mi \ \i:i:<.'.. i > APE. 
 
THE 
 
 WILD MAN OF THE WEST. 
 
 uf tyt Enrtai SSmratoraa. 
 
 E. M. BALLANTYNE, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE RED BRIO," ETC. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 CROSBY & AINSWORTH. 
 NEW YOKE: OLIVER S. FELT. 
 
 1866. 
 
35* 
 T>I63 
 
 to it 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 In which the Reader is introduced to a Mad Hero, a Reckless 
 Lover, and a Runaway Husband. Backwoods Juvenile 
 Training described. The Principles of Fighting fully dis- 
 cussed, and some valuable Hints thrown out .... 9 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The Great Prairie. A Wild Chase. A Remarkable Accident 
 and an Extraordinary Charger, all of which tenninate in a 
 Crash. Bounce talks Philosophy and tells of terrible Things. 
 Our Hero determines to beard the Wild Man of the West 
 in his own Den 21 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The Beauties of the Wilderness. Portages. Philosophy of 
 Settling Down. An Enormous Footprint. Supper pro- 
 cured, and a Bear-hunt in prospect 42 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Gibault has an Adventure, and discovers a very strange Crea- 
 ture in the Woods. A most tremendous Bear-hunt par- 
 ticularly described 59 
 
 M99752 <> 
 
iv CON 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Remarks and Cogitations. Round the Camp Fire. The 
 Artist gives an Accent 01 -Value of a Sk. 
 Book. Discoveries and Dark Threat*. The Bean'-claw 
 Collar 
 
 C I! AFTER VI. 
 
 The Dangers of the Wilderness. An Unexpected Catastrophe, 
 which necessitates- a Change of Plans. A Descent upon 
 Robbers proposed and agreed to 98 
 
 CHAI II. 
 
 A Wolfish Way of killing Buffalo described. Bounce becomes 
 Metaphysical on the Fine Arts. Butchering enlarged on. 
 A glorious Feast, and sketching under Difficulties . . .110 
 
 A Cache discovered. Bertram becomes ralorous. Failure 
 follows, and a brief Skirmish, Flight, and Separation are the 
 Results 136 
 
 IX. 
 
 Bounce cogitates upon the embarrassing Circumstances ot 
 Condition. Discovery of Black Gibault Terrible Fate in 
 Store for their Comrades. A Mode of Rescue planned. 
 Dreadful Effects of Fire-water. The Rescue 
 
 CH 
 Short Treatise on Horseflesh. Remarks on Slang. Doings 
 
 and Sights on tin . . 176 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Original Efforts in the Art of Painting. Fur-trading Hospital- 
 ity. Wonderful Accounts of the Wild Man of the West, 
 from an Eye-witness. Buffalo-hunting, Scalping, Murder- 
 ing, and a Summary Method of inflicting Punishment . . 191 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 An Argument on Argumentation; also on Religion. Bounce 
 " feelosophical" again. A Race cut short by a Bullet. 
 Flight and Pursuit of the Redskins 209 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The Pursuit. Conscientious Scruples of the Artist. Stra- 
 tegic Movements. Surprised in the Wild-cat Pass. March 
 shows Coolness and Pluck in the Hour of Danger. A Ter- 
 rific Onslaught by a Wonderful Warrior. The Battle. 
 Hard Knocks and Mysterious Differences of Opinion . . 224 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The Hunting-ground. How they spent the Sabbath Day 
 among the Mountains. Threatening Clouds on the Hori- 
 zon 251 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Business unpleasantly Interrupted. The Mountain Fort in 
 Danger. Trappers to the Rescue. A Rude Meeting with 
 Foes in the Dark. A Wild Race. March meets with a 
 Severe Misfortune 260 
 
VI CO. 1 * 
 
 CHA r -i. 
 
 March get* a Surprise; more than that, he get* a Variety of 
 Surprises. Meets with a Strange Hunter. Goes in a 
 Strange Fashion to a Strange Cavern and beholds Strange 
 Sights. Besides other Matters of Interest . . . . 268 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 The Vision in Leather 38* 
 
 rii A PTXB XVIII. 
 
 The Cave of the Wild Man of the West March and Mary 
 hold Pleasant Intercourse. Dick's Good Qualities enlarged 
 on. The Wild Man gives a Redskin a Strange Lesson. - A 
 Startling Interruption to Pleasant Convene . . . . 99T 
 
 CH 
 
 The Mysteries of the Cave < - Ingenious Devices of 
 
 the Wild Man. March and Mary besieged. The Redskins 
 proceed to make themselves at Home in the Cavern . . 88B 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A Gallop to the Rescue. A Discovery. Right-about Face. 
 A Disagreeable Surprise and a Sudden Eje< ilm 
 
 after the Storm. Mary a Huntress. Dick's Story of the 
 
 i rapper ......... .135 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 March -,jrit, finds his Body weak. He 
 
 makes Mary a Present. The Trappers set out to search for 
 
CONTENTS. vil 
 
 their Lost Comrade. An Unexpected Meeting. Big Wal- 
 ler waxes Pugnacious. News of March. Dick becomes 
 more Mysterious than ever. A Reckless Proposal and a 
 Happy Meeting . 355 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 March Marston is perplexed, so are his Friends. An unlooked- 
 for Meeting. Terrible News. -The Attack. The Wild 
 Man of the West once again renders signal Service to the 
 Trappers. Wild Doings in general, and March Marston's 
 Chagrin in particular 371 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 The Wounded Fur-Trader 384 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 March Marston at Home. His astonishing Behavior. Nar- 
 ration of his Extraordinary Adventures. Widow Marston's 
 Bower. The Rendezvous of the Trappers. A strange In- 
 terruption to March's Narrative. A Wild Surprise and 
 Recovery of a Lost Lover. Great Destruction of House- 
 hold Goods. A Double Wedding and Tremendous Excite- 
 ment. The Wild Man of the West the Wisest Man in Pine 
 Point Settlement 399 
 
WILD MAN OF THE WEST. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 In which the Reader is introduced to a Mad Hero, a Reckless Lover, 
 and a Runaway Husband. Backwoods Juvenile Training de- 
 scribed. The Principles of Fighting fully discussed, and some 
 valuable Hints thrown out. 
 
 MARCH MARSTON was mad ! The exact state 
 of madness to which March had attained at the 
 age when we take up his personal history 
 namely, sixteen is uncertain, for the people of 
 the backwoods settlement in which he dwelt dif- 
 fered in their opinions on that point. 
 
 The clergyman, who was a Wesleyan, said he 
 was as wild as a young buffalo-bull ; but the 
 manner in which he said so led his hearers to 
 conclude that he did not think such a state of 
 ungovernable madness to be a hopeless condition, 
 by any means. The doctor said he was as mad 
 as a hatter ; but this was an indefinite remark, 
 worthy of a doctor who had never obtained a 
 diploma, and required explanation, inasmuch as 
 
 ( 9 ; 
 
10 
 
 it was b 
 
 : and 1- 
 
 irrpjly bear \viih a \vl, 
 
 true, might tend to 
 
 throw liirht on the ii the ir 
 
 bear is liah! aieh failed to in<: 
 
 , tin- extent of young 
 
 iadness. The car; id the blaek- 
 
 :' the |>laee who were fast friends ami 
 
 d ba'tle only once a month, or t 
 at most agreed in das 
 
 one as?< 
 
 of the 
 
 in-r, 
 
 and 
 
 . in ihe \r~ide 
 
 ng! 
 ison wi 
 
 in was. ' 
 
 all manner-, to l>i r to 
 
 [ in son 
 
 I'T. 
 
 not a fence in the \v! 
 
 Uopj 
 
 or i 
 
 it. 
 
YOUNG MARSTON'S MOTHER. 11 
 
 miles from the top of which he had not fallen. 
 There was not a pond or pool in the neighbor- 
 hood into which he had not soused at some 
 period of his stormy juvenile career, and there 
 was not a big boy whom he had not fought 
 and thrashed or been thrashed by scores of 
 times. 
 
 But for all this March had not a single enemy. 
 He did his companions many a kind turn ; never 
 an unkind one. He fought for love, not for 
 hatred. He loved a dog if any one kicked it, 
 he fought him. He loved a little boy if any 
 one was cruel to that little boy, he fought him. 
 He loved fair play if any_one was guilty of 
 foul play, he fought him. When he was guilty 
 of foul play himself (as was sometimes the case, 
 for who is perfect ?) he felt inclined to jump out 
 of his own body and turn about and thrash him- 
 self ! And he would have done so often, had it 
 been practicable. Yes, there is no doubt what- 
 ever about it, March Marston was mad as mad, 
 after a fashion, as any creature, human or other- 
 wise, you choose to name. 
 
 Young Marston's mother was a handsome, 
 stout, blue-eyed, flaxen-haired woman, of a little 
 over thirty-five summers. She was an English 
 emigrant, and had, seventeen years before the 
 time we write of, settled at Pine Point, on the 
 banks of the Yellowstone River, along with her 
 brother, the blacksmith above referred to. At 
 
WILL .V 
 
 ii in all the 
 ige, and now she 
 
 ihr bloom of her youth r ; on her 
 
 cheek- >o little impaired 
 
 11 by I for March Mansion's elder 
 
 the place called h- 
 \vido\v Marston; but she was not a widow 
 
 .ey had a round for saying that she 
 
 - as they In verting that her son was 
 
 . Marston was peculiarly eircum- 
 - not a widow. 
 
