 | CHAPTER XV.
AN OLD COMPANION. The border rover |  |
15. CHAPTER XV.
AN OLD COMPANION.
“White, Sam Botter!” exclaimed I; for there was
no mistaking that voice, by one who had heard it as
often as I had.
“Why, chaw me up fur a liar, ef it isn't Freshwater,
kim down in the storm!” exclaimed Sam, in a tone
of surprise. “Ef I didn't take you fur a— sneaking
Injin, why was the devil painted black? Augh!
Why, boy, I'm glad to see you—or feel ye, rayther—
for what's the use of talking 'bout eyes on sich a night
as this hyer? Whar d'ye kim from, anyhow?”
“I have been riding a John Gilpin race, Sam,”
said I.
“What's that?”
“Let me explain. About twenty miles from here,
as near as I can judge, providing this is Pawnee
Fork—”
“Wall, hoss, it ain't nothing else,” interrupted
Sam.
“Well, then, about twenty miles from here, on the
other side of this stream, is a military camp, where
your friend and fellow-traveller, in the shape of the
present narrator, undertook to go to sleep; but being
attacked by Indians, he got up, got his head into an
Indian lasso, was dragged by the neck too far to be
agreeable, cut the lasso, killed the savage, mounted
his horse, was run away with, and here he is. Now
what do you think of that for an adventure, eh?”
Sam ripped out an oath, and exclaimed:
“Freshwater, this hyer old one-eyed nigger hain't
got the sense some people has, and I'll jest trouble
you to go over that thar agin.”
“Certainly, Sam, and I will be more explicit;” and
I mentioned the prominent events which had occurred
since we parted at Council Grove.
“Wall,” said Botter, interjecting an oath, “you're
one on 'em, Freshwater—chaw me! Why, ef this
hyer last fun of yourn don't beat the d—l, why was
wolves growed? Augh!”
“But now,” continued I, “pray tell me how I find
where is your partner?”
“Wolfy's gone under!” returned Botter, with a
long, deep sigh.
“Dead?” exclaimed I, with a start.
“Yes—he war rubbed out by the Pawnees, the infarnal
devils!”
“Explain!”
“It's wall you didn't kim with us,” continued Sam,
in a doleful tone; “fur Shadbones would hev been
made meat on, sure, and it's like you wouldn't hev
kim out no better—though you seem to hev the
nine lives to the cat. I'll jest tell you how it war,
Freshwater; but you kin gamble on to it, that it'll
make this hyer old nigger feel as watery as ef he war
peeling inyuns. Augh!”
After a pause, the old trapper proceeded with his
story, which I shall take the liberty to abridge and
give in my own language. He and Stericks had met
with no misfortune, till after passing Cow Creek;
when, one night, as they were encamped upon the
bank of a small stream, they were set upon by a large
party of Pawnees, who killed and scalped Stericks,
and made a clean sweep of all their animals, traps,
“possibles,” etc.—Botter himself barely escaping in
the darkness, after shooting two of the savages, by
secreting himself under the muddy bank of the creek.
Since then, he had travelled on foot and alone,
and was so far on his way to Bent's Fort, where
he hoped to meet with some friends who would help
of his property, were his weapons, and the garments
he had on—even the money I gave him at Council
Grove, being in the possession of Stericks, had fallen
into the hands of the plunderers when they stripped
the body. He had met a small hunting party, however,
and traded a clasp-knife for a blanket, in which
he invariably rolled himself at night, heads, hands,
and all, in order to protect himself against rattlesnakes,
which, as I have shown, sometimes intrude upon the
sleeper in a very unceremonious manner. He was
thus deposited on the wet earth, soaking in the rain,
when I stumbled upon him. But I did not “catch
him napping,” as the phrase is—for your true mountaineer
seldom sleeps sounder than a cat, and Botter
had had good cause to keep his one eye on the watch.
He had heard my approaching footsteps; but knowing,
by the sound, I had no companion, he had resolved,
if I crossed his camp, to capture me; and, should I
prove to be an Indian, to take my scalp, in revenge
for what he had already suffered from the hated race.
The result the reader has seen.
“Well,” said, I when he had concluded, “I am
sorry for your loss, and will cheerfully do something
toward giving you another outfit.”
“Thank'e!” returned Botter; “and it's like I kin
do you and Shadbones a good turn, ef you go to the
mountains.”
“Why, yes,” said I, “the very thing! he will require
and why not take him with you?”
“I reckon we kin fix it,” replied the trapper.
