CHAPTER X.THE SUCK.
Theriver upon which these scenes are laid, was a narrow stream, sometimes flowing smoothly over a sandy bottom, and at others leaping downward with all the force of a mountain-torrent. The water, dropping over a beaver dam, fell upon a sloping bed and rushed downward with impetuous fury. The currents drew together in the center after leaving the falls, forming what is known in the Far West as a “Suck.” The current was full of rocks at this point, against which the water rushed in ungovernable rage, with a strength hardly to be resisted. On the morning succeeding the escape of Ben and young Morris, they began to build a raft.
The events of the past few days satisfied Ben that they might be attacked at any time, and he wished to provide a way of escape. Just at the foot of the waterfall was a growth of light pine suitable for his purpose. Calling on the others for assistance, all set to work upon the float. The logs were slightly squared, and bound together with tough green withes after a manner much in vogue among the trappers. It wasthe work of half a day, and as they had little else to do, they gave much care to it. The raft finally was finished and fastened to the shore by a lariat. Ben looked at the structure in some pride.
“Did anybody ever go down the river here, father Ben?” said Millicent.
“Not often, little gal,” said Ben. “It’s an awful perilous undertakin’, an’ we won’t do it unless we’re driv’ so close we kain’t help it. It’s best to be prepared allers. Leastways I think so.”
“Will that raft hold us all?” asked Millicent.
“You git on’t, Jan, an’ try.”
Jan stepped carefully on the float. Ben stood close to the shore, watching the effect of his weight upon the structure. Jules stood just behind the trapper. Millicent was nearer the river. Bentley had gone into the hut for something they needed.
“Jump up an’ down on it,” said Ben.
Jan did as he was requested. The next moment there was a loud crack, as of a hawser parting under a heavy strain, and the craft was whirling down the current, out of reach of the men on the shore. Ben darted into the water and made an ineffectual attempt to grasp it, but it was already beyond the utmost stretch of his arm. To their horror they saw their comrade drifting hopelessly down the stream. They looked downward; as far as the eye could reach, the river was hopelessly churned into foam, and gray rocks reared their heads above the water, threatening death to any unfortunate wretch thrown upon them. The bluffs stood out bold and high on either side, and buried the river in from mortal view. In every eddy by the side of these bluffs, the cunning beavers had made their lodges, satisfied that they were safe from their inveterate enemies, the trappers. The Dutchman saw nothing of this; he only saw the foaming river, the brown ledges, and the ragged rocks.
From the spot where the raft started, the eddy swept him directly across the stream in the direction of a serrated ledge, which threatened instant destruction. Seated on the narrow craft, grasping it with both hands and ever looking toward the other shore, the unfortunate man set up a cry for help, whichpierced brave old Ben to the very heart. He began to throw off his hunting-shirt. Just as he stood, half naked, on the bank, the raft struck the ledge against which it was drifting. Such was the momentum which it had acquired, that it sent Jan flying from the logs, striking the water many feet away.
“Alas, alas!” cried Millicent, “he is gone!”
“Not yit,” said Ben; “I’m hyar.”
The current swept Jan further down, and he struck the rocks again; but this time he grasped a jutting ledge, found a place for his feet, and shouted for help at the top of his voice.
“I’m comin’, ole chap,” responded Ben in return. “Look out! Foller me, Jule.”
He plunged into the stream, while Jules remained standing on the bank. The trapper sunk from view in a moment. Taking advantage of the undertow, he swam toward the other shore. He had learned from the Indians the trick of swimming under water, and did it well. For a few moments nothing was heard but the splash of the water and the shouts of poor Jan, who imagined himself forsaken in the bleak world. All at once he beheld the water separate close by his side, and from the swift current Ben Miffin sprung into view, dashing the water from his eyes with one hand as he laid the other on the rocks to keep himself from floating downward.
“How ar’ ye?” he said, coolly. “Rayther a cold berth, this.”
“Ve never gets out of dis no more, Penn,” said Jan, despairingly. “I pees very mooch ’vraid ve gone dis dimes. Vy den you pring me to dis miser’ble coonthry?”
“It’s good enough fer the natyves,” said Ben. “Shet up yer meat-trap. Letmedo the talkin’; I’ll hev enough of it, I reckon.”
“Dalking’s no use,” replied the poor fellow. “Vat I vants ish to pe sure I can get out from dis. An’ dis ish vat I dinks: ve vill never get out from dis no more vile ve lifs, so help me ash I pelieve dis ish drue. Dere ish no more hope vor poor Jan Schneider. He ish deat unt drownded mit vasser. Ach! Mein Gott! Phew!”