 I with her 
 -oon told. Immediately after 
 
 tli and his pretty sister at 
 i^ r strip- 
 ling t a year 
 self, fell deeply in love \Vest 
 
 ' case was des|>< -: 11 sank at o 
 
 W) d 
 
 sea lead, !: 
 reach him. 
 
 >uirh ji 
 
 ady a tall, strong, hat 
 1 by his iir- 
 Bu: 
 
 her I iiieh Ian 
 
 of a ;ine and a western rifl 
 
 was taken aback and fla n. I 
 
 re-brained and passionate. He told 
 
MARY WEST AND HER LOVERS. 13 
 
 he would give her one day and a night to think 
 of it. At the end of that time he came back 
 and was again refused, for Mary West had no 
 notion of being taken by storm in that fashion. 
 But she trembled and grew pale on observing 
 the storm of angry passion that gleamed from 
 the young trapper's eyes and caused his broad 
 chest to heave violently. He did not speak. 
 He did not even look at Mary had he done 
 so, years of sorrow and suffering might have 
 been spared them both! He stood for one 
 moment with his eyes fixed upon the ground 
 then he turned, sprang through the doorway, 
 vaulted on his horse, and went off from her cot- 
 tage door as an arrow leaps from a bow. The 
 fences and ditches that lay in his way were no 
 impediment. His powerful steed carried him 
 over all and into the forest beyond, where he was 
 quickly lost to view. Mary tried to resume her 
 household occupations with a sigh. She did not 
 believe he was gone. But he was ! 
 
 At first Mary was nettled ; then she grew sad ; 
 as weeks passed away she became nettled again, 
 and at this juncture another suitor appeared in 
 the shape of a young immigrant farmer, whose 
 good looks and insinuating address soothed her 
 irritation at the strange, abrupt conduct of her 
 lover. She began to think that she must have 
 been mistaken in supposing that she cared for 
 the wild trapper and, in order to prove the 
 
11 
 
 cor, of her supjx 
 
 Alas! poor M;ir. in*r error 
 
 Marston turned out a ; 
 
 first he did not come out in his true colors. A 
 s bom, and he U him 
 
 Mareh, lor . : than that he \ 
 
 born in the month so nai 
 
 ind at last came to congr ier- 
 
 thai the child had hern bom in 
 
 ! or O< r any i nth 
 
 r a (liri-tian name. A 
 
 d at la d a 
 
 ii-law. t!i 
 
 :vinir beaten |)oo ,vith a >t 
 
 'I'll things to a climax, 
 
 he \ 
 
 was going < 
 a cargo of 
 
 >a\v him again. I 
 We by her 
 
 ler 1: 
 
 e she recovered the bi 
 
 Uni' 1 hT to 1; 
 
 the training of her 
 littl 
 
 recovered hei and her i 
 
 many a fine young ,L r ht h- md 
 
MARCH MANSION'S MADNESS. 15 
 
 hand, assuring her that she was a widow that 
 she must be a widow, that no man in his senses 
 could remain so long away from such a wife 
 unless he were dead, she turned a deaf ear to 
 them all. 
 
 March Marston's infancy was spent in yelling 
 and kicking, with the exception of those preter- 
 naturally calm periods when he was employed 
 in eating and sleeping. As he grew older, the 
 kicking and yelling decreased, the eating in- 
 creased, and the sleeping continued pretty much 
 the same. Then came a period when he began 
 to learn his A, B, C. Mrs. Marston had been 
 well educated for her station in life. She had 
 read much, and had brought a number of books 
 to the backwoods settlement ; so she gave her 
 boy a pretty good education as education went 
 in those days, and certainly a much better 
 one than was given to boys in such out-of-the- 
 way regions. She taught him to read and 
 write, and carried him on in arithmetic as far 
 as compound division, where she stuck, having 
 reached the extreme limits of her own tether. 
 
 Contemporaneously with the cessation of 
 squalling and kicking, and the acquirement of 
 the A, B, C, there arose in little March's bosom 
 unutterable love for his mother; or, rather, the 
 love that had always dwelt there began to well 
 up powerfully, and to overflow in copious' streams 
 of obedience and considerate attention. About 
 
WILD MAN 0; .B8T. 
 
 tin- ."as 
 
 tH'iran to develop itself 
 
 . 
 
 hut vrry few of his d.-rds were regarded by her 
 in the liirlit of fanbs. 'l'uinl)liiiLr otl" trrrs i 
 
 ditches and liors- \vas 
 
 ing wa^. 
 
 <i son s- 
 . 
 
 fell lit :md 
 
 shin rt hiiiui)Ic, (i 
 
 u \\ . h iv- 
 
 :it \\hci, 
 
 :iil'd tc Ulld little 
 
 -cd, pir 
 
 'Make 01 
 
 liirht in dr- 
 
 iplesa." 
 
 ;o hrii^h i-n at ihr ui, 
 
PRINCIPLES OF FIGHTING. 17 
 
 this catechizing of its mother, and went on to 
 say 
 
 " Well, mother, why do you blame me for 
 fightin', then, if it's right ? " 
 
 " Because fighting is not always right, my boy. 
 You had a fight with Bill Summers, hadn't you, 
 yesterday ? " 
 
 " Yes, mother." 
 
 Two-feet-ten said this in a hesitating tone, and 
 shrank into its ordinary proportions as it con- 
 tinued 
 
 " But I didn't lick him, mother, he licked me. 
 But I'll try again, mother indeed I will, and 
 I'll be sure to lick him next time." 
 
 " I don't want you to try again," rejoined Mrs. 
 Marston ; " and you must not try again with- 
 out a good reason. Why did you fight him 
 yesterday ? " 
 
 " Because he told a lie," said the object, 
 promptly, swelling out again, and looking big 
 under the impression that the goodness of its 
 reason could not be questioned. It was, there- 
 fore, with a look of baffled surprise that it col- 
 lapsed again on being told that that was not a 
 sufficient reason for engaging in warfare, and that 
 it was wrong to take the law into its own hands, 
 or to put in its word or its little fist, where it 
 had no right to interfere, and a great deal more 
 to that effect. 
 
 " But March, my boy," said Mrs. Marston, 
 
18 
 
 drawing the object towards her and p;r 
 
 fair head, " What makes you so 1 
 hting?" 
 M I ainM fond <' liirlu ing, mother, but I 
 
 help 
 
 .n't help it! Do YOU evrr tr> 
 -II iio,! don't* think th;itldo. But I 
 
 so funny \\hrn I see Bill Summers rhr 
 at |>lay. 1 ferl all < -hot like Tike 
 
 oh ! 
 I just frel like that An* \vVn it ho 
 
 c took off the fir< 
 Hut there's no' 
 
 me off the fire when I'm bo . an' th 
 
 no ie o:l' so you see I cant help it 
 
 As the obji <1 these prei >( iou^lv 
 
 phi! J rrmarK --(I up in 
 
 iinpiirinu L r a her 
 
 ' it with !ly rarn- 
 
 though ihrre was a twinkle in ear 
 
 M each :iat indicated a 
 
 . and said, 
 " I < 
 
 'g it off tlir ! 
 
 ^ 11. piired 'I 
 
 "By letting it boil over till it put th- fire 
 
 ject opened its 
 pur mouth very 
 
MARCH 'MARSTON'S EDUCATION. 19 
 
 grinned a little with an air of uncertainty, and 
 was about to laugh, but checked itself, and, with 
 a look of perplexity said, 
 
 Eh ? " 
 
 " Ay, my boy," resumed the mother, "just you 
 try the boilingrover plan next time. When you" 
 feel inclined to fight, and know, or think that you 
 shouldn't, just stand quite still, and look hard 
 at the ground, mind, don't look at the boy 
 you want to fight with, but at the ground, 
 and begin to count one, two, three, four, and so 
 on, and I'm quite sure that when you've counted 
 fifty the fire will be out. Now, will you try, my 
 son ? " 
 
 " Mother," replied Two-feet-ten, earnestly (and 
 becoming at least two feet eleven while he spoke), v 
 "I'll try!" 
 
 This ended the conversation at that time, and 
 we beg leave to apologize to our reader for 
 having given it in such full detail, but we think 
 it necessary to the forming of a just appreciation 
 of our hero and his mother, as it shows one phase 
 of their characters better than could have been 
 accomplished by a labored description. 
 
 Before March Marston had attained to the age 
 of sixteen he had read aloud to his mother riot 
 once, but several times the " Vicar of Wake- 
 field," " Robinson Crusoe," the " Pilgrim's Pro- 
 gress," the "Tales of a Grandfather," "^Esop's 
 Fables," and a variety of tales and stories and 
 
.[} MAN OF THE WEST. 
 
 histories of lesser note all of which he st< 
 up in a good memory, and gave forth in piece- 
 mral to iii- uiili'ttrivd companions as opp 
 
 than all tliis, he had many 
 mail y a timr read his Bible through, and was 
 
 iliar with all its leading heroes and histor 
 and anecdotes. 
 
 Tim.-, it will be seen that March Marston was 
 fce a Irarnrd youth for a backwoodsman, be- 
 ing a hero and a u madman." 
 
