I forgive you, old boy
"'I forgive you, old boy!' panted out Tom, as he leapt back once more."—Page 119.
This time he was scarcely quick enough, as another ball passed through the flying portion of his Buckskin upper garment.
"Why don't yer hide yer fat carcass," sung out Butch' in fierce wrath. There was no more time for jesting. "If yer don't, we shall have to bury yer."
"How can I?"
As the perspiring Harvey screeched out this amidst a general chorus of laughter, he took another wild leap, which was not one bit too soon.
All this had taken place in considerably less time than I have occupied in recounting it, or I fear all would have been up with the too fat Tom. The tree which I had been fortunate enough to secure was a fairly large pine. From behind it, I had the luck of picking off an incautious red-skin, and was already sighting another, when I heard our fat companion's voice. He had (how he dared to look round, I never knew) moaned or rather barked out, in a plaintive way:
"For God's sake, Mose! swap trees with me."
The irrepressible scream of laughter with which this pathetic appeal was received by me, caused my shot to be useless. It missed the Pah-ute I was aiming at.
Temporary inability on the part of our boys, from the painfully absurd position of Harvey, to maintain a continuous fire, now induced the red-skins to show themselves more boldly. They quickly found the mistake they had made in doing so. A general althoughscattering volley stretched a third of them upon the earth. They then evidently changed their opinion, and once more getting under cover, rapidly scattered.
We pursued them a short way, when we were overtaken by the remainder of our party, which we had left in charge of our animals.
Remounting them, we again started in pursuit. The red rascals had met, however, with too warm a reception to wait for any further attention at our hands. They had cleared out, and made good their escape across the mountains.
For many days the luckless Harvey did not hear the last of his offer "to swap trees" with me. At length, I, who had refrained from cutting any of the tolerably coarse witticisms which were uttered at his expense, was obliged to remonstrate warmly with Butch' and Brighton Bill.
"Yer are right, Cap!" exclaimed the former. "But I sware, it war too good a joke."
"Wouldn't it be better to split 'im down, and splice 'is two hends?"
As Bill said this they both burst into a peal of laughter, loud enough to be called Homeric, by any but a backwoodsman. They were, however, two good fellows, for they spoke to the other Rangers, and after this, fat Tom Harvey was left in peace. How he discovered the hand, I had, in easing him off, it would be impossible to say, as I never knew. But some two days afterwards he came up to me and Harry Arnold, as we were riding along slightly in advance, and said:
"Mose! you're a darned good fellow, and I'll be blamed if I ever forget it."
"What do you mean, Tom?"
"For stopping the chin-music of them fellows. What on airth else, should I mean?"
At the same time, he jerked his thumb across his shoulder in the direction of the rest of the party, who were at some little distance in our rear, very significantly.
"You see, Cap!" exclaimed Harry with a slight chuckle, "what the copy-book tells us, is right, after all."
"What are you driving at?"
"It says, Virtue is its own reward."
We had retraced our steps, passing Eagle Lake into Willow Creek Valley, on the far side of the range of hills which divide it from Honey Lake, until we arrived at the stockade built by the settlers, which has earlier been alluded to.
A few days subsequently, we struck into Long Valley, and having crossed Pea-vine Mountains, reached the Truckee River. Here we encamped, and on the next morning, following it for some distance, struck across the hills, towards the Sink of the Carson River. Passing this stream below Fort Churchill, we continued in a southerly direction until we came to the Walker River. Near it, we had a little brush with the Walker Indians, which did not detain us very long. During this, one of our boys received a slight flesh wound from an arrow. Why these red-skins have received this name is matter of question, as they are certainly a branch of the Pah-ute tribe. However, it had been given the savages in this small portion of the country, and while I was living in that section, of which it forms part, it stuck to them.
On the west fork of Walker River, we were met by a company of United States cavalry.
The officer in command inquired for our leader, and I presented myself.
He behaved very courteously in manner, although his orders, given to me with a degree of imperative sharpness, which was scarcely as courteous in reality, were by no means agreeable. His instructions were to make peace with the Indians, and he commanded us to return homewards. If we would not desist from our present employment, he told us, he should be obliged to arrest us and take us down to Fort Churchill. These peremptory orders were unpalatable to the last degree. But what could be done. He was Uncle Sam's servant in blue-coat, brass buttons, and shoulder-straps. We were children of the aforesaid Uncle Sam.
Like obedient boys, although most unwillingly, we concluded, after a brief hesitation, to bend our steps homewards.
With a cordial grasp of the hand—for, on finding we had so frankly accepted the compulsory situation, the officer unbent himself considerably—I bade him "Farewell," and we silently, for some time, rode along the course of the stream. The first words I heard subsequently, were some ten minutes after this. They came from the lips of Brighton Bill.
"Huncle Sam his nothing but a blasted hidiot."
Possibly, I might have been valuing some of his servants at much the same weight, but I was too good an American to stand such an expression of opinion from a Britisher. Turning in my saddle, I roared out:
"None of that. It's high treason. I'll be hanged if I haven't half a mind to ride after the blue-coats, and hand you over to them."
When I said this, there was a general laugh, and thewhole of us recovered, in some measure, our good humor.
After continuing about twenty miles along the road the soldiers had just traversed, we encamped about two o'clock in the afternoon, turning our horses out to graze, as there was good pasture in the neighborhood. Portion of the boys commenced cooking. Butch', having a somewhat more dainty tooth in his head on this occasion than usual, felt it crave for fresh meat, and said to me:
"'Spose I go out, and kill yer something to eat."
"All right," was my answer. "You may find a Jack or two," meaning a Jack rabbit, "down the valley. I'll go up the cañon, and see whether I can't find some grouse."
Saying this, I had pointed to a small cañon on one side, stretching irregularly from the vicinity of our camping ground. At the same instant, Brighton Bill, who had been stretched on the cool turf with his eyes closed, leapt to his feet.