“Jest you open yer mouth ag’in, an’ I’ll give ye a smash right squar’ in the meat-trap. Now mind what I tell ye: Iain’t goin’ to hev two head bosses in this yer business—you bet I ain’t. Now listen to me, an’ hold yer row. Kin ye swim?”
“Like a hoondred pounts off iron,” said Jan. “Gootness cracious!”
“Thet’s bad. I never did see a Dutchman thet knowed any thing. Ye durned anatomy! Well, ef I let ye git on my shoulders, will ye promise not to ketch me round the neck?”
“Yaw; I bromise anyt’ings, so ash I does not pe drownded mit vasser.”
“Very good. Then when I give ye the word, lay yer hands on my shoulders an’ kick out with both feet. Kin ye do it?”
“I kicks like ter duyvel.”
Ben loosened his hold on the rock, and let himself float down to the speaker. When all was ready, Jan laid his brawny hands upon the shoulders of the trapper, and he pushed out from the shelving bank. Jan immediately began to flourish his heels like the paddles of an ocean steamer, leaving a broad trail of foam behind him. Indeed, so vehement were his efforts, that he buried the head of the swimmer under the water, and Ben was compelled to call on him to desist. But when he fell a dead weight upon the shoulders of the trapper, the drag became fearful even for his iron strength to sustain.
They were by this time in the midst of the powerful current, where the “suck” formed a vortex so strong that when within twenty feet of the shore it seized them and hurried them away from the safety so nearly gained. In vain the trapper struggled against it and called to Jules for help. But the Frenchman seemed to have lost all control of himself. Instead of following the trapper he remained on the bank, running wildly up and down, making no effort to assist either of them. But Bentley was coming down from the hut at full speed. “Help! help!” cried Ben, in a sinking voice. He had got out of the suck by this time, but faced it again bravely. The current had been gradually sweeping them downward. They reached a place where a pine had fallen to the ground and was lying in the water. Ben, striking out desperately, felt the sunken branches strike his leg.
“Kick, Jan, kick!” he shouted, with all the power of his lungs. “Kick fer yer life.”
Jan lashed out desperately, and though the head and shoulders of the trapper were buried by the effort, he managed to grasp the limb of the fallen tree.
“Easy, Jan; keep cool,” he said.
Jan ceased plunging, and Ben slowly hauled away on the slender limb, going up it hand over hand, as sailors do. If it should break! He looked below and saw the jagged rocks and the high walls of stone on both sides of the cañon. To drift lower down was certain death.
He felt the limb bend in his grasp, but it held firmly, and at last he laid his strong hand on a stouter one. As he did so, he allowed the shout of joy which had been pent up in his breast so long to escape in an exultant cry. Jan took it up and made the rocks fairly ring.
It was easy work now. In a moment more their feet trod the unyielding soil of the bottom of the stream, and they clambered to the shore. Ben ran to the place where his clothes lay, and got into them without delay.
“There! I feel better,” he said, as the last garment was donned. “I kain’t say I like the other style of costume in the winter. ’Tain’t voluminous enuff. Fer summer, now, a light an’ airy rig like thet ar’ would be jest the thing; but it won’t do fer the Black Hills; oh no.”
“I dinks ve petter haf a vire,” said Jan, with rattling teeth. “It ish very cold here.”
“Yer mighty right,” rejoined Ben. “Say, Jule, kain’t ye do thet much fer us?”
Jules walked away slowly and began to gather the materials for a fire; but he walked lazily, and Jan turned in to help him, dripping as he was. Ben looked at the Frenchman in considerable astonishment. A change seemed to have come over him since his capture by the Indian band. His eye had a sullen light; his looks were downcast, and his whole appearance that of a man who was wholly actuated by some bad passion.
“Blowed ef I kin make out what’s the matter with Jule,” muttered Ben. “He’s got trouble on his mind, somehow.”
“Come here, father Ben,” said Millicent at this moment. “I have something to show you.”
He turned, and walked to the place where she stood, near where the raft had been lying. The broken withe by which it had been tied still hung to the trunk of the pine. Millicent lifted this and showed it to him.
“Do you see nothing strange in this?” she said. A glance at it was sufficient to show that it had not been broken in any ordinary way. It wascutclean through by some sharp instrument. He looked about him. Jules was still lazily working at the fire.
“Mebbe thar’s somethin’ on the tree or the rocks that did it,” he whispered.
