Life at Uphill—Our tutor—Mr Mark Tidey’s first lesson in Horsemanship—Studies from the book of Nature—Our trips westward—A Strange Combat—A Hasty Shot—Something worth knowing about Snakes—Camping out—The Bear’s visit and its result—Wolves—Drawing lots—A Sleepless Night—Timely Assistance—Dying from Hunger—Consequences of sheltering a Runaway Slave—Our Tutor turns Nurse—Chances of Discovery—We part Company—A mid-day Halt—An Unpleasant Meeting—The Bully receives a Lesson—Our March Homewards—The Way Dan kept Watch—We reach the Farm. (continued 4)

Dan was in high spirits.

“Even if we do fall in with any Indians, we shall be able to give a good account of them, I hope,” he said, laughing; “they would be bold fellows to attempt attacking five well-mounted men.”

Dan stood up in his stirrups, and looked as big as he could.

Mr Tidey smiled, and observed, “You have the heart of a giant, Dan, though I don’t know that a red warrior would reckon you as a man.”

“But I can fire a rifle and pistol, and my bullets may tell as well as those of bigger people,” answered Dan, a little indignant at the remark.

We had determined to go farther from the fort than we had hitherto done, as the game in the wood we had before hunted in had become scarce, frightened away by the report of our fire-arms. As we proceeded, we found the traces of deer become more and more abundant. Frequently we came suddenly upon one, which started off before we could get a shot. Now and then we caught sight of a long file of antelopes, who, however, took care to keep out of our way, and we might as well have chased the wind as have attempted to overtake them on horseback. It was curious to observe the manner they imitated the movements of their leader. Sometimes he would turn round his white breast, and then exhibit his red flank, when at the same moment a whole line of white breasts or red flanks were to be seen. Then he would stop, when they would all stop at once; then he would stamp and advance a step, they all, obedient to the signal, doing the same. The Dominie remarked that it reminded him of when he was at school and he and his companions played follow my leader. Again the headmost animal would wheel to the right, as did his followers. At last, carrying on this game for some time, they suddenly winded us and away they all scampered as fast as their agile legs would carry them, like clouds before the gale.

Although game was thus abundant on the open prairie, we were as well aware that we should not load our horses, unless we took proper measures to get near the deer; as the angler is, who sees the fish leap through the calm surface of a lake in the bright sunshine, that he will not fill his basket if he does not use the right bait.

There was a wood away to the right, which would, we hoped, afford us an ambush and enable us to conceal our steeds. We accordingly rode towards it. As we were moving along the Dominie suddenly pulled up.

“Look at that trail,” he said; “that is not the foot-mark of a deer, or buffalo, or a wolf. If ever I saw the print of a moccasin, that is one. See, however, the toes are pointing from the wood, though the red-skin, when he found that he was stepping on soft ground, sprang back, but probably did not think it worth while to obliterate the mark.”

“Possibly there was only a single hunter, and he can do us no harm, even if he should desire it,” I observed; “perhaps indeed, that is the print of a white man’s foot, for many wear moccasins, even in summer.”

We searched about, but although we discovered several marks which we believed were produced by human feet, we could not be certain. Had an Indian been with us he would have solved the question in a minute. We therefore remounted, and believing that we were not likely to fall in with enemies, continued our course.

We soon reached the wood, which was very similar in character to the one we had before hunted in, with an undergrowth of willows near a stream, while in other places were clumps of wild rose trees, still covered with bloom. Penetrating into the wood, we selected a spot for our camp, where we could leave our horses under charge of Martin and Dan while we went in search of game. In a short time we reached the borders of a glade, in which, from the appearance of the grass, we hoped to see some deer browsing.

After proceeding some distance we caught sight of a herd at the farther end coming leisurely own towards us, cropping the grass on their way. The wind blowing from them to us, we settled to remain concealed behind some thick bushes until they should come within range of our rifles. Presently a fine stag advanced ahead of the herd. He halted when still too far off to give us a hope of killing him. His movements were singular, as he pawed the ground and butted with his horns. The reason of this was soon apparent, for from the opposite side another stag issued forth from among the trees, and advanced rapidly towards him. On seeing his antagonist, the first rushed to meet him, and the two stags engaged in a fierce combat. We might possibly have got close enough to shoot both, but by so doing we should have lost our chance of killing any of the rest of the herd, whose flesh was of more value than that of the old stags.

We were waiting the issue of the battle, supposing that the deer would then approach, when we heard a shot and caught sight of a number of animals scampering across the glade. The report of the gun came from an opposite direction to that of our camp. For an instant I thought that Dio must have crept away, but looking round I saw that he was close to us, the shot must therefore have been fired by a stranger, who could not have been aware of our vicinity. Fearing to lose the stags, we sprang forward; at the same time our two dogs dashed out. Mr Tidey aimed at one of the animals and I at the other. Though both fell, each creature, under the belief that his hurt had been received from his antagonist, though brought to the ground, continued to butt furiously at the other, until the dogs came up, and they turned their rage towards them. We stopped to reload and call off the dogs, for fear of their being injured. But the stags were fast succumbing from loss of blood; and getting up to them, we put an end to their struggles.

We were still standing over their bodies, forgetting for a moment the shot we had heard, when Dio shouted out—

“See dare, see dare!”

Looking up the glade, we saw a man in hunter’s garb, who, having sprang out of the wood, had seized by the horns a wounded deer which was endeavouring to escape. The animal was making violent efforts to release itself, throwing back its head in a way which made it difficult for him to hold on. To protect himself he lifted up his rifle; one of the deer’s hoofs missed him, but the other struck his weapon, and breaking his ramrod, brought him down on his knees. The creature was now about to renew the attack and a blow from his hoof might have shattered his skull, or at least have seriously injured him. Not a moment was to be lost. Scarcely thinking of the danger I ran of wounding the stranger, I lifted my rifle and fired, when the deer bounding up fell lifeless on its back. The stranger, rising from his knees, advanced towards us. He was a good-looking youngish man, though his face, naturally fair, was bronzed by summer suns and winter blasts. He was dressed in a blue blanket coat trimmed with red, a cloth cap of the same colour, with a broad peak, and ornamented moccasins. An axe and long knife were stuck in his belt; he had a serviceable-looking rifle in his hand, and behind his shoulders was strapped a pack, containing his buffalo robe and blanket, some provisions apparently; and several other requisite articles. He put out his hand in a frank manner as he walked up to Mr Tidey.

“You have done me a service, friend; for that animal showed more fight than I expected, and might have injured me severely had not your shot taken effect, though it narrowly missed my head, I suspect.”

“Very glad to have been of use to you, but here’s the person you should thank,” said the Dominie, pointing to me.

“I confess that it would have been more prudent not to have fired, for fear of hitting you,” I answered as he shook me by the hand.

“Though it was a risk, I am equally thankful. The shot was well aimed, and you have the right to the venison, my young friend,” he said, looking at me.

We told him that we had no wish to deprive him of it, but he insisted that the deer should be ours. We settled the point, however, by making him take a haunch, which was all he would accept.

We now sent off Dio to bring up the horses, that we might load them with the meat: we in the meantime set to work to flay and cut up the animals, assisted by the stranger.

“You will come to our camp and pass the night with us,” said the Dominie as we were thus engaged.

To our surprise the stranger declined our invitation.

“I should prove but a poor companion, for I have been too long accustomed to live by myself to have any desire to join the society of my fellows,” he answered, turning aside; “if I find that you are exposed to danger from the redskins, I will give you warning, and may be of assistance in enabling you to escape from them.”

We in vain pressed him to alter his decision. He waited until the horses arrived, and having assisted us in packing the meat, took his own share, put up in a piece of skin, and after bidding us farewell went off in an opposite direction to our camp. We had forgotten to mention the mark of the moccasin we had seen in the morning, but we had little doubt that the stranger had gone over the ground, and our apprehensions of Indians being in the neighbourhood were dispelled. We, however, kept as usual a strict watch at night. As our camp was placed in the recesses of the wood, we knew that our fire could not be perceived at any distance beyond it.

As we sat round the cheerful blaze of the fire, we naturally talked of the stranger, wondering who he could be. His dress was that of a Canadian trapper, but he spoke without any French accent, and the Dominie remarked that he recognised a touch of the Irish brogue on his tongue.

“It is odd that he should prefer camping out by himself, to joining us, when he might sleep in much greater security than he can all alone,” I observed.

“Tastes differ, and although it is not complimentary to us, he may prefer his own society to ours,” answered the Dominie, laughing.

“Perhaps he is on bad terms with the garrison of the fort, and consequently does not wish to associate with us, because we have been staying there,” remarked Dan.

“It may be that he has shot one of them, or sided with the Indians, or has committed some offence against the Government,” said Martin.

