 | Bill Lukens' Run. Wild scenes on the frontiers, or, Heroes of the West |  |
23. Bill Lukens' Run.
Afar out in the great wilderness of the Far West,
around their camp-fire, sat four mountaineers, one toasting
his meat at the fire, one mending his torn moccasins
by the flickering light, and the other two squatted upon
the ground, quietly smoking their pipes, while their mules
and horses stood feeding near. It was a wild picturesque
scene—in a deep valley, near a mountain stream—a lurid
light gleaming upon their hard, bronzed features, their
rough, mountain costume, their packs and arms, their feeding
cattle, the gliding stream, and the rocks and the trees
around and above them.
“I say, Bill, old hoss,” said one of the two who sat
smoking, turning to his nearest companion, “'spose you
gin us that thar scrape o' yourn with the Injuns! I'd
like to smoke another pipe afore I turns in; and them
kind o' things, you know, sarves to float the time along
amazing.”
“Wall, that thar war one on 'em!” returned Bill, emphatically,
taking a long, steady pull at his pipe, and
since I owned these hyer pegs.”
The second speaker, Bill Lukens, was a tall, brawny
fellow, some five-and-thirty years of age, with sandy complexion,
light-blue eyes, and strongly marked features.
He had spent a great portion of his life in the wilderness,
as hunter, trapper, and guide; and, like all who are continually
exposed to perils, had passed through a great
many scenes of adventure, and had had a great many
hair-breadth escapes. He had recently joined the present
party, to whom he was known by reputation; and having,
on more than one occasion, alluded to his “scrape with
the Crows,” one of his companions had now asked him for
the story, to while away the time around their camp fire.
“Wall, crowd her through!” said the first speaker, in
reply to Lukens.
“Ay, that's the talk,” said the one who was toasting his
meat.
“Next to the fun o' being in a scrape,” observed the
fourth, “is the fun o' telling on't, or hearing on't.”
“Wall,” resumed Bill, “as you're all willing, and me,
too, I'll go in. You see, it was just this hyer way:—Me
and my pardner, old Fighting Pete—it's like some o' ye
knows him?”
“I does that—easy,” replied the first speaker, drawing
two or three rapid whiffs from his pipe; “I knows the old
and I got licked!”
All laughed, and Bill Lukens proceedeα.
“Wall, as I was a-saying, old Fighting Pete war my
pardner; and me and him war setting our traps, up along
the Big Horn, one day, about three or four year ago, when
I seed some'at as I didn't like, and I pinted it out to
Pete.
“ `What does you call that thar, old hoss?' says I.
“ `Why, that thar's as plain as shooting,' says Pete.
`That thar's a moccasin print, as had a Injun foot into it,
and not many year ago nyther. Augh! it's allers the way,'
says Pete; `ef a feller happens to git whar he can do suthin
decent, round comes the bloody red niggers to spile it all.
I say, Bill, we'll hev to put out from hyer, and it goes agin
me like sand in my eye.'
“ `Wall, says I, `thar's only one print, anyhow.'
“ `As you see,' says Pete—`only one print as you see—
but you arn't sich a confounded fool as to `spose a Injun
walks on one leg, I'spect?'
“ `Wall,' says I, `s'pose he has two legs?—that thar
only makes him one Injun—and then we're two to one,
any how.'
“ `Augh!' says Pete, drawing himself up amazing, and
looking as wise as an owl; `does you know anything about
hens?'
“ `Not uncommon,' says I, `but I've eat `em to Independence.'
“ `Shah!' says Pete; `I don't mean that thar; but I
means ef you know the principal upon which they works?'
“ `Not particular,' says I.
“ `Wall, then, I'll tell ye,' says Pete. `They fust makes
a nest, and then they lays a nest-egg, and arter that they
lays more.'
“ `But,' says I, `I don't see the pint.
“ `Why, you bat-blind crow,' says Pete, `the pint is,
that this hyer red nigger ar' the nest-egg; and whar you
sees a sign o'him, you'll see more soon—for he ain't a egg
as'll stay long alone—so it's my opine we'd better gather
up our traps and put out from hyer.'
“ `Wall,' says I, `I don't know but that's safe advice.'
“ `It ar' hoss, sir-ee!' says Pete.
“So we tuk up the traps as we war putting down; and
then we went to look arter some we'd sot afore—Pete
going up the river, and me down—but both agreeing to
meet at a place as we'd named Cedar Bluff.
“Wall, boys, I hadn't gone fur down the river, when,
jest as I war passing along behind a thicket like, whiz,
came two or three arrers—two of 'em so close as to graze
the skin, and t'other one sticking into my arm a bit, and
followed by some o'them thar yells as all the skunks knows
how to do.
“ `Hooraw!' thinks I: `ar' that your game!' and making
powerful quick tracks for a near bluff, I turned the corner
of a rock, and, looking back, seed three o' the red niggers
close arter me, still yelling like mad.