“If there is we can find it,” said Millicent; “you had better try.”
He searched the trunk of the tree and the rocks near at hand, to find any thing which could by any possibility have cut the rope. He looked in vain. The trunk was wonderfully smooth and the rocks out of reach. There was but one supposition then. Some one had cut the withe.
“Ye don’t mean to tell me that Jules c’u’d hev the heart to do that?” said Ben.
“I do not like to suspect anybody, but I believe from my heart that it was he. I have good reason to fear him, and so have you.”
Ben turned toward the Frenchman. He had at last collected material for a fire, and Jan had kindled them into a blaze, over which he was crouching, while Jules stood watching him with a sullen and dissatisfied air.
“Come here, Jules,” said Ben. “I have something to tell ye.”
Jules looked as if he would like to refuse.
“What do you want?” he said, moving slowly and sullenly toward the trapper.
Millicent had left the old man, and was talking with Bentley by the river side.
“Come hyar,” repeated Ben, in an authoritative tone of voice.
Jules paused irresolutely and looked the speaker over from head to foot.
“Come hyar, I say,” repeated Ben. “Hev a man got to w’ar his tongue out a-tellin’ of ye to move?”
Jules followed him reluctantly aside, and they stood together near the wall of the hut, not far from Jan, who was intently engaged in drying his clothing. The Frenchman did not like the expression of the old trapper’s face. It showed a determination to understand the matter.
“Ye hang back like a twelve-year-old gal, ye do,” said the old trapper. “What’s the matter with ye, anyhow? I want ter ask ye a question or two. I asked ye to foller me when Jan got adrift. Why didn’t ye?”
“Where would you have been if the tree-top had not lain in the water? Battered to pieces on the rocks below the fall. I wasn’t going to try it, you’d better believe. I warned you to come back.”
“That’sall right,” said Ben. “I ain’t hard-hearted enough to force a man to do any thing he’safraidof. But look yer. Do you see this withe? Who cut it?”
He held up to view the severed strand, showing where it had been cut. So sudden was the question, and so unexpected, that the Frenchman stammered and turned deadly pale. There could be no doubt as to his guilt.
“I never touched—”
“Take keer! Don’t lie to me! I ask ye as a friend to keep a straight tongue. I expect ye to try it on, but it’s no use. So don’t lie. Don’t I know ye? Didn’t ye stand behind me when ye cut the withe? Wasn’t it cut through and through? I ain’t quite a fool, nuther be you. So shut up. You cut it yerself, jist to git rid of the Dutchman, I s’pose, because of yer old grudge ag’in’ him.”
Jules covered his confusion by a laugh. He thought best to turn it off in that way.
“Well, Ben, I did cut the withe; but it was a joke, just to give that Dutchman a big scare. I had no idea the raft would get away.”
“A joke. I cum pooty nigh makin’ it the dearest jest you ever hearn of.”
“You don’t suppose I meant any thing in earnest,” said Jules, cringingly.
“It don’t matter so much what I think,” said Ben. “I believe Jan has a v’ice in the matter, an’ I reckon he’d say if it wa’n’t in earnest it was the roughest joke on him everhern of. Anyhow, I’ve got my opinion, and I’ll back it for ten mills, U. S. currency, that he licks you out of your boots when he hears about this nice little joke. Ef he don’t lick ye, he’s a fool.”
“He dare not lay the weight of a finger upon me in anger,” said Jules, fiercely. “He has done it more than once. Let him beware of the next time.”
“I’ve had a hint before to-day thet all ain’t right. I begin to suspect ye grevious. I won’t say anything about that now. About Jan first; he ain’t a bit afraid of you, Jan ain’t. Now let me give you a piece of advice. I don’t want to hev any words with you. Jest let the Dutchman alone. He’s clumsy, mebbe, but he’s got the makin’ of a man in him, and he’s good-hearted, an’ I won’t hev him abused. Thet’s about the way the thing stands now, nigh as I kin git at it.”
“You seem to have taken to him all at once,” muttered Jules.
“He’shonest; thet’s one reason; I like honesty in any one. An’ I give ye fa’r warnin’, next time ye dar’ to do a mean thing to him, I’ll walk into ye like chalk. D’ye h’ar what I say? Understand me, too. I won’t hev no man in my company that won’t give the others a fair show. And ye’ve been hard on thet poor feller ever sense he cum hyar with us. Now stop it.”
“Is it any thing to you?”
“Ye bet it is. Ef it ain’t I’ll make it so mind thet.”