University of Virginia Library

31. CHAPTER XXXI.
A WONDERFUL SURPRISE.

I had reached, in a tolerably good bodily condition,
a certain portion of that range of mountains known as
the Three Parks—when, about noon one day, having
ascended a high, steep hill, I looked down into one
of the most beautiful valleys I had ever seen. This
valley, some two or three miles in length, by some
half a mile in breadth, was completely walled in
by mountains, save a narrow aperture at either
end, where a clear stream of water, flowing quietly
through its centre, found its inlet and outlet. Over
this smooth, level surface, were scattered various
kinds of trees, which seemed to have been planted
at measured distances from each other; and though
the frosts of the season had crisped and killed the
leaves on the highest elevations, and the winds had
scattered them over the earth—leaving giant trunks
and bare branches to stretch gloomily upward, as it
were, to the very heavens—yet here no rude finger
of autumn had been laid, and the enchanting valley
appeared like a brilliant emerald in a brown setting.
I could scarcely credit my senses. Green leaf, green
blade, gay flowers, with a stream of silvery sheen,
were quietly reposing in the bright light of a noonday
sun; while birds of many hues, which belonged

to a more southern clime, were fluttering, and flying,
and trilling the songs of spring throughout the unrivalled
scene.

“This should have been the Garden of Eden,”
mused I, as I picked my way down the steep mountain
side, resolved to spend one night, at least, in a
spot over which, as it seemed, the Spirit of Nature
had passed the wand of enchantment.

I reached the valley at the point where the stream
took its leave between high, precipitous rocks, and
went foaming downward around a sharp angle, but
where from my position I could no longer follow it
with my eye. Here I stopped to gaze, to wonder,
and to admire; and folding my arms upon my breast, I
was just beginning to lose myself in a pleasing reverie—with
my eyes delightedly fixed upon the green
leaves, and grass, and bright flowers, while my ears
drank in the music of birds and rushing waters—when
I was suddenly startled by a rough voice exclaiming:

“I say, old scalp-lock, hyer's a beaver as ginerally
gins every peaceable looking — red nigger fa'r
warning—but arter that, he's jest got to take car' of
his ha'r hisself—chaw me!”

I looked up, and no language can describe my
feelings, as my eyes rested upon the never-to-be-forgotten
features of One-Eyed Sam. He was standing
on the hill-side, some twenty yards distant, his body
covered by a tree, his neck stretched out so as to give
a full view of his face, and with his long, unerring
rifle to his shoulder and its muzzle toward my breast.

I was so excited, that for a few moments I could not
speak—while my lips quivered, and every limb
trembled with emotion.

“You're a orful skeered nigger, anyhow!” he muttered;
“and this hyer old coon don't know whether
to let you slide, or put lead into your meat-trap.”

“Sam!” I yelled at length: “Sam! God bless you,
old fellow! would you shoot a friend?”

Sam dropped his rifle with an oath, and never before
nor since did I witness such an expression of surprise
and amazement as gathered upon his deeply seamed
countenance. It appeared as if he could not credit
his senses; and without changing his position, he remained
staring at me, with his one eye dilated to its
greatest dimensions, and his mouth dropped ajar, as
if struck dumb in the very act of speaking. What
with my long captivity, my long journey through an
unknown wilderness, constant peril, anxiety, and
fatigue, it may readily be believed I was in no very
jocund condition; but the man who could have looked
upon the serio-comical face of Sam Botter without
laughing, might with propriety be hired out as a
mourner, or be apprenticed to an undertaker. As for
myself, I was obliged to take a seat and hold my
sides for at least two minutes; at the end of which
time I found Sam standing by my side, looking almost
as much puzzled as ever. At length, uttering a sound,
something between the yell of an Indian and the
screech of a steam-whistle, he exclaimed:

“Ef it ain't Freshwater, transmogrified to a pig-tail

Injin, may I be chawed up to allergators!—wagh!
hagh! wagh!”