“Poor old Wolfy's under, and I hain't got nary human
now to hurry me along, and so I'm jest agwine to
take my time—chaw me! I never knowed nothing
kim of hurrying; and so I used to tell Wolfy; but he
knowed better, he said, and now he don't know
nothing. So we go—one arter to'ther gits rubbed
out, and thar's the end on't. Augh!”
“I think myself,” said I, “as events have turned
out, you gained nothing in parting from us. If we
had continued in your company, you would have
traveled slower perhaps; yet who knows but by that
very means you would have avoided the consequences
you now lament?”
“Wall, wall,” returned Sam, philosophically, “thar
ain't no use in talking about what mought hev been
—bekase we humans can't see into the futur', any
more nor ef it was a sand-bank; all we kin do is, to
do what we think's best, take what kims, and let the
rest go. We can't al'ays float—we's all got to gin in
and go under some time—and so what's the use kicking
agin it. Thar ain't none—chaw me! Freshwater,
of all the boys I knowed, twenty year ago, up to the
mountains, thar ain't three living 'cept me, and I
'spect my time ain't fur off. Wall, when it kims,
this hyer old beaver'll see the end of a heap of hard
tramps, you kin gamble on to that. Augh!”
“There is a Power above us, Sam, that has guided
else should we never have seen the present!” said I,
solemnly.
“Expect,” rejoined Sam, musingly; “leastways,
this hyer old nigger once heerd a preacher say some'at
to that; and ef he didn't know, why was gospeling
diskivered? Augh!”
“Then, considering that our steps are guarded and
guided,” pursued I, “why should we ever shrink from
what our conscience tells us is right?”
“We shouldn't, Freshwater—nary once—chaw
me!”
“Then, if you think so, why may I not count on
you to meet danger in a good cause?”
“What's the sign, Freshwater?”
“I am thinking of the girl that was captured by
the Indians,” said I; “and that she ought to be rescued;
and though I know the attempt would be one of peril,
yet I am far from feeling satisfied it should be avoided
on that account.”
“That thar would be jumping into the fire, and
expecting to git out without being burnt,” said Sam.
“To continue your simile,” returned I, “we might
get out alive, even if scorched.”
“You still hev the notion of taking a tramp arter
that thar gal, hey?” rejoined the old trapper.
“I have resolved never to return to the States until
her liberty is regained, or I have made at least one
attempt to rescue her.”
“That's said like a lad of speret,” pursued Botter;
—ef you don't, jest chaw old One-Eyed Sam up fur a
liar! Augh!”
“But can I not persuade you to accompany me,
Sam, if I pay you well for your time? You can but
die once, you know; and your life is continually in
peril, go where you will, do what you may.”
“Thar's some'at in to that,” said Botter, reflectively;
“but we ain't so sartin of losing our ha'r out hyer, as
we would be to the Injun's own stamping-ground—
no sir-ee.”
“With one of your experience, in Indian ways, I
think we might succeed,” said I, hopefully. “Remember,
the lives of those females are as valuable as
our own.”
“To them!” returned Sam, emphatically; “'spect
they is to them! but not to us—chaw me!”
“The life of one,” I returned, “I at least consider
of as much value as my own; and I would willingly
peril mine to save hers, if certain it could be saved in
no other way.”
“She's some'at to you, I reckon?” said Sam.
“You can judge from what I have said. But to the
question. Will money, or any other consideration,
or all combined, induce you to make the venture with
me for her release?”
“Jest us two, Freshwater?”
“If I can engage no more; but I will do what I can
to get others to accompany us.”
“I'll think about it,” replied Botter; “I'll think
it, boy; I will, chaw me! Augh!”
“Well, take your time, and think over the matter
seriously. I will not urge you to a hasty decision—
but I will give you something to consider besides the
danger. If you go with me, I will, before starting,
deposit, with any person you may name, an amount of
money sufficient to purchase you a complete outfit for
your business; and the moment these female prisoners
are safely lodged in any fort, this money shall be
yours.”
“You take away the chances, most powerful, when
you say two on 'em,” said Sam.
“Well, say one then—the girl. I should like to
rescue both—but the younger shall be my first care.
Let me add, however, that there may be no misunderstanding,
that I have already spoken to a military
officer concerning their rescue, and he has promised to
report to his superior; and should a military force be
sent against the Indians, I may not need your services.
Of that, however, we will speak hereafter.”
