gibault spoke fast, and perspired very much, and looked wild and haggard, for his nature was sensitive and sympathetic, and the idea of his comrades meeting with such a horrible fate was almost too much for him.

Bounce's honest face assumed an expression of deep anxiety, for, fertile though his resources usually were, he could not at that moment conceive how it was possible for two unarmed men, either by force or by stratagem, to rescue five comrades who were securely bound, and guarded by forty armed warriors, all of whom were trained from infancy in the midst of alarms that made caution and intense watchfulness second nature to them.

"It looks bad," said Bounce, sitting down on a stone, clasping his hard hands together, and resting an elbow on each knee. "Sit ye down, Gibault. We'll think a bit, an' then go to work. That's wot we'll do-- d'ye see?"

"Non, I don't see," groaned Gibault. "Vat can ve do? Two to forty! If it was only swords ve had to fight vid--Hah! But, alas! we have noting--dey have everyting."

"True, lad, force won't do," returned Bounce; "an' yit," he added, knitting his brows, "if nothin' else 'll do, we'll try at least _how much_ force 'll do."

After a short pause Bounce resumed, "Wos they tied very tight, Gibault?"

"Oui. I see de cords deep in de wrists, an' poor Redhand seem to be ver' moch stunned; he valk as if hims be dronk."

"Drunk!" exclaimed Bounce, suddenly springing up as if he had received an electric shock, and seizing his companion by both shoulders, while, for a moment, he gazed eagerly into his eyes; then, pushing him violently away,