"You're hawful smart, hain't you, Mose? Hi'll 'ave some hof that fun myself. If hi don't, blow me."
He, however, thought fit to try another cañon to the left.
For the first time since I had been an inhabitant of the Plains, I neglected to arm myself, as I had constantly been accustomed to, when scouting. The good servants of Uncle Sam, whom we had met earlier in the day, had travelled up the road. Of course they had sharp eyes. Besides, if the red-skins had seen them, they would certainly have got out of their way as quickly as possible. How should they know our Uncle wanted to be theirs, too? Peace would be the very last thing they thought of, when they set eyes upon his uniform. So,thinking there could be no danger, I placed my sheath-knife in my belt, and taking my Kentucky rifle with me, started.
Walking carelessly up the cañon, now examining the trees for game, then scaling the declivity to the right, or pushing through the chapparal and the heavy timber, I had wandered on, for more than an hour.
Suddenly, in one of the thick and tangled clumps of chapparal, I fancied I heard the familiar note of one of the birds I was in search of. At once, I stopped to listen.
While standing there silent and motionless, it could scarcely have been more than fifty seconds, I heard a noise almost immediately behind. Instinct or experience, one or both, told me what that sound was. The red-skins had not been so scared by the advance of Uncle Sam's servants, as necessarily to refrain from a dash for one of his children, if the chance was given them. I felt the chance was now.
Turning immediately, I had barely time to see two Indians.
In another instant, before I could lift my gun to my shoulder, one of them had bounded towards me and wrenched it from my grasp, while the other sprung at me with the evident intention of clinching me. If I had then the time to think, I fear, loyal American as I might be, my thoughts might have corroborated Brighton Bill's opinions touching the sanity of Uncle Sam. Fortunately, I had no time to become critically disloyal. My hunting-knife had been drawn, and at the very moment when his hot and vindictively fierce breath came searingly to my face, was buried to the very hilt in his heart.
As he fell, the other of my assailants, with my own rifle clubbed, struck me a heavy blow upon the shoulder. It nearly felled me to the earth.
Then, dropping the weapon, he sprang upon me, making a desperate clutch for the hand in which my knife was grasped. As he seized my wrist, I threw the knife from me as far as I could, and grappled with him. He attempted to draw his own. I, however, had grasped him by a peculiarly tender portion of his person, which modesty prevents me from naming. The pain of this prevented his using his knife, and in the contest we both fell on the sloping side of the cañon, clinched together firmly.
Now, commenced the struggle for life.
Rolling over and over, now on the short turf, and again amidst the dense and tangled chapparal—at one moment the red-skin would be above me, and in the next I would be stretched on his writhing body. Whenever I got the chance, and one of my hands free, I would seize a handful of sand, if it was within reach, and thrust it in the mouth and eyes of the Indian.
He was not slow in taking the lesson I gave him. He began to follow suit.
After rolling down the side of the cañon for some hundred yards or more, panting with the desperate struggle, he opened his mouth to gasp for breath. At the time I was above him, and grasping a handful of sand, I forced it into his gaping mouth.
He opened his mouth to gasp for breath
"He opened his mouth to gasp for breath; I was above him, and grasping a handful of sand, I forced it into his gaping mouth."—Page 125.
It had its effect. Literally choking with the enforced dose, he loosened me. At the same time, he violently threw up his hands, as a man might do in the agony of strangulation.
Then, with a supreme effort, I groped for his knife.Having found it, I drew it from its sheath, and, at last, the terrible struggle which had been forced upon me was over.
When, at occasional times, I recall it now, it seems to my recollection as if that brief contest for existence had nearly maddened me. Scarcely did I appear to possess consciousness of any of my actions. And yet, I know that I inflicted on him some fifteen to twenty wounds, any one of which might or must have been a fatal one.
As I found myself once more upon my feet, it was a tolerably difficult matter for me to realize that I was still living.
While engaged in attempting to do so, the whole landscape seemed to quiver vaguely under my fading eyes. Its lines and colors fairly danced before me. I felt that I was falling, and everything around settled into a dense blackness.
I knew no more.
On, after some time, recovering my senses, I found that I was lying by the side of the Indian, literally drenched with the blood flowing from his wounds. Sitting up, after a few minutes, I was enabled to recall my lagging senses and realize the struggle I had gone through. Yes! there it lay, stark and motionless in the shadow thrown across it from the rocky side of the cañon, by the sun which was now far beneath it. As for the corpse beside me, it was stabbed and hacked in a frightful manner. But for the fearful strife I had been engaged in with it, when living, and the danger I had, as it seemed to me, so unaccountably escaped, I should positively have sickened at the sight. The memory of this strung my nerves once more toendurance, although my garments were dripping with its blood, and absolutely soaked through with my own sweat.
Staggering to my feet, I re-collected my senses, which had, for a short space, again wandered. Then, with some difficulty, I again ascended the rough hill, until I reached the space on which the first Indian, I had made an end of, was lying. His teeth were forced together—his eyes staring unconsciously up to the blue sky. My knife was at some distance from the spot. The rifle was close to him. Its barrel was bent and its stock broken with the heavy blow I had received.
Let me squarely own that never, either before or since, have I raised the hair of any Indian, with a more secure feeling of angry joy than I felt in taking those two scalps.
I had now to return.
The position of the sun, low beneath the western summit of the cañon, testified to the fact that some two hours must have elapsed since the two Pah-utes had leapt upon me.
Slowly, and with great difficulty, I commenced my way towards the camp. While looking on the scene of my danger, I had been kept up by the remains of the excitement I had experienced. I had felt no pain, and been unconscious of fatigue. Now, my dead enemies lay unconsciously on the earth. The exhaustion consequent on my fierce struggle for life, and the suffering from the blow upon my shoulder, became apparent to me. Scarcely, was I able to walk. Frequently was I obliged to lean on a jutting boulder of rock, or steady myself for a minute or two against the trunk of a tree, before I could again persistently renew my progress. Not yethad I reached the mouth of the cañon, when some of the boys met me.