“I didn't know how many thar mought be; but I
thought as how, ef the forward one war Fighting Pete's
nest-egg, I'd make a cold chicken on him sudden. So
fotching round my old rifle, I let him hev the nicest part
into it—thinking, maybe, ef he'd git more'n he wanted,
he'd let the next imp behind him hev a bit, too. And he
did—yes, sir-ee! for the ball went plump through him,
and into the one behind him; and sich a howling as they
all set up together, you never heerd.
“Wall, I 'spected now to see t'other hound turn and
run, and gin it up straight. But he didn't—nary once—
no, sir—but come full bent arter me, drawing another
arrer to the head, and letting it slide so close as to make
me think o' what a preacher once said to me 'bout my
prayers.
“ `Oho!' says I, dodging around another corner o' the
rock, and hugging it close; `ef you're all, you'll be easy
meat, too, afore long; and ef you thinks I'm a gwine to
run from one sich a red nigger, jest wait till I git a chance
to tell you I arn't.'
“Wall, round he come, blowing amazing—for he
thought I'd gone on furder, case the place had that kind
for jest as I seed his ugly mug agin, not more'n four feet
off, I riz up and lit on to him, like a painter on to a deer;
and afore he knowed particular what ailed him, he didn't
know nothing—for I'd got my butcher into him a few, I
tell you!
“Wall, I ripped off his scalp, and shook it in his face,
to show my contempt for the beast; and then, t'aring off
his b'ar-skin, and taking his bow and arrers, to help me
out, in case thar war any more 'bout, I kicked him down
into the water. Then I gin one reg'lar yell for old
Wirgin'a, and sot to loading my rifle, all the time keeping
my eye peeled, and looking two ways for Sunday.
“Jest as I war ramming down the ball, I heerd a few
more yells, some distance off, and old Pete's rifle crack at
the same time. Says I to myself: Pete war right 'bout
that thar hen business, and thar'll be a nest-full round here
soon, anyhow. Then I wanted to do two things. I
wanted to git to Pete, and help him out; and I wanted to
git to t'other niggers, and get thar scalps and traps. But
I didn't do nyther: fust, bekase I knowed that ef old Pete
war to be killed or tuk, it'ud be over afore I could reach
him; and second, bekase thar war some answering yells
t'other side o' me, not fur off; and I felt as how, ef I
stayed round there long, I mought know a feller, by the
hisself.
“So I primed the old rifle quick as lightning; and
taking along the bow and arrers, I plunged into the Big
Horn, and made for the bluff on t'other side. I got over
thar without ary accident, and crawled up under some
bushes, whar I could look back; but when I did look
back, I seed some five or six o' the niggers pointing me
out; and then, whiz, came another lot o' arrers, (along
with some o' the darndest yells,) and two on 'em stuck
into me—one on 'em into my meat-trap, and t'other into
my arm.
“One o' the arrers I pulled out, and t'other broke off in.
`But,' says I, `you infernal old Crow niggers, I'll give
another o' ye suthin as ye can't pull out;' and taking plum
sight at the feller with the longest feather, I drapped him
amazing. The arrer in me now hurt me oncommon; but
it war in the fleshy part o' my arm, and had nothing to do
with my running pegs; and so I reckoned the next best
thing to do war to use them a bit.
“Wall, I pulled up the bluff as quick and as zig-zag as
I could—the infarnal imps all the while blazing away with
thar arrers, and howling powerful over thar dead. I got
up to the top o' the bluff safe enough; and from thar,
about a mile off—or maybe half-a-mile—I could see a big
bit o' prairie; and crossing that thar prairie, full bent,
to think it war a gwine to be tight dodging, and broke for
the nearest thicket; but jest as I reached it, my ha'r fairly
riz—for the yells as burst from it a'most stunned me—and
the next breath I found myself surrounded and tuk.
“ `Wall,' says I, `Bill Lukens, your trapping ar' done
for. You're wanted for a roasting-piece—'cept your scalp
—and that thar'll rattle in some greasy nigger's lodge, to
make glory for him and music for his squaw.'
“Not to spin the matter out too long, I'll jest say what
they done with me, and how I got cl'ar of 'em. They tuk
me down to the prairie as I seed from the bluff; and thar,
arter a while, they all met—nigh a hundred on 'em—and
thar I had my trial. I couldn't understand much Crow
talk; but I made out enough to know that they war
a-gwine to hev some fun with me, ayther by way of a burn
or a run. I war in hopes it would be a run; but I didn't
say so, kase it warn't likely they'd take my advice, anyhow,
even ef I talked Crow to 'em with tears in my eyes.
“At last, arter a good deal of palavering, and some
grumbling, it war decided as I should make a run for thar
fun. But I took a good look at these hyer pegs, and then
at thar spindle shanks, and made up my mind, ef they'd
keep off thar hosses and be decent, I'd show 'em a run as
'ud be more fun for me nor them.
