The Dog Crusoe and his Master - Robert Michael Ballantyne (the best electronic book reader .TXT) 📗

/>
"Yes, both of them," cried Dick, listening with intense eagerness.

"Ay. They were tied to their horses, an' from what I know of these fellows I'm sure they're doomed. But I'll help you, my friend, as well as I can. They can't be far from this. I treated my Indian's story about them as a mere fabrication, for he's the most notorious liar in my company; but he seems to have spoken truth for once."

"Thanks, thanks, good sir," cried Dick. "Had we not best turn back and follow them at once?"

"Nay, friend, not quite so fast," replied Cameron, pointing to his people. "These must be provided for first, but I shall be ready before the sun goes down. And now, as I presume you don't bivouac in the snow, will you kindly conduct us to your encampment, if it be not far hence?"

Although burning with impatience to fly to the rescue of his friends, Dick felt constrained to comply with so reasonable a request, so he led the way to his camping-place, where the band of fur-traders immediately began to pitch their tents, cut down wood, kindle fires, fill their kettles with water, cook their food, and, in fact, make themselves comfortable. The wild spot which, an hour before, had been so still, and grand, and gloomy, was now, as if by magic, transformed into a bustling village, with bright fires blazing among the rocks and bushes, and merry voices of men, women, and children ringing in the air. It seemed almost incredible, and no wonder Dick, in his bewilderment, had difficulty in believing it was not all a dream.

In days long gone by the fur-trade in that country was carried on in a very different way from the manner in which it is now conducted. These wild regions, indeed, are still as lonesome and untenanted (save by wild beasts and wandering tribes of Indians), as they were then; but the Indians of the present day have become accustomed to the "pale-faced" trader, whose little wooden forts or trading-posts are dotted here and there, at wide intervals, all over the land. But in the days of which we write it was not so. The fur-traders at that time went forth in armed bands into the heart of the Indians' country, and he who went forth did so "with his life in his hand." As in the case of the soldier who went out to battle, there was great probability that he might never return.

The band of which Walter Cameron was the chief had, many months before, started from one of the distant posts of Oregon on a hunting expedition into the then totally unknown lands of the Snake Indians. It consisted of about sixty men, thirty women, and as many children of various ages,--about a hundred and twenty souls in all. Many of the boys were capable of using the gun and setting a beaver-trap. The men were a most motley set. There were Canadians, half-breeds, Iroquois, and Scotchmen. Most of the women had Indian blood in their veins, and a few were pure Indians.

The equipment of this strange band consisted of upwards of two hundred beaver-traps--which are similar to our rat-traps, with this difference, that they have two springs and no teeth--seventy guns, a few articles for trade with the Indians, and a large supply of powder and ball; the whole--men, women, children, goods, and chattels--being carried on the backs of nearly four hundred horses. Many of these horses, at starting, were not laden, being designed for the transport of furs that were to be taken in the course of the season.

For food this adventurous party depended entirely on their guns, and during the march hunters were kept constantly out ahead. As a matter of course their living was precarious. Sometimes their kettles were overflowing; at others they scarce refrained from eating their horses. But, during the months they had already spent in the wilderness, good living had been the rule, starvation the exception. They had already collected a large quantity of beaver-skins, which at that time were among the most valuable in the market, although they are now scarcely saleable!

Having shot two wild horses, seven elks, six small deer, and four big-horned sheep, the day before they met Dick Varley, the camp-kettles were full, and the people consequently happy.

"Now, Master Dick Varley," said Cameron, touching the young hunter on the shoulder as he stood ready equipped by one of the campfires; "I'm at your service. The people won't need any more looking after to-night. I'll divide my men--thirty shall go after this rascally band of Peigans, for such I believe they are, and thirty shall remain to guard the camp. Are you ready?"

"Ready! ay, this hour past."

"Mount then, lad; the men have already been told off and are mustering down yonder where the deer gave you such a licking."

Dick needed no second bidding. He vaulted on Charlie's back and along with their commander joined the men, who were thirty as fine, hardy, reckless-looking fellows as one could desire for a forlorn hope. They were chatting and laughing while they examined their guns and saddle girths. Their horses were sorry-looking animals compared with the magnificent creature that Dick bestrode, but they were hardy, nevertheless, and well fitted for their peculiar work.

"My! wot a blazer," exclaimed a trapper as Dick rode up.

"Where you git him?" inquired a half-breed.

"I caught him," answered Dick.

"Baw!" cried the first speaker.

Dick took no notice of this last remark.

"No, did ye though?" he asked again.

