Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. The Dog Crusoe and his Master by R. M. Ballantyne (free ebook reader for pc .TXT) 📖
- Author: R. M. Ballantyne
Book online «The Dog Crusoe and his Master by R. M. Ballantyne (free ebook reader for pc .TXT) 📖». Author R. M. Ballantyne
The horses were picketted, a fire kindled, a mouthful of dried meat hastily eaten, the watch was set, and then each man scraped away the snow, spread some branches on the ground, and, wrapping himself in his blanket, went to sleep with his feet presented towards the fire.
Two hours were allowed for rest; then they were awakened, and in a few minutes were off again by the grey light of dawn. In this way they travelled two nights and a day. At the end of that time they came suddenly on a small party of nine Indians who were seated on the ground with their snow-shoes and blankets by their sides. They had evidently been taken by surprise, but they made no attempt to escape, knowing that it was useless. Each sat still with his bow and arrows between his legs on the ground ready for instant use.
As soon as Cameron spoke, however, in their own language they felt relieved and began to talk.
“Where do you come from, and what are you doing here?” asked the trader.
“We have come to trade with the white men,” one of them replied, “and to hunt. We have come from the Missouri. Our country is far away.”
“Do Peigans hunt with war-arrows?” asked Cameron, pointing to their weapons.
This question seemed to perplex them, for they saw that their interrogator knew the difference between a war and a hunting arrow—the former being barbed in order to render its extraction from the wound difficult, while the head of the latter is round and can be drawn out of game that has been killed, and used again.
“And do Peigans,” continued Cameron, “come from a far country to trade with the white men with nothing?”
Again the Indians were silent, for they had not an article of trade about them.
Cameron now felt convinced that this party of Peigans, into whose hands Joe Blunt and Henri had fallen, were nothing else than a war-party, and that the men now before him were a scouting-party sent out from them, probably to spy out his own camp, on the trail of which they had fallen, so he said to them—
“The Peigans are not wise men, they tell lies to the traders. I will tell you that you are a war-party, and that you are only a few warriors sent out to spy the traders’ camp. You have also two Pale-face prisoners in your camp. You cannot deceive me. It is useless to try. Now, conduct me to your camp. My object is not war; it is peace. I will speak with your chiefs about trading with the white men, and we will smoke the pipe of peace. Are my words good?”
Despite their proverbial control of muscle, these Indians could not conceal their astonishment at hearing so much of their affairs thus laid bare, so they said that the Pale-face chief was wise, that he must be a great medicine-man, and that what he said was all true except about the white men. They had never seen any Pale-faces, and knew nothing whatever about those he spoke of.
This was a terrible piece of news to poor Dick, and at first his heart fairly sank within him, but by degrees he came to be more hopeful. He concluded that if these men told lies in regard to one thing they would do it in regard to another, and perhaps they might have some strong reason for denying any knowledge of Joe and Henri.
The Indians now packed up the buffalo robes on which they had slept, and the mouthful of provisions they had taken with them.
“I don’t believe a word of what they say about your friends,” said Cameron to Dick in a low tone while the Indians were thus engaged. “Depend upon it they hope to hide them till they can send to the settlements and get a ransom, or till they get an opportunity of torturing them to death before their women and children when they get back to their own village. But we’ll baulk them, my friend, do not fear.”
The Indians were soon ready to start, for they were lumbered with marvellously little camp equipage. In less than half an hour after their discovery they were running like deer ahead of the cavalcade in the direction of the Peigan camp.
A run of twenty miles brought the travellers to a rugged defile in the mountains, from which they had a view of a beautiful valley of considerable extent. During the last two days a steady thaw had been rapidly melting away the snow, so that it appeared only here and there in the landscape in dazzling patches. At the distance of about half a mile from where they halted to breathe the horses before commencing the descent into this vale, several thin wreaths of smoke were seen rising above the trees.
“Is that your camp?” inquired Cameron, riding up to the Indian runners who stood in a group in front, looking as fresh after their twenty miles’ run as though they had only had a short walk.
To this they answered in the affirmative, adding that there were about two hundred Peigans there.
It might have been thought that thirty men would have hesitated to venture to attack so large a number as two hundred; but it had always been found in the experience of Indian life, that a few resolute white men well armed were more than a match for ten times their number of Indians. And this arose not so much from the superior strength or agility of the whites over their red foes, as from that bull-dog courage and utter recklessness of their lives in combat,—qualities which the crafty savage can neither imitate nor understand. The information was received with perfect indifference by most of the trappers, and with contemptuous laughter by some, for a large number of Cameron’s men were wild, evil-disposed fellows, who would have as gladly taken the life of an Indian as a buffalo.