RIDING A nun 
 
THE GREAT PRAIRIE. 21 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The Great Prairie. A Wild Chase. A Remarkable Accident and 
 an Extraordinary Charger, all of which terminate in a Crash. 
 Bounce talks Philosophy and tells of terrible Things. Our 
 Hero determines to beard the Wild Man of the West in his own 
 Den. 
 
 THE rising sun lifted his head above the hori- 
 zon of the great western prairie, gilding the 
 upper edges of those swelling undulations that 
 bear so strong a resemblance to solidified bil- 
 lows as to have acquired the name of prairie- 
 waves. 
 
 On the sunny side of these waves the flowrets 
 of the plains were already basking in full enjoy- 
 ment of the new day ; on the summits only the 
 tips of their petals were turned to gold. On the 
 other side of those waves, and down in the hol- 
 lows, every thing was clothed in deep shadow, 
 as if the still undissipated shades of night were 
 lingering there, unwilling or unable to depart 
 from so beautiful a scene. This mingling of 
 strong lights and deep shadows had the effect 
 of rendering more apparent the tremendous mag- 
 nitude of those vast solitudes. 
 
 There were no trees within the circuit of vision, 
 but there were a few scattered bushes, so low 
 
1) MAN 0] 
 
 "f these . 
 . 
 
 :i<l with 
 
 B horsi-s l:iy two 
 
 ilso soui 
 
 ,i iii in- 
 
 illilh'S (>! 
 
 ! to 
 
 , \\ illkr.; 
 
 dr with 
 
THE PRAIBIE-HEN. 23 
 
 violent whir-r which is so gladdening, yet so 
 startling to the ear of a sportsman. It was in- 
 stantly joined by the other members of the covey 
 to which it belonged, and the united flock went 
 sweeping past the sleeping hunters, causing their 
 horses to awake with a snort, and themselves to 
 spring to their feet with the alacrity of men who 
 were accustomed to repose in the midst of alarms, 
 and with a grunt of surprise. 
 
 " Prairie-hens,' 5 muttered the elder of the two, 
 a big, burly backwoodsman, as he turned 
 toward his companion, with a quiet smile. " It 
 was very thoughtful on 'em to rouse us, lad, 
 considerin' the work that lies before us." 
 
 " I wish, with all my heart, they didn't rise 
 quite so early," replied the younger man, also a 
 stout backwoodsman, who was none other -than 
 our hero March Marston himself ; " I don't ap- 
 prove of risin' till one wakes in the course of* 
 nature ; d'ye see, Bounce ? " 
 
 " I hear ; but we can't always git things to go 
 'xactly as we approves of," replied Bounce, stoop- 
 ing down to arrange the embers of the previous 
 night's fire. 
 
 Bounce's proper name was Bob Ounce. He 
 styled himself, and wrote himse]f (for he could 
 write to the extent of scrawling his own name in 
 angularly irregular large text), " B. Ounce." His 
 comrades called him " Bounce." 
 
 " You see, March," continued Bounce, in a 
 
MAN OF THE WE 
 
 his rugL 
 
 spark \\liicli kindled b 
 
 r "you s- 
 \vi; - a feelosopher to o. 
 
 ! even he don't D 
 
 (1 th:it 
 
 Irin 1 Np's coinr, we've got I LC uj> 
 
 it or no; d' 
 M I'd see 
 
 ; 'it ihr dr; 
 . 
 
 o occasion to call 1 
 
 in \\ ith :i h 
 
 rd Bounce, ill! 
 
 li 1 promised in 
 in ;md 
 
 your i 
 
 1 
 
 obsarvc 
 
 . 
 
 eivt l:id, at on 
 
BOUNCE'S " FEELOSOPHY." 25 
 
 44 Humph ! " ejaculated March, " I suppose you 
 began your observations before you were a year 
 old, eh, Bounce?" 
 
 44 1 began 'em afore I was a day old. The first 
 thing I did in this life was to utter an 'orrible 
 roar, and I obsarved that immediately I got a 
 drink ; so I roared agin, an' got another. Least- 
 wise I've bin told that I did, an' if it wasn't 
 obsarvation as caused me for to roar w'en I 
 wanted a drink, wot wos it." 
 
 Instead of replying, March started up, and 
 shading his eyes with his right hand, gazed in- 
 tently toward the horizon. 
 
 44 Wot now, lad ? " said Bounce rising quickly. 
 "Ha! buffaloes!" 
 
 In half a minute the cords by which the two 
 horses were fastened to pegs driven into the 
 plain, were coiled up ; in another half-minute the 
 saddle-girths were buckled ; in half a second 
 more the men were mounted and tearing over 
 the prairie like the wind. 
 
 44 Ha, lad," remarked Bounce, with one of his 
 quiet smiles for he, was a preeminently quiet 
 man, 44 but for them there prairie-hens we'd ha' 
 slept this chance away." 
 
 The buffaloes, or, more correctly speaking, the 
 bisons, which young Marston's sharp eye had 
 discovered, were still so far distant that they ap- 
 peared like crows or Little black specks against 
 the sky. In order to approach them as near as 
 
'J6 
 
 possible \\ r 
 
 ' :ie tWO 1 Illd Ilia 
 
 wid- , 80 as to get well to lee\\anl. 
 
 \vind should carry the M the herd. 
 
 ir horses being fleet, strong, and fresh, ^ 
 
 < d the; proprr direction, \vh-n Miry 
 
 :md galloped straigl 
 'i their ({irirr 
 
 the i^roniK 
 ipproach, so thtit th- 
 
 of the li 
 
 urea gazed a 
 
 huh 1 >',irj)ri.-e ; tln-n ih-\ turned 
 
 the outset, to ru 
 and \\ith diliieiilty, and the plain se. 
 
 i their i 
 hr.-n fru t-r th.i 
 
 tin- h'-nl. Hut as the ln>r> inen drew n* 
 inereast-d their sjierd and j>ut the s' (!<, 
 and -tron-j though 'f: mettle. 
 
 ( )n thr hutlaloes the 
 
 !>all thr. 
 
 Hied him. Ha\iiiLT OOO up 
 
 with the animal \\<- meant to shoot, he cocke. 
 
 i held it in : 066 the pommel 
 
A NOVEL RILE. 27 
 
 nearer, in order to make a sure shot. When the 
 horse had run up so close that its head was in 
 line with the buffalo's flank, he pointed his rifle 
 at its shoulder. At that precise moment the 
 horse, whose attention "was entirely engrossed 
 with the buffalo, put his left fore-foot into a 
 badger-hole. The consequence of such an acci- 
 dent is, usually, a tremendous flight through the 
 air on the part of the rider, while his steed rolls 
 upon the plain ; but on the present occasion a 
 still more surprising result followed. March 
 Marston not only performed the aerial flight, but 
 he alighted with considerable violence on the 
 back of the affrighted buffalo. Falling on his 
 face in a sprawling manner, he chanced to grasp 
 the hairy mane of the creature with both hands, 
 and, with a violent half-involuntary effort, suc- 
 ceeded in seating himself astride its back. 
 
 The whole thing was done so instantaneously 
 that he had scarce time to realize what had hap- 
 pened to him ere he felt himself sweeping com- 
 fortably over the prairies on this novel and 
 hitherto unridden steed ! A spirit of wild, un- 
 governable glee instantly arose within him; 
 seizing the handle of the heavy hunting-whip, 
 which still hung from his right wrist by a 
 leathern thong, he flourished it in the air, and 
 brought it down on his charger's flank with a 
 crack like a pistol-shot, causing the animal to 
 wriggle its tail, toss its ponderous head, and kick 
 
28 WILD MAN OF THE WEST. 
 
 up its heels in a way that wrll-nii:h u 
 him. 
 
 - 
 
 n. he uttnvd ;i -hurt laugh, or gru 
 tiimiiiLT his horse abruptly, soon ranged up 
 
 <ir. 
 
 " ll:.ll.>, March ! " dmed, u are you 
 
 .1 \ a, Lfivinir tli" 
 
 with the whip as he loo 
 ^ eyes and a broad grin 
 
 won't d' 
 
 I'll poke ye o 
 
 \\". !;. k< - , lit ICLT a hit 
 
 " Held hard, old frl!o\\ ' M:r>t(u in 
 
 I'll do tin- thi- 
 ii. lad lo\\rr down. 
 
 L and p!uiiL r 'd hi- 
 a^ain up to ihr li 
 

 MARSTON'S REWARD. 29 
 
 remainder of the buffaloes had diverged right 
 and left, leaving this singular group alone. 
 
 " Mind your eye," said Bounce, quickly," she's 
 a-goin' to fall." 
 
 Unfortunately Marston had not time given 
 him to mind either his eye or his neck. The 
 wounded buffalo stumbled, and fell to the ground 
 with a sudden and heavy plunge, sending its wild 
 rider once again on an aerial journey, which 
 terminated in his coming down on the plain so 
 violently that he was rendered insensible. 
 
 On recovering consciousness, he found himself 
 lying on his back, in what seemed to be a beau- 
 tiful forest, through which a stream flowed with 
 a gentle, silvery sound. The bank opposite rose 
 considerably higher than the spot on which he 
 lay, and he could observe, through his half-closed 
 eye-lids, that its green slope was gemmed with 
 beautiful flowers, and gilded with patches of sun- 
 light that struggled through the branches over- 
 head. 
 