“It is me, sure enough, Sam, my old fellow!” cried
I, jumping up and grasping his hard hand, which I
shook with a vigor.

“And a — purty looking beast you is, too—
wagh! hagh! wagh!” roared the old trapper, now
taking his turn at my expense. “Why, your own
mother wouldn't know ye from a painted babboon—
wagh! hagh! wagh! Ef she would now, ohaw this
hyer old One-Eyed up for a liar—wagh! hagh!
wagh!” and Sam laid down and rolled.

I waited as patiently as I could, till his merriment
had subsided; and then inquired, with tremulous
anxiety:

“Sam, what of my friends? speak! are they living
or dead?”

“Let me git my breath, Freshwater—let this hyer
old nigger git his breath; and while I'm gitting it,
jest tell me whar you come from, anyhow, with them
thar skins, paint and pig-tail!—wagh! hagh! wagh!”

“I have been, for more than a year, a prisoner
among the Crows; and a month ago, almost miraculously,
I effected my escape.”

“You look like you'd been a scare-crow to crows
—wagh! hagh! wagh!” roared Sam.

“Come, come,” said I, seriously; “reserve your
merriment for some more fitting occasion, and answer
me truly: Do you know any thing of my
friends?”

“Wall, who d'ye mean?”

“First, do you know anything of the girl whom
we went to rescue?”

“I knowed some'at to her a year ago.”

“Speak! for the love of Heaven! did she escape?
is she alive?”

“She got to St. Vrain's alive.”

“She did?” cried I: “say that again!”

“She did, Freshwater—chaw me!”

“Thank God! thank God!” cried I, with wild excitement.
“And now?—speak of her now!—is she
living?”

“Don't know nothing agin it,” said Sam.

“She was saved, then! she was saved, poor girl!”
I rejoined, almost overpowered with emotion.

“Wall, yes—rayther—expect she war,” rejoined
Botter, with a peculiar look, which seemed to imply
that he had left something untold.

“Speak, Sam!” cried I, earnestly—“has anything
gone wrong with her of late?”

“I goes under thar, Freshwater—case this hyer old
beaver don't know everything.”

“Is she at St. Vrain's now?”

“Nary once.”

“How long did she remain there? where did she
go on leaving? where is she now? Come, quick—
that is a good fellow—answer me! tell me all you
know!”

“Freshwater,” returned Botter, with emphatic

deliberation, “old One-Eyed sees how it ar'; you jest
love that thar gal a heap!”

“Well, suppose I do?”

“Can't blame you much, expect—fur ef she warn't
a screamer, then I'm a liar! Augh!”

“Well, go on! go on!”

Sam appeared to be very minutely inspecting the
lock of his rifle, as he continued:

“Freshwater, you knows this hyer old coon tuk to
you from the word go—you knows that thar is truth,
plum center—hey, boy?”

“Yes, you said so, and I have had no reason to
think otherwise since. But what has all this to do
with my questions?”

“Why, you see, (hesitating and squinting along
the barrel of his rifle,) I hate to hurt your feelings—
ef I don't, just chaw me up fur a liar!”

“For Heaven's sake, speak! and let me have the
worst!” cried I, becoming greatly excited.

“Wall, the wost it is, I jest does believe; fur
this hyer old nigger has heerd tell, that when a
feller's plum in up to his eyes in love, ef his gal
plays tricky, it al'ays fotches him all of a heap—
leastways that's what them says as knows more'n
old One-Eyed 'bout sich things. Augh!”

“Sam,” cried I, “you will get me half crazy before
I learn your serious news.”

“Kim down then, Freshwater, and take a wet—that's
the thing to make a feller spunky—and hyer's one
what speaks from experience. I've got a shanty

down the stream a bit, and thar's more'n a quart of
the ginewine left—chaw me!”

“For Heaven's sake, speak at once, and relieve me
of this suspense! What has happened to Adele?”