Just as the word was given to resume the march, Dick Varley rode up to Cameron, and said in a somewhat anxious tone—“D’ye obsarve, sir, that one o’ the Red-skins has gone off ahead o’ his comrades?”
“I see that, Master Dick, and it was a mistake of mine not to have stopped him, but he was gone too far before I observed it, and I thought it better to appear unconcerned. We must push on, though, and give him as short time as possible to talk with his comrades in the camp.”
The trappers pressed forward accordingly at a gallop, and were soon in front of the clump of trees amongst which the Peigans were encamped. Their approach had evidently spread great alarm among them, for there was a good deal of bustle and running to and fro, but by the time the trappers had dismounted and advanced in a body on foot, the savages had resumed their usual quiet dignity of appearance, and were seated calmly round their fires with their bows and arrows beside them. There were no tents, no women or children, and the general aspect of the men showed Cameron conclusively that his surmise about their being a war-party was correct.
A council was immediately called; the trappers ranged themselves on one side of the council-fire and the Indians on the other. Meanwhile, our friend Crusoe had been displaying considerable irritability against the Indians, and he would certainly have attacked the whole two hundred single-handed if he had not been ordered by his master to lie still, but never in his life before had Crusoe obeyed with such a bad grace. He bristled and whined in a low tremulous tone, and looked imploringly at Dick as if for permission to fly at them.
“The Pale-faced traders are glad to meet with the Peigans,” began Cameron, who determined to make no allusion to his knowledge that they were a war-party, “for they wish to be friends with all the children of the woods and prairies. They wish to trade with them; to exchange blankets, and guns, and beads, and other goods which the Peigans require, for furs of animals which the Pale-faces require.”
“Ho! ho!” exclaimed the Indians; which expression might be translated, “Hear, hear.”
“But,” continued Cameron, “we wish to have no war. We wish to see the hatchet buried, and to see all the Red-men and the white men smoking the pipe of peace, and hunting like brothers.”
The “Ho-ho-ing” at this was very emphatic.
“Now,” resumed the trader, “the Peigans have got two prisoners—two Pale-faces—in their camp, and, as we cannot be on good terms while our brothers are detained, we have come to ask for them, and to present some gifts to the Peigans.”
To this there was no “Ho” at all, but a prolonged silence, which was at length interrupted by a tall chief stepping forward to address the trappers.
“What the Pale-face chief has said is good,” began the Indian. “His words are wise, and his heart is not double. The Red-men are willing to smoke the pipe of peace, and to hunt with all men as brothers, but they cannot do it while many of their scalps are hanging in the lodges of their enemies and fringing the robes of the warriors. The Peigans must have vengeance; then they will make peace.”
After a short pause he continued—“The chief is wrong when he says there are Pale-faces in the Peigan camp. The Peigans are not at war with the Pale-faces; neither have they seen any on their march. The camp is open. Let the Pale-faces look round and see that what we say is true.”
The chief waved his hand towards his warriors as he concluded, as if to say, “Search amongst them. There are no Pale-faces there.”
Cameron now spoke to Dick in a low tone. “They speak confidently,” he said, “and I fear greatly that your poor comrades have either been killed or conveyed away from the camp and hidden among the mountains, in which case, even though they should not be far off, it would be next to impossible to find them, especially when such a band o’ rascals is near, compelling us to keep together. But I’ll try what a little tempting them with goods will do. At any rate we shan’t give in without a scuffle.”
It now, for the first time, flashed across Dick Varley that there was something more than he imagined in Crusoe’s restless anxiety, which had not in the least abated, and the idea of making use of him now occurred to his mind.
“I’ve a notion that I’ll settle this matter in a shorter time than you think,” he said hurriedly, “if you’ll agree to try what threatening will do.”
The trader looked grave and undecided. “I never resort to that except as a last hope,” he answered, “but I’ve a good deal of confidence in your prudence, what would you advise?”
Dick and the trader whispered a few minutes together, while some of the men, in order to show the Indians how perfectly unconcerned they were, and how ready for anything, took out their pipes and began to smoke. Both parties were seated on the ground, and during this interval the Indians also held eager discussion.
At length Cameron stood up, and said to his men in a quiet tone, “Be ready, lads, for instant action; when I give the word ‘Up,’ spring to your feet and cock your guns, but don’t fire a shot till you get the word.” He then stepped forward and said—
“The Peigan warriors are double-tongued; they know that they have hid the Pale-face prisoners. We do not wish to quarrel, but if they are not delivered up at once, the Pale-faces and the Peigans will not be friends.”
Upon this the Indian chief
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