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

they did to no small extent, for, had they been called upon to fight or fly at that moment, they could have done neither.

"Now, lads," said Bounce, who, having been a prisoner for but a short time, was unhurt by his bonds, "while ye rub the life into yer limbs I'll tell ye wot we must do. Them scamps (pointing to the prostrate Indians) won't lie there long. Of course, bein' white men an' Christians, we don't mean to kill them or to lift their scalps--"

"I've know'd white men," interrupted Redhand, "who called themselves Christians, and didn't object to take scalps when they got the chance."

"So have I," returned Bounce, "an' more's the pity. It's sichlike blackguards as these that keeps honest trappers and fur-traders for iver in hot water here. Howsomdiver, we're not a-goin' to turn ourselves into brute beasts 'cause they've turned theirselves into sich."

"I'm not so sure o' that," broke in Big Waller, casting a scowling glance on the savages as he surveyed a wound in his left arm, which, although not serious, was, from want of dressing, sufficiently painful; "I calc'late it would serve them reptiles right if we was to whangskiver the whole on 'em as they lie."

"I don't b'lieve," retorted Bounce, "that `_whangskiver_' is either English, Injun, French, or Yankee; but if it means _killin'_, you'll do nothing o' the sort. Here's what we'll do. We'll ketch as many horses as wos took from Mr Bertram's fellers, an' as many guns too (the same ones if we can lay hands on 'em), an' as much powder an' shot an' other things as that keg o' brandy is worth, an' then we'll bid the redskins good-bye without wakenin' of 'em up."

"Goot," ejaculated Gibault, pausing in his manipulation of the artist, "now you can do!"

"Capital; thanks, I feel quite strong again."

"I say, Gibault," observed March ruefully, "they've almost sawed through the skin o' my ankle. I've no left foot at all, as far as feelin' goes."

"Hah! me boy, 'tis well you have foot left, though you not feel left foot! Let me see."

"That's it, Gibault, rub away; if your jokes were as good as your surgery you'd be too good, a long way, for the backwoods."

By dint of chafing and rubbing and leaping and stamping, the whole party were soon restored to a serviceable condition, after which they set about active preparations for departure.

First, they ransacked the tents, where they discovered all the guns that had been taken from Bertram's party. These they tied up in a bundle, after each had secured one for his own use. Among them the artist found, to his intense delight, his own double-barrelled gun, the loss of which he had mourned most sincerely.

Next, they secured the horses, which, being hobbled, as we have said elsewhere, were easily caught. Then the powder-horns and shot-belts of Bertram's party were found, and, being full of ammunition, were slung across their shoulders forthwith. Among other things belonging to the same party were discovered a number of blankets, some tea and sugar, and a variety of other useful articles, besides several packs of furs; all of which were made up into portable bundles that could be easily carried at their saddle-bows. The supply of everything was so ample that it was not necessary to touch a single article belonging to the Indians.

This was a matter of much satisfaction to Redhand, who wished to show these unfortunate children of the wilderness that there were at least some white trappers who were actuated by different and kindlier feelings than many who sought their livelihood in those regions.

"Hullo! wot have we here?" cried Big Waller, who was poking inquisitively about among the tents, to the consternation of the poor Indian children who lay huddled up in their rabbit-skin blankets, trembling from head to foot, and expecting to be scalped forthwith--such of them, at least, as were old enough to expect anything. "Here's your blunderbusses, I guess, mister."

"What! my pistols," cried Bertram, seizing his weapons with as much delight as if they had been really serviceable.

"Hah! ver' goot for play vid," observed Gibault contemptuously.

"I say, here's something else," said Bounce, picking up a rifle.

"Wah!" exclaimed Hawkswing, pointing to the weapon in surprise, and turning his eyes on Redhand.

"Wot! d'ye know who it b'long'd to?" inquired Bounce.

An expression of deep sorrow overspread Redhand's countenance. "Ay," said he mournfully, "I know it well. It belonged to young Blake." Glancing quickly up at a place where several scalps were hanging to a pole, he took one down, and, after gazing at it sadly for a few seconds, he added in a tone of deep melancholy: "Poor, poor Blake! ye had a hearty spirit an' a kindly heart. Your huntin' days were soon over!"

"Was he a friend of yours?" inquired Bertram, affected by the old trapper's look and tone.

"Ay, ay, he was, he was," said Redhand quickly, and with a sternness of manner that surprised his companions; "come, lads, mount! mount! The redskins won't part with plunder without making an effort to get it back."

"But, stop a bit, Redhand," cried Bounce, detaining the old man, "ye didn't use for to be so hot an' hasty. Where are we to go to? That's wot I want to know."

"True," observed Redhand in his old gentle tones, "we've more horses than we need, and some furs to dispose of. There's a tradin' fort in the mountains, but it's a good bit from this."