“Best take a wet fust.”

“I never drink spirits.”

“Oh, yes—I'd forgot. Wall, ef you thinks as how
you kin hear it, and not spile, hyer's in.”

“Yes, yes—proceed!”

“You remember the Greaser Cap'in?”[1]

“El Doliente? yes! Did he escape?”

“'Spose I begin back to whar you stepped out, and
fotch up squar?”

“Be brief then.”

“You remember the old hoss kim up, right side up,
beautiful, arter he'd been knocked flat to lightning?”

“Yes.”

“Wall, arter all the rest of you fellers had put out
afoot, to hunt up the critters, I jest got on to old Zigzag's
back, and rid around proud—ef I didn't, why is
bufflers skinned? I soon diskivered the Cap'in, and
his big, black, woolly nigger, puffing and blowing
arter a hoss; and I says, `Git up hyer, Cap'in—fur
hyer's a critter as stands chain lightning beautiful—
and so in course us two can't faze him—nary once—
chaw me!' Wall, to hurry on—fur I sees you is
anxious—the Cap'in got on, and me and him rid till

we cotched his hoss; and then we tuk a divide, and
made a tall break for the nigger's hoss. We'd jest
got his'n, and war going it powerful fur t'others, when
we seed the Injins coming like mad, and we held up
to do the ginteel. Our fellers was scattered, you
know—and the Injins scattered to take em—and we
went in arter the red niggers; and it war jest the curiousest
mixed up — mess you ever seed, else you
kin chaw me up fur a liar. Augh!

“Wall, to cut the facts plum down, the gist on't's
this hyer: We throwed two Injins, and seed three
whites lose thar ha'r; and arter this, all the rest being
nowhars, we put out fur tall timber. The next night
the infarnal imps stole our hosses—and we had to
take it afoot to the hills—and a — long, nice, purty
tramp we had on't. Somehow we missed St. Vrain's,
and struck the Black Hills above; and while we was
hunting our way down, we run agin a white gal,
who'd jest sot down to make a die on't. Now when
this hyer gal told us who she war—how she and you
had got away from the red niggers—and how she'd
left you dying, the day afore, up to some cave, or so'thing—you
kin gamble high on to it, Freshwater, that
our eyes kim rolling out like peeled inyuns.”

“Then you found Adele in the forest?”

“We didn't do nothing shorter.”

“And in a dying state?”

“Reckon she'd hev gone under that night, ef we
hadn't put deer meat into her.”

“Poor Adele! how she must have suffered!” exclaimed
I. “But go on with your story.”

“Wall, in course we went in fur finding you, dead
or alive; and the next day we done some tall walking,
taking the gal's back'ard trail. We didn't find the
place that day, though—and I reckoned the little
critter'd cry her eyes clean out afore morning—she
tuk it so bad. Next day arter that, we did find the
hole in the rocks; and the gal rushed in like mad;
and howled powerful, when she found you warn't
thar; though you kin gamble on to it, that she's got
over all that thar afore this, or else this hyer old
nigger is one of the liars. Augh!”

“Sam!” cried I, somewhat angrily—“what do you
mean by these insinuations? Speak out, like a man,
and let me hear the worst!”

“Wall, to fotch it plum down to a pint, then, Freshwater,
that thar gal tuk on powerful about you fur
weeks; and then she got right thick with the Cap'in;
and ef thar war a chance fur you arter that, as big as
a gooseberry, old One-Eyed couldn't diskiver it—
chaw me!”

“She became interested in El Doliente, did she?”

“You kin gamble on to it, Freshwater. He jest
tuk to her from the word go, like a hawk does to a
chicken; and arter a while she gin in, and they went
off together.”

“The villain!” I ejaculated. “Now I can understand
why he was so anxious to rescue her from the
Indians—and why he spent his money so generously

in fitting out the expedition. The black-hearted
villain! would to Heaven I had him within reach
of this arm!”