It seemed that Butch' and Brighton Bill had long since returned, and, although scarcely alarmed, had grown in some slight degree uneasy at my not putting in an appearance. Consequently, with some of the others, they had come out to seek for me.
No sooner was I seen by them, than they shouted out to me. My lips strove to frame a shout in reply. But even to myself, my voice sounded a long way off. It was so faint and low that they did not hear a word.
Rushing towards me, Bill cried out:
"What his the matter, Mose?"
Butch' demanded:
"Have yer got any game?"
The only answer I could give them was to hold out the two scalps I had taken.
Startled by this and my struggling silence, for they knew I was attempting to speak, they looked at my dress, and in spite of the fading light, saw its torn and dilapidated condition, and the blood with which it was smeared and streaked almost in every part. Bill gave a groan, and said:
"Get Mose to the camp, Butch'! Hi'll go hand look hafter 'is rifle, before some hother thieving Hingin cusses find hit."
In an another instant Ben Painter had lifted me, and throwing me, gently enough, although it caused me frightful suffering in my shoulder, across his own, strode down the cañon. Indeed, so great was the pain from the merciless blow I had received, that I remember little beside it, until I found myself sitting on the ground, leaning against Painter's knee. The whole of the upperportion of my dress had been stripped off, while Butch' was bathing the black and swollen flesh which had been struck with the clubbed rifle. How it happened that no bones were broken by it, is, even now, a marvel to me.
When they found me again able to speak, the boys began to ply me with questions. But while I was answering them, Brighton Bill appeared on the scene.
His search of the ground on which I had run such a risk of being completely chawed up, must have been a pretty thorough one. He brought in, not only two rifles, but two United States blankets, several unopened boxes of caps, two cans of powder, and, in addition to these, a small keg of Uncle Sam's whiskey. This had already been opened, and may possibly account for the red rascals having forgotten the reason for which they had so liberally partaken of his bounty.
The whiskey was a veritable God-send, for we were out of the article. A tincupful (this time I did not ask for a second before eating) did more to put me to rights, and enable me to forget my pain, than the care which the Rangers had been bestowing on me.
"If ever there was a good Samaritan, Bill, you are one."
Let me here record the fact that Bill knew nothing about Samaritans, for good or evil. Nor, indeed, am I inclined to think, had any of the others a very correct idea of my meaning. Even the teaching of a New England Sunday-school had been forgotten, as I deeply regret being obliged to say one of the boys hailed from the classically Methodist locality of New Bedford.
But, if Brighton Bill was not well versed in Scripture, he displayed himself this evening in a new light—that of an orator. No sooner had he served round the whiskey which he had captured from the alreadyslaughtered enemy, than he produced from one of the blankets in which he had wrapped it, my twisted and broken rifle.
"Jist look 'ere, boys," he said, "hat the popper of hour Cap. This h'is the harticle with which 'e smashed ha couple of Hingins. Hi'm blowed h'if you didn't, Mose! H'it's no huse 'iding your light hunder a bushel, when H'i 'ave the hevidence in my hown 'and, and show hit." Here I endeavored to put in a word, but it was drowned in the general applause, and seizing on the instant of its cessation, he continued: "H'if you 'ad only seen those blarsted Hingins. Wun of 'em stood seven an a 'alf foot 'igh in 'is stocking-feet, and the h'other—"
I could no longer refrain, but cried out:
"It's quite clear who tapped the whiskey keg, before we had a chance of looking at it."
The Britisher gazed in pathetic wonder on his partially maimed leader, as he heard this ungenerous insinuation against his sobriety. Then with a sadly melancholy smile, he said:
"H'i forgive you, Cap! But, may H'i be blamed if you harn't a tuff 'un."
That night, guard being kept by Butch' and Ben Painter, I slept well and soundly. On the next morning I was up by daylight, and we returned to Honey Lake through Carson City.
When we arrived there it was to hear that another treaty had actually been made with the Indians. Once more they were to be allowed to re-enter the valley. The settlers were to resume possession of their ranches, and what stock was left on them, or could be found. How long it would continue, the Devil and the red men themselves, only, could form an opinion.
The Pick, Pan, and Shovel—Somewhat Down in the Mouth—"Roping in a Greeney"—The Shrewd Yankee—A Square Meal, and a Bad One—No Gold—Nearly at Starvation Point—The Elk, and how long it lasted—Mountain Meat—Captured by the Indians—My Experience of the Stake—Converted into a Candlestick—The Crack of a Dozen Rifles.
The Pick, Pan, and Shovel—Somewhat Down in the Mouth—"Roping in a Greeney"—The Shrewd Yankee—A Square Meal, and a Bad One—No Gold—Nearly at Starvation Point—The Elk, and how long it lasted—Mountain Meat—Captured by the Indians—My Experience of the Stake—Converted into a Candlestick—The Crack of a Dozen Rifles.
In something less than two weeks, my shoulder was completely well, and the enforced inactivity had made me restless.
At this time, the vast treasures of gold said to be awaiting the miner in British Columbia, near Frazer's River, created great excitement through the West. The fever of this excitement was like all such fevers—contagious among the idle. Having then nothing to do, I caught it. In an informal meeting with several of the Rangers, I proposed to them that we should visit the new land of promise. As they were willing to accompany me, a full meeting was summoned. At this it was unanimously determined that the journey should be undertaken, if we could make it by land.
After some few days spent in the necessary inquiries, it was finally decided we should start for the recently discovered locality, where fortunes were believed to be awaiting the pick, pan, and shovel—as speedily as we could make due preparation for doing so.
This did not take any very great length of time. In less than a week the whole of us were in readiness.And after a kindly, and, in some cases, more than kindly, farewell to our friends in Susanville and round Honey Lake, we put ourselves on the road to the new locality.