“We might talk all night, and yet come to no satisfactory conclusion,” replied the Dominie, “and now, it’s time to turn in, to be ready for our work to-morrow morning.”

We accordingly lay down wrapped in our blankets round the fire, Martin taking the first watch.

Chapter Ten.

A timely warning—The pursuit—Indian horsemen—The cavalry engagement—A sharp skirmish—Dio saves my father’s life—Preparations for continuing our journey—I encounter the solitary hunter—Useful information—Rejoin the train—First sight of the mountains—The “grosse corne”—Looking out for a pass—Mouth of the cañon discovered—A gloomy passage—Overtaken by darkness in the gorge—First glimpse of “Smiling Valley”—Selection of the site of our future home—Bringing the waggons over the mountains.

The stars were shining brightly in the sky, the fire casting a glare on the trunks and branches of the surrounding trees beyond which was darkest gloom, when having been aroused by the Dominie, I took the morning watch.

No sound broke the stillness which reigned through the forest at that period of the night. Feeling still drowsy, and afraid of dropping off to sleep again should I sit down, I continued pacing backwards and forwards, now approaching one side of the glade, now the other, occasionally giving the fire a poke, or throwing on a few sticks. Though I had no fear of Indians, a bear or panther, or a pack of hungry wolves, might pay us a visit, attracted by the smell of the venison which was packed and ready for transport. As the trees shut out the view to the eastward, I could only judge when day was approaching by observing the stars beginning to grow dim. I had gone farther than usual from the camp-fire, towards the west, when, as I stopped for a moment, I thought I heard a sound among the underwood in that direction, as of branches pushed aside and feet pressed on dry leaves.

Expecting to see some animal break through, I brought my gun ready to shoot, when much to my surprise a man stepped forth from out of the darkness.

Supposing him to be an Indian and that he might be followed by a number of others with scalping-knives in their hands, I slowly retreated, holding my gun ready for action.

“Do not fire, my friend,” said a voice which I recognised as that of the stranger we had met the previous day. “I come as I promised, to give you warning should you be in danger. I have discovered that a party of redskins are out on the war-path, and that you are certain to fall in with them should you continue hunting. I would advise you forthwith to saddle your horses and return to the fort.”

I thanked the stranger for his information and instantly aroused my companions; he repeated what he had said to Mr Tidey, advising him to lose no time in starting.

“I will guide you by the shortest cut out of the wood,” he said; “after that you must push on as fast as your horses can go, and you may keep ahead of the savages, who are now away to the westward, but will soon discover your trail, and seeing that you are a small party, will be certain to follow you up.” The idea for a moment glanced across my mind that perhaps the stranger wished to get rid of us, for the sake of having all the sport to himself, but his frank air and the earnest tone in which he spoke made me banish the suspicion. Without a moment’s delay all hands set to work to get ready for starting, our friend energetically assisting us. Our pack-animals were soon ready and our steeds saddled.

“Now we will be off,” said the stranger, and going ahead he led the way, winding in and out among the trees at so rapid a rate, that we could with difficulty keep him in sight. Every now and then he turned, however, to ascertain that we were following. He evidently seemed to consider that not a moment was to be lost. At length the border of the wood was gained.

“You can make your way now by yourselves,” he said; “the dawn will soon break, and the rising sun will serve to guide you. Keep slightly to the right, and you will pass the confines of the next wood. The ground is even for some miles, and if you press forward as fast as your horses can go, I trust that you may keep ahead of your enemies. They are sure to discover your trail, and therefore, although you may not see them, when looking behind, you must not venture to halt. Whether they intend to attack the fort, I cannot say, but it is as well that the garrison should be on the alert.”

We thanked him heartily for the important service he had rendered us.

“But will you not come with us,” said Mr Tidey; “you yourself may be exposed to danger from the Indians.”

“I have been too long in their territory to have any fear on that score, and know their ways well enough to avoid them,” he answered; “but time is precious; give your horses the rein. On, on!”

Waving his hand as a farewell, he retreated again into the wood: when I again looked round he was not to be seen. We galloped forward, the Dominie, Martin, and Dio leading the pack-animals, which as they were lightly laden, kept up with us; Dan and I rode alongside each other ahead of the rest.

“This is capital fun!” cried my young brother; “I would not have missed it on any account. I only wish that fine fellow had been with us, and should we be overtaken by the Indians; we might face about and drive them back.”

“If we are overtaken, we shall have to do that at all events,” I replied; “but I hope that we may not be compelled to fight them, and I have no wish to hear their war-whoops in our rear.”

I was not at all certain, however, that those unpleasant sounds would not reach our ears before we gained the fort. I knew the rate at which the half-naked savages could scour across the prairie, and when once they got on our trail, they would, I was convinced, press on at their utmost speed. But darkness favoured us for some time, though we ran the risk of one of our horses stepping into a hole or stumbling over the skeleton of a buffalo or deer, numbers of which strewed the plain. At length the first streaks of dawn appeared ahead; the light rapidly increased and the sun which was to guide us rose above the horizon.

Our horses kept up their speed, seeming to be well aware that an enemy was behind them. My eyes being dazzled by the bright beams of the sun, I could scarcely see the way, and had to shade them with my hand, while I bent forward towards my horse’s neck.

After a few seconds I made out the wood on our left, and knew that we were pursuing a right course.

Few words were exchanged by any of the party: at last Dan cried out that he was getting very hungry, and proposed to stop for breakfast.

“Our scalps are of more value than the refreshing of our inward man,” answered the Dominie. “We must not think of breakfast, dinner, or supper, until we get inside the fort, and then we will take all three in one. Go on, lads, go on.”

Urging on our horses, we had already reached the ground over which we had previously hunted on our first expedition, and knew the way perfectly, but still the fort was far distant, and we could not yet distinguish the flag which waved above it.

“We shall get in safe enough now, and perhaps be laughed at for running away from an imaginary foe,” cried Dan.

I was about to answer, when Dio, who had turned in his saddle to look behind him, exclaimed—

“Dare am de Indians. I see de heads of dem an’ de horses ’bove de green grass far ’way.”

We all looked, to be certain that the black was right. There could be no doubt about the matter. To escape them by concealing ourselves was impossible, even though the sun might have prevented them as yet from seeing us.

They had got hold of our trail and were following that up. All we could do was to trust to the fleetness of our steeds and endeavour to reach the fort before they should overtake us. Martin proposed that we should let go the laden animals as they detained us considerably.

“We will not do that until the enemy are much nearer than they are now,” answered the Dominie. “On, boys, on! we will still keep ahead of them.”

We used our spurs and whips to encourage our poor beasts, which were already showing signs of “knocking-up.”

From a glance I took of the pursuing foe, I saw that they were a large band, against whom it would be useless to make a stand. If overtaken they would to a certainty kill us for the sake of our scalps. They were getting nearer and nearer; I looked out anxiously for the fort. At length the flag appeared in sight; it was a cheering spectacle.

“Oh, massa, massa, go on!” I heard Dio cry out in an anxious tone. I turned round; it seemed to me that already the savages were almost near enough to reach us with their arrows. None of us required urging, but our panting beasts could scarcely keep their legs. A few moments more and we might have a shower of missiles whizzing about our heads. On we went until we could see the top of the stockades and the buildings in the fort. Still the Indians followed, their dreadful war-whoop burst on our ears, making our horses tremble. It was enough to do so, for no more terrific sound had I ever heard. At length, when it seemed that we had no chance of escaping, I saw the gate of the fort open, and a party of horsemen streaming forth came galloping towards us: the Indians saw them too. They approached, and as they did so opened their ranks to let us pass through them, and then with a loud cheer, dashing forward, they charged the enemy. The savages wheeled and fled, but before the troopers could get up to them the recall was sounded. The commandant evidently well knew the danger of pursuing so wily a foe, who only fled that they might turn round at a favourable moment, or that they might lead their pursuers into an ambush. Soon after the trumpet-call had been heard and the cavalry had begun to retire, a far larger band than those who had followed us appeared on the brow of a hill about half a mile to the southward.