"What o' that?" said March Marston somewhat impetuously. "Are we not armed and well mounted and strong, and have we not lots o' time before us?"

"Well said," cried Bounce.

"Ditto," echoed Waller.

"Then we'll do it!" cried Redhand, vaulting into the saddle with a spring that a young man might have envied.

The others followed his example, and in a few seconds they were picking their way carefully down the ravine in which the Indian camp was situated. Leaving this quickly behind, they trotted briskly along the more open banks of the river until they gained a level sweep of land which terminated in a belt of low bushes. Beyond this lay the great plains. Breaking into a gallop, they speedily cleared the underwood, and just as the rosy smile of morning beamed in the eastern sky, they dashed away, with light hearts and loose reins, out upon the springy turf of the open prairie.


CHAPTER TEN.


SHORT TREATISE ON HORSEFLESH--REMARKS ON SLANG--DOINGS AND SIGHTS ON THE PRAIRIE--THE MOUNTAIN FORT.

A horse is a wonderful thing--if we may presume to style so noble a creature "a thing!" And the associations connected in some minds with a horse are wonderful associations. No doubt a horse, to many people, is a commonplace enough sort of thing; and the associations connected with horseflesh in general, in some minds, are decidedly low--having relation to tugging a cart, or tumbling along with a plough, or rattling with a cab, or prancing in a carriage, or being cut up into butcher's meat for cats and dogs. Nevertheless, a horse is a wonderful creature; and man's associations in connection with him are, not infrequently, of the most wonderful and romantic kind. Talk to the warrior of his steed, and he will speak of him as of his dearest friend. Talk to the Arab of his horse, and he will talk of his pet, his spoiled child! As it is with these, so is it with the trapper of the western prairies.

After a few weeks' acquaintance, the trapper and his horse become one-- part and parcel of each other, at least as far as it is possible for man and horse to amalgamate. On the one hand, the horse is tended, hobbled, patted, saddled, spoken to, watched over, and tenderly cared for by the man; on the other hand, the man is carried, respected, sometimes bitten (playfully), depended on, and loved by the horse. Day after day, and week after week, the limbs of the one and the ribs of the other are pressed against each other, until they become all but united, and the various play of muscles on the part of both becomes so delicately significant that the bridle, to a great extent, becomes unnecessary, and the rider feels when the horse is about to shy, just as quickly as the horse feels, by a gentle pressure on either side, how much the rider wishes him to diverge to the right or left.

Sometimes the horse breaks his hobbles and runs away, thus aggravating the spirits of, and causing infinite annoyance to, the man. Frequently the man, out of revenge for such or similar freaks, larrups and pains and worries the horse. But these little asperities are the occasional landmarks that give point and piquancy to the even tenor of their loving career. Neither would, for a moment, think of allowing such incidents to rankle in his bosom. Both would repudiate with scorn the idea that they were a whit less useful, or in any degree less attached, to each other on account of such trifling tiffs!

Day after day our trappers mounted their steeds and traversed the great prairie--now at a rattling trot, now at a tearing gallop; frequently at a quiet foot-pace, when the nature of the ground rendered a more rapid progress dangerous, or when the exhaustion of horses and men rendered rest necessary, or when the beautiful nature of the scenery and the warm sunny condition of the atmosphere induced a contemplative frame of mind and a placid state of body.

Night after night the horses--having stuffed themselves, like greedy things as they were, with the greenest and tenderest herbage on the rich plains--returned to the camp fire round which the trappers were lying in deep slumber, and each selecting his own master, would stand over him with drooping head and go to sleep, until dawn called them again to united action.

Thus day and night passed for the space of three weeks after the night of the surprise of the Indian camp, without anything particular occurring; and thus quadrupeds and bipeds came to be familiar and well acquainted with each other--so thoroughly united in sympathetic action-- as almost to become hexapeds, if we may be permitted the expression.

March Marston's quadruped was a beautiful little bay, whose tendency to bound over every little stick and stone, as if it were a five-barred gate, and to run away upon all and every occasion, admirably suited the tastes and inclinations of its mercurial rider.

There was one among the quadrupeds which was striking in appearance--not to say stunning. No; we won't say stunning, because that is a slang expression, and many persons object to slang expressions; therefore we will avoid that word; although we confess to being unable to see why, if it is allowable (as every one will admit it is) to assert that men may be mentally "struck," it is not equally proper to say that they may be stunned. But we bow to prejudice. We won't say that that horse was "stunning." While on this subject, we think it right to guard ourself, parenthetically, from the charge of being favourable to _all_ kinds of slang. We are in favour of speech--yes, we assert that broadly and fearlessly, without reservation--but we are not in favour of _all_ speech. Coarse speech, for