The natural rush and active whirl of my life during the last few years, had, by this, almost deadened my memory for those friends I had left in the East. He, who is from day to day almost carrying his life in his hand, has not overmuch time or wish for reflection. Occasionally, I would think of my wife and my other relatives. But I had not yet made enough, really to contemplate returning to them. Young still, it appeared to me that there were yet days and years sufficient before me, to dismiss all such dreams for, at any rate, the present.
In fact, as I have earlier said, I relished the constant change and dash of the life I had entered on.
It was no use disguising it, my nature was, in every respect, a vagrantly instinctive one, full of vaguely wild hope, it is true, yet mingled with an almost profound indifference to what the future chance might be.
Nevertheless, on the night before we had determined upon commencing our arduous journey, I could not help feeling somewhat down in the mouth. It was with a rare and scant attack of homesickness, which, however, passed away from me on the next morning, almost as soon as I found myself in the saddle.
It would be unnecessary for me to catalogue the various points we touched, through our course, in the fashion of a guide-book. This, the more especially as nothing of great interest occurred on the way, until, in due time, we struck Frazer's River, near Fort Hope.
Here we remained for a few days, in order to giveour animals the rest they needed. They had done us good service.
In this place, we found that the hunger for gold was drawing men of the same nature as ourselves, to the last-discovered Eldorado, from every part of the country. Young men who wished to grow wealthy without patient toil, and men more advanced in years, whose days of labor had as yet profited them little, with an occasional "rough" from one of the larger cities, whose reputation forced him into a new country, or the gambler, whose practice in "stocking the cards" or "roping in a greeney," had become too well known. Some few came also, whose talents should have enabled them to do battle with the world successfully, in any location they had chosen. Their reasons for seeking Frazer's River were, however, kept to themselves. None of my companions had sufficient time on his hands, or enough curiosity, to seek to draw the veil from the past life of any of them.
There were, however, some few who had tried the mines and were returning. Want of patience or want of luck, one, or, it may be possible, both of these had conjointly made them unsuccessful.
With neither gold in their pockets nor grub in their packs, these men were for the most part dead-broke, and heaped their imprecations on the country they were quitting in vigorously round terms. Nor could it be said, that granting their ill-fortune might somewhat have colored their opinions, these were too flattering.
One of these whom we met with, was a stalwart specimen of the shrewd Yank. I and Ben Painter had encountered him, wandering round in a disconsolately drifting manner, and with a hungrily wolfish look on his lean jaws, which inspired us with a degree ofsympathy. Moreover, we were mentally "prospecting" the yet unseen diggings. The information he could give us, might be valuable. So, although provisions were already scarce, and even coffee a luxury, we asked him into the camp to share our evening meal, which, to tell the truth, was by no means too plentiful. After feeding, he honored us by saying:
"'Tarnation bad as yer supper is, it is the first square meal I've eat, for three days."
"How war that?" Butch' asked.
"Yer see, in the mines there war nothing to get for love or money. And here, I guess, there's darned little love unless yer can buy it."
"We heard that, up here, you had only to turn a shovel to find gold."
"And b'lieved it, as I did," he quietly growled out.
"Yer don't mean to say there are none," ejaculated Ben.
"I guess yer won't do more than any o' the rest on us."
"But, some must have had a fair share of success," I said.
"Why d'yer think so, Captain?" he drawled out, nasally.
"From the row about the diggings that has been made through the whole of the West."
"Well, I'll tell yer. I was one of the first that come out here, from Kalifornee. I'd been duing a smartish bit of business down thar. But I tell yer, the dollars didn't come in fast enough. Than, I heerd of this darned place, and thought I'd strike for it and find 'ile, sure. So, I made up a good kit o' things to last me two months, and sit out. Darn the diggings. I've been at work thar, more nor three months, and here I am atthe first square meal I've sot down tu for three days, as I told yer before, and a darned bad one, too, as I said when I finished it."
"Then you don't believe there is much gold in this part of the country?"
"Thar may be, Captain!"
"What do yer mean, then?" inquired Ben Painter.
"I found none," drawled out the Yank as he slowly rose, "and by the 'Tarnal! I nev'r met one as has."
The groan that issued from the bottom of Brighton Bill's stomach, would, at any other time than this, have provoked mirth. It did not, however, do so now. The matter was far too serious for laughter.
If the disgusted Yankee had told us the truth, it was evidently no use for us to help thicken the crowd of deluded seekers for gold, thronging to the diggings. Provisions, as I have earlier said, were scarce. They were consequently dear. Our own stock had for several days been running low. What was to be done?
More inquiries were made by us. The replies, although varying in degree, were all of them confirmatory, more or less, of the Yankee's opinion.
After a brief council of war, the Rangers, therefore, decided upon striking once more for Puget Sound, in search of game. If we found it, we would kill enough for us to take our return-trail. Game, however, was scarcer in that locality than we had found gold to be in the neighborhood of Frazer's River. We had to betake ourselves to digging; not in the soil for the precious metal, but in the sand on the shore of the Sound for clams and mussels. Even these were rarely found by us. In short, the Rangers and their leader were reduced to the very verge of starvation. Nor did we runany risk of meeting any charitable person who might have the means of giving us "one square meal," even if it were "a darned bad one."
In this strait, it was resolved on to start for the mountains, and take the chance of killing or being killed, to save us from dying by hunger.
Here, for the first two days, we met with scarcely anything. About noon on the third, I and Arnold were standing together. During the whole morning we had found no game, and were gazing around us with that sense of discomfort a continuously empty stomach is certain to produce in humanity, when we heard a shot in the distance. It was to the right of us. Almost immediately it was followed by another. As the two puffs of smoke drifted above the stunted pines which covered the unequally rough ground in that direction, I heard a sound which, faintly as it came to us, I immediately recognized, from the use of it by Brighton Bill. It was what he called:
"A 'onest British cheer."
