 | CHAPTER XXIII.
THE PARCHED DESERT. The border rover |  |
23. CHAPTER XXIII.
THE PARCHED DESERT.
For some two or three hours we now rode forward
at an easy pace, keeping due west. By this time
the sun had well advanced toward meridian, and the
heat began to be oppressive, both to ourselves and our
noble steed; yet nowhere could we perceive any signs
of shade; but everywhere the same level, dreary,
monotonous aspect; while the heated atmosphere,
stretching over this arid waste, seemed to tremble
and quiver in the bright light. Our gallant animal
now began to show symptoms of thirst, and our own
tongues and throats began to grow dry and parched.
“Oh! for a good draught of cold water!” at length
exclaimed Adele.
“Are you hungry also?” I inquired, with considerable
uneasiness.
“Not so hungry as I am thirsty,” she replied.
“But you, dear Roland,” she pursued, with anxiety—
“you are both; you feel faint. I see it—do not deny
it. You have not tasted food to-day, and you ate but
little last night.”
“If we could only find water,” said I, “I could get
through the day very well; but you are not so strong
as I, and I tremble lest you may be overcome by heat,
excitement, fatigue, and the want of sustenance.”
“I am not physically strong,” she replied; “but I
can bear more fatigue than you suppose. Oh! if we
could but find water! and yet I can discover no signs
of it in all this vast region.”
“Merciful Heaven!” cried I, shuddering at the
thought; “it is possible we are on one of those
great prairie deserts, of which I have read, and not a
spring or stream may be within fifty miles of us. I
now recollect that, save a small run, near the Arrapaho
village, we have not seen water since we set out
this morning on our fearful race; and from our speed
for the first two or three hours, it is reasonable to
conclude we have passed over some forty or fifty
miles of arid territory.”
“Alas! what will become of us, Roland?”
“God only knows; but let us not despond.”
We rode on for half an hour longer, and drew near
a small herd of buffaloes, which, on perceiving us,
bounded away to the north. Oh! what would I not
have given for a rifle, or a holster pistol even, with
plenty of amunition, that I might have followed and
slain one for food! As it was, even, I felt tempted to
follow them, in the hope that their course would lead
to some spring or stream; but as I hesitated about
turning from the point I had fixed in my mind, Adele
suddenly exclaimed, with great animation, pointing
directly westward:
“Look yonder, Roland! look yonder!”
“What is it, Adele?”
“Far away yonder, as far as I can see, a dark
sky.”
“I see something; but what is it?
“I think it is a small grove, Roland; and if so, the
trees grow upon the bank of a stream, and we shall
soon find water.”
“God forbid that we should be disappointed in the
hope!” cried I, not a little excited; and forthwith I
began to urge our gallant beast forward at as fast a
pace as I thought prudent.
Fixing our eyes on the distant dark object, and
keeping them there revited, as if fearful it would
disappear, we pushed on for another hour, under a
burning meridian sun, scarcely exchanging a syllable,
and at times almost suspending our breath with an
intense excitement, which continually alternated between
hope and fear. As we gradually neared the
dark object, it rose more and more distinctly against
the horizon, till, with feelings of joy I cannot describe,
we beheld the outline of a cluster of trees. Our noble
horse now seemed to share our feelings of exultation,
and bounded forward with increased speed; and in a
short time I reined him in to a halt, panting and
trembling, under the shade of a small cluster of cottonwoods.
Great Heaven! what language can do justice to the
awful, prostrating sense of disappointment and despair
we now experienced, on looking around and discovering
that we stood on the bank of a water-course
whose bed of mingled sand and clay was hard, dry
but after one quick, hurried, painful glance around
us, we turned our feverish eyes upon each other, with
a wild, startled expression—an expression which conveyed
from soul to soul the terrible consciousness of
our appalling situation.
“Oh, God!” murmured Adele, covering her eyes
with her hands, as if to shut out the agonizing reality.
“Let us dismount,” said I, in as calm and quiet a
tone as the trembling state of my nerves would
permit. “Our poor beast is weary; we must let him
rest.”