One of the men cried out that, from their dress and appearance, they were Cheyennes and Arapahoes, first-rate horsemen. We could see them clearly against the sky flourishing their spears, their chiefs riding backwards and forwards in front of their ranks, evidently encouraging them to come on and attack us. These “buffalo Indians,” as they are called, from spending their time in chase of the shaggy monsters of the prairie, are accustomed to the saddle from their childhood. They use no reins, but guide their horses by pressing their heels on whichever side they wish them to turn, consequently both hands and arms are free to use their weapons as may be requisite. They carry long spears and powerful bows, which can shoot their arrows to a great distance, and in their belts tomahawks, with which they can deal the most deadly blows in a hand to hand combat. In battle they secure themselves to their saddles, so that they can bend down on their horses’ sides, and thus entirely hide themselves from the view of their enemies, as they dash forward in the fight, thus also avoiding the bullets aimed at them. Even when wounded they are carried away off the field, unless their steeds are shot down. Our small party of retreating cavalry did not at first perceive the enemy gathering in their rear, until the trumpet again sounded, when they halted and faced about. It was not a moment too soon. Scarcely had they done so, than down swept the savages like a whirlwind towards them, led by a tall chief with a plume of dark feathers waving above his head, on a white horse, whooping and shrieking in the most diabolical manner. We could see their faces through our glasses, and fierce and terrible they looked, as they held their lances poised, or their bows bent ready to shoot as they got within range. Our rear-guard, who were acting as skirmishers, fired, and then fell back on the main body, with the exception of two or three, who as they were retreating fell pierced by arrows shot at them from the ranks of the approaching enemy. Our cavalry were far outnumbered.

On came the savages, a flight of arrows filled the air, and then, with reiterated whoops and shrieks, the Indians swooped down upon us. With sorrow, not unallied with dismay, we saw several of our friends fall from their saddles, while every trooper was engaged in a deadly struggle with a dozen foes. Amid the smoke of the fire-arms, we could see the spears thrusting, sabres and tomahawks gleaming, pistols flashing, horses plunging and rearing, while shouts and cries rent the air. It was too evident that our party were getting the worst of it and were being forced back, over the ground towards the fort. Fresh hordes were seen coming on, probably those who had before retreated. Again the trumpet sounded the recall. The commandant now summoned every available man in the fort; some to garrison the pits, others to advance to the support of the cavalry.

We had dismounted and were soon joined by my father and Uncle Denis, with about twenty men led by the commandant himself. We advanced rapidly in two parties, so as to allow the troopers to pass between us. My father took command of one of the parties. As we advanced we could see horses and men struggling on the ground, many pierced through and through with arrows; the tall chief stooping down from his horse, seized one poor fellow and lifting him up, struck him a deadly blow with his tomahawk and then hurled him back lifeless.

Some of the troopers, unable to extricate themselves, were still fighting bravely and dearly selling their lives, while those who could, obeying the recall, came galloping back. The Indians, now seeing us advance, the tall chief, dashing forward, with poised spear, was about to pierce my father, when Dio lifted his rifle and fired. The warrior bent forward, the blood gushing from his mouth, but still coming on, when the black, seizing the sabre of a fallen soldier, struck him on the side and his body fell, his hands touching the ground, while his legs remained lashed to the saddle. The cross-fire, which, at the word of command, was poured in on the ranks of the savages, stopped their onward course. A successful attempt was made, however, to recover the body of their chief, and his horse though wounded, wheeling round, was seized by one of the band and carried off, in spite of the bullets aimed at him. We continued pouring in volley after volley, until the Indians were beyond our range, but our men fired too high and but few saddles were emptied after the retreat began.

The battle had been terribly severe, and we had to mourn the loss of nearly a dozen men killed and as many wounded. Those who had fallen were dreadfully mutilated by the savages. Horses and riders had been stripped of their trappings and clothes, most of the men scalped, with terrible gashes on their bodies, while all around, the trampled blood-stained ground showed the fierce struggle which had taken place before our brave fellows had succumbed. Severe as had been our loss, a still greater number of the Indians must have been killed, although the majority had been carried out. None of our party who had gone out on foot had suffered, shewing how much wiser it would have been had the garrison remained in the fort, without attempting to pursue the enemy. The object of the commandant, however, had been to drive the savages to a distance, and to show them that the white men were as ready to meet them in the open, as within the protection of the stockades.

We watched the enemy as they rode slowly back over the hill, carrying their dead and wounded. Though defeated, we could not be at all certain that they would not renew the attack during the night. The belief, however, was, that dispirited by the loss of their chief, they would, with blackened faces, be mourning for his death and that of the rest of the warriors who had fallen, instead of thinking of more fighting.

“It is sad work,” observed my father, as we returned from burying our poor fellows; “the Indians act, of course, according to their instinct, and consider themselves justified in attacking the forts and trains of the white men, whom they see advancing to take possession of their hunting-grounds. I wish that means could be found to induce them to remain at peace with us, but though over and over again they have signed treaties they have broken through them whenever they have fancied that they could gain an advantage by so doing. I do not mean to say for one moment that the white men are not to blame; they have too often deceived the Indians and have driven them without compunction from the region they once called their own. If I could discover a tribe whose confidence in the pale-faces, as they call us, has not been abused, I would settle down among them and endeavour by kindness and justice to work upon their better feelings and induce them to become friends.”

The garrison remained under arms during the night, but it passed off in quietness, and the next day the scouts who went out reported that the enemy had moved off to a distance. It was hoped that their chief, who had instigated them to attack the fort, being dead, they would be inclined in the future to leave it unmolested.

We were now all fully prepared to continue our journey, still, anxious as was my father to proceed, he was unwilling to expose my mother and the rest of us to the dangers we might have to encounter. On finding that the country to the westward was at present free from hostile Indians, we made several hunting expeditions, by which we supplied ourselves and the fort with fresh provisions. While one day in chase of a deer which I had wounded, I got separated from my companions. The animal plunged into a willow brake, and I thought had escaped me. Finding, however, an opening in the wood, I made my way through it, on the chance of coming again upon the deer. Calculating the course it was likely to take, I pushed forward so as to cross it. Coming upon several splashes of blood, which showed me the direction the deer had gone, I was following up the trail, when just before me a person rose suddenly from behind a bush, and to my surprise I recognised the solitary hunter. I rode towards him, putting out my hand: “I am glad to meet you again,” I said; “though I little expected to do so: I wish to thank you for the warning you gave us; had it not been for you, we should probably have been killed by the Indians.”

“I require no thanks,” he answered somewhat coldly.

“We gave the Cheyennes and Arapahoes a lesson they will not forget, and have been able to hunt since without fear of interruption,” I observed.

I asked him whether he considered that our train could pass on towards the Rocky Mountains without the risk of being attacked.

“If you make haste, you may get through; but you must not idle on the way,” he answered; “the savages have united in a grand expedition against the forts to the southward, and although they will probably be defeated, it will give them employment for some time to come.”

This was satisfactory intelligence. I thanked him for it. I then asked him if he had seen a wounded deer pass that way.

“There lies your game,” he answered, leading me forward, where behind a bush I saw the animal I had wounded. “I was employed in cutting it up when you appeared,” he added; “although I brought it to the ground, your shot enabled me to kill it, and it is therefore yours. I will help you to load your horse with the meat.”

I in vain attempted to induce him to take the whole or a portion. “No, no,” he answered, “I have but one mouth to feed, while you have a garrison to support,” and he continued his task.

“You may have some difficulty in finding your companions,” he observed, when my horse was loaded; “I will lead you to them.”

We set off together. After going some distance he stopped, and, shaking me by the hand, said—

“Go on there, you will soon find your friends; but you need not mention having met with me.”

This remark convinced me more than ever that the stranger had some reason for not wishing to have any intercourse with the garrison. I wished him “good-bye,” and he plunging into the forest, I soon rejoined my companions.

We returned with a large supply of venison. My father, to whom I privately communicated the information I had received from the stranger, announced his intention of setting out next morning.

The harness during our stay had been put in good order. My horse, thanks to the remedies applied by the surgeon, had completely recovered, and we purchased another for Dio.

Everything being ready at the time appointed, we recommenced our journey, saluted by the cheers of the garrison. Our course was now towards the north-west, which would lead us across the Laramie plains, over a range of the Rocky Mountains, beyond which my father expected from the report of hunters and trappers to find a fertile region, in which he would be content to establish himself. We had added, I should have said, two light carts, in which we intended to transport the cargoes of the waggons, should we find it impossible to drag them when laden over the heights. As we travelled on I fully expected to fall in with the stranger, but day after day went by and he did not make his appearance. Following the advice given, we halted only to rest our animals. On such occasions we employed the time in hunting, and seldom returned without a supply of either buffalo meat or venison. The Indians we met with appeared disposed to be friendly, or at all events, seeing our large well-armed party, and the vigilant watch we kept, they did not venture to interfere with us. We were approaching the range it was our purpose to cross. We had heard that many of the heights were of great elevation, but that there were passages or cañons between them, through which we might make our way, provided no enemy should appear to impede our progress. We had during the last day caught sight of what appeared a bank of white clouds, their outer edges lighted up by the rays of the sun. During, however, the next couple of days’ journey a light mist hung over the country, which prevented us from seeing objects at a distance. Having no longer the fear of Indians, the Dominie, Dan, and I frequently went ahead, sometimes on horseback and sometimes on foot, for the purpose of killing game or exploring the way. Thus one day, the ground being rugged and the waggons making but slow progress, we had proceeded some distance further than usual when we caught sight, on the top of a rock, of an animal with long horns, which Dan declared was a sheep, and which I thought was a deer.