"You know the voice, Mose?"
"Yes! Let's break for it."
We accordingly "broke" in its direction. Three more of the boys had already joined him and Ben Painter by the time we had arrived there. The two first mentioned had met with the good fortune of spotting a huge elk. The animal had been killed, and while still warm, the men were engaged in skinning him.
A fire was quickly kindled, and, by the time, portion of the elk was ready for our ravenous appetites, the remainder of the Rangers entered their names as partners in the welcome feast. For, that it was right welcome,my present remembrance of it unmistakably assures me.
Stopping here until we had jerked most of the meat on the elk's large carcass, we again started on our journey back.
Having travelled in an easterly course through a magnificently wooded country, we reached the Columbia River, near Fort Okimakane, and passing down it through the territory occupied by the Flat-head tribe of Indians, arrived at the Walla-Walla. Thence we crossed the Blue Mountains; and, after several days' more travelling through the rocky wilderness and broken cañons, arrived at the Owyhee, which, some distance higher up, we crossed and continued over the range of hills by the side of this stream, until we at length reached Surprise Valley.
We camped in this spot for two weeks, for the purpose of recruiting our horses and hunting up game. The jerked elk-flesh was already very nearly brought to an end.
It was, while we were in this neighborhood, that I met with an adventure which very nearly ended this volume before I had even written a page of it, if I may be pardoned the Irishism of this expression. But, for the opportune arrival of the Buckskin Rangers, my life would very certainly not have been worth an empty powder-can.
Early one sharply fresh morning, I had left the camp in the direction of High Rock Cañon. This was at a distance of some ten miles.
While upon my way, perhaps some six miles or more, I saw a mountain-sheep. Having a liking for wild mutton, I cautiously crept round the cliff upon whichhe was standing, to get a fair shot at him. At length reaching a spot from which I might consider myself fairly sure of the meat, I fired.
The shot told, and the animal fell.
However, instead of dropping where he stood, and where I could not inconveniently have become possessor of the toothsome flesh, the perverse sheep preferred rolling down the cliff.
Well! It would be some more trouble, but I could easily get him. I therefore went round to the base of the cliff. On arriving there, I could not help swearing a most ungodly oath. That wretched lump of mountain-meat had chosen to remain some half-way from the bottom on which I was, and the top of the precipice, on which he had been standing.
My readers may already have been enabled to give me credit for what I consider my resolution, although some of my good friends have not unoccasionally denominated it obstinacy.
It came very decidedly into play, upon this occasion.
I was determined not to be balked in my love for mountain-mutton. In accordance with my resolve, I prepared to climb after it. The face of the cliff was so steep and rugged that, in order to have the use of both my hands, I was compelled to relinquish my rifle. Therefore, depositing it where I stood, I commenced the ascent. Being a good climber, I naturally thought I should have no more difficulty than that which generally attends such an operation. Neither, had I. After reaching the jutting point upon which my mutton had so pertinaciously lodged, I dislodged it, and sent it down the rough precipice. It was now time to think of myself regaining the base of the cliff, in a less rapidmode. But, to descend was no child's play. Now I could not find the footing which I remembered previously having. Consequently, I was obliged to wriggle my body to one side or the other, in order to find a place to rest on. Afterwards, the rock would crumble under me, or fragments upon which my feet were resting would slip out of their bedding. Moreover, my sight was utterly useless. I had to depend upon the trained sense of feeling in my moccasined toes. Having covered some space of the face of the cliff, I began to find I was not descending it in the same direction in which I had ascended it. The cliff was sloping inwards. Again I had to climb and try a new line. This was apparently somewhat better. However, placing my feet upon the roots of a sage-bush, I was incautious enough to trust my whole weight to it.
It tore out from the face of the cliff.
When I felt it giving way, I threw out my hands to grasp at some support.
While falling, all the errors and faults I had committed, seemed to rush across my mind. Why it was, I know not, but the star-like eyes of Clo-ke-ta blazed upon my memory.
Then I struck the rocky ground beneath me, and, for the time, remembered no more.
Upon coming to my senses, I found that my hands were bound behind me.
Looking with scarcely conscious anger around, I saw several red-skins.
These, I presume, had been watching me, amusing themselves with my desperate efforts to descend the cliff, and calculating upon trapping me when I reached its foot.
No sooner had I seen them than the positive danger restored my senses.
Resistance was, however, useless. Raising me to my feet, they commenced driving me down the valley. Deliberately, I say, "driving." Nor was this driving done by any means in a merciful fashion. It was effected with heavy blows and sharp sticks, which were aimed at and thrust into my ribs and sides, with no pity.
For the moment, however, I was unconscious of this.
The red devils were going straight in the direction of our camp. Great God! If they only did not pause until they arrived there.
This was a futile hope.
They paused about two miles and a half from the place where my boys were. With a vain effort at being heard, I gave vent to a loud shout. A burly Indian struck me heavily across the mouth to silence what he haply considered my bravado. "I was a white brave, and I knew that I must die." It was natural red-skin reasoning.
Then spitting in my face, he spoke briefly in their guttural tongue, and in a few moments more I had been stripped of all my clothing, and compelled to stand with my feet about twenty inches apart. Stakes were driven into the earth by the side of these, to which my legs were tightly lashed. Then, planting in the ground other stakes at a short distance, my arms were extended at full length, and bound to them. A cord around my neck was fastened to another stake in my rear. In addition to this, two sharpened stakes were planted directly under my arm-pits. It was thus rendered almost impossible for me, even to stir.
No sooner had this been effected, than theentertainment, for such they evidently considered it, commenced.