“Says I,” pursued Botter, “when I seed him talking
private to her, and sneaking about wharsomever
she put her purty foot—says I, `Sam, you old one-eyed
gentleman, don't you wish Freshwater war hyer
to spile this fun?—hey, boy?—and gin that —
Greaser h—l?—hey, boy?'—and Sam said, `yes, he
did!' and we'd agreed together—me and Sam had—
that ef you kim to life, afore it war too late, we'd
pitch old Greaser into the drink.”

“And Adele went off with him?”

“She did, hoss.”

“Willingly?”

“Looked that thar way.”

“It cannot be she has proved false to me!” said I,
rapidly recalling one scene after another of the past.

“No, I don't think as how the gal meant to hurt
your feelings—nary once!” pursued Sam, consolingly;
“but, you see, Freshwater, she thought you war dead,
like all the rest on us did: yes—chaw me!”

“Poor, friendless, alone in the world, perhaps she
was not so much to blame!” sighed I.

“She war nothing partickelar oncommon to me,”
said Sam, with a grave shake of the head; “that is, I
mean, she warn't no relation, nor nothing—and it
wouldn't hev done fur old One-Eyed to interfere jest
fur a dead friend, you see—fur we'd all gin in as how
you was rubbed out to painters, or some'at to that

sort: else, chaw me up fur a liar, and bile me turkey-buzzards
fur high feeding, ef I wouldn't hev wiped
him out, afore he'd hev tuk her a mile without marrying!
and a marrying preacher into the fort to that!
Augh! augh!”

“Gracious Heaven, Sam!” cried I, grasping his arm;
“you do not surely mean —”

“Wall, thar, boy—thar now—never mind this hyer
time, Freshwater!” returned Botter, soothingly, as I
paused, unable to finish the sentence. “I told you
you'd best tuk a wet fust—case you is weak and
thin—and haint eat nothing to-day, I'll gamble my
rifle gin a pint; and when a feller's hungry, and
weak like, he haint got a good stomach to bad news
—nary once—chaw me! Augh! Kim, let's go down
to my shanty and hev a feed; and arter that we'll
talk agin, sensible.”

The terrible suspicions which Botter's words excited
—together with my weak condition, and the different
emotions I had experienced within the hour—
completely overpowered me; and I sunk down upon
the earth, feeling more miserable and wretched than
I had ever felt before, and sincerely regretting I had
lived to find my faith in humanity destroyed. I then
believed I could have heard of Adele's death, and
borne the blow, as a dispensation of Heaven, with
something like Christian fortitude fortitude and resignation;
but to think that the being I loved had fallen—that
an angel of purity had surrounded hearself with a dark
cloud of sin, which would shut her for ever from the

holy light of Paradise—was a something too horrible
to cross my brain, in my weak state, and permit me
to conduct myself as a rational being should. I was
not completely insane—at least I had a consciousness
of my misery, and the evil at work within me—but
my brain felt as if it were on fire; and I jumped up,
and beat my head with my fists, and might have torn
my hair, had I found any within my grasp. Sam was
evidently much alarmed, and tried to calm and soothe
me—but all in vain, till he struck a chord whose
vibrations were felt in my inmost soul, and which had
the effect to instantly change the whole current of my
thoughts, and seemingly my very nature.

“This is foolish, boy—downright goosey, as I'm a
gintleman!” he said, among other things; “and ef I
was you, I'd keep my strength, and my temper, till I'd
got the villain hisself to pummel, instead of my own
noddle—I would—chaw me!”

“Ha! revenge!” shouted I—“revenge! I thank
you for the suggestion, Sam!”

“Yes, revenge, ef you like it, Freshwater!” he
cried—“revenge on the — villain as has done you
mischief!—anything, by —! 'cept butting your own
brains out fur him to laugh at. Augh!”