I squatted down on the wet earth, and spent the remainder
of the night in conversation with the old
trapper. The rain continued to fall gently, so that it
would have been difficult to kindle a fire, had we not
even been in a part of the country where it would
have been dangerous to expose ourselves to its light—
so we sat in mud and darkness, and talked till daylight.
I suffered some from my bruises and swollen
neck, and my wet garments made me chilly; but
complain of trifles—though I hailed the break of morn
with a sensation of gladness I had never before experienced
from the same cause.
As soon as we could fairly see, Sam set to work, as
only an old woodsman knows how, to start a fire of wet
materials; and after laboring for half an hour, he succeeded
in getting up a cheerful blaze, which filled me
with delight. He now approached a tree on the
river's bank, and cut down a large piece of buffalo
meat, which he had suspended there the night before;
and this we sliced, and toasted, and devoured, without
bread or salt; and I do not know that I ever ate a
heartier meal, or one that I relished more.
By the time we had finished our breakfast, the sun
was fairly above the horizon, though not visible to
us—for low, dark, humid clouds shut in the upward
view, and the rain continued to fall steadily.
“Thar, now, Freshwater,” said Sam, wiping his
mouth with his hand, and smacking his lips, “don't
you 'spect we'd best begin to tramp a bit?”
“Why,” said I, alluding to a previous conversation,
“I thought you had decided to remain here, and
wait for our friends!”
“Not right plum on this spot, did I?”
“No, but in this vicinity.”
“Wall, we kin tramp a heap, and not go fur; and
it's the opine of this hyer old beaver, that you'd best
stretch your legs a little, fur fear they'll spyle, all
doubled up, arter the infarnal scraping they has had.”
“There may be something in that,” replied I; “but
where shall we go?”
“Why, we'll put out and fotch a buffler, or deer—
you is jam up, plum center to deers, you know—
wagh! hagh! wagh!—and then we'll kim back to
fish.”
“Better set me to fishing at once, if you have hook
and line,” said I—“for you see I have no weapons for
the hunt.”
“That's a fact,” rejoined Sam, “I'd forgot you is
woss off nor me—chaw me! But s'pose we take a
short tramp fust! I'll kill so'thing, you kin bet high;
and then we'll kim back, fix up my old blanket on
sticks, fur kivering from the rain, start a fire, cook
our meat, and hev one of the times to loafing.
Augh!”
“Very well—lead the way.”
Botter had managed to keep his rifle pretty dry;
but to have it in good order, he now discharged and
reloaded it; and then we set off northward—I being
compelled to walk rather slow—though I did not
find my limbs so stiff and sore as the night previous.
We had not gone far, when the old trapper suddenly
stopped, and pointing with his finger to some objects
in the distance, inquired:
“What's them, Freshwater? My one eye ain't
what it used to was on to a long sight.”
“I think they may be deer,” I replied—“or perhaps
young buffaloes; but I cannot see very distinctly,
for a steam-like vapor rises from the wet earth.”
“Wall, boy,” returned Sam, after a long, steady
look, with something like exultation, “bad as this
hyer old nigger's peeper is, it kin jest beat any two
you've got, or else I'm a — old sinner. Them is
mules, Freshwater, and thar's more humans about,
you kin gamble on to that.”
“I hope they are not Indians.”
“Nary once.”
“How do you know?”
“Seed 'em, younker.”
“Where?”
“Kim along, and I'll show you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Expect.”
“Do not make any mistake—I can see no one.”
“Sam, you old one-eyed hoss,” said Botter, apostrophising
himself, “you is good yit, bad as you think
you is—you kin jest take down these hyer settlement
chaps a heap—ef you can't, why was 'bacca growed?”
and the old trapper ended with a hearty laugh.
As we approached the animals, I not only discovered
they were mules, but that Sam was right in
all his observations; for at a little distance to the left,
were two persons, seated, a la Turque, upon a large
water-proof cloth, larger than a blanket, which, being
drawn up around them, kept their feet and legs
perfectly dry; while their heads and bodies were
protected from the falling rain by black, glazed,
conical-shaped, broad-brimmed sombreros, and sarapes
impervious to the liquid element. They were both
approach, though they did not fail to eye us sharply.
As I drew near them, I was not a little surprised
to perceive that one was a white man and the other a
negro—though the face of the white man was dark
and bronzed, and both had long, black beards, which,
at a distance, gave them much the same appearance.
Little did I think, however, as I eyed them with
curiosity and speculation, how closely the destiny of
one would be linked with mine in the yet unexplored
future which lay before us.
| CHAPTER XV.
AN OLD COMPANION. The border rover | |