University of Virginia Library

5. CHAPTER V.
BORDER INCIDENTS.

It was the latter part of May, and the morning was
bright and beautiful. The atmosphere was clear, the
air serene, and not a cloud was visible in the broad,
blue sky, that dome-like rose above us. In the east
the seven hues blended in perfect beauty, and gradually
grew more and more brilliant, till the god of day
himself appeared, surrounded by a halo of glory.

The scene that opened before us was an undulating
surface, carpeted with bright green grass, and flowers
of gorgeous beauty, and shaded here and there with
delightful groves, among whose branches fluttered
and twittered and sung ten thousand warblers. Bright
dew-drops rested on leaf and blade and flower; and
as the sunlight fell upon them, they glistened and
sparkled like so many diamonds. The view in all
directions was refreshing—was delightfully invigorating;
and had my mind been wholly at ease, I should
undoubtedly have experienced an exhilaration akin
to rapture. But with the sensations of pleasure came
sensations of pain. I was leaving home, leaving civilization,
for an indefinite period. My bark was now
fairly adrift upon the ocean of adventure, bound on
a voyage of discovery, and might never anchor again
in a peaceful and quiet haven. I had taken leave

of all who loved me; had parted from all I loved;
and this as it were by stealth—in a clandestine manner—in
a manner to make my conscience in some degree
my accuser. Rivet my eyes upon whatsoever object
of interest, turn my thoughts upon whatsoever subject
of contemplation, I could not shut out the images
of those who had given me being and reared me so
fondly, nor cease to remember my transgression of the
sacred law of filial affection. I had not done right in
leaving my parents for this perilous journey, without
an explicit and mutual understanding; I had been
wanting in moral courage; I had left them in a cowardly
manner; and no reasoning to the contrary could
be other than sophistry. I felt this—felt it deep in my
soul; it was an internal conviction that no external
argument could eradicate; and it depressed my spirits,
and made me unhappy. The more bright and joyous
the scenes around me, the more sensibly I felt the
contrast of a heart made gloomy and sad by the remembrance
of what my conscience could not approve.
But the die was cast, my destiny was sealed, and it
was not a time for repentance now.

“How beautiful! how glorious! how enchanting!”
exclaimed my companion, as we rode slowly along
through green, dewy grass, and bright, sweet-scented
flowers; and as he spoke, his dark eye sparkled, and
his wan features flushed with animation. “See!
Roland—see that tiny stream of silver, winding
around between emerald banks, and playing hide and
seek through yonder groves, where a thousand gay

birds are singing as they might have sung in Paradise!
Surely, this must be the Garden of Eden; and
this morning's ride will well repay me for days of
pain and gloom. Oh! why should I want to die,
when God's earth is so beautiful?”

“I am glad the sight reanimates you,” I replied;
“and it is my earnest prayer, that you may be spared
to behold it in years to come. It is certainly the
most charming scene I ever beheld, and I must regard
it as an auspicious beginning of our journey.”

“And yet you seem sad, Roland!” he rejoined,
with feeling.

“My mind goes home in spite of me, Alfred. I am
forced to reflect that, whatever pleasures may surround
me, I have done that which will cause the hearts
of my fond parents to beat with sorrow.”

“Can I rest assured that I did not influence your
decision with regard to this journey?” inquired Varney,
with some anxiety.

“You may rest assured that, if that decision be
wrong, not the faintest shadow of blame can attach to
you. To say you had no influence upon my decision,
would be to assert that I took no interest in your or
your fate, which would not be true; but my own mind
reasoned, weighed, and resolved.”

“Thank Heaven! your words give me relief!” said
Varney. “But, Roland, if you regret your resolve, it
is not too late to retrieve it. If you have any compunctions
of conscience, I pray you turn back, and
consider me in the matter not at all!”

“No!” said I, firmly; “I shall go forward, be the
consequences what they may.”