 Young Marston's first impression was that he 
 must be dreaming, and that he had got into one 
 of the fairy-tale regions about which he had so 
 often read to his mother. A shadow seemed to 
 pass over his eyes as he thought this, and, looKing 
 up, he beheld the rugged face of Bounce gazing 
 at him with an expression of considerable inter- 
 est and anxiety. 
 
 " I say, Bounce, this is jolly ! " 
 3* 
 
30 THE WILD MAN OP 
 
 : tlir hunt! r \\ itli a '' 
 your h 91 vou'll rh 
 
 yer opinion." 
 
 i try to rai-r hi. h i did 
 
 his opinion, BIB neck i 
 
 iron hint's, \\ hidi had IMT- 
 h in need o; 
 
 ! " groaned Mar g his 
 
 ck on the s;i :n which he 
 
 ! it, 
 
 ved Bom 
 
 ,you old savage? 
 
 !ir<l the 
 
 . ;'or ill i .M.irsi. 
 
 d.M ; ;i8 he la al'trr dri H ith 
 
 \\hrn I 
 
 me ? oh! 
 
 thr 
 
 bo- 
 ugh term 
 
 Hi. I'll 
 A man'.- 
 
SMOKING A TOMAHAWK. .l 
 
 that's the feelosophy of the whole matter. 
 You've a'most bin bu'sted wi' that there fall ; but 
 you'll be all right to-morrow. An' you've killed 
 yer buffalo, lad, so yer mother '11 get the hump 
 after all. Only keep yer mind easy, an' I guess 
 human natur '11 do all the rest." 
 
 Having delivered himself of these sentiments in 
 a quietly oracular manner, Bounce again patted 
 March on the head, as if he had been a large 
 baby or a favorite dog, and, rising up, proceeded 
 to kindle a small fire, and to light his pipe. 
 
 Bounce smoked a tomahawk, which is a small 
 iron hatchet used by most of the Indians of North 
 America as a battle-axe. There is an iron pipe- 
 bowl on the top of the weapon, and the handle, 
 which is hollow, answers the purpose of a pipe- 
 stem. 
 
 The hunter continued to smoke, and Marston 
 continued to gaze at him till he fell asleep. "W hen 
 he awoke, Bounce was still smoking the toma- 
 hawk in the self-same attitude. The youth might 
 have concluded that he had been asleep only a few 
 minutes and that his friend had never moved ; but 
 he was of an observant nature, and noticed that 
 there was a savory, well-cooked buffalo steak 
 near the fire, and that a strong odor of marro\\ - 
 bones tickled his nostrils also, that the sun no 
 longer rested on the green bank opposite. Hence, 
 he concluded that he must have slept a consider- 
 able time, and that the tomahawk had been filled 
 and emptied more than once. 
 
32 TUB WILD MAN OF THE WEST. 
 
 \\ said Bounce, looking roi 
 
 a comf 'able nap ? " 
 
 K How <li<l you know 1 was a\v;ik 
 h. You weren't looking at in< , :uul I 
 
 K dj hut you wink 
 
 how do you kn< 
 
 Mn't wink if ye was a 
 
 from afore, ft 
 
 A'<! y<* \, t a man 
 
 al\\ ,c8 awak -ee! 
 
 Ifl the feelosophy of obsar 
 
 M \ -ry u r that 
 
 .' tin- r;i inuch to tr;, 
 
 ,>per." 
 l;il. IITC yuu ;irr ; ihrrr's nuthin' likt- 
 
 ruling a j>ewter plat 
 .ik ;tn.l m:ir, young 
 
 Marston attained a sitting posture with n 
 diliiculry ;m<l ;.iin ; l>ut wln-n hr h ihr 
 
 (1 swallowed a cup of hot tea 
 
 . 
 witt 
 
 night h' < 11, al\\ 
 
 and a fi'dimr *.j' ru-ty-h 
 tlu- n-ir'.on of I:, 
 
BOUNCE'S STORY. 33 
 
 " Now, Bounce," said he, as he lay down and 
 pulled his blanket over his shoulder, " are the 
 horses hobbled, and the rifles loaded, and my 
 mother's hump out o' the way of wolves ? " 
 
 All right, lad." 
 
 " Then, Bounce, you go ahead, and tell me a 
 story till I'm off asleep. Don't stop tellin' till 
 I'm safe off. Pull my nose to make sure ; and 
 if I don't say ' hallo ! ' to that, I'm all right in 
 the land of Nod." 
 
 March Marston smiled as he said this, and 
 Bounce grinned by way of reply. 
 
 " Wot'll I tell ye about, boy ? " 
 
 " I don't mind what Indians, grislies, buffa- 
 loes, trappers, it's all one to me ; only begin 
 quick, and go ahead strong." 
 
 " Well, I ain't great at story tellin' ! P'raps it 
 would be more to the p'int if I was to tell ye 
 about what I heered tell of on my last trip to 
 the Mountains. Did I ever tell ye about the 
 feller as the trappers that goes to the far North 
 caUs the ' Wild Man o' the West ? ' " 
 
 " No ; what was he ? " said Marston, yawning 
 and closing his eyes. 
 
 " I dun know 'xactly wot he was. I'm not 
 overly sure that I even know what he is, but I 
 know what the trappers says of him ; an' if omy 
 the half o't's true, he's a shiner, he is." 
 
 Having said thus much, Bounce filled his 
 tomahawk, lighted it, puffed a large cloud from 
 
was an 
 
 if !u', r u!>rious solemnity of 
 
 o on, old boy." 
 
 it's easy to say, ' Go on; 1 In it ii 
 
 )i" 'crril'lr things as is said a: 
 
 i, p'raps y.unl say, 
 V It '1! r blood : 
 
 ir git up 
 
 was deeply superst i < >oked 
 
 . 
 
 3. Marston, \vho \v;i> i. 
 BO - i, looked 
 
 , tlir Baj K\ ;in<i win 
 
 i 
 
 cats ma 
 
 ) he once 
 
 a li: 
 
BOUNCE'S STORY. 35 
 
 shot, too ; he carries a double-barrelled rifle 
 twenty foot long that takes a small cannon-ball. 
 I forgot to tell ye he's a giant some o' the trap- 
 pers calls him the ' giant o' the hills,' and they 
 say he's 'bout thirty feet high some says forty. 
 But there's no gittin' at the truth in this here 
 wurld." 
 
 Bounce paused here, but, as his companion 
 made no observation, he went on in a half-solilo- 
 quizing fashion, looking earnestly all the time 
 into the heart of the fire, as if he were addressing 
 his remarks to a salamander. 
 
 " Ay, he's a crack shot, as I wos sayin'. One 
 day he fell in with a grisly bear, an' the brute 
 rushed at him ; so he up rifle an' puts a ball up 
 each nose " (" I didn't know a grisly had two 
 noses," murmured March), " an' loaded agin', 
 an' afore it corned up he put a ball in each eye ; 
 then he drew his knife an' split it right down the 
 middle from nose to tail at one stroke, an' cut it 
 across with another stroke ; an', puttin' one quar- 
 ter on his head, he took another quarter under 
 each arm, an' the fourth quarter in his mouth, 
 and so walked home to his cave in the moun- 
 tains 'bout one hundred and fifty miles off, 
 where he roasted an' ate the whole bear at one 
 sittin' bones, hair, an' all ! " 
 
 This flight was too strong for March. He burst 
 into a fit of laughter, which called the rusty 
 hinges into violent action and produced a groan. 
 
:36 THE WILD MAN OF THE WK 
 
 l;tiii:h and the if roan U>_ 
 drowsiness, so he ti.nn-d on b :, 
 
 Thus poiniedly d on what he frit to 
 
 point, Hounce drew a great number 
 of whitl- from the Toma; B h- v -n 
 
 At length he said, 
 
 \\'.'!l. 
 
 p'int I ilon't. Hut I b'li' 
 i.'lif-vc there's some 'xtraord'n:iry . 
 
 I'vr li". 
 
 ;irs of] in ihrse p;trt<. 
 
 . this wurld 
 
 iind ani) thin ye've always got something. 
 i^ot hold o' point-thin* an 
 
 1 b'lir\. 
 i this wild ii i I dun 
 
 kno 
 
 A ed up ihi> remark \\ith a minute 
 
 h \\ ere more or less : 
 
 drd in iiitrrestiiiL- 
 
 U to fill liim \vit!i a 
 f his own l.-lirf in :it \r\\>' 
 
 . 
 
 lud'-d \\ ith the assertion ; 
 M he'd L rille, ;m' that v. 
 
 o >ee this wild man." 
 
THE TRAPPERS. 37 
 
 To which Marston replied, 
 
 " I'll tell you what it is, Bounce, I will see this 
 wild man, if it's in the power of bones and mus- 
 cles to carry me within eyeshot of him. Now, 
 see if I don't." 
 
 Bounce nodded his head and looked sagacious, 
 as he said, 
 
 " D'ye know, lad, I don't mind if I go along 
 with ye. It's true, I'm not tired of them parts 
 hereabouts and if I wos to live till I couldn't 
 see, I don't think as ever I'd git tired o' the spot 
 where my father larned me to shoot an' my 
 mother dandled me on her knee ; but I've got a 
 fancy to see a little more o' the wurld, 'specially 
 the far off parts o' the Rocky Mountains, w'ere 
 I've never bin yit ; so I do b'lieve if ye wos to try 
 an' persuade me very hard I'd consent to go 
 along with ye." 
 