“Dan is more nearly right, for it is the sheep of these mountains, but in its habits it is very like the chamois of Switzerland,” observed the Dominie; “we have very little chance of getting that fellow, but we may kill others if we are on the watch for them. It is the big-horn, or ‘grosse corne,’ as the French call it, of the Rocky Mountains. It has already seen us, and away it goes to some place where it knows we cannot reach it.”

I may as well say that this wild sheep is of stout build, and has feet stronger and larger than those of the deer. Its light dusky brown colour is similar to the tint of the rocks among which it lives. About its ears and neck and legs it carries a small quantity of wool, the rest of its coat consisting of coarse hair, white on the rump, while the tail is tipped with black. Both the male and female have horns, those of the former being remarkable for their enormous size, while those of the latter somewhat resemble the horns of the ordinary goat. The horns of some of the sheep we afterwards killed measured upwards of two feet six inches in length. The head is provided with cartilaginous processes of great strength, and they with the frontal bone form one strong mass of so solid a nature that the animal can, when making his escape, fling himself on his head from considerable heights without injury.

We watched the big-horn as it bounded away, until it speedily disappeared.

Almost immediately afterwards the mist lifted, and we saw before us a range of mountains with a snow-capped peak, apparently of great elevation, rising beyond them, while at their foot slept a lake of clear water, shining like a polished mirror in the rays of the sun.

“What! shall we have to cross all those mountains?” exclaimed Dan, “we shall be brought to a stand-still, I fear.”

“We shall have to get through them somehow or other, but I hope that a passage may be found up a cañon, between the rocky heights, so that we shall not be compelled to climb over their tops,” answered Mr Tidey. “The sooner, however, we get back to camp and look out for the required pass the better. It may take us some days, and as the season is advancing there is no time to be lost.”

We accordingly turned back, and on reaching the train found that the mountains were as clearly visible as from where we had first seen them. Near at hand was a rocky height, to the top of which my father and uncle climbed with us, carrying their spy-glasses that they might take a view of the range, and endeavour to discover some opening through which we might hope to make our way.

“Others have gone through yonder rocky barrier, and so may we,” said my father, sweeping the range from north to south with his telescope. After surveying the mountain for some time, he exclaimed, “I see what looks like a cañon where the cliffs appear to rise almost perpendicularly out of the plain. We will direct our course towards it. We shall not reach it to-night, but we will explore it with our carts to-morrow morning, while we leave the waggons in a safe position, so that they may be effectually defended should any Indians venture to attack them, though I have no apprehensions on that score.”

The plan being arranged, we returned to the train, and, verging to the right, moved towards the gap my father had discovered. We reached one end of the lake which we had seen in the morning, and as the sun had already disappeared over the mountains, a halt was called, and we encamped in our usual fashion. We chose a spot with the lake to the south; on one side a rocky height rose precipitously out of the water, on the other was a thick wood; we had thus two sides of the camp strongly defended by nature, and by throwing up a breastwork round the other two sides the camp might be made as strong as could be required. Although an enemy might climb to the top of the rock, yet by posting a couple of men there with rifles, it might be defended against a whole host of foes. The wood being but a short distance off from which the timber required could be obtained, all hands setting to work, before dark the camp was as strongly fortified as we thought requisite.

It was the first time for many days that we had enjoyed a feeling of perfect security. Dio had lighted a fire a little apart from that of the men, that its smoke might keep off the flies, which were inclined to be troublesome. To utilise it, he had hung up one of our pots to boil. Kathleen, being somewhat tired, was asleep in our waggon, while my mother and Lily were seated on the ground near it. Boxer and Toby lay a short distance off, as Lily said, looking at themselves in the lake, into which the oxen, having taken their fill of the luscious grass growing on the bank, had come down to drink.

My father, accompanied by Dan and me, having made a circuit of the camp, to see that all was right, had just joined my mother. Dio, who had been attending to the pot, drew my father aside, to propound some knotty point with regard to the waggon which was under his especial charge, while Dan threw himself down by our mother, to have a game of play with Lily, Rose and Biddy being at a little distance off, busily washing clothes in the lake and singing at the top of their voices, the one a negro, the other an Irish melody, the result, as may be supposed, far from melodious, each stopping, however, every now and then to exchange jokes with the men who happened to be passing near them.

That evening-scene in our camp near the mountains made an impression on me, which is as vivid at the present day as then, and I describe it more perhaps for my own gratification than for any it may afford the readers of my journal.

The next morning we set off on our expedition, Martin Prentis being left in charge of the camp. Our exploring party consisted of my father, Uncle Denis, Mr Tidey, Dan, and I, Dio, and two of the men. My mother begged that she might go with us, and as she would not leave the two little girls behind, Biddy came to assist in taking care of them. We carried one tent, with provisions and everything requisite for forming a camp, so that we might send the empty carts back to bring on more stores, should we find that we could not get the heavy waggons through. Though the ground at a distance appeared to be level, we had a considerable ascent to make before we reached the foot of the cliffs. As we looked ahead, it seemed impossible that we should ever get through the massive rocks piled up before us, but my father, confident that an opening would be found, persevered, and at length we saw some way off, what looked a mere cleft in the rock.

“That’s the mouth of the cañon,” he exclaimed, “though it seems so narrow, it is wide enough for our cart-wheels and that is all we require.”

We eagerly pressed forward and in a short time entered a gloomy defile where the rocks towered up on either side, and in some places hung completely over our heads, but as they had stood for centuries, we had no fear of their tumbling down while we were passing beneath them.

On and on we went, the rocks becoming higher and higher, and forming precipitous cliffs, their summits many hundred feet above us. It was evident that the mountain had been rent asunder by some mighty earthquake without the assistance of water.

The ground on which we travelled rose but slightly. As we continued our course the scenery became more gloomy and barren, and, except on the ground beneath our feet, scarcely a blade of grass or plant of any description was to be seen growing in the clefts of the dark and sombre rocks. The atmosphere, seldom warmed by the rays of the sun, felt chilly in the extreme, and depressed our spirits, and had it not been for the assurance of my father, that we should discover an outlet on the other side, some of the party would, I think, have turned back, under the belief that we should only arrive at last before some vast cavern, or towering cliff, beyond which all further progress would be barred. Even the Dominie, I saw, did not half like it, but he was too much attached to my father to hesitate about proceeding. Our chief anxiety was about water, as yet not a single cascade had we met with, nor the smallest rivulet trickling down the sides of the mountains. So lofty were the rocks, that we could nowhere see even the tops of the mountains above us. We concluded that we were at some distance from the snowy peak we had discovered the day before, which would probably have sent down a stream to afford us the water we required. We stopped to rest at noon, where the gorge opened out slightly and the ground bore a sufficient amount of grass to enable our horses to crop a scanty meal. As we were anxious to get into a more fertile region before nightfall, we did not remain longer than was necessary. The shades of evening came on far sooner than would have been the case in the plain. The cliffs rose on every hand, towering as high, or even higher, than at the entrance of the gorge. Unwilling to encamp in a place where we could get neither fire nor water, Mr Tidey and I volunteered to push on ahead, hoping that we might find a pleasanter spot for camping than in the narrow defile, even though we might not succeed in altogether emerging from the pass. We hurried on as long as a ray of light penetrated into the gorge, but at length it became so dark that we could scarcely see a yard before us. Were we to proceed further we might knock our heads against a rock or fall into some yawning chasm.

“Stop, Mike!” said my companion, “better to suffer present evil, than to rush into greater we know not of. We must return to our friends, if we don’t break our heads in the meantime, and advise them forthwith to come to a halt.”

So pitchy was the darkness, that we could not see the rocks on either hand, and we were afraid, should we stumble or turn round by any chance, that we might be going away from, instead of nearing our friends. In vain we looked up to catch sight of a star by which we might have guided ourselves, but not a single one could we see.

“It won’t do to halt here,” observed the Dominie; “depend upon it, the captain has come to a stand-still long ago.”

Every now and then we stopped and shouted as we groped our way forward, but no answer came, and at last I began to picture to myself all sorts of accidents which might have happened to my family. Perhaps their footsteps had been dogged by the Indians, or a rock had fallen and crushed them, or the horses, suffering from want of water, had sunk down exhausted.

When I mentioned my apprehensions to Mr Tidey, he laughed at me, and tried to dispel them. “The thing is, Mike, we came over the road in daylight, and we are now going back in the dark, and whereas we were walking four miles an hour, we are now progressing at a quarter that speed.”