Steadily the old trapper pursued his course, taking
long and rapid strides, turning neither to the right
nor left, and apparently heeding nothing around him:
I say apparently, for it was not so in reality—the truth
being that nothing escaped his eagle glance. About
two miles west of Independence, we passed a pleasant
grove, where a large party of emigrants and adventurers
had encamped the night before, only one of
whom was now to be seen. He was a tall, raw-boned,
green-looking specimen of a country rustic, and was
mounted on a slab-sided skeleton of a beast, which,
by dint of kicks and curses, he urged up to us on a
trip-hammer trot.

“I say, whoa, you scamp, you!” he sung out to his
shadowy animal, as he came up along side of me, at
the same time giving the cord rein a violent, sudden
jerk, which brought the horse's nose to a nearly perpendicular
position, while his legs seemed to keep
wilfully moving forward. “I say, you fellers, you
haint seen no stray mules nor nothing along your way,
I calculate, have you?”

“Nary mule, stranger,” replied the trapper, suddenly
wheeling about, and slyly tipping me a wink;
“but I seed a stray jackass.”

“Where, neow?” inquired our peaked-faced friend,
with a nasal whine, that said “wooden nutmegs” as
distinctly as ever a clock said “tick.” “Whoa! you
consarned old beast, you!” jerking the rope-bridle, as

his half-starved animal made a sudden lurch forward
for a tempting bunch of green grass. “I guess I'll
larn ye, you derned old gormandizer, you! Didn't
you have enough last night tew last you a month—
say, neow?”

“I should not suppose, from the condition of your
horse, he would ever want to eat again,” said I, turning
away to conceal a laugh.

“That's a fact, I sweow; but, dern him! he's jest
like Phar'oh's lean kind—he don't want to dew nothing
else but eat. Wal, Mister, where'd you see that are
jackass?”

“Straddle a pile of hoss-bones. Augh!”

“Dew tell!” was the innocent reply of our Yankee
friend. “Calculate he was dead?”

“Nary once, greeny—wagh! hagh! wagh!” roared
One-Eyed Sam, which was the first time I had ever
heard him laugh boisterously.

“Say, you, Mister, (addressing me,) what's the
matter with that are feller? So'thing up here, I
guess!” tapping his head.

“Yes,” said I, “you can see he has been injured;”
and I drew my finger across the base of my forehead,
to indicate the long white scar of the trapper.

“Wal,” pursued the Yankee, “about them are
mules, consarn 'em! You see my name's Pease!”

“Green in the pod, chaw me!” interrupted Botter,
with another roar.

Mr. Pease looked very sharply, very savagely at
the trapper, and rejoined:

“I know a thing or two about taming you fellers.
You've been hurt in the upper story; but a sharp
eye'll fetch you down, if you don't look eout. Yes,
(turning to me,) look him sharp in the eye—that's the
way to make a lunatic haul in. Wal, as I's saying, my
name's Pease, and I'm all the way from the State of
Connecticut, going over tew Oregon, to look eout some
prime land. There's a big party on us, and we camped
down there last night, and I've lost two mules, which
I want to find the wo'st kind. The other fellers have
gone on and left me to dew it alone; and I've looked
all areound, without seeing a derned thing of 'em.
What'll I dew neow?”

“Hyer's a nigger as will tell you what you'd better
do, afore you spile,” put in One-Eyed Sam, advancing
to the side of the forlorn traveller. “Ef you ever
expect to see your friends agin, you'd better put some
salt on to your top-knot, and start old bones arter 'em.
Augh!”

The Yankee looked savagely at the speaker, and
then inquiringly at me.

“I think the advice is good,” I said. “I am afraid
you will not find your mules; and the longer you remain
behind your friends, the more difficulty you will
have in overtaking them, especially with your horse
in his present condition.”

“Consarn it, what'll I dew?” whined Mr. Pease of
Connecticut. “Them are derned mules carried all
my duds. I got a feller to let me put 'em in his
wagon, till I found 'em; but he'll make me pay like

thunder, if they has to go all the way in his team.
But I guess I'll have to gin 'em up. I don't see
nothing on 'em nowhere. Much obleeged to you,
Mister. Whoa! hold up your consarned old head,
will you? You'll have to dew so'thing besides eat,
you old fool! Wal, good-bye; and now, go 'lang!”
and with a few jerks at his rope-bridle, and sundry
kicks on the ribs of his skeleton beast, Mr. Pease set
off in the direction taken by his travelling companions,
and, riding through the before-mentioned grove, was
soon lost to our view.