As I spoke, I slid from his back, received Adele in
my arms, and gently deposited her upon the earth.
The noble animal, covered with perspiration, was now
trembling and panting; but, turning his head to me,
as I stood despairingly by his side, he uttered a
mournful whinny; and by a look, which haunted me
for days, seemed to appeal to me to relieve him of
his sufferings. Never had I beheld, on the face of a
brute, such a mournful look of helpless dependence;
and I could not but fancy he comprehended his
situation, with something akin to human intelligence.
I remembered how nobly he had saved us, by bearing
us so swiftly from those who were friends to him, if
foes to us; and the reflection that it was now beyond
my power to show my gratitude, by relieving him in
the slightest degree of his sufferings, caused the hot
tears to fill my aching eyes. Under the half-parched
cotton-woods, that stood scattered along the banks of
seemed less burnt and withered than on the open
plain; and in the hope that our poor beast might be
induced to feed, and thus in some measure recruit his
wasted strength, so as to be able to bear us on another
journey, I removed the bridle from his head and
turned him loose. He looked wistfully around, and,
hurrying down to the bed of the water-course, put his
nose to the hard-baked earth, and snuffed, and whinnied;
and then, finding that he could get nothing to
slake his thirst, he came back, and seemed to appeal
to me in the same mournful manner as before. I was
so deeply affected, as for the time to think more of
his sufferings than my own; and had I at that
moment been the fortunate possessor of a few gallons
of the liquid element, I should have divided it between
him and Adele, with perhaps nothing more
than barely moistening my own parched lips.
Our situation was now in a high degree alarming,
and was every moment becoming more appalling.
Cast adrift, so to speak, upon an ocean-like desert—
parched and fevered by a burning sun—without water
—without food—with no cheering prospect of either
before us—surrounded by enemies—a hundred miles,
perhaps, from the nearest habitation of any one of our
race, even were we certain where to seek it—what
could we look forward to but death in one of its most
terrible forms?—perhaps a lingering death of starvation,
preceded by insanity! As I cast my eyes upon
poor Adele who now stood before me, with clasped
her sweet face the very picture of hopeless despair, it
seemed as if my very blood was curdling in my veins
—a faint, sickening feeling came over me—and, with
a groan of mental anguish and physical suffering, I
sunk down upon the earth.
“Oh, Roland, you are ill!” cried the poor girl, in
a frightened tone, as she sprung to my side, bent down,
and seized both of my hands. “Oh, Roland—dear
Roland—you are ill!”
“I feel faint, dear Adele,” I replied, in a feeble
voice; “but do not be alarmed; I trust I shall soon
be better.”
“Holy Virgin! you are dying of thirst!”
“No, my dear Adele, it is not that. I am thirsty,
it is true, and perhaps a little faint for the want of
food; but neither of these causes could produce so
great a prostration in so short a time. It may be that
riding in the hot sun has affected me.”
“Ah! yes! yes! I did not think of that! Then
your case is so much the more alarming. Oh, holy
saints! what is to be done?”
“Try and be calm. I think I shall soon be better.”
“And I have nothing to offer you—not even a drop
of water, to allay the fever of a burning thirst. Come,”
she continued, “for my sake, dear Roland, make an
effort to ride a little further—for you will certainly
die here! Perhaps if we follow this dry bed, it will
conduct us to a running stream.”
“Your advice is good, dear Adele,” I feebly replied,
assistance, I succeeded in doing; but the next instant
all seemed to grow dark around me; and merely
adding, “I think I am dying,” I again sunk down
upon the earth, and my senses deserted me.
When I returned to consciousness, after the lapse
of perhaps a couple of hours, I found Adele sitting
by my side, weeping and wringing her hands, the embodiment
of despair. I spoke to her, and the sound
of my voice seemed to infuse new life into her fevered
veins.
“Oh! Roland,” she cried, “you still live! I was
afraid you would never speak to me again!”
“God bless you, poor girl!” I murmured.
“How do you feel now?” she inquired, with trembling
eagerness.
“A little better, thank Heaven!”