 " Will you, though ? " cried March, eagerly 
 (again, to his cost, forgetting the rusty hinges). 
 
 " Ay, that will I, boy," replied the hunter ; 
 " an' now I think on it, there's four as jolly 
 trappers in Pine Point settlement at this here 
 moment, as ever floored a grisly or fought an 
 Injun. They're the real sort of metal. None.o' 
 yer tearin', swearin', murderin' chaps, as thinks 
 the more they curse the bolder they are, an' the 
 more Injuns they kill the cliverer they are ; but 
 steady quiet fellers, as don't speak much, but does 
 a powerful quantity ; boys that know a deer from 
 
38 F TOE WEST. 
 
 Jim, 1 guess; that g<x 
 ;;ip and comes 1 heir 
 
 sold 'em, goes right off 
 
 ou mean. I think; at 1 
 ih-m," observed Man h. 
 
 - 
 - Waller, i 
 
 i i<l 1 Jounce, nodding; " Hi: 
 Waller, we calls him." 1 
 
 i not Mirr lh:it 1 can L r n- 
 
 ? " 
 ^aid Boil ':i :ui cmj)h:i- 
 
 int of i 
 r to stain ] ) tin- ii !i a 
 
 litii< i a red nose an' n , 
 
 " 1 know him," intrrrupicd Man );iult 
 
 Then thrrr's Ha 
 
 iiusi \vliosf \' all 
 
 inn \ a man tribe, and who 
 
 in' with 
 
 \ n* 
 
MAHJII MAH3TON AT HOME. 39 
 
 "Oh, I know hini well. He must be made 
 of iron, I think, to go through what he does at 
 his time of life. I wonder what his right name 
 is?" 
 
 " Nobody knows that, lad. You know, as well 
 as I do, that he wos called Redhand by the Injuns 
 in consekence o' the lot o' grislies he's killed in m 
 his day ; but nobody never could git at his real 
 name. P'rhaps it's not worth gittin' at. Now, 
 them four '11 be startin' in a week or two for 
 1he mountains, an' wot's to hinder us a jinin' of 
 them ? " 
 
 To his own question Bounce, after a pause, 
 replied with deliberate emphasis, " Nothin' what- 
 somedivir;'' and his young companion heartily 
 echoed the sentiment. 
 
 Exactly thirty-six hours after the satisfactory 
 formation of the above resolution, March Marston 
 galloped furiously toward the door of his mother's 
 cottage, reined up, leaped to the ground, seized 
 the buffalo hump that hung at his saddle-bow, 
 and entered with a good deal of that impetuosity 
 that had gone far to procure for him the title of 
 madman. Flinging the bloody mass of meat on 
 the floor he sat down on a chair, and said 
 
 " There, mother." 
 
 " Well, you are a clever fellow," said Mrs. 
 Marston, drying her hands (for she had been 
 washing dishes), and giving her son a hearty kiss 
 on the forehead. 
 
40 \VILI M i!E WEST. 
 
 or not clever, n 
 
 Oft in two d;t 
 
 ;i wa.< neither dismayed nor sur- 
 .<' was used to that sort of tiling, and 
 didn't mind it. 
 
 \ . my boy?" 
 
 Vild .Mai, 
 'I 
 
 Wild Man i>' 
 
 :i th:it followed. March 
 
 rse with the - \\*ild 
 
 'he \\"e .lid lie j 
 
 \\ as h\ 
 
 . timid woman) at le: 
 
 i him i:< im for \\\> reso- 
 
 lution. The only restraint d upon 
 
 \\"ild Man, if h.' -honld hajip. 
 him. 
 
 n as if h- i eaired wild hea 
 
 and him. }> iust not 
 
 le; ////// alone. I 
 
 \ -as made, a 
 
 ln-d upon tin' river, and 
 
DEPARTURE FOR THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 41 
 
 Big Waller, Black Gibault, Hawkswing, and 
 Redhand, the trappers. A cheer rang from the 
 end of the little wharf at Pine Point, as the frail 
 craft shot out into the stream. The wild woods 
 echoed back the cheer, which mingled with the 
 lusty answering shout of the trappers as they 
 waved their caps to the friends they left behind 
 them. Then, dipping their paddles with strong 
 rapid strokes, they headed the canoe toward the 
 Rocky Mountains, and soon disappeared up one 
 of those numerous tributary streams that consti-* 
 tute the head- waters of the Missouri river. 
 
 4* 
 

 il AFTER I I I. 
 
 :aet of the Wilderness. Portages. Philosophy of SC- 
 
 Footprint. 
 Bear-hunt in pn 
 
 u paddling, and hauling, and li 
 
 hrro and li 
 
 ill thr 
 
 r unknown to 
 
 m^ in tl g ihosc | 
 
 ,1 world 
 
 IgB, with 
 
 and frlr voii' 
 
 h a heavy j 
 
 
 . wij>rd hi- hratrd !>r ihc 
 
 ''.i thr noblr lai, lay SJ)P i . 
 
 ,,111. 
 
BEAUTIES OF THE WILDERNESS. 43 
 
 "Ha! that's the sort o' thing that's it!"- 
 he exclaimed, nodding his head, as if the rich and 
 picturesque arrangement of wood and water had 
 been got up expressly for his benefit, and he were 
 pleased to signify his entire approval of it. 
 
 " That's just it," he continued, after a short 
 contemplative pause, "just what I expected to 
 find. Ain't I glad? eh!" 
 
 March certainly looked as if he was ; but, 
 being at that moment alone, no one replied to 
 his question or shared his enjoyment. After 
 another short pause he resumed his audible med- 
 itations. 
 
 " Now, did ever any one see sich a place as 
 this in all the wide 'arth ? That's what I want 
 to know. Never ! Just look at it now. There's 
 miles an' miles o' woods an' plains, an' lakes, an' 
 rivers, wherever I choose to look all round me. 
 And there are deer, too, lots of 'em, lookin' quite 
 tame, and no wonder, for I suppose the fut of 
 man never rested here before, except, may^be, the 
 fut of a redskin now an' again. And there's 
 poplars, an' oaks, an' wiUows, as thick as they 
 can grow." 
 
 March might have added that there were also 
 elm, and sycamore, and ash, and hickory, and 
 walnut, and cotton-wood trees in abundance, 
 with numerous aspen groves, in the midst of 
 which were lakelets margined with reeds and 
 hare-bells, and red willows, and wild roses, and 
 
44 THE WILD MAX OF TI 
 
 id prickly pears, ;md n 
 \vhi- |& II.- miirht, we say, have 
 
 all la great deal more, with 
 
 in he didn't, for his ki;< 
 ; such things was limited, so h< < 
 himself, like ;i \\ M. to the 
 
 6 things that he happened to be arquaii. 
 
 tiled .March. MartiiiLT D] 
 
 a hollow in the oTound 
 thcrc'< uri-l\ 1. 
 
 IP fut-inark of one, as sure as I'm a 
 11 ! " 
 
 -uld have bc<Mi in 
 
 i'( h in rcLrard to liis hcini: a \\h! <* u. 
 lor hr \\ as as brown aa c 
 
 . ike him ; hut h- 
 
 white piircn 
 
 : he h;id diaoon 
 
 of a grisly t 1 it 
 
 witn Mian usual ;:h 
 
 V of tho-r E Til 
 
 i)\ 
 yage to 
 
 s long, 
 hi 10 busily engaged in exai 
 
BLACK GIBAULT. 45 
 
 ing it, Black Gibault came panting up the lull 
 with a huge pack on his back. 
 
 " Ho ! March, me gargon, v'at you be find la ? " 
 cried the Canadian, throwing down his pack, and 
 advancing. 
 
 " A bar, Gibault ; Caleb himself. A regular 
 big un, too. Just look here." 
 
 "Ah! oui, vraiment; dat am be one exton- 
 ishin' vopper, sure 'nuff. Mais, him's gone pass 
 long ago, so you better come avay an' finish de 
 portage." 
 
 " Not I, lad," cried March, gaily, as he flung 
 himself upon the grassy mound; "I'm goin' to 
 admire this splendid country till I'm tired of it, 
 and leave you and the other fellows to do the 
 work." 
 
 " Oh ! ver' goot," replied Gibault, sitting down 
 beside our hero, and proceeding to fill his pipe, 
 " I will 'mire de contray, too, Ha ! it be unmark- 
 ibly beautiful specially when beholded troo 
 one cloud of tabacco smoke." 
 
 " Alas ! Gibault, we'll have to move off sooner 
 than we expected, for there it comes." 
 
 The two friends leaped up simultaneously, 
 and, seizing their packs, hurried down the 
 mound, entered the thick bushes, and vanished. 
 
 The object whose sudden appearance had occa- 
 sioned this abrupt departure would, in truth, have 
 been somewhat singular, not to say alarming, in 
 aspect, to those who did not know its nature. At 
 
-e hor 
 
 ids of, with 
 ' thirty tVct IOMLT. It was red*; 
 'i color, and cam 
 
 asionally above 
 ntliw 1>- 
 . and it turn* > be a c 
 
 Invian I; -.'.- it h IVig Waller and 
 
 ^gstoit. O 
 r, and Ilnwksv 
 
 i large en 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 
 tiki d a 
 r hc!;i < better than y 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 nd him \\ith h; 
 
 diggins of old 
 
 Ada 
 
BIG WALLER AND HAWKSWIXG. 47 
 
 per. It is a mistake to suppose that all Yankees 
 " guess," and " calculate " and talk through their 
 noses. There are many who don't, as well as 
 many who do ; but certain it is that Big Waller 
 possessed all these peculiarities in an alarming 
 degree. Moreover, he was characteristically thin, 
 and tall, and sallow. Nevertheless, he was a 
 hearty, good-natured fellow, not given to boasting 
 so much as most of his class, but much more 
 given to the performance of daring deeds. In 
 addition to his other qualities, the stout Yankee 
 had a loud, thundering, melodious voice, which 
 he was fond of using, and tremendous activity of 
 body, which he was fond of exhibiting. 
 