TheMahalasor squaws had been pointing splinters of grease-wood, about three inches in length. As the braves danced round me, whooping, yelling, or singing one of their wild war-songs, the squaws would strike the pointed splinters into my flesh and leave them sticking in it. After somewhat wearying of their share in this cheerful pandemonium, the braves would squat upon the earth and rest, while their squaws subjected me to more horrible torture than the mind of the white could conceive without personal experience. Human excrement was thrust in my face, and rubbed over my mouth. When they would pause awhile, it seemed as if they were only trying to invent some more disgusting and possibly more painful mode of torture.
The braves would squat upon the earth and rest
"The braves would squat upon the earth and rest, while their squaws subjected me to more horrible tortures than the mind could conceive without personal experience."—Page 141.
But what is the use of prolonging such a recital?
This infernal orgy was kept up until night set in, when the climax of their devilish fury was capped by their taking burning brands from the fires which had been kindled, and igniting the splinters of grease-wood which they had thrust in my body.
It is absolutely impossible by mere words to convey any idea of even the tenth part of the agony which this caused me. Ten thousand needles, red-hot, seemed to be piercing my flesh and stabbing me in every part of my body with their lancing flame.
Up to this moment, I had not abandoned all hope.
Perhaps, the boys might come up in time to save me.
In my now maddening suffering, I actually prayed that it might end. Heaping every species of opprobrium on the red demons, that I could, in my own tongue, I added to them such galling Indian termsas I had been able to pick up during my life in the West. These were not over-numerous, but they would have been more than sufficient to have inspired the incarnate devils with a greater fury, and, in a few moments more, I should have been quit of all the trouble and suffering of the world in which I had been a dweller.
As this desire was surging incontrollably above my bodily agony, I heard the crack of a dozen rifles.
The same number of the Indians dropped in the very places on which they had been sitting or standing, and I knew that I was saved.
Between Torture and Safety—The Value of Popularity—Uncle Sam's Blue-coats—A Trapping Expedition—In for it—The Capture of my First Pet Grizzly—Skinning and Carving—"Prospecting" for Silver—A Living Blanket—Darkness and the Surprise—Carried off as a Captive—Out of the Thongs—The Butt and the Muzzle—Who is the Real Hero?
Between Torture and Safety—The Value of Popularity—Uncle Sam's Blue-coats—A Trapping Expedition—In for it—The Capture of my First Pet Grizzly—Skinning and Carving—"Prospecting" for Silver—A Living Blanket—Darkness and the Surprise—Carried off as a Captive—Out of the Thongs—The Butt and the Muzzle—Who is the Real Hero?
It seemed, that when I had not returned to the camp by dusk, the boys had begun to be somewhat uneasy on account of my prolonged absence. Butch' Hasbrouck then volunteered to hunt me up. Ben Painter was the only one with him. Although uneasy, none of them really believed I was in a serious difficulty. If they had, as Butch' subsequently said, when, some weeks later, talking the matter over with me, they would have had me "out of the tight place I war in, a good hour sooner."
It was not long ere they heard the noise made by the howling and yelling devils.
"There war something up," as Painter whispered to Butch'.
Then they crept nearer.
On discovering the light of the camp-fires, and recognizing through the trees the forms of the red-skins moving rapidly amongst them, they instantaneously concluded that I had been killed, and that the savages were celebrating the event in their own fashion. "By sheer luck," as Painter expressed it, they did not come near enough theCampoodyor Indian camp to discover me.Had they done so, they were two men only, and could not have saved me, although they might, or rather would, beyond any doubt, have made my death a somewhat costly one to the Indians, who would most certainly have finished me before their two rifles could have settled enough of the scoundrels to prevent their doing so.
They returned to the camp and told Arnold and the rest what they had seen.
If I had previously any doubt of my popularity with the boys, the result of the information thus given would have dispelled it.
In an instant every man was on his legs, and in another half-minute, armed with their rifles and revolvers, they were following the two scouts who had located the red-skins.
On drawing sufficiently near, they had discovered me.
It would be needless to recapitulate what I have already stated. Their plan was determined upon, and they carried it fully out. Not a single red-skin, male or female, nor even apapoose, was suffered to escape. Indeed, I believe that if any of Uncle Sam's Agents or Blue Coats had ventured to interfere with their prompt judgment, supposing they had been on the ground, it might have gone badly enough with them, in spite of our presumable loyalty.
All that night, I lay on my blankets, in terrible agony. It seemed as if I was losing my reason. A tough constitution and the care of my companions, however, brought me through my suffering. Let none tell me that men, rough as they may be, are unfitted to attend the sick. Brighton Bill and Butch' constituted themselves not only my medical men, but my nurses. They never left me for an instant. While one ate or slept,the other was at my side. Their rough hands were as gentle with me, as those of any woman might have been.
Arnold and Painter were also unceasing in their attendance.
Yet I feel that I am perhaps wrong in particularizing any of the Rangers, when all were so kind. Suffice it, therefore, to say, that after some ten days I was able to stand once more and move slowly about. The effects of my fall, and the Indian treatment after it, were obviated by the more civilized care and love, for I may surely call it so, the boys bestowed upon me. In something less than a fortnight I was able again to ride, and we started for Honey Lake Valley.
On reaching it, winter was just approaching, and as peace had been promised by the chief of the Pah-utes, I foresaw there would be little occupation for me during this season. So, after a little talk, Butch' Hasbrouck and Brighton Bill agreed to go with me, on a trapping expedition to the Humboldt River. Providing ourselves with the necessary number of traps and other requisites, we in a few days started, pitching our camp in the Lassen Meadows, at La Due Very's, generally known as "Old Bible-back," on the banks of that stream. For some time we were very successful; indeed, as we afterwards found, remarkably so, gathering together a large number of beaver, otter, and other skins. Then, needing a re-supply of many necessary articles, we struck back to the valley, and finished the winter near the Black Buttes. Here we had as great a success in trapping mink, marten, and foxes.
It was while we were here, that I had the satisfaction of killing my first grizzly.