“The saints be praised! Are you able to resume
your journey?”
“I soon shall be, I think.”
I still felt weak and sick; but my involuntary sleep
had slightly refreshed me, and in a few minutes I was
able to stand alone. Our poor beast was still with us;
and catching and bridling him, Adele led him to my
side. I managed, with some assistance from the poor
girl, to crawl upon his back; and Adele getting up in
front of me, we turned his head down the water-course,
and started him forward in search of water.
For two or three hours we rode slowly along, under
a hot, summer sun, which by this time had far descended
our noble animal pricked up his ears, snuffed the hot
air, and set forward at an easy gallop.
“God be praised!” cried Adele, joyfully—“the beast
scents water!”
“Do you think so?”
“Yes, I am almost certain of it, Roland. The senses
of these animals of instinct, which live upon the
prairies, are far more acute and unerring than those
which belong to reasoning man. They will, when
famishing, scent food and water at an incredible
distance; and they are often the first, likewise, to warn
their more intellectual companions of approaching
danger.”
To our unspeakable delight, the result proved that
this time Adele was not wrong in her conjecture concerning
the proximity of water. Our noble animal
gradually quickened his pace as he went on, till at
last I was compelled, for our own safety, to check his
furious speed. Still keeping down the dry bed of the
water-course we found its junction with a similar
water-course, about a mile from where our horse first
snuffed the air; and in the bed of this latter we beheld,
with emotions that language has no power to describe,
a tiny stream—a mere silvery thread, of not more
than two hands breadth, which ran gurgling over
white sand and bright pebbles—its sweet music
bringing to the soul a beatific rapture, which in effect
might be likened to the heavenly strain which greets
the shore of life in eternity.
Once in sight of the liquid element, it was no longer
possible for me, in my weak state, to hold in check
our almost maddened beast; and therefore I gave him
the rein; while we both clung to the saddle, till he
leaped into the run, and began to slake his thirst;
when we slid from his back, and were soon following
his example. Oh! that first draught of something far
beyond the ambrosial nectar of the gods! What language
can describe the sensations of rapture we
experienced as it passed our parched and swollen lips,
and spread its seemingly life-giving power through
all our veins! Never before had I the faintest conception
of the ecstactic thrill which might reach the
spirit through the single sense of taste; and were it
possible for all our senses to receive each its highest
pleasure, in the same degree and at the same moment,
I do not think it possible for the mortal portion of man to survive the event.
Having with a few draughts found immediate relief
from our intense sufferings, we fortunately had sufficent
self-command to avoid drinking our fill too
suddenly; and we sat by the purling rivulet, looking
at each other, expressing our joy and gratitude in
fervent words, and ever and anon bathing our hands
and faces, and taking another and another delicious
draught, till nature became satisfied, and we found ourselves,
as if by magic, with renewed life, and strength,
and hope.
“You are better, dear Roland!” exclaimed Adele,
joyfully. “I see it in your sparkling eye and animated
features.”
“We are both better, thank God!” I replied; “for
I can see the same happy change in you which you
perceive in me.”
“Oh! we cannot be too grateful to an over-ruling
Providence for our second happy deliverance!” rejoined
Adele; and as she spoke, she lifted her eyes in
silent prayer to the great Unseen—a prayer of thanksgiving
in which my own heart joined.
But our perils were by no means past; our
difficulties were not yet all surmounted; and all too
soon this painful conviction forced itself upon us—coming
like the black storm-cloud in the serene heavens,
to shut out the sun of hope—or like the dark pall of
death, to cover the body of our joy. We were still
in the great wilderness, surrounded by dangers, and
grim starvation still stared us in the face. Our burning
thirst quenched—our weary bodies filled with
new life and strength—we now, alas! began to experience
the sensations of hunger in a marked degree;
and the fact that we could not look forward with
certainty, scarcely with hope, to timely relief, was the
cause of sad, painful and prostrating forebodings—
forebodings, indeed, which sharpened our desires, and
rendered the cravings of nature more keen. We were
not at this moment actually suffering for the want of
food; but we knew we could not long exist without
least, if not physical pain.