This incident created a fund of merriment, and
proved highly beneficial to me, by diverting my
thoughts from more serious matters.

Thus far we had kept upon the regular western
trail; but we now turned off in a southerly direction;
and after travelling an hour longer, over a fine, beautiful
country, partly open, and partly timbered, with
bright, green grass and gay flowers all around us, we
came suddenly upon the camp of Jake Stericks. It
was in a little valley, hidden from our view until we
had ascended the hill which overlooked it. A clear
little stream purled through the valley, margined by
green “tall grass”—so called, by way of distinguishing
it from the short “buffalo grass” of the plains or
prairies—while a grove of trees, consisting for the
most part of hickory, walnut, ash and cottonwood,
threw over it a delightful shade. Four mules and
two horses, hoppled and tethered, were quietly cropping
the green herbage, within pistol shot of the

trapper, who was squatted upon the ground, beside
his “kit,” lazily smoking his pipe.

On perceiving us, Stericks slowly gathered himself
upon his feet, and giving himself a shake, like a water
spaniel, awaited our approach in a kind of dogged
silence. He was a short, square-built man, about
forty years of age, with a broad, bronzed, phlegmatic-looking
face, light brown, curly hair, and a small,
cold blue eye. As we drew up along side of him, he
fixed his eye upon the animals, which he scanned like
a connoisseur, but appeared to take no notice of the
riders.

“Hyer we is, Wolfy!” said Botter, dismounting.
“Got arything to feed?”

Wolfy Jake pointed to a quarter of a deer, suspended
to the limb of a tree, and then to the sun.

“I knowed it,” he grumbled; “never will git off.
Why didn't you git your feed whar you did your
work?”

“Ef you knowed it, old growler, whar's your fire?”
inquired One-Eyed Sam, as, whipping out his knife,
he cut down the meat, and proceeded to divide it into
slices for toasting. “Yes, you knowed it,” he continued;
“and not a — spark to swa'r by. Whar's
your kindlings?”

Stericks pointed to a handful of dry twigs and
leaves, which he had collected; and while Botter
struck fire with flint and steel, he set to work to harness,
pack, and prepare the animals for the journey.

“Come!” said the old trapper to us, as, having dismounted,

we stood watching his proceedings, with
the interest which anything novel generally excites;
“ef you want your feed, you'd best go in;” and having
by this time started a fire, he thrust a sharp stick
into a large slice of meat, and held it to the blaze.
“A-u-g-h!” he resumed, with a long drawn grunt of
satisfaction, as, having scorched the meat outside and
heated it through, he tore out a large mouthful with
fingers and teeth; “this hyer's living agin, chaw me!
Come, Freshwater, jest you and Shadbones go in—fur
this hyer nigger'd like to make a long tramp, to
please that thar Wolfy, and the thing's agin natur
with a empty meat-trap. Augh!”

“We may as well make a beginning,” said I to
Varney. “The smell of the toasting meat gives me
an appetite, and we can season with salt—besides, you
know, we have laid in a good stock of sea-biscuits.”

We accordingly set to work, and prepared our first
meal beyond the settlements, which we devoured with
a relish known only to those who have made the
trial. I was pleased to see that Varney ate heartily;
and when we had concluded our simple repast, and
washed it down with clear water from the running
stream, he exclaimed, somewhat enthusiastically:

“Roland, my friend, this is delightful! I seem to
feel stronger already.”

