Away in the Wilderness by Robert Michael Ballantyne (most read books .TXT) 📖

flourished; but Mr Pemberton, who is in charge of Fort Erie, ran in and pacified them. The Indian that was floored vows he'll have the hair of old Laroche's head."

This taking the hair off people's heads, or scalping, as it is called, is a common practice among the North American Indians. When a savage kills his enemy he runs his scalping knife round the dead man's head, seizes the hair with his left hand and tears the scalp off. Indeed this dreadful cruelty is sometimes practised before death has occurred. The scalp with its lock of hair is taken home by the victor, and hung up in his tent as a trophy of war. The man who can show the greatest number of scalps is considered the greatest warrior. The dresses of Indian warriors are usually fringed with human scalp-locks.

"That's a bad business," said Jasper, who was concerned to hear such news of his intended father-in-law. "Do ye know the name o' this red-skinned rascal?"

"I heard it mentioned," said the guide, "but I can't remember it at this moment."

"The boats are ready to start," said one of the steersmen, coming up just then.

"Very good, let the men embark. Now, Jasper, we must part. Give us a shake o' your hand. A pleasant trip to you."

"The same to you, friend," said Jasper, returning the guide's squeeze.

In another minute the boats were away.

"Now, friends, we shall start," said Jasper, breaking the deep silence which followed the departure of the brigade.

"Good," said Arrowhead.

"I'm ready," said Heywood.

The canoe was soon in the water, and the men in their places; but they started that morning without a song. Arrowhead was never inclined to be noisy, Heywood was sleepy, and Jasper was rendered anxious by what he had heard of his friends at Fort Erie, so they paddled away in silence.


CHAPTER NINE.


THE FORT, AND AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.

We turn now to a very different scene. It is a small fort or trading-post on the banks of a stream which flows through the prairie. The fort is very much like the one which has been already described, but somewhat stronger; and there are four block-houses or bastions, one at each corner, from which the muzzles of a few heavy guns may be seen protruding.

The trees and bushes have been cleared away from around this fort, and the strips of forest-land, which run along both sides of the river, are not so thickly wooded, as the country through which the reader has hitherto been travelling. In front of the fort rolls the river. Immediately behind it lies the boundless prairie, which extends like a sea of grass, with scarcely a tree or bush upon it, as far as the eye can reach. This is Fort Erie.

You might ride for many days over that prairie without seeing anything of the forest, except a clump of trees and bushes here and there, and now and then a little pond. The whole region is extremely beautiful. One that ought to fill the hearts of men with admiration and love of the bountiful God who formed it. But men in those regions, at the time I write of, thought of little beauties of nature, and cared nothing for the goodness of God. At least this may be truly said of the red-skinned owners of the soil. It was otherwise with _some_ of the white people who dwelt there.

Three weeks had passed away since the night spent by our friends with the brigade. It was now a beautiful evening, a little after sunset. The day's work at the fort had been finished, and the men were amusing themselves by racing their horses, of which fine animals there were great numbers at Fort Erie.

Just a little after the sun had gone down, three horsemen appeared on the distant prairie and came bounding at full gallop towards the fort. They were our friends Jasper, Heywood, and Arrowhead. These adventurous travellers had reached a fort farther down the river two days before, and, having been supplied with horses, had pushed forward by way of the plains.

On entering the belt of woods close to the fort, the horsemen reined in, and rode among the trees more cautiously.

"Here's the end of our journey at last," cried Jasper, on whose bronzed countenance there was a deep flush of excitement and a look of anxiety.

Just as he said this, Jasper's heart appeared to leap into his throat and almost choked him. Pulling up suddenly, he swallowed his heart, with some difficulty, and said--

"Hold on, lads. I'll ride round to the fort by way of the river, for reasons of my own. Push on, Heywood, with the Indian, and let Mr Pemberton know I'm coming. See, I will give you the packet of letters we were asked to carry from the fort below. Now, make haste."

Heywood, though a little surprised at this speech, and at the manner of his friend, took the packet in silence and rode swiftly away, followed by the Indian. When they were gone, Jasper dismounted, tied his horse to a tree, and walked quickly into the woods in another direction.

Now this mysterious proceeding is not difficult to explain. Jasper had caught sight of a female figure walking under the trees at a considerable distance from the spot where he had pulled up. He knew that there were none but Indian women at Fort Erie at that time, and that, therefore, the only respectably dressed female at the place must needs be his own Marie Laroche. Overjoyed at the opportunity thus unexpectedly afforded him of meeting her alone, he hastened forward with a beating heart.