What was to be done? and how and where should
we pass the night? The sun was far on the decline,
and darkness would soon overtake us; and yet the
place where we were, devoid of trees as it was, did not
seem suitable for an encampment. Away in the distance,
toward the west, we perceived a small cluster
of cotton-woods; and after a brief consultation we
decided to ride thither, and trust the rest to that
Providence which had so kindly watched over us.
Our weary beast, which was now eagerly cropping
the nutritious grass, having drank his fill of pure
water, was readily caught; and again mounting him,
we were soon pursuing our unknown course along the
banks of the tiny stream, which we had resolved to
keep in view until we should reach its head waters or
find it necessary to alter our course.
Just as the sun, in a blaze of glory, was sinking
below the western horizon, we reached the cotton-wood
grove; and somewhat to our delight—for their
very presence seemed to cheer us—we found a few
gay birds fluttering among the tremulous leaves, and
twittering away as gaily as if there were no such
thing as human misery on the great earth, above
which they daily winged their flight and sung their
songs. My first care was to unsaddle our gallant
beast and hopple him—which latter I did by means
of straps taken from the bridle and saddle, which I
buckled and joined together as best I could. One
in lieu of a knife, to sever some strips from the saddle-cloth,
which I tied together, to serve as a tether;
and driving a short, dry stick into the ground, I felt
quite relieved to know I could picket the animal near
me, after allowing him a reasonable time to feed,
while the remainder of the saddle-cloth would serve
in some measure as a blanket for Adele.
Having thus, as well as my straitened circumstances
would permit, made my preparations for
passing the night, which had already begun to spread
its dark mantle over the earth, gradually shutting in
the monotonous view of the mighty desert around us,
I threw myself down on the ground by the side of my
gentle companion, and, encircling her with my arms,
drew her fondly to my heart. For some minutes we
sat in gloomy silence, each busy with painful thoughts,
which neither felt disposed to make known to the
other. We were both much fatigued with our long
ride, and both somewhat faint for the want of food,
while the prospect before us was far from cheering.
With plenty of game, and means for lighting a fire
and cooking it, we should have been comparatively
happy in the present, and could have looked forward
to the future with hope and joy; but as it was, the
thought of the morrow increased our gloom.
“We are fortunate in one thing, dear Adele,” said
I, at length, speaking abruptly from my train of
thought; “we shall not suffer from the cold, even
though we have no fire.”
“We are fortunate in many things, dear Roland,”
she replied, in a low, tremulous voice, which she
evidently sought to render calm, so as not to betray
her secret emotions. “We are fortunate in many
things. We have escaped from our enemies; we have
been permitted to quench our burning, feverish thirst;
we are here in peace and comparative health; and
though wanting food, we are not yet positively suffering;
and who knows but the morrow may bring us
all we desire?”
“Who knows?” said I. After another long silence,
I resumed: “If we pass the night in safety, our
gallant steed will be refreshed, and be able to bear us
on with ease and speed toward the mountains; and
if we can only reach them before we are completely
exhausted, it is possible we may subsist on roots and
berries till we can find some one of the several stations
which here and there dot the great wilderness. To
the best of my judgment, we must now be within one
or two days' journey of St. Vrain's Fort; but not
knowing the proper course to pursue, we may never
find it. However, my dear Adele, let us not despair,
but trust the future to God. You are fatigued; pray
lie down here, and get what rest you can; the ground,
fortunately, is dry, and this saddle will serve you for
a pillow, and this cloth will keep you from the dew,
should any fall.”
“And you, dear Roland?”
“I will sit by your side and watch.”
“But you will be worn out!”
“No, I feel quite strong now.”
“But you must sleep too! You must let me watch
a part of the night at least!”
“Very well; if you will sleep now, I will consent
to let you watch toward morning.”
With this understanding, Adele laid her head upon
the saddle, and I covered her with the saddle-cloth;
and in a few minutes nature asserted its mastery, and
her wandering thoughts became involved in peaceful
dreams.
| CHAPTER XXIII.
THE PARCHED DESERT. The border rover | |