 He was quite a contrast, in all respects to his 
 Indian companion, Hawkswing, who, although 
 about as tall, was not nearly so massive or power- 
 ful. Like most North American Indians, he was 
 grave and taciturn in disposition ; in other re- 
 spects, there was nothing striking about him. 
 He was clad, like his comrades, in a trapper's 
 hunting shirt and leggings ; but he scprned to 
 use a cap of any kind, conceiving that his thick, 
 straight black hair was a sufficient covering, as, 
 undoubtedly it was. He was as courageous as 
 most men ; a fair average shot, and, when occa- 
 sion required, as lithe and agile as a panther ; but 
 he was not a hero ; few savages are. He pos- 
 sessed one good quality, however, beyond his 
 kinsmen ; he preferred mercy to revenge, and did 
 
49 THI: v, 
 
 (lea of t 
 1 fringing hi ings 
 
 't spot," said Redhaml TO hi- 
 ood or n dini'd in \ 
 lace as T 
 Of in for 
 
 ' why don't yeytfaeo? 91 in<piirrl \V:ill.-r. 
 .inkin' o' 
 
 n, with a M 
 i |.a-sri many years 
 
 _TUre was still tall ami Mr:, 
 in his <!;irk "-t -trikin^ 
 
 A 
 
 UM 
 
 iT til.' - 
 
BOUNCE'S OPINION. 49 
 
 younger comrades. In youth, he must have been 
 a strikingly handsome man. Even in old age he 
 was a strong one. 
 
 " I'll tell ye what's my opinion now, boys, in 
 regard to settlin' down," said Bounce, who, having 
 filled and lighted his pipe, now found himself in a 
 position to state his views comfortably. " Ye see, 
 settlin' down may, in a gin'ral way, be said to be 
 nonsense. In pint o' fact, there ain't no sich a 
 thing as settlin' down. When a feller sits down, 
 why, in a short bit, he's bound to rise up agin, 
 and when he goes to bed, he means for to git up 
 next mornin'." (Here Bounce paused, drew 
 several whiffs, and rammed down the tobacco in 
 his pipe with the end of his little finger.) " Then, 
 when a feller locates in a place, he's sure for to 
 be movin' about, more or less, as long as he's got 
 a leg to stand on. Now, what I say is, that when 
 a man comes to talk o' settlin' down, he's losin' 
 heart for a wanderin' life among all the beautiful 
 things o' creation, an' when a man loses heart 
 for the beautiful things o' creation, he'U soon 
 settle down for good and all. He's in a bad 
 way, he is, and oughtn't to encourage hisself 
 in sich feelin's. I b'lieve that to be the feelo- 
 sophy o' the whole affair, and I don't b'lieve 
 that nobody o' common edication I don't 
 mean school edication, but backwoods edication 
 would go for to think otherwise. Wot say 
 you, Waller?" 
 
 5 
 
" Sartin 
 pealed to. 
 
 Big Waller had a deep r r the sup- 
 
 ' i d wisdom of his firiend Bounce. He 
 
 to hi- lueubnitions with earnest 
 
 when he understood Thrm. 
 assented to nil hi- friend said. When Bounce 
 became r him, as was no 
 
 :itly the 0886, lie contented himself with : 
 lough to say, I'm ith 
 in 1. :. thouirh not qu: 1 
 
 but its :ill ri<:lr, /';// quit'- surtin." 
 
 M \\'( !!, irning to 
 
 i*> you think o' them a< 
 
 tS, old I: 
 
 i, \\ho h:td Ix'cn 
 ' thrse sentiiin-i 
 
 irazing wistfully 
 U thr v 
 
 *s shoui 
 \- earnest tone 
 
 behind 
 
 "ii when my i,MU. 
 
 and 
 
 if , but not in our < 
 
SETTLING DOWN. 51 
 
 in our day. The redskins and the bears '11 hold 
 it as long as we're above ground. Yes, I'd like 
 to settle down there." 
 
 " Come, come, Redhand," said Bounce, " this 
 sort o' thing '11 never do. Why, you're as hale 
 and hearty as the best on us. Wot on 'arth 
 makes you talk of settlin' down in that there 
 fashion ? " 
 
 " Ha ! " exclaimed Waller, energetically, " I 
 guess if ye goes on in that style ye'll turn into a 
 riglar hiplecondrik ain't that the word, 'Bounce ? 
 I heer'd the minister say it was the wust kind 
 o' the blues. What's your opinion o' settling 
 down, Hawks wing ? " 
 
 To this question the Indian gravely replied, in 
 his own language (with which the trappers were 
 well acquainted), that, not having the remotest 
 idea of what they were talking about, he enter- 
 tained no opinion in regard to it whatever. 
 
 " Well, wotiver others may hold," remarked 
 Bounce, emphatically, " I'm strong agin' settlin' 
 down nowharV 
 
 " So am I, out an' out," said Waller. 
 
 "Dat be plain to the naked eye," observed 
 Gibault, coming up at the moment. " Surement 
 you have settle down here for ever. Do you 
 s'pose, mes gardens, dat de canoe will carry his- 
 self over de portage ? Voila ! vat is dat ? " 
 
 Gibault pointed to the foot-print of the grisly 
 bear, as he spoke. 
 
THE \HLD M 
 
 a Calrl," udd.'d \V:i 
 
 huntrrs. 1 nr\v to see 
 
 in thr mud." 
 
 \v to sec hi i 
 OOgly Y:iiikr/' crifd (iit.;iult, ; 
 
 i his eyes, and running ii to 
 
 iHrilcr-. 
 
 ;T a drrr ^merged frMii the 
 
 :i thr spot on \\ 
 
 iver, 
 
 'a our FI 
 
 the spot on \\lfu-h he B8 
 
 \r on tin- |);i 
 Me :ind llo:i f i-d (i 
 
 - 
 . llinirini 
 
 be strandrd. ( . 
 
 1 Ilirll f 
 
 frirnd in his lui: 
 
"WE'VE SEEN CALEB!" 53 
 
 bled in time to see his comrade catch the deer by 
 the horns, as it floated past, and drag it on shore. 
 
 " Hah ! I vill pay you off von time," cried 
 Gibault, laughing, and shaking his fist at Waller. 
 Then, seizing the last bale of goods that had not 
 been carried across the portage, he ran away with 
 it nimbly up the banks of the stream. 
 
 Big Waller placed the deer on his shoulders 
 with some difficulty, and followed in the same 
 direction. 
 
 On reaching the other end of the portage, they 
 found the canoe reloaded and in the water, and 
 their comrades evincing symptoms of impatience. 
 
 " Come on, lads, come on," cried March, who 
 seemed to be the most impatient of them all. 
 " We've seen Caleb ! He's up the river, on this 
 side. Get in ! He's sich a banger, oh ! " 
 
 Before the sentence was well finished, all the 
 men were in their places except Black Gibault, 
 who remained on the bank to shove off the canoe. 
 
 " Now lad, get in," said Redhand, whose usu- 
 ally quiet eye appeared to gleam at the near 
 prospect of a combat with the fierce and much- 
 dreaded monster of the Far West. 
 
 "All right, mes gargons," replied Gibault; 
 " hand me mine gun ; I vill valk on the bank, an' 
 see vich vay hims go, so, adieu ! " 
 
 With a powerful push, he sent the light craft 
 into the stream, and, turning on his heel, entered 
 the woods. 
 
 5* 
 
54 
 
 I liinir up 
 
 i I"'s :i wild fellar tli;r. ked Be 
 
 led <on 
 
 ; Ix-T m\ 
 
 ; t'alrli ; 1 on!\ !1 iii 
 
 \vith him till we git ashore, else it : 
 with him." 
 
 if it iro<- 
 
 Hob 
 
 u \\"h:it hapjM-nr 
 
 gneij| 
 
 from In 
 
 Bays. Bob Swan went he did :r. 
 if, all by hissell'. 
 
 lie was si( 
 
 r it w i 1 1 1 
 
 j,n. 1 follered him 
 
 <\. holle:- 
 
 ka at him. and ! 
 
 A os a rn.-ty old lock, an' no 
 There \ 'ii ih- ! 
 
 s! It ran at him, an' lie 
 
BIG WALLER'S STORY. 55 
 
 ran away. Of course Caleb soon came up, an' 
 Bob primed as he ran an' wheeled about, stuck 
 the muzzle of the old musket right into Caleb's 
 mouth, and fired. He swallered the whole charge, 
 that bar did, as if it had been a glass o' grog, and 
 didn't he cough some ? Oh, no ! an' he roared, 
 too, jist like this ." 
 
 Big Waller, in the excitement of his narrative, 
 was about to give a vocal illustration, when 
 Bounce suddenly extinguished him by clapping 
 his hand on his mouth. 
 