“Yes,” continued I, “I will live for revenge! I
will pursue this villain to the end of the earth, or
until I find him; and when found, though kneeling
before the sacred altar, I will drag him from it, and
the fearful account between us shall be settled with
blood!”

“Now you talk sensible, boy; them's my sentiments—that
thar's the way this hyer old nigger'd
do—chaw me!”

“But can I follow him? can I ascertain whither he
has gone with his victim? for Adele is his victim, I
feel assured.”

“You kin try to St. Vrain's, Freshwater.”

“And try I will!” said I, setting my teeth hard
with my murderous resolve. “Enough, Sam—
enough for the present—say not another word—you
see I am a man again!”

“Or will be,” muttered Botter, turning aside his
head and smothering a laugh, “when you git that
— greasy paint rubbed off, and human fixings on
to your back agin. But kim along—let's travel:
you'll live to see sights yit, you will. Augh!”

As he spoke, Botter turned down the gorge of the
mountain, and picked his way over rocks, alongside
of the here rushing, roaring stream; and I followed
mechanically, thinking only of Adele, her seducer,
and revenge. About a hundred yards from where
the stream entered this gorge, it turned a sharp angle
to the right; and, about the same distance again, it
took a similar turn to the left; and so, in a zigzag
course, it went foaming and roaring onward, for perhaps
half a mile from the green valley above, when
it struck a long, thickly wooded level, where its
waters spread out to five times its ordinary width
and became almost as still as a lake. We quitted the
gorge, and turned up the hill to the left; but the

moment we reached a point which commanded a view
of the whole scene, Botter stopped, and said:

“Hyer's a spot as has been a purty sight to One-Eyed
Sam fur many a week.”

“Have you been living here for weeks?” I inquired,
in some surprise.

“Except.”

“Ah! yes—I understand—trapping beaver?”

“Them's 'em, Freshwater—and a desperate nice
thing I've made on't. You see, arter I'd got back
from hunting the gal—which we found so curious—
the Cap'in being purty much tickled all round, he
gin me a nice fit-out of traps and fixings, and I did
some'at to beaver that year, afore all froze, and then
kim down to St. Vrain's to winter. Last spring I
started 'arly—but found poor picking, till I diskivered
this hyer run. Sign war about han'some in these
diggins; and so putting my mules to feed in a valley
below, I fotched my traps up hyer, knocked up a
shanty, and went in. D'ye see them thar beaver
lodges over t'other side?”

“I do,” I answered, mechanically—for I was not in
a mood to be interested in what he was saying—
though I thought it best to humor him.

“And d'ye see these hyer stumps, cut off like they
was sawed?”

“I do.”

“And d'ye mind how still the water is?”

“I do.”

“Wall, ye see, the beavers cut down these hyer

trees with their teeth—knocked up a dam down
yonder—raised their shanties over the way—and had
a — nice time on't ginerally, till One-Eyed got his
old blinker on to 'em, and made thar meat kim to
traps. Augh! Kim along, Freshwater, and I'll
show you a slight sprinkling to fur—I will—chaw
me!”

Saying this, Botter set forward again, and I followed
in silence. Proceeding some two hundred yards further,
obliquely across the hill, he halted before a thick
cluster of bushes, took a sweeping survey of the whole
scene, and then, carefully parting the interlocking
twigs, pushed in toward the centre, bidding me follow,
and be particular to leave the external appearance as
we had found it. Penetrating these bushes, which
were higher than our heads, we soon came to a hut,
constructed of poles, sticks, bark, and skins, and
having a door which we could only enter in a stooping
posture. Sam looked in, and remarking that all was
right, he invited me to follow him, and disappeared.
As I crossed the threshhold of his forest domicile, I
heard him mutter to himself, as if addressing another:

“Sam, you old sinner, lay low, and keep shady,
and you'll see fun, you will. Augh!”

I heard the words, but paid little heed to them. I
had no idea then to what he alluded—but the reader
will find sufficient explanation in the following chapter