Marie was seated on the stump of a fallen tree when the hunter came up. She was a fair, beautiful woman of about five-and-twenty, with an air of modesty about her which attracted love, yet repelled familiarity. Many a good-looking and well-doing young fellow had attempted to gain the heart of Marie during the last two years, but without success--for this good reason, that her heart had been gained already.

She was somewhat startled when a man appeared thus suddenly before her. Jasper stood in silence for a few moments, with his arms crossed upon his breast, and gazed earnestly into her face.

As he did not speak, she said--

"You appear to be a stranger here. Have you arrived lately?"

Jasper was for a moment astonished that she did not at once recognise him, and yet he had no reason to be surprised. Besides the alteration that two years sometimes makes in a man, Jasper had made a considerable alteration on himself. When Marie last saw him, he had been in the habit of practising the foolish and unnatural custom of shaving; and he had carried it to such an extreme that he shaved off everything-- whiskers, beard, and moustache. But within a year he had been induced by a wise friend to change his opinion on this subject. That friend had suggested, that as Providence had caused hair to grow on his cheeks, lips, and chin, it was intended to be worn, and that he had no more right to shave his face than a Chinaman had to shave his head. Jasper had been so far convinced, that he had suffered his whiskers to grow. These were now large and bushy, and had encroached so much on his chin as to have become almost a beard.

Besides this, not having shaved any part of his face during the last three weeks, there was little of it visible except his eyes, forehead, and cheek-bones. All the rest was more or less covered with black hair.

No wonder, then, that Marie, who believed him to be two thousand miles away at that moment, did not recognise him in the increasing darkness of evening. The lover at once understood this, and he resolved to play the part of a stranger. He happened to have the power of changing his voice--a power possessed by many people--and, trusting to the increasing gloom to conceal him, and to the fact that he was the last person in the world whom Marie might expect to see there, he addressed her as follows:--

"I am indeed a stranger here; at least I have not been at the post for a very long time. I have just reached the end of a long voyage."

"Indeed," said the girl, interested by the stranger's grave manner. "May I ask where you have come from?"

"I have come all the way from Canada, young woman, and I count myself lucky in meeting with such a pleasant face at the end of my journey."

"From Canada!" exclaimed Marie, becoming still more interested in the stranger, and blushing deeply as she asked--"You have friends there, no doubt?"

"Ay, a few," said Jasper.

"And what has brought you such a long way into this wild wilderness?" asked Marie, sighing as she thought of the hundreds of miles that lay between Fort Erie and Canada.

"I have come here to get me a wife," replied Jasper.

"That is strange," said the girl, smiling, "for there are few but Indian women here. A stout hunter like you might find one nearer home, I should think."

Here Marie paused, for she felt that on such a subject she ought not to converse with a stranger. Yet she could not help adding, "But perhaps, as you say, you have been in this part of the world before, you may have some one in your mind?"

"I am engaged," said Jasper abruptly.

On hearing this Marie felt more at her ease, and, being of a very sympathetic nature, she at once courted the confidence of the stranger.

"May I venture to ask her name?" said Marie, with an arch smile.

"I may not tell," replied Jasper; "I have a comrade who is entitled to know this secret before any one else. Perhaps you may have heard of him, for he was up in these parts two years agone. His name is Jasper Derry."

The blood rushed to Marie's temples on hearing the name, and she turned her face away to conceal her agitation, while, in a low voice, she said--

"Is Jasper Derry, then, your intimate friend?"

"That is he--a very intimate friend indeed. But you appear to know him."

"Yes, I--I know him--I have seen him. I hope he is well," said Marie; and she listened with a beating heart for the answer, though she still turned her face away.

"Oh! he's well enough," said Jasper; "sickness don't often trouble _him_. He's going to be married."

Had a bullet struck the girl's heart she could not have turned more deadly pale than she did on hearing this. She half rose from the tree stump, and would have fallen to the ground insensible, had not Jasper caught her in his arms.

"My own Marie," said he fervently, "forgive me, dearest; forgive my folly, my wickedness, in deceiving you in this fashion. Oh, what a fool I am!" he added, as the poor girl still hung heavily in his grasp--"speak to me Marie, my own darling."

Whether it was the earnestness of his voice, or the kiss which he printed on her forehead, or the