Early on one sharply cold morning I had started outto make the round of our traps. As I entered a dense chapparal, I saw, moving towards me, a large bear with two young cubs. Of course it was their dam, and I knew I was in for it. If I had taken to my heels, I felt assured the speed of the ungainly brute would exceed mine. There was no large tree near, in which I might have taken refuge. She had already seen me, and her small, twinkling eyes were sparkling like black diamonds. Naturally, therefore, I could not treat her to any Indian strategy.
The only chance I had was in my skill as a marksman. Realizing this, I dropped upon one knee, and raising my rifle to my shoulder, awaited her approach.
She was at this time about twenty yards away from me, advancing at a rapidly awkward and shuffling run.
I waited until she had lessened this distance probably one-half. Then, with my bead drawn behind her ear, I let her have my ball, and she dropped. It was with no small degree of pride that I contemplated her large size, for the bullet had passed through her brain, as clearly as in any shot I ever made, and she died in her tracks, mutely and gravely as any Indian brave, whose death-struggles have been chronicled by the novelist. Then, taking her two cubs under my arms, I returned to camp. Butch' skinned the grizzly. Bill on this occasion officiated as butcher. Cutting out the choicest parts of the meat, he brought them back with him. It was lucky he did so, for on visiting our traps, for the second time in that day, towards the evening, I found her bones picked tolerably clean.
Our share of the grizzly, however, lasted us for four days, and I must say, choicer meat never crossed my palate.
On our return to Honey Lake Valley, I presented one of the two cubs to Governor Roop. The other, I myself kept. At this time, it was as playful as a young kitten. Owing to its youth, I was able to thoroughly tame it, so that it would follow me wherever I went, like a spaniel. When it had increased in size to bear's estate, I made it, in after life, my constant companion. Brighton Bill gave it the name which stuck to it, of "my body-guard."
While we were upon the Humboldt, Butch' and myself had discovered what we believed to be silver ore. Brighton Bill shared our belief.
When once more near Honey Lake, we informed the various members of the Buckskin Rangers of our discovery.
All were smitten with the usual fever resulting from an intimation of the presence of either of the precious metals in any locality. It was, therefore, in the spring of 1860, that we went out and pitched our camp in a rocky defile, to which we gave the name of Prince Royal Cañon. The reason of our bestowing this title on it, will, when the date is remembered, be obvious to my readers. We were engaged "prospecting," the remainder of the spring and the succeeding summer, having located a large number of ledges.
About September we had, however, grown tired of silver-prospecting without any immediate results, and determined on adjourning our metal-mining for the winter. It was, therefore, decided that we should visit Klamath Lake and the Modoc country with the view of trapping and hunting.
We accordingly, at the commencement of the following month, struck out for the Blue Mountains, in portion of which range we pitched our camp for the purpose oflooking out for good hunting-grounds. After talking the matter well over, we concluded to separate. By so doing, we could hold the whole of that portion of the country, as any good hunter and trapper can take care of ten miles square without any other help. Some of the boys accordingly went to the Klamath Lake—others betook themselves to the Sierras. In fact, they were scattered round, within no more than a day's ride of each other, while I and my pet bear, whom I had named Charley, remained on the spot we had originally camped in.
That winter set in with unusual severity. It was, indeed, the severest I had yet known, through the whole of that region.
Possibly, for twenty years, the one just past, has alone exceeded it, whether in its average temperature or the amount of the snow which fell and remained upon the earth.
In the Blue Mountains, the snow averaged from a depth of ten to eighteen feet. It covered my rude log-cabin so completely, that at times it might have been difficult for me to find it. Here it was that my bear first became of positive value to me, in addition to his affording me something like companionship.
When I left my cabin, I would leave him behind to keep house.
The result of this was, that on my return, I was sure to find him half-a-mile or more from home, to which he would pilot me unerringly.
During the night, Charley always slept with me. After building a large fire, I would lie down in his arms or rather fore-paws. He was far better than any blanket. If, however, in my sleep, the fire had gonedown and the cold drove me unconsciously closer to him, than was pleasant to his Grizzlyship, he would raise his hind paw and push me into the middle of the floor. Then, it would seem as if a sense of the duty he owed his owner returned. He would roll out, himself, snuff around me, and if I kept quite still, which I have frequently done, insert his nose under my side and trundle my apparently still slumbering body back upon the bed. He possessed other qualities also, given him by nature, in which he was eminently my superior.
His hearing was wonderfully acute. Of a sudden, he would start out of the cabin, with a quick look of intelligence that was well-nigh human. After nosing around, if everything was quiet, he would slink back, with an unmistakably sheepish look. Coming up to me, he would lick my hands and face. It was precisely as if he had said:
"Don't kick up a row, old boy! I was wrong and I know it. But, it is all for the best, I should keep a bright look-out. My ears are quicker than yours, you know."
If, however, on leaving the cabin, any game, or a man should happen to be near it, he would utter a continuous low growl until I joined him.
One day he displayed his sagacity in an even stronger manner. I had gone out with my rifle in the morning and did not return until the middle of the afternoon. It was at considerably greater distance than usual from our dwelling that he met me. He would not, however, accompany me directly back, but shambled off with his rapid and swinging gait to a considerable distance. Knowing he wanted me to see something, I followed him almost as rapidly. Suddenly, he came to a deadhalt. When I joined him, I learnt the reason for this strange proceeding on Charley's part. I had come upon some half-dozen or more moccasin-tracks, which led directly towards my cabin.
Of course, I now proceeded with great caution, as he also did.
About a hundred yards from the entrance, I however found precisely the same number of moccasin-tracks, bearing in an entirely different direction. They very evidently led directly from the spot to which the others had been going.
As I was examining them, his juvenile Grizzlyship lowered his quaint head above them, and as evidently scrutinized them with even greater intentness than I had done.
Then, he gave a low growl. It was exactly as if he had uttered the phrase of—
"All right!"