Meantime, Stericks had saddled the two horses, to
be ridden by himself and Botter, and had packed the
mules with the kit to be used by them on their journey
into the wilderness, so that, all being ready for a

new start, we had only to mount and set forward.
Shaping our course to the northward, we soon struck
the great Santa Fe Trail, and followed it for some
twenty miles, over the same rolling, delightful country,
which continued to present to the view one of the
most pleasing landscapes it has ever been my fortune
to behold. The day was warm; but a refreshing
breeze blew steadily from the west, and relieved it of
anything like sultriness. My friend bore the fatigues
of equestrianism, so new to both of us, much better
than I had anticipated; but when the sun had passed
the meridian some three hours, he signified his wish
to rest for the night, in order not to overtask his feeble
system. At this, Wolfy Jake, who so far had scarcely
noticed us, began to grumble and complain that such
foolish, childish delays would keep him from the
mountains till too late to trap beaver enough to buy
his tobacco.

“It is for these very delays that we have agreed to
pay you a good round sum,” said I, in a tone calculated
to assure him I knew my rights, and did not
intend to be cheated out of them, to please one who
had taken no pains to render himself an agreeable
companion.

“See hyer, boy,” he replied, turning to me with a
look of fierce contempt, “who axed you to put in
your blab?”

Though taught from youth to curb my temper,
and keep a rein upon my passions, I had never so
mastered myself, or been so mastered, as to quietly

brook an intended insult; and as he spoke, I felt my
features flush, and the hot blood leap through my
veins. My first impulse was, to spring from my horse
and drag him from his; but by a great effort I restrained
myself, and rejoined, as quietly as I could,
though it seemed to me the words fairly hissed as
they came forth:

“Sir! when you address me, boy though I may be
in your aged estimation, I will thank you to do so in
a more respectful manner!”

“Come, come, friends—no quarrelling!” said Varney,
anxiously, spurring his horse in between us.
“Rather than have a quarrel, I will endeavor to ride
a few miles further.”

“Not a mile further!” said I. “We stipulated that
this journey should be made to suit your convenience;
and if our guides do not intend to adhere strictly to
these conditions, we will turn back at once, and let
them go on alone.”

“Them's the tarms, and you knows it, Wolfy,” put
in One-Eyed Sam, riding up along side of his dissatisfied
partner; “and so it's the advice of this hyer
old beaver, that you jest shut up your meat-trap!
D'ye he-ar?”

“That boy's insulted me; and I'll lick him for't, or
die!” growled Stericks.

“Wolfy Jake, that thar ain't so,” returned Sam.
“I seed and heerd the whole on't; you insulted him;
and ef you dar to put a paw on to him, hyer's a nigger
as 'll let daylight through you agin, by —!”

This threat silenced Stericks, who now relapsed
into a sulky mood, and rode slowly along, evidently
brooding revenge in his heart. In the course of a
few minutes, the old trapper, as if without design,
brought his horse along side of mine, and in a low
tone, so as not to be overheard by his companion,
said:

“Freshwater, I can't say you didn't do right in
speaking up like a man; but I'm desperate sorry you
and Wolfy has quarrelled—for he's the devil to git
along with—has got a memory like a red nigger—
and thar ain't another human on the borders kin shut
him up 'cept me. Me and him once had a grand go
in; and when we kim out, he'd got daylight clean
through him, and this hyer old nigger hadn't one eye,
four teeth, and jest only a chunk of a nose. This
happened up to the Sweetwater Divide, long time
ago; and nary human seed the fight 'cept me; for
Wolfy laid out in his tracks, as dead as a skinned
buffler. I dug a hole, and was gwine to cache[1] him,
when I seed him begin to fotch sensible. This child
took care on him, and fed him for two months; and
when he got about, he swo rehe'd never fight sich a
— cantankerous old hoss agin, and he hain't.
Augh!”

“Well,” said I, “I regret that I have had occasion
for hard words, on a journey which I had hoped

would prove agreeable to all parties—but what would
you have me do?”

“Let him growl, and don't say nothing. Growling
is into his natur', jest as nateral as a bite ar' into a
snapping turkle; and all you has to do, is to jest let
him hev his say, and no bones broke. It's desperate
hard to do it, to a lad of speret like you; but what
good 'ud kim fur getting into a fight, and leaving
your carcass out in these hyer diggings, jest below
wolf-smell?”