Still, I was not convinced, and dreaded that at any instant we might come upon the dead bodies of our friends.

Again and again I shouted out. How my heart bounded when I at length heard my father’s cheery voice replying to our hail. Turning an angle of the pass I saw the light of a fire, by the side of which I could distinguish the carts, the white tent, and the figures of our friends. Guided by the blaze, we soon reached the little encampment. My father and Uncle Denis were as glad to get us back as we were to return, though we had no satisfactory intelligence to communicate. Dio had found some bushes, from which the fuel for our fire had been procured and what was of of equal consequence, a small pool of water, to which our thirsty cattle had been led to drink.

“Had we pushed on we should have missed it, so that we must not grumble at being detained in the pass,” observed my father.

“Provided no storm comes on until we are clear of it,” remarked Uncle Denis; “however, we will not anticipate evils.”

So soundly did I sleep, after the fatigues of the evening, that Uncle Denis had to give me a pretty rough shake, and then looking up, I saw that it was daylight overhead, though it was still almost dark in the depths of the pass.

We lost no time, as soon as breakfast was over, in moving on, hoping that before long we should emerge into the open country. For hours we trudged on, ascending but slightly, and the horses had no difficulty in dragging up the carts, when suddenly the bright glare of daylight appeared before us and we found ourselves looking down on a broad valley bathed in sunlight, but with another range of mountains beyond. The sides sloped gradually towards a sparkling stream which flowed at the bottom, clothed with rich vegetation. Was this valley to be our home, or were we to cross the second range, into a still more fertile region?

“This is just the sort of spot we have been looking for, and I hope my father will stop here!” I exclaimed to Mr Tidey, with whom I was walking.

“Very good possibly, but where are we to find a market for our produce? Unless there is a pass through the second range, no emigrant trains are likely to come this way, and I do not think your father or any other sensible man would wish to exclude himself from the rest of the world, though undoubtedly we might manage to exist if big-horns, and deer, and buffalo are to be found in the neighbourhood.”

When my father came up, he stopped and surveyed the valley.

“Its beauty consists in its contrast to the dark gorge we have passed through,” he remarked; “see those black rocks cropping up in all directions through the grass: the soil is of but little depth, and we could nowhere find an acre of arable land.”

Uncle Denis agreed with him, but observed that it would be as well to camp in the valley, for the sake of giving the horses a good feed, while we searched a passage either through or over the next range.

I should occupy too much space, were I minutely to describe the next few days’ journey, the steeps we climbed up, the descents we made, now keeping along the edge of a roaring torrent, now ascending by the brink of precipices, over which there appeared a great risk of the carts and horses falling to the bottom.

Still we worked our onward way, my father being confident that we should encounter no insuperable obstacles. We had climbed to a height early in the day, from which, through his glass, he had obtained a view over the region we had to pass. Though wild and rugged in the extreme, it was of no great elevation.

“If we cannot get through in one direction, we may in another,” he remarked.

Twice we had to return for some distance the way we had come, but perseverance conquered all difficulties, and at length we gained a ridge, far away beyond which we saw stretching a magnificent country, a stream flowing down from the mountains, a wide extent of prairie, a shining lake, and an extensive forest, with trees of giant growth. We had only to descend to take possession of any spot on which we might fix for our future residence. The stream and lake would afford us fish, herds of deer browsed on the rich grass, and far away we caught sight of some buffaloes, while numerous “big-horns” were seen bounding amid the crags on either side.

Another day was spent before we were fairly in the valley, but my father and Uncle Denis agreed that we were well repaid for the toil we had gone through. They selected a spot for our habitation on the side of a hill, sloping gradually up from the stream, where we might be out of the reach of its swelling waters and yet make use of it for irrigating the land. We at once pitched my mother’s tent, and set to work to cut down timber for a log hut for ourselves. As soon as this was done, I and two of the men were despatched by my father to fetch more of our stores, or to bring on the waggons, should we find a more practicable road than the one by which we had come. I felt duly proud of the important charge committed to me, and set off in high spirits.

By keeping more to the left than we had done, I was fortunate enough to discover a road over which I felt sure that the waggons could make their way, and once more, after three days’ journey, we entered the valley which had at first so enchanted me. It now wore a very different aspect to my eyes. The sky was cloudy, and we had come from so far superior a region that I was very thankful we had not selected it for our location. As we passed through the gorge, the light of the sun being shut out from us, my spirits sank, and I began to dread lest our camp might have been attacked, and we should find it in the same condition as that from which we had rescued Lily. I forgot how confident my father was that it would be safe, and that I ought not to be doubtful of his judgment.

Emerging at last from the pass, I caught sight of the white tilts of the waggons, arranged in perfect order. A cheer rose as we approached, and Martin hurried out to greet us, and to report “all well.”

The journey across the mountain with the heavy waggons, was a far more difficult undertaking than with the carts, but by caution, perseverance, and judgment, we succeeded in getting through without any accident, and I was rewarded on my arrival by the approbation of my father.

For some time after this, we were busily engaged in putting up a house and outbuildings, with cottages for the men, and in fencing in land for a garden, and fields, so that during that period we met with no adventures worth narrating.

Chapter Eleven.

Our new home—Fortifications—Snake-fencing—Education of my sister and Lily—Dio means to catch a bear—Depredations on our poultry-yard—Capture of Dame Bruin—A contribution to Uncle Denis’s menagerie—Training the cubs—Hunting expeditions—A colony of beavers—How the dams are built—Dio’s magic sticks—We turn trappers—Fight with a grizzly—Visit of a wolverine to our hut—Traps set—Our success—Left in charge—An Indian takes me by surprise—Kluko’s warning to the pale-faces—Commence our return journey.

The grand point had to be settled, the name we should give to our new home in the wilderness. Kathleen and Lily begged that it might be called “Smiling Valley Farm,” and all voices were unanimous in deciding as they wished. A dwelling-house was constructed of rough logs, like an ordinary log hut but larger, the trunks being placed above each other horizontally, with a groove in the lower to receive the upper one and the ends fitting into each other, while the interstices were plastered with clay and the interior lined with shingles or planks split by wedges and afterwards shaped and planed down smooth. A broad veranda ran round it, which afforded shade during the summer, and prevented the snow from beating into the windows in winter. Surrounding it was a strong palisade which it was considered necessary to put up, in case we should be attacked by the Indians, who, although at present we understood were peaceably disposed, might at any time take it into their heads to attempt our destruction. Still my father hoped, by treating the tribes in the neighbourhood fairly and kindly, to win their friendship. Outside the palisade we dug a deep ditch which served both to drain the house and strengthen the fortifications. Over it was a drawbridge, which was raised by tackles and so constructed as greatly to strengthen the gate. We calculated, should it ever become necessary, that we should be able to maintain a lengthened siege in our stronghold, though my father, old soldier as he was, said he earnestly hoped that we should never be compelled to resort to our means of defence. “It is wise however to be prepared, and the redskins, seeing that we are ready for them, will not, I trust, venture to molest us,” he added.

Up to the present time, indeed, no Indians had come near the farm, and the scattered families we occasionally met in our more distant hunting expeditions seemed unaware of its existence. The huts of the men, also surrounded by stockades, were so placed on either side of the dwelling-house that they could sweep the front by a cross-fire should an enemy ever attempt to escalade our walls.

As we brought the ground under cultivation, we surrounded the garden and fields with snake fences, which are made in a rough fashion, the rails being placed one upon another in a zigzag form, and secured at the angles by stakes driven into the ground. They were formed by splitting trees into four or five portions, according to their girth, an operation carried on by means of wedges driven in with sledge-hammers.

When once the rails were split, the fence was very quickly put up. As in a short time creepers grew over them, they had a very picturesque appearance.

When we were fairly settled, Mr Tidey resumed his duties as our Tutor.

A large portion of our time, however, was still passed in outdoor occupations. We had indeed to make frequent hunting excursions to supply ourselves with meat until our stock of cattle, pigs, and poultry, had increased sufficiently to allow us to kill any of them for food.

The winter, which rapidly came on, though severe, was shorter than in more northern latitudes, but by that time our house was in a sufficiently forward condition to resist the cold, and our stoves were kept well supplied with logs. I must pass over the events of that period.

Our evenings, and a portion of every day, when the Dominie was at home, were spent in receiving instruction from him; my sister and Lily being also his pupils. He at all events, stored their minds with useful knowledge, although unable to instruct them in those feminine accomplishments which young ladies in eastern cities consider of so much importance. A piano they had never seen, but they knew what it was like from pictures. They, however, had guitars, which Uncle Denis purchased from some Mexicans, and they became very fair musicians, being able to accompany their voices on the instruments with taste and skill. My father taught them drawing, albeit their lessons were few and far between; but they showed an aptitude for the art, and made good use of their pencils. They were, notwithstanding this, accomplished in all household matters, while they diligently plied their needles and made puddings and cakes of unsurpassed excellence.