 " Hist ! you wild buffalo," he said, " you'll 
 frighten off all the bars within ten miles of us, if 
 you raise your horrable trumpet ! " 
 
 " I do believe, I forgot," said the Yankee, with 
 a low chuckle, when his mouth was released. 
 
 " Well, but what happened to Bob Swan?" 
 inquired March, eagerly. 
 
 " Wot happened ! I guess the bar cotched 
 him by the leg, an' smashed it in three places, 
 before you could wink, but, by good luck, I come 
 up at that moment, an' put a ball right through 
 Caleb's brains. Bob got better, but he never got 
 the right use o' his leg after that. An' we found 
 that he'd fired a charge o' small shot down that 
 bar's throat he had ! " 
 
 " Hallo ! look ! is yon Caleb ? " inquired March, 
 in a hoarse whisper, as he pointed with his pad- 
 dle to a distant point up the river where a dark 
 object was seen moving on the bank. 
 
50 I) MAN 0] 
 
 " '! 
 
 11 land on ti 
 him." 
 
 id than dour,*' remark 
 
 iherc's another 
 , u- and Tai 
 
 As the old "kc, the canoe passed round 
 
 a low point which had hi 
 
 : hough not hiirh, v. 
 burst 11 j- T the s:u; 
 
 thr L r n-h 
 
 old 
 
 :i \\arni. 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 
 a was M 
 
 iiich 
 n-d in thr <uu's bright r 
 
 . in 
 
 ])lan 
 
 r place.-. 
 
 man's hand had 
 
 \\ ildcrnr.^. Th 
 
DESCRIPTION OE THE SCENERY. 57 
 
 was bright and blue, with a few thin feathery 
 clouds resting motionless upon its vast concave, 
 and the air was so still that even the tremulous 
 aspen leaves were but slightly agitated, while the 
 rest of the forest's drapery hung perfectly motion- 
 less. 
 
 Complete silence would have reigned but for 
 the mellow sound of the distant fall and the sweet 
 plaintive cries of innumerable wild fowl that flew 
 hither and thither, or revelled in the security of 
 their sedgy homes. Flocks of wild geese paesed 
 in constant succession overhead, in the form of 
 acute angles, giving a few trumpet notes now and 
 then, as if to advertise their passage to the far 
 north to the dwellers in the world below. Bustling 
 teal rose in groups of dozens or half-dozens as the 
 red canoe broke upon their astonished gaze, and 
 sent them, with whistling wings, up or down the 
 river. A solitary northern diver put up his long 
 neck here and there to gaze for an instant inquis- 
 itively, and then sank, as if forever, into the 
 calm water, to reappear long after in some totally 
 new and unexpected quarter. A napping duck or 
 two, being wellnigh run over by the canoe, took 
 wing with a tremendous splutter and a perfectly 
 idiot ical compound of a quack and a roar, while 
 numerous flocks of plover, which had evidently 
 meant to lie still among the sedges and hide while 
 the canoe passed, sprang into the air at the un- 
 wonted hullabaloo, and made off, with diverse 
 
\vii. 
 
 A hlrll \\ 
 
 i ng surprise ; 
 Of tin 1 trapjxTs in tin ir 
 
 as tin* canoe ill 
 DC at thr i 
 
 tkr thr 
 
 thr r, doubt 
 
 ih' in; ;ive one short gl 
 
 UIll, 
 
 6, :t> lit- [( 
 
 irii hurrali lor th:it thrn- ^i 
 
TBE AKTIBT'B NARIIOW KJHAPK KKo* TUB BKAU. 
 
GIBAULT'S PURSUIT 01? A GIUSLY BEAU. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Gibault has an Adveuture, and discovers a veiy strange Creature in 
 the Woods. A most tremendous Bear-hunt particularly de- 
 scribed. 
 
 MEANWHILE, Black Gibault, having followed 
 the course of the river for some distance on foot, 
 struck into the woods, sought for and found the 
 track of the bear, and, looking carefully to the 
 priming of his gun, and knocking the edge of the 
 flint to sharpen it, pushed forward in pursuit 
 with the ardor of a reckless man. 
 
 Gibault Noir was a goose ! But he was an 
 amiable goose ; therefore men forgave his follies. 
 Had Gibault not been a goose he never would 
 have set off alone in pursuit of a grisly bear 
 when he had comrades who might have accom- 
 panied him. Every one knows at least, if 
 every one does not know, every one who reads 
 these pages may know henceforth that the 
 grisly bear of the western prairies and Rocky 
 Mountains is one of the most desperate mon- 
 sters and most dreaded animals on the face of 
 the earth ; not dreaded merely by the weak and 
 timorous, but dreaded also by the bravest Indi- 
 ans and the boldest trappers. Of course we do 
 not mean to say that by these latter the grisly 
 
GO 
 
 bear 
 
 but ii ifd \\ nh thai d< 
 
 \\ h 
 
 rr^iinl BJ 
 
 111(1 pOWrrflll ril' 
 
 I'ni bear scorns to ily 
 
 . 
 . hr will main litV and 
 
 aasailani 
 
 (1 in hi- 
 
 ;i irrum, 
 
 .ml will 
 
 mei 
 
 Old 
 \vh> h;ivr L r 
 
 ; r. 
 
 r the 
 
 \\llcil lliry pa.- 
 
 
 
GIBAULT LOSES TRACK OF THE BEAR. 61 
 
 ground that did not take a good impression. At 
 length he came to a deep gully or creek where 
 the bushes were so dense that he could not see 
 far through them in any direction. Here he 
 halted, reexamined his priming, and, peering cau- 
 tiously through the underwood, advanced with 
 much greater deliberation and care than hereto- 
 fore. 
 
 In descending the gully, Gibault stumbled 
 once or twice, and made one or two crashing 
 bursts through bushes that would have proved 
 quite impervious to most men. After much toil, 
 he reached the bottom, and, standing there, up to 
 the ankles in a small rivulet, gazed upward at the 
 bank he had now to ascend. 
 
 " Vraiment, it be uncommonly difficile," said 
 he, addressing himself to the task, while the per- 
 spiration began to roll down his forehead. 
 
 At last he reached the top of the bank on the 
 other side, and, after panting for some time, be- 
 gan to look for the bear's footprints ; but these 
 could not now be found. In his scramble 
 through the gully he had lost them, and the 
 ground on the side he had just reached was so 
 hard and rocky that it seemed to him doubtful 
 whether it was capable of receiving any visible 
 impression from a bear's paw. It was just pos- 
 sible, too, that the animal had found the descent 
 of the gully as difficult as he himself had; in 
 
Ti: 
 
 it was 
 thoi. rrminrd to inak 
 
 tie LTOUlld \\ hrrr lu- 
 ll quartrr of an 1; 
 
 ' to in-li. 
 it up 
 
 >pot \\lir- ihc 
 
 In- \ up, 1 it re !" 
 
 ! 
 
 il ;i Mil 
 
 man. 
 
 'l>j)'(l 
 
 <1 hi- L r n;i on tin* ground, stooped d 
 ; utinos:, pursed 
 
 low \\histlr, and said " 1 
 
 
GIBAULT MEETS A STRANGER. 63 
 
 his right hand, scratched the point of his nose, 
 which, being too red naturally, was not improved 
 by the operation. 
 
 None of these acts and exclamations, either 
 collectively or singly, seemed to afford him any 
 enlightenment, for he began to shake his head 
 slowly from side to side, as if he had come to the 
 conclusion that the whole affair was utterly be- 
 yond his limited comprehension ; then he started 
 up, shouldered his gun, and followed the track 
 of the man with as much ardor as he had for- 
 merly pursued that of the bear. 
 
 Perseverance is almost invariably rewarded. 
 This would seem to be one of those laws of na- 
 ture which fail to operate only on very rare and 
 peculiar occasions. Gibault had not advanced 
 more than a hundred yards when he came sud- 
 denly upon the man whose feet had made the 
 tracks he had been following. 
 
 " The Vild-Man-ov-de- Vest ! certainement ! " 
 muttered Black Gibault, slowly, as he gazed at 
 the creature before him, and quietly cocked his 
 rifle to be ready for any emergency. 
 
 Certainly the man upon whom our trapper had 
 stumbled thus suddenly might have been styled 
 the wild man of any region west, north, east, oj 
 south, with perfect propriety. On his legs were 
 a pair of dark gray fustian trousers, which had 
 seen so much service that, from the knee down- 
 wards, they were torn into shreds. His feet were 
 

 inorraMiis. Ii 
 
 1C of thf \rllo\V 
 
 . 
 
 riri. 
 and IrmiM'd with .-ralp-locks. ( 
 
 T h :i broad brim :ii: 
 
 hni .: blur > 
 
 and ViHitliful, but \\ ild an 
 
 . 
 . 
 
 . 
 
 nth a 
 tun- bin A- was 
 
 until lie had hiu 
 
 thir . Al,h 
 
DEFENSIVE ATTITUDE OF THE STRANGER. 65 
 
 was a mystery to the trapper, to one a little more 
 conversant with the usages of civilized life, the 
 open book on the knee, the easy flow of the pencil, 
 and the occasional use of a piece of india-rubber, 
 would have been sufficient evidence that the 
 young man was sketching the view before him. 
 
 " Ahem ! " coughed Gibault. 
 