After this, dropping all semblance of caution, and shaking himself as a huge dog might, he shuffled off hurriedly to the hole in the snow which led to his and my habitation. When I entered it, he was circling round the whole of the somewhat narrow interior, smelling in every part, and repeating, from time to time, the low growl I have just alluded to as so significant.
It would be unnecessary to say, I did not enjoy a particularly sound slumber that night.
That the owners of these moccasins were Indians, it was impossible to doubt.
If, as some say the red men are able to do, I am unable to detect the moccasined foot-print of one tribe from that of another, I can at any rate tell whether the foot within the moccasin may chance to be a white one. These were not. Of this I had been, at once, assured.But why had they visited my hole in the snow, and why had they afterwards left it? This last question I was unable satisfactorily to settle.
In any case, it was necessary to let the other boys know red-skins were around. Accordingly, breaking my fast early, I started towards Brighton Bill's cabin, as he was my next-door neighbor, living merely at a distance of some fifteen miles. Arriving there in the forenoon, I found him seated by a roaring fire. But scarcely had I stepped within his door, than he was on his feet with his rifle, which had been between his knees, cocked, raised, and pointed at me. It was, however, as rapidly dropped.
"By 'eaven, Mose, H'i thought you was han H'ingin."
"The Indians brought me here, Bill!"
"The blasted red devils turned hup 'ere, when H'i was hout yesterday."
"So they did, in my cabin. We ought to let the other boys know, and decide upon what had best be done."
"Butch' will be 'ere this morning. H'i seed 'im honly yesterday," said Bill. "Hif you like, H'i will go hand fetch hup some of the hother chaps."
"I think, it would be better."
"Very well, Cap! Hi'm hoff."
Putting on his snow-shoes, he started immediately.
He had scarcely left me for twenty minutes, when I heard a slight noise on the snow without. Seizing my rifle, I moved cautiously to the door, when something heavy leaped against me, which very nearly reduced me to a prostrate position. It was my bear Charley, who had thought proper to follow me. We retired within the cabin, which was considerably larger than mine. Bill was in a slight degree inclined to grandeur andluxury, if there can be such things in a log-hut. There, in company, we resigned ourselves to expectation. All at once the Grizzly raised his head. Yes! I had heard it, too. It was the movement of snow-shoes. A few moments after, Butch' entered.
On the preceding day, he also had seen Indian tracks around his dwelling.
In the afternoon, Brighton Bill reappeared. He had seen Harry Arnold, and told him to see his nearest neighbor, and send word to the other Rangers, bidding them to repair immediately to my quarters.
After a hasty feed on some jerked deer, we then set out for my dwelling. Darkness had settled on us, long before we reached it; and, but for the chilly sheen of the sheet which draped the earth with its spotless white, it might have been difficult to keep the track.
Yet I am wrong. In any case, Charley's unerring scent would have proved a sure guide. Why it was, however, I can scarcely say, save that he had confidence in our numbers, but certainly, on this occasion, he uttered no warning growl; and scarcely had we descended through the sloping snow to the doorway than two powerful arms were thrown about me. I heard Bill's voice roar:
"Look hout, Mose!"
We were in the grip of the red-skins.
The struggle was furious but brief. Our assailants had been joined by a dozen other Indians, who had been lurking without, and it was not long before we had our hands tied behind us, and we were on our way to Goose Lake.
Before starting, it must frankly be said, that with the usual red instinct for appropriating everything whichcomes in their way, my cabin had been thoroughly gutted. Ammunition, provision, blankets—nay, everything portable—and there was nothing which was not portable in it—had become the property of the copper-colored rascals.
Placing me in front, and Butch' and Bill behind me, in regular Indian file, they kept on either side of us, forcing us to hurry on as speedily as they could compel us to move.
It was impossible for me to forget my past experience, and I mentally resolved, if I were able to do so, that I would sell my life in square fight, rather than undergo a second time the torture to which I had then been subjected. At last, there seemed a chance for doing so. We had been compelled to move along at a smart trot for some six or seven hours, so far as I was able to measure time, when, from what cause I cannot say, although it was probably the continual friction, I felt that the ligature round my wrists was sensibly looser. My hands were able to slip through the thongs. I dared not tell either of my companions what I had done, and ask them whether or not they might be able to do the same. Some of the red rascals might understand English. One or more of them might even be renegade whites. What could I do to release them? The idea came to me like a flash of lightning. Pretending to stumble, I pitched forward, and recovering myself, got a blow on my face from one of our captors. It was apparently from one of the same thongs with which our wrists had been bound. Then, I uttered a shrill and prolonged cry as if of pain.
After this, I found myself the last of the three.
Two minutes had scarcely passed, and Bill's handshad been freed. Mine had untied the thongs which bound them. He would have wit enough to loose Butch'. Life on the Plains and in the great West, sharpens man's mother-wit wonderfully.
Day was not yet breaking.
That heavy darkness was upon us, which so generally precedes dawn.
At this very moment we came to some low foot-hills, where the timber was dense and thick. We were obliged to move more slowly. My friends had just crossed a log, and the Indian on the left of me was stepping over it, when I fetched him with my clenched fist a violent blow under his ear. At any rate, I felt that was the place in which I struck him.
As he reeled and fell, I wrenched the gun from his hands, shouting out,
"Now's your time, boys."
The brute instinct of self-preservation answered for their closely following, without knowing that they did so, my action. In another instant we were clubbing right and left, and so soon as we could change our guns for some that had not been injured by such an employment, we commenced shooting. Scarcely had I heard the report of my first shot than I felt two vigorous arms thrown around my waist. They were lifting me from the ground, probably for the purpose of dashing me to the earth, when they suddenly relaxed their grip. A madly wild yell broke from the lips of that Indian, mingled with a ringingly fierce growl which I at once recognized, although I had never before heard it so savagely shapen, as Charley's voice.
My pet had followed on our track, and was actually assisting us in rescuing ourselves.