I have mentioned this merely to show that young ladies in the wilderness may, if they have the will, obtain as fair an amount of useful knowledge and elegant accomplishments as those who are generally supposed to be their sole possessors. I am, however, describing them as they were in subsequent years. At present they were but young girls, though improving daily in mind and person.

Uncle Denis had long wished to carry out his cherished plan of forming a menagerie by taming the wild animals of the country, which he averred he could do by proper treatment.

The difficulty, however, was to take them alive when young enough to benefit by his proposed training.

“I should like to have a fine young grizzly, though I suspect he would prove rather an obstinate pupil,” remarked Uncle Denis in Dio’s hearing.

Some time after this Dio came to me and said, “Me tinkee me get b’ar ’fore long for Massa Denis an’ gib him pleasant surprise.”

On inquiring how he expected to do this, he told me that he had discovered a nest of honey-bees in a wood a short distance from the house, and that twice on returning home late in the evening he had seen a shaggy beast, which he was sure was a bear, going in that direction, but that having no bullets in his pouch at the time, he did not wish to become better acquainted with it. After each occasion he had found that the nest had been robbed of a portion of its contents, and that from its position the plunderer had been unable to carry off the remainder. He was sure that the bear was the thief, and he had formed a plan for catching it; he would then, he said, bring Uncle Denis to the spot, and exhibit his captive. I asked him how he intended to proceed.

“Come an’ see, Massa Mike. I will show you,” he replied.

We accordingly went together into the wood, when he showed me a large tree, the lower part of the trunk being hollow from age. At the higher part of the cavity, which had an opening outside, was the bees’ nest; up this it was very evident that the bear had put his paw, but, unable to reach higher, had to content himself with the lower portion of the comb, which the industrious inhabitants had set to work immediately afterwards to restore.

“But, Dio,” I observed, “though the bear may possibly go into the hollow to obtain more honey, how are you to make him stay there. As soon as he hears your footstep he will be off, unless he is in fighting humour, in which case we shall be compelled to shoot him to prevent him injuring us.”

“Wait ’bit, massa, you see some day,” answered Dio.

Whether the bear was fond of honey, we had soon evidence that he or some other animal was of our pigs and poultry. One night a tremendous cackling was heard in the poultry-yard. The next morning it was discovered that a fat turkey, captured by Uncle Denis, and a couple of ducks, were carried off, and during the next night we were aroused by several piercing squeaks, and afterwards found that one of our porkers had disappeared.

We watched for several following nights, but if Master Bruin had been the depredator, he was too wary to repeat his visits. As he would not come to us to be shot, we searched for him in all directions among the neighbouring rocks, where, in some hitherto undiscovered cave, it was thought probable he had his abode. No traces of him, however, could we discover. Dio during this time was not idle. I inquired whether the bear had again robbed the bees.

“No, he not come back yet, but he soon come, an’ den you see,” he answered, looking very mysterious.

At length, one evening, I met him running towards the house in a state of great excitement.

“Wha’r Massa Denis?” he asked; “me tinkee me got b’ar for him now. Wha’r is he?”

For a wonder, he was in the house, as was Dan; so I called them both.

“We must get some cords to bind our prisoner, or otherwise he may not be quite ready to accompany us,” said my uncle.

Having procured some pieces of strong rope, we set off. We overtook Dio, and asked him how he knew that the bear had got into the hollow trunk. He then described his plan of proceeding. He had filled the lower part of the cavity with dry leaves, branches, and twigs, and had laid a train so that he could fire it in an instant. He had also blocked up a portion of the entrance, and had placed some stout sticks, sharply pointed, directed inwards, so that although the bear could squeeze through one way, he would find it a difficult task to back out again.

As we approached the tree described by Dio, he advised us to get our rifles ready, and to have our lashings prepared to bind Bruin’s legs when he tried to come out, as he probably would, tail first. Still the animal did not make his appearance.

“Perhaps he is afraid of descending for fear of burning himself, as you have lighted a fire at the bottom of the hollow, and he would have to go through it,” observed Uncle Denis.

Dio asserted that it was because the dogs kept up a barking, and he advised that we should retire to a short distance, while he remained near to listen when the bear was descending. We kept the dogs back and held our guns in readiness, should Bruin come forth, indignant at having his hide singed, and make a rush at us.

We waited several minutes, but with the exception of some low growls, which grew fainter and fainter, no sounds reached our ears. Dio every now and then popped his woolly pate out from behind the tree where he was hiding himself, showing his white teeth, evidently wondering what was going to happen. Presently a loud crashing noise was heard, and the sticks which Dio had placed at the entrance of the hollow giving way, out fell a huge bear headlong to the ground. Dio rushed forward.

“Come here, Massa Denis; come here, make fast de bear!” he shouted. Then he looked at the animal as Uncle Denis advanced, adding, “Me tink him dead.”

The two dogs also, which now ran forward, seemed to be very much of the same opinion, for without hesitation they ran up and placed their paws on the monster, sniffing fearlessly round him. The smoke from Dio’s fire had effectually suffocated him.

“I am afraid that he will not become an inhabitant of my menagerie,” said Uncle Denis, laughing, “and I doubt, if we had caught him alive, that he would have proved amenable to my instruction.”

Lest the bear should recover at an inconvenient moment, we put a shot through his head, and then proceeded to cut him up, that we might carry home the flesh, which was likely to prove very acceptable at the farm.

It was one of the largest of the she-bears of the brown species I ever met with, and, though not so fierce as the grizzly, would have proved a formidable antagonist had it been encountered when hard pressed by hunger.

The smoke which had killed the bear had also suffocated the bees, and Dan and I, climbing up, secured the remainder of the comb which Bruin had left.

“We shall probably find Dame Bruin’s cubs somewhere or other, if we follow up her trail,” observed Uncle Denis, as we were employed in cutting up the bear. “Though she would have proved a difficult subject to tame, we may have more hope of succeeding with them.” As soon as the operation was performed, and we had hung up the meat to the bough of a tree—a necessary precaution in that region—we set off to look for the cubs. The animal, not having the instinct of the red man, had left a clearly marked trail as she made her way through the forest. Guided by the marks of the grass trampled down, boughs bent aside, and twigs broken off, we had no difficulty in following it up, though it continued for a far greater distance than we had expected. It led us towards a rocky spur of the mountain, mostly covered with trees and thick brushwood, so that we could see but a short distance ahead.

“Take care, massa, p’r’aps he b’ar dare lookin’ after de pickaninnies, so, if he come out, better be ready to shoot him,” observed Dio.

“We’ll soon make him show himself,” answered Uncle Denis, and he called to our dogs, who had obediently followed at our heels, to range ahead. Off they started, delighted with the duty entrusted to them. After ranging backwards and forwards, occasionally showing themselves amid the brushwood, their loud barks and yelps convinced us that they had found either the young bears or some other animal. We made our way towards the spot from whence the sounds proceeded, with our guns ready should we discover any formidable antagonist. As we got up we saw the shaggy tails of our dogs wagging vehemently outside a cavern, within which it did not seem possible that any large animal could be hidden. Now Boxer would rush further in, now Toby, while a whimpering sound, mingled with an occasional infantine growl, showed us that the cave was alone occupied by the cubs of which we were in search. Fearing that the animals would be injured, we called off the dogs, when their bloody mouths and the brown hair sticking to their jaws, proved that they had had a battle with the occupants of the cave. The difficulty was now to get the creatures out without further injuring them. Though I might easily have crawled in, yet it would be at the risk of being bitten by the young bears, who would, should I do so, naturally mistake me for one of the dogs about to renew the fight.

“Stay, massa,” said Dio at length; “I do it!” Without delay he cut down a young sapling, which he quickly stripped of its branches. He had still tied round his waist a piece of the rope we had brought to secure the bear. With this we formed a noose at the end of the pole. “Now I get him out,” he observed creeping into the mouth of the cavern and pushing the pole before him. After moving it about for a few seconds, he shouted—

“Pull ’way, massa, got one of dem!” and, he quickly backing out, we hauled away on the rope. The resistance we found told us of Dio’s success, and presently we hauled out a good-sized cub, but it was bleeding from its mouth and shoulders, an evidence of the severe way in which the dogs had worried it. Though it struggled and tried to bite, it was so much hurt, that Uncle Denis, believing that it would not live, at once put it out of its misery.

“Dere is ’nodder inside,” observed Dio, listening at the mouth of the cave; “git him next.”

Once more he shoved in the pole. Some time elapsed before he again shouted out to us to haul away, when we pulled forth by the front paws another cub, which, although it had some blood-stains about it, seemed to be unharmed. The smaller one did not struggle so violently as his companion had done.