 The stranger scattered book, pencil, and india- 
 rubber to the winds (or to the atmosphere, for 
 there happened to be no wind at the time), and 
 started up. In doing so, he showed that he was 
 at least a tall, if not a stout fellow. Seizing a 
 pistol with one hand and his sword with the 
 other, he presented both at Gibault, and yelled, 
 rather than shouted, " Stay ! halt ! stop now, my 
 man: drop the butt of your gun, else I'll I'll 
 blow out your brains." 
 
 Although somewhat startled by this unusual 
 mode of salutation, the trapper had sense and 
 quickness enough to perceive that the artist was 
 in any thing but a warlike state of mind, and that 
 his violent demonstration was the result of having 
 been startled ; so, pulling off his cap with that 
 native politeness which is one of the character- 
 istics of the French Canadian, he advanced, and 
 said, 
 
 " Bon jour, monsieur. I ver' moch sorray dat 
 I be give you von fright. Pardon, sair; how 
 you do ? " 
 
 " Thank you, thank you, good fellow,' 7 re- 
 6* 
 
66 Tli MAN OP THE WK 
 
 hand w/ 
 
 -ssary. Yon are a 
 lan, I ?i; 
 
 cause to be }>n>n<; 
 
 ing 
 
 iiii- 
 ii, my i.' 
 
 . i hali not tin, 
 in' dr tracks of 
 
 What ! a g 
 ii|) with 
 
 Wr }. joiii^ 
 
 lUi 11}> h \ and tli 
 
 rials, into a sma 
 
CONVERSATION ABOUT THE EEAR. 67 
 
 " A grisly bear ! " he repeated. " Ha ! lead on, 
 good fellow, I will follow." 
 
 Thus urged, Gibault, without further loss of 
 time, led the way to the banks of the river, fol- 
 lowed closely by his new friend, who stalked 
 behind him with long ostrich-like strides. The 
 semi -theatrical air of the artist made a deep im- 
 pression on the trapper. Had Gibault known 
 what a theatrical air was, he might have been 
 immensely tickled; but, being what he w^as, 
 an unsophisticated son of the wilderness, he 
 knew nothing about such airs, and therefore re- 
 garded his companion in the light of a superior 
 order of being, or a madman ; he was not quite 
 sure which. 
 
 In a few minutes, they emerged from the 
 bushes and came out upon the bank of the river, 
 which, at that part, was high and precipitous, 
 with few trees, but a considerable quantity of 
 underwood on the slopes. . 
 
 " Are you sure, friend, that a bear has been 
 seen by you ? " inquired the artist. 
 
 " Oui ; m'ost positavly sure, sair. Ha ! an' 
 here be him's fut encore. I have lose him in de 
 vood. Now, monsieur, have your pistol ready." 
 
 " Lead on," returned the artist. " I have 
 Longed much for this day. To shoot an indi- 
 vidual of this ferocious class has been my am- 
 bition . Ho ! friend, look here. Yonder 
 
 object seems like a canoe. Whence comes it. 
 
68 THE WILD MAN OF THE WI> 
 
 think ! knov . 
 
 bo <! iit love tin- white: 
 
 in 
 
 ion-irur," intrrruptr.l ( 111 
 
 good mans an' tn 
 
 !> Y < 
 
 ! in th' Im-hrs, :i little 
 *' thrm. ; 
 
 ;ilt thr". 1 thr nn: 
 
 .iin. Ti; 
 :, :ui(l tl, 
 
 I IT <r iii 
 
 - 
 
 I pointit, 
 
 1 his 
 
 . 
 
 tin- which the j 
 
 It 
 
VAIN ATTEMPT TO KILL THE BEAR. 69 
 
 about, as if it had a suspicion that enemies were 
 tracking it. Creeping with the utmost caution 
 on his hands and knees, Gibault got to within 
 forty yards of the monster, whose aspect at that 
 moment was enough to try the courage of most 
 men. There was a wicked glare in his little eye, 
 as he swayed his huge body from side to side, that 
 indicated but too clearly the savage nature of his 
 disposition. Even Gibault felt a little uneasy, 
 and began to think himself a fool for having ven- 
 tured on such an expedition alone. His state of 
 mind was not improved by the sound of the 
 artist's teeth chattering in his head like cas- 
 tanets. 
 
 Taking a very long and deliberate aim at the 
 bear's heart, he pulled the trigger, but the faith- 
 less lock of his old flint-gun missed fire. Without 
 a sign of annoyance or agitation, the trapper re- 
 cocked the gun, again pulled the trigger, and 
 with the same result. Three times this occurred, 
 and at each click of the lock the bear cocked his 
 ears inquiringly. The third time, he rose and 
 sauntered slowly towards the spot where the men 
 lay concealed. 
 
 " Stay," whispered the artist, as Gibault was 
 once more about to try his piece, after rubbing 
 the edge of his flint with his thumb-nail, " stay, 
 I will fire." 
 
 So saying, he suddenly pointed a pistol straight 
 at the advancing monster and fired. A tremen- 
 
70 THE WILD MAN OF THE WE- 
 
 ih<' leport 
 
 . : ily. " Vat hMili>hnrss ! ;i 
 .;;." 1 1-- tamed ;it on- 
 
 was >i 
 llrd thr tr:: 
 
 '!l;ir. 
 
 the 
 iH-iniT 1' 
 
 nun. -II 
 
 -<K)n pasrd him ; hi. 
 hfiir r;r 
 
 he slugs with \\ 
 
 their- B >hrul) ' 
 
 >1 his g 
 priii 
 
 he bunk of the i 
 
RUNNING FOR LIFE. 71 
 
 above them, in order to ascertain the exact spot 
 to which they ought to hurry. 
 
 " I see no smoke," said March Marston, in a 
 tone of deep anxiety. 
 
 " Gibault's gun did'nt use for to bark in that 
 sort o j voice," observed Bounce. 
 
 " I do b'lieve that bar's got J im," cried Big 
 Waller, bounding forward. 
 
 He had not taken a second bound when the 
 artist, flying at full speed about three hundred 
 yards up the river, burst upon the astonished 
 vision of the party. His sombrero had blown off, 
 his long hair streamed straight behind him, so 
 did the scalp locks on his coat, and so did his 
 long cloak which was fastened to his neck by a 
 clasp, and which, in his present panting and rush- 
 ing condition, wellnigh strangled him. 
 
 Before the wonder-stricken trappers had time 
 to remark on this singular apparition, or to form 
 any opinion in regard to it, poor Gibault came 
 tearing round the point like a maniac, with the 
 bear close upon his heels. This was enough. 
 The backwoodsmen no longer showed any signs 
 of surprise or hesitancy. A grisly bear w r as a fa- 
 miliar object a comrade in imminent danger 
 was equally so. They sprang forward to meet 
 the fugitives. 
 
 By this time the cloak had so retarded and 
 strangled the poor artist, that he had fallen a pace 
 or two behind Gibault, and it seemed almost 
 
WILD M 
 
 pprrs could kiii 
 
 , ihrir \i.-\v. 
 
 ;hrr thr in- 
 
 ly divided 
 
 :i liitlf to ill- 
 1 our IMTO 
 
 ' til-- llyiiii: IIHMI |>ass ': 
 ;ir on b 
 
 . 
 i 
 
 t>-;ir :in 
 
 . 
 
 r.- \\ ho h;il fired wer 
 
 \\ ith ilic utn 
 \\"ii 
 
THE BEAK MORTALLY WOUNDED. 73 
 
 tives had each sprung into the bush, and found a 
 place of concealment. Redhand on the one side, 
 and Bounce on the other, had reserved their fire ; 
 the wisdom of this was now shown. The bear 
 made a rush at the bushes on one side, and in- 
 stantly received a shot from the other. It turned 
 at once to rush on the concealed enemy there, 
 but, before it had made a stride in that direction, 
 another ball was lodged in it from the opposite 
 side. The vacillations thus produced gave the 
 other trappers time to reload, and, before it had 
 made up its mind which to attack, another volley 
 was fired, and three balls took effect, Redhand 
 and Bounce still reserving their fire as at the 
 first. 
 
 The impotent fury of the creature was now 
 awful to behold. It was mortally wounded ; 
 there could be no doubt as to that, for the trap- 
 pers were all pretty good shots and knew where 
 to fire, but they had not succeeded yet in reach- 
 ing the seat of life. One ball had broken the 
 bear's shoulder and the blood flowed from its 
 wounds, while churned blood and foam dropped 
 from its jaws. 
 
 Before another volley could be fired it made a 
 furious rush at the three men who had kept 
 away to the left, namely, Big Waller, Bounce, 
 and March. There was no help for it ; not hav- 
 ing completed their loading, they had to drop 
 their guns and run. We have already said that 
 
\\1LD M 
 
 W ihfrr h;ii . It 
 
 it thry 1. 
 80, ' :>hrr ji, , the 
 
 the: . Thr h;uik 
 
 1 \vas fully t\\. 
 
 :i-l sank. M 
 
 with Ji b>lil un- 
 Uf \vas ^< 
 tht h in 
 
 !<'-. 'I 
 
 in ;i mi: 
 
 \vii! of Mar> 
 
 i:uid w:is :tr illc an 
 
 - in ni:ii 
 ind \\ilh I; 
 
 i :iii'i i, 
 '1'hc hii ;ruc. I 1 
 
75 
 
 bear's head, and the lifeless carcase floated down 
 the stream. The three