“Wall, hollering and laughing, kicking and slapping
they though war fun, they tuk me way out into the
prairie, 'bout five mile from any tree or bush; and thar,
arter stripping off all my clothes, and tying my hands
behind my back, they made me understand—some'at by
words and some'at by signs—that when they gin the big
yell, I war to run for my life, and every nigger on 'em
arter me, and the first one as mought hit me with his
tomahawk, war to hev my scalp for pay.
“ `Thank you', says I; `but if it's all the same to you,
you greasy niggers, I'd prefer to keep that thar same scalp
my own self.'
“Still, I didn't think I had much chance o' doing it;
for how war a naked man, with his hands tied behind his
back, and placed in front of a hundred o' the red niggers,
to git away from 'em? and then git away to some fort
arterwards, afore he'd starve to death? But, anyhow, it
war a chance for life, and Bill Lukens and me concluded
we'd go in and do our purtiest.
“Purty soon they all stretched themselves out in a long
row, way past both sides o' me, and about thirty yards
behind, and I noticed as they all put aside all thar weapons
'cept their tomahawks and knives. That thar war some hope
to me, and I looked a head to see the chances. Straight
ahead I seed prairie, and nothing else; but off to the
they'd tuk me from.
“Now I knowed them thar hills war my only chance;
but I know'd, too, it 'ud take a long and a fast run,
forrerd, to el'ar the hounds so as to double on 'em and
shape my course that thar way; and I'd jest got these hyer
things all thought over like, when up rose one tremenjus
yell, like a young airthquake, and off I bolted, like a shot
from a gun, and on come the hull yelling pack arter me.
“ `Pegs,' says I, `ef you've got any respect for Bill
Lukens, do your duty now, for ef you gin in, he'll hev his
har lifted amazing!'
“And pegs did do thar duty; and sich another run you
never seed. I put on, and on, and on, as hard as I could
tear; and all the time I could hear the yells behind just
about as nigh; and I didn't dar to take a look back, for
fear some tomahawk would settle me; for I knowed they
could throw a few feet with a sartain aim.
“Arter running a good while, and finding myself still
alive and kicking, and not hearing the hounds quite so
lively-like, I jest turned my head a little, and seed as how
I'd left all but six fur back; and out of them thar six,
only one or two would be like to gin me any trouble, ef I
could hold out at the rate I war going.
“I had more hope now, and I did my best, I tell you.
into me, and kept on for nigh a half hour, doubling so as
to git my line towards the nearest wood. When I looked
back again, I seed all had gin in 'cept two; and out o'them
thar two, one war a good way behind t'other; so I knowed
it war only one arter all.
“ `Oh, ef I only had my hands loose,' says I to myself,
`I'd bet a pound o' bacca yit, that I'd fix that thar varmint;'
and so I begun to tug and pull at the thongs, till I
thought I'd cut 'em clean into the bone.
“At last they gin way, and I thought that thar war the
happiest minute I ever knowed. I hadn't nothing to brag
on yit, for I war naked, and without any weapon o' any
kind, and the devil behind me had both a knife and a tomahawk,
and he now seemed to be gaining on me at every step.
The nearer I got to the woods, the more I strained every
narve to the very wo'st; but all at once the blood
began to gush from my nose, and mouth, and ears, and
then I knowed, ef I couldn't play possum and come the
blind over the Injun, I war a gone beaver. So I kind o'
turned one eye onto him like, and made believe as I war
working harder'n ever; yit all the time slacking up a little,
so as he mought come up by degrees and not suspicion me.
Twice I seed him lift his tomahawk to throw, and twice I
got ready for a dodge; but the hound calkilated he'd got
sink it into my brain with a sartin stroke.
“As t'other one had gin out and turned back afore this,
thar warn't but one that I could fear now, and I jest made
up my mind not to die easy. I found I couldn't reach the
wood, and that thar warn't no use o' trying; and so I kept
drawing the nigger on like, till he came panting up to
within about two foot, and had got his tomahawk raised
for the blow; when fixing myself for a desperate stroke, I
wheeled sudden, bent my head down, and struck him with it
right in his meat-trap, doubling us both up together. He
struck with his tomahawk at the same moment; but being
tuk by surprise, he didn't hit me; and grappling him with
all the strength I had left, I jerked the weapon away from
him; and afore he could help hisself, I sunk it into his
brain. As he fell back, wildly feeling about for his knife
like, I drawed myself back, and keeled over on the 'arth,
a'most as dead as him.
“Wall, I laid thar till I got rested some; and then I
stripped off his b'ar skin, and wrapped it round myself, and
tuk his scalp-knife and tomahawk, and crawled off into the
woods, whar I slept over night. The next day I made
tracks for the nearest fort, feeding on roots and berries all
the way, and gitting in thar at last quite a starved-looking
human. Thar I found Fighting Pete, the old hoss, who'd
'em all as how I war `rubbed out.'
“But I warn't!” concluded Bill Lukens, knocking the
ashes from his pipe: “no, sir-ee! And now, boys, as
you've got my story, let's turn in, for we've got a heap o'
tramping to do 'arly to-morrow.”
| Bill Lukens' Run. Wild scenes on the frontiers, or, Heroes of the West | |