“True,” said I, after a moment's reflection; “what
good would come of fighting a man who seems to
know little else? I will take your advice, sir, and
remain silent or civil, unless he encroaches too much
upon good nature. But understand one thing, Mr.
Botter—”

“Sam, I is—One-Eyed Sam—leastways sence I fit
Wolfy Jake—and I don't know no sich beaver as Mr.
Botter.”

“Very well, then, Sam—if you prefer being so
called—I want it distinctly understood, before we
proceed any further, that you are to make each day's
journey no longer than my friend can perform without
excessive fatigue! It is in consideration of this we
have agreed to pay you your own price; and if you
think you and your partner cannot conform to the
contract, without even so much as grumbling, why
then we part here.”

“That thar seems all fa'r and squar', chaw me!”

“It is as it seems, Sam.”

“Wall, you drop behind, and let this hyer nigger
hev a confab with Wolfy.”

I made a halt, and called Varney to my side, while
Botter spurred on and overtook his friend. I related
to Varney what had passed between the trapper and
myself, and he shuddered as he replied:

“Oh, my dear friend, how fortunate it is that you
did not get into a physical contest with that dangerous
fellow! You would have been killed, I feel
assured; and then what would have become of poor
me? Oh, for my sake, Roland, if not for your own,
avoid quarrelling with men who would think no more
of killing you than they would a wolf!”

“Would you have me act the coward when insulted?”
I inquired, with some asperity.

“Answer me, Roland!” returned Varney; “which
requires the most true courage—to bear a harsh,
unkind, contemptuous word-insult, or to resent that
word-insult with a retort, and perhaps a blow?”

“To bear in silence,” said I.

“Then I would have you courageous beyond what
the world terms courage.”

“It is not in my nature to be so.”

“We can mould our nature, in a great degree,
Roland, I know by experience; and we often throw
the blame of some hasty action upon our natural
disposition and passions, when the blame should rest
upon our acquired infirmities, through inattention to
the laws of proper mental government or self-control
—upon the inner man, that should govern the outer.”

“I feel you are right—I know you are right—yet
it is much easier to feel and know right, than to do
it.”

“Ay, my friend; and there comes the struggle in
which every reasoning being, made in God's image,
immortal as his Maker, should engage—the struggle
to conquer himself.”

“And would you, if attacked, not defend yourself?”

“Most assuredly, else would I not go armed; but
bear in mind, there is a great difference between an
insult and an attack. Self-preservation is the first law
of nature, seen in the instinct of every living thing;
and if attacked to the danger of life, then we have a
right to protect life, even should such protection
require the life of the assailant.”

“And yet, after all,” said I, “you come far short of
what Jesus Christ taught and practiced; he justified
no retort, retaliation, or resistance; but if smote on
one cheek, to turn the other.”

“I grant you,” said Varney, with a smile; “but if
my platform of self-guidance falls short of that laid
down by the Great Master, how much more so yours?
No man living can be wholly like Jesus Christ; but
the nearer we approach him in principle, the more we
purify and fit our spirits for eternal communion with
the spirits of just men made perfect. But see! Botter
has separated from his companion, and is awaiting
us: let us ride on.”

“One question more,” said I, as we started our
horses forward. “You heard Stericks threaten to

chastise me for my insolence: if he lay hand on me,
what would you have me do?”

He looked hard at me, his eye brightened, and his
thin lips compressed, as he answered:

“I am a very weak, erring mortal, I find, after all,
Roland. If he touch you, without further provocation—which
Heaven forbid—I cannot expect you
will forget you are armed against savages and wild
beasts.”

“Enough, my friend—I understand you!”

On coming up to Botter, he said:

“I've gin Wolfy Jake a right smart chance of a
talking to, and it's the opine of this hyer old hoss
he'll keep down. D'ye see that thar clump of trees
yonder?”

“Yes.”

“We camp thar. Augh!”

“You have triumphed, Roland,” whispered Varney;
“but God send you do not have cause to regret
it!”