"I did," answered Dick, quietly; "I creased him in the prairie--you can see the mark on his neck if you look."

The men began to feel that the young hunter was perhaps a little beyond them at their own trade, and regarded him with increased respect.

"Look sharp now, lads," said Cameron, impatiently, to several dilatory members of the band. "Night will be on us ere long."

"Who sold ye the bear-claw collar?" inquired another man of Dick.

"I didn't buy it. I killed the bear and made it."

"Did ye, though, all be yer lone?"

"Ay, that wasn't much, was it?"

"You've begun well, yonker," said a tall middle-aged hunter, whose general appearance was not unlike that of Joe Blunt. "Jest keep clear o' the Injuns an' the grog bottle an' ye've a glor'ous life before ye."

At this point the conversation was interrupted by the order being given to move on, which was obeyed in silence, and the cavalcade, descending the valley, entered one of the gorges in the mountains.

For the first half mile Cameron rode a little ahead of his men, then he turned to speak to one of them and for the first time observed Crusoe trotting close beside his master's horse.

"Ah! Master Dick," he exclaimed with a troubled expression, "that won't do. It would never do to take a dog on an expedition like this."

"Why not?" asked Dick, "the pup's quiet and peaceable."

"I doubt it not, but he will betray our presence to the Indians, which might be inconvenient."

"I've travelled more than a thousand miles through prairie and forest, among game an' among Injuns, an' the pup never betrayed me yet," said Dick, with suppressed vehemence; "he has saved my life more than once though."

"You seem to have perfect confidence in your dog, but as this is a serious matter you must not expect me to share in it without proof of his trustworthiness."

"The pup may be useful to us; how would you have it proved?" inquired Dick.

"Any way you like."

"You forgot your belt at starting, I think I heered ye say."

"Yes, I did," replied the trader, smiling.

Dick immediately took hold of Cameron's coat, and bade Crusoe smell it, which the dog did very carefully. Then he showed him his own belt and said: "Go back to the camp and fetch it, pup."

Crusoe was off in a moment, and in less than twenty minutes returned with Cameron's belt in his mouth.

"Well, I'll trust him," said Cameron, patting Crusoe's head. "Forward, lads!" and away they went at a brisk trot along the bottom of a beautiful valley on each side of which the mountains towered in dark masses. Soon the moon rose and afforded light sufficient to enable them to travel all night in the track of the Indian hunter who said he had seen the Peigans, and who was constituted guide to the party. Hour after hour the horsemen pressed on without check, now galloping over a level plain, now bounding by the banks of a rivulet, or bending their heads to escape the boughs of overhanging trees, and anon toiling slowly up among the rocks of some narrow defile. At last the moon set, and the order was given to halt in a little plain where there was wood and water.

The horses were picketted, a fire kindled, a mouthful of dried meat hastily eaten, the watch was set, and then each man scraped away the snow, spread some branches on the ground, and, wrapping himself in his blanket, went to sleep with his feet presented towards the fire.

Two hours were allowed for rest; then they were awakened, and in a few minutes were off again by the grey light of dawn. In this way they travelled two nights and a day. At the end of that time they came suddenly on a small party of nine Indians who were seated on the ground with their snow-shoes and blankets by their sides. They had evidently been taken by surprise, but they made no attempt to escape, knowing that it was useless. Each sat still with his bow and arrows between his legs on the ground ready for instant use.

As soon as Cameron spoke, however, in their own language they felt relieved and began to talk.

"Where do you come from, and what are you doing here?" asked the trader.

"We have come to trade with the white men," one of them replied, "and to hunt. We have come from the Missouri. Our country is far away."

"Do Peigans hunt with _war-arrows_?" asked Cameron, pointing to their weapons.

This question seemed to perplex them, for they saw that their interrogator knew the difference between a war and a hunting arrow--the former being barbed in order to render its extraction from the wound difficult, while the head of the latter is round and can be drawn out of game that has been killed, and used again.

"And do Peigans," continued Cameron, "come from a far country to trade with the white men _with nothing_?"

Again the Indians were silent, for they had not an article of trade about them.

Cameron now felt convinced that this party of Peigans, into whose hands Joe Blunt and Henri had fallen, were nothing else than a war-party, and that the men now before him were a scouting-party sent out from them, probably to spy out his own camp, on the trail of which they had fallen, so he said to them--

"The Peigans are not wise men, they tell lies to the traders. I will tell you that you are a war-party, and that you are only a few warriors sent out to spy the traders' camp. You have also two _Pale-face_