“Just the creature I wanted,” exclaimed Uncle Denis, delighted. “I must muzzle Master Bruin at present, to prevent him from biting our favourites, but he’ll soon become as gentle as a lamb.”

The little bear made violent efforts to retaliate, but a piece of rope put round his nose, prevented him from opening his mouth, while we fastened his fore-legs together; we then, taking two sticks, placed them under his body and Uncle Denis and I carried him along, while Dio brought the little dead bear on his back. The bear’s flesh we carried home was very acceptable, but our hunting expeditions had of late not been so successful as before, many of the animals having migrated southwards to escape the approaching winter.

At first Master Bruin was very snappish, but as he grew hungry, he was glad to take a sup of goat’s milk, which Uncle Denis gave him from a bottle, and in a short time he gratefully received food from the hands of anyone of us. He showed from the first great fondness for honey, to which his mamma had probably accustomed him, or he may have inherited the taste from her. Uncle Denis taking him in hand, taught him all sorts of tricks, and before long he became a most tractable and well-behaved bear.

A few days after we had captured “Bruno,” Dan and I, with Uncle Denis, accompanied by Dio, set off on a hunting expedition down the valley, towards a broad river, which after feeding a large lake found its way into the Missouri. It was itself fed by other streams which came down from the mountain ranges, but varied greatly, according to the season of the year. Sometimes they were mere rivulets; at others, they were swelled by the melting snows. In case of becoming separated, we always fixed on some well-marked spot, where we could assemble at an hour agreed on, or at the end of the day’s sport, either to camp or return home. Dan and I always kept together. On this occasion we had lost sight of Uncle Denis and Dio, though we heard their shots in the distance.

We had found no deer, though we had killed some wild fowl on the banks of the stream, when we heard, as we supposed, the report of our uncle’s gun, some way up it. We set off to try and rejoin him; twice again we heard a shot in the same direction, but apparently further off. Still we persevered, making our way as well as we could through the thick wood.

Near the stream, willow, lime, and other water-loving trees grew to a large size, with a fringe of thick reeds through which it was difficult to penetrate.

After going some distance, we struck a trail, which we guessed was our uncle’s, certainly not that of an Indian, who would have been careful where he trod, so as not to have crushed the grass, or broken off leaves and twigs in his way. The trail, as we advanced, became more and more clear, and we expected every moment to catch sight of our uncle. Though we had not heard a shot for some time, we suddenly came upon him, when he put up his hand as a signal to us not to speak, and crept forward through the reeds. We followed him, until he stopped behind a tree, and leaning forward looked up the stream, which flowed over a rocky bed close to us, while a short distance off a dam, which seemed to have been constructed by human hands—so considerable was its extent—was thrown across from side to side, the water beyond it being perfectly smooth. Out of it rose a number of round-topped artificial structures, some two feet or more above the surface, while a large community of animals, which we knew at once were beavers, were busily moving about, some employed in either repairing or increasing their dam, others in dragging pieces of willow across their lake, either to form new abodes, to mend any fractures in the old ones, or to serve as food, the fresh bark being their chief article of diet. Some again were on shore gnawing away at young trees with their sharp teeth, and two fell directly over the stream while we were watching them. Instantly the whole community hurried forward to assist in cutting off the branches and reducing the log to a more manageable size.

Unwilling to disturb them, we remained perfectly silent.

Of course we might have shot several; but had we done so, it would have been difficult afterwards to obtain them, and possibly the community might have moved off to some other locality. Having, therefore, satisfied our curiosity, we retired, and made our way back to the spot where we intended to camp, and where we hoped Dio would join us.

It is seldom that beavers can be seen at work in the day-time, as they usually perform their various tasks during the hours of darkness. I may as well here describe the beaver. It is about three and a half feet long, including the tail, which is flat, covered with scales, and shaped like a paddle, being about a foot in length. Its back is covered with long thin hair of a light chestnut colour, beneath which lies a fine wool of soft greyish brown. The head is rather round than pointed, the jaws of extraordinary strength, its teeth being also of great power and extreme sharpness, to enable it to gnaw through wood as well as to bite off the bark from the trees on which it chiefly lives. The object of the animals in building the wonderful dams they often construct, is that they may form ponds in which a sufficient depth of water can be maintained at all seasons of the year. Instinct rather than reason prompts them to do this; still, on examining the dams, it is difficult to suppose that they have been formed by animals. They are composed of young trees, or of branches cut into lengths, each of about three feet, and laid horizontally, one upon the other. While one party brings the log, another follows with mud and stones, which they place upon it to keep it from rising. At the bottom they are actually twelve feet thick, though as they rise towards the top they diminish to the width of two feet. When it is understood that some of these dams are between two and three hundred yards long, it may be supposed what an enormous number of small logs are required to make one.

What appears still more extraordinary is that when the stream runs slowly, the dam is built directly across it, but should the current be strong it is curved, with the convex side pointing up the stream, so that it should the better withstand the force of the water. I frequently found these dams with small trees growing out of them, showing that they must have existed a number of years. In the lake thus formed by the dam the beavers build their houses, or lodges, as they are called by trappers. They are constructed in the same way as the dams, with small logs kept together by clay and lined with moss, the roof being plastered thickly with mud, which in time becomes so perfectly hard, that it is difficult to break through it. It is a task which the cunning wolverine—who is fond of beaver meat—can never accomplish, and he prefers to pounce down on any of the animals which incautiously venture forth, when he is in the neighbourhood.

These “lodges” outside measure as much as seven or eight feet in height, and they are often from sixteen to twenty in circumference, but the walls are so thick that the interior does not exceed three feet in height and from six to eight in circumference. The entrance, which is under water, is at such a depth that they cannot be frozen in.

It is a common idea among trappers, that the beaver uses his tail for a trowel to flatten down the mud, but this is denied by more observing naturalists, who assert that the tail is merely employed for swimming, although when he is at work with his paws, he may flap it about, but not for any other object.

One of the most extraordinary characteristics of the beaver is, that it secretes from certain glands a peculiar odoriferous substance called “castoreum,” or “bark-stone” by the trappers. So strangely are the beavers attracted by this substance, that sniffing it up with their nostrils, they will hurry towards it to enjoy the scent. It is consequently the bait used by trappers. The trap is placed five or six inches below the water, and just above it is stuck a stick dipped in bark-stone. The unwary beaver eagerly swims up to it and is caught by the treacherous trap below. Old beavers are, however, generally too cunning; and it is said that on discovering a trap they will carry mud and stones, and drop them over it until it is completely buried. Such was the account which Uncle Denis gave us as we sat round our camp-fire that evening. Dio had listened attentively; he merely observed—

“Dis niggar know all ’bout it.”

The next morning he invited us to accompany him to the beaver pond, saying, “You shall see what you shall see.” Uncle Denis’s curiosity had been excited by Dio’s mysterious remark, and he accompanied us. Dio produced a bundle of small twigs, which he carried under his arm as we went along. Approaching the pond he begged that we would remain concealed while he went forward. After a little time he summoned us and told us to sit down on the bank of the stream. I had always heard that beavers were the most timid of creatures, and that they would disappear on the approach of human beings, but to our surprise, immediately after Dio had begun to throw in some of his magic twigs, a shoal of beavers popped up from their lodges and rapidly approached, utterly regardless of our presence. So close did they come without perceiving us, that we might have knocked several on the head, but it would probably have been the signal for the disappearance of the whole of them. They appeared to be animated with but one thought, that of carrying off the twigs dipped in their beloved “bark-stone.”

A few old fellows swam off to a distance and began to devour the twigs, which were evidently much to their taste. Beaver-skins were at that time of great value.

“We have here a mine of wealth, if we work it properly,” observed Uncle Denis; “probably no trappers have as yet discovered this beaver-dam, and we must take care not to let anyone else know of it until we have captured the inhabitants. I brought a dozen iron traps among my stores, though I have as yet been too busy to use them. We will go home to-morrow morning, look them out, and return with them at once. Remember that we must keep our discovery a secret. We shall I hope give a pleasant surprise to your father.”

The plan proposed by Uncle Denis was adopted. Laden with the traps and such stores as we required for a week’s residence in the wilderness, we started, accompanied by Mr Tidey. On reaching the spot we built a substantial hut, in which we could store our provisions, and by closing the entrance, we expected to be able to preserve our beaver skins from the attacks of wolverines during our absence from camp. We lost no time in setting the traps under the water in the runs made by the beavers when passing backwards and forwards to the woods from whence they obtained the bark on which they fed. We observed that they had cut down numbers of young trees, for a considerable distance along the banks of the stream above their town. This, Uncle Denis surmised they had done that they might, after they had divided them into proper lengths, allow them to float down to the spot where they were required. By hiding ourselves during a moonlight night we had an opportunity of seeing them engaged in their labours. It was truly wonderful to observe the rapid way in which the industrious creatures nibbled through a tree and reduced it to the dimensions they required.

On examining our traps for the first time, we found each had caught a beaver, some by the legs, others by their noses. The latter were drowned, as even a beaver cannot remain beyond a certain time under water, but I must own I felt compunction when I witnessed the struggles of the other poor creatures to free themselves, though they were put out of their pain as soon as possible by a blow on the head. Resetting the traps, we returned to camp to take off the skins and dress them. We dined on the meat, which we agreed resembled flabby pork. Mr Tidey, however, undertook to provide better fare the next day. I accompanied him while the rest of the party went back to look after the traps. We had killed a deer, and had loaded ourselves with as much venison as we could carry, intending to return for the remainder, when Mr Tidey fired at a turkey, for the sake of having a variety for our dinner. At that instant a huge grizzly she-bear rose up from behind a thicket, and before he could reload, charged right at him. I was too far off to fire with any certainty of hitting the animal. Fortunately, close to Mr Tidey was a large clump of rose bushes, behind which he immediately sprang, when the bear, missing him, rose up on her hind-legs, and, looking about, came towards me. I knelt to receive her, knowing that, were I to run, I should be overtaken and destroyed. She was within thirty yards when Mr Tidey, having reloaded, fired and hit her on the back. She stopped and began to turn round and round, snapping at her side and tearing at the wound with her teeth and claws. Expecting to gain an easy victory I advanced a few paces and fired, but so rapid were her movements, that my bullet missed.

“Quick, quick! reload, Mike!” cried Mr Tidey, who saw what had happened.

The warning did not come too soon, for at that instant the bear rose again on her hind-legs, with a furious growl, preparatory to springing on me. Mr Tidey was still too far off to fire with any certainty of mortally wounding the bear, and, should his bullet miss her, it might hit me. My life depended, therefore, on my next shot; should I miss, one blow from her tremendous paw would bring me to the ground, and the next instant I should be torn to pieces. I loaded as rapidly as I could, while I kept my eye on my antagonist. Scarcely had I time to ram down the ball when she was close up to me. I dared not look to ascertain what help Mr Tidey was likely to afford me. As the bear approached I lifted up my rifle to my shoulder and fired. The bear gave a tremendous growl, but still advanced. With a desperate bound I sprang on one side, when over she rolled, and lay struggling on the ground. She might be up again, however, at any moment, so I ran off to a distance to reload, catching sight, as I did so, of Mr Tidey, who, coming up, fired at the bear’s head, and, greatly to my relief, her struggles ceased. Having thrown some sticks and stones at the creature to ascertain that it was really dead, we approached, and found that she measured no less than seven and a half feet in length, with claws four and a half inches long. I shuddered as I thought of the dreadful wounds she might have inflicted with them. We skinned her, and as we were already heavily loaded, we hung up the hide and part of the flesh to the branches of a neighbouring tree, carrying only a little of the meat for our supper. We had got close to our camp, when Mr Tidey exclaimed—

“Holloa! our hut has been broken into; some rascally wolverine has paid us a visit.”

I ran forward, and just as I got up to the hut, out darted the thief, almost knocking me over; before I could recover myself it had made its way round to the back of the hut. I sprang to one side, hoping to get a shot at him, but he had disappeared. We hurried in, when we found our beaver-skins scattered about, most of them being so gnawed as to be utterly valueless.

“This will be an annoyance to your uncle; but we may congratulate ourselves on having secured a fine bear and deer-skin, which will make some amends for our loss,” he observed.

We had just made up our fire, and stuck the meat on spits to roast before it, when Uncle Denis and his companion arrived, with a dozen more beaver-skins.

As soon as the meat was cooked, we sat down and made a hearty meal, during which we told Uncle Denis of our loss.

“We must take care that the cunning rogue does not play us such a trick again,” he observed; “should it find out your venison and hear’s meat, it will leave us but a small share by the morning.”

“Then we shall be wise to bring both into the camp to-night,” said the Dominie; “if anyone will accompany me, I will go and get them.”

Dan and I at once offered to go, and Dio begged that he might accompany us. We were just in time to catch sight of a wolverine climbing up the tree to which we had secured the bear-skin. Mr Tidey fired, but the animal leaped off a bough from a considerable height, and scampered away, as far as we could see, unwounded.

While Dio and Dan were packing up the meat Mr Tidey and I hastened on to where we had left the venison.

On this occasion the wolverine had been too quick for us. He must have gone direct to the spot, for we saw him busily engaged in devouring our meat. On hearing us approach he decamped, carrying off a joint in his jaws, so that scarcely one load remained. We secured this, and then rejoined the black and my brother; and the former carrying the bear-skin in addition to a huge ham, we returned to the camp. Uncle Denis had been busily employed in forming a trap in which he hoped to catch the depredator. He finished it off by the light of the fire. It consisted of two heavy beams with holes in them, and so placed that the upper would fall down on the bait being touched, and kill the animal. That the wolverine, should he fail to be caught by the trap, might not revenge himself by destroying our skins or carrying off our meat, we constructed a strong framework in the top of our hut, in which we placed everything of value, and, to make it additionally secure, we stuck in some thick stakes round the entrance, intertwining them with branches.

“The brute will be clever enough if he breaks through that,” observed Uncle Denis, as he surveyed our work the following morning before we set out.

We were as successful as on the previous day, and in the evening we returned heavily laden with our spoils.

“Hurrah!” exclaimed Uncle Denis, as he ran forward on seeing the body of an animal sticking out of his well-contrived trap; caught by the head and claws as the robber had seized on the bait.

It was the wolverine which had at length been outwitted: though nearly strangled, it required several heavy blows before it was killed outright. The creature was about the size of a small wolf, of a brownish-black colour, the paws being perfectly black, contrasting with the extreme whiteness of the claws, which were of great size, resembling those of a bear; indeed the animal was not unlike a young bear. We dragged it away from our camp and flayed it, that we might preserve the skin to carry home. Our success had been greater than we expected, and as we could not carry all our skins, Mr Tidey and Dan set off to the farm, to bring back a couple of horses to convey them home. Uncle Denis considering that it would be unwise to leave so much property without protection, asked me to remain in camp, while he and Dio continued trapping. This of course I willingly undertook to do, keeping my gun in readiness to shoot any animal which might approach. It was about noon, and as I was getting hungry I had placed a piece of venison to roast before the fire, and had sat down to watch it, when I was startled by seeing standing at no great distance from me an Indian who had approached so silently that I had not been aware of his presence. I rose to my feet, holding my rifle ready, should he come as a foe. But his bow was at his back and his arrows in the quiver. He spread out his hands to show that he held no weapons in them, and then, coming forward, sat down opposite to me. I imitated his example, keeping my eye fixed on him, for at any moment he might draw his tomahawk or scalping-knife from his belt. I pointed to the meat, and made signs that he should be welcome to some of it as soon as it was sufficiently cooked. He nodded in return, but still did not speak, and I concluded that his ignorance of English prevented him from addressing me. As soon as the venison was sufficiently cooked, I handed him the larger portion with some salt and a piece of corn bread which I had baked in the morning. He ate the food with evident satisfaction.

“Good, good!” he said.

They were the first words he had spoken, and he then made signs that he should like something to drink. We had no spirits; my father had always refused to give the Indians “fire-water,” I therefore brewed some tea, and offered him a tin mug with plenty of sugar in it. He was evidently disappointed at the taste, but drank it off and then held out his cup for more. When he appeared to be satisfied, I asked him if he spoke the language of the “pale-faces.”

He nodded.

“Then perhaps you will say why you come to pay me a visit?”

“I was hungry, and I knew you had meat to give,” he answered. “I have lived long with the ‘pale-faces’ when I was a boy, and know that some are good and kind, and others bad and cruel. I have heard of the white chief up at the farm, and that he is just and generous to all the red-men who go there. It is right, therefore, that he should be preserved from harm. A short time back it came to my knowledge that the Blackfeet, who are jealous of any of the pale-faces coming into their country, have formed a plan to destroy the farm, and to kill all the inhabitants. I was on my way to give them warning, when I discovered traces of white men hunting in this neighbourhood. Following up a recent trail, I was led to your camp. I guessed you belonged to the farm, and would save me from the necessity of going there. I must charge you not to tell any of the red-men you may meet with from whom you obtained the information. I have warned you, be wise. The attack may be immediate, or it may not be made for some moons to come, but one thing is certain, that when the Blackfeet think you are off the watch, they will try to surprise you, and having resolved on a deed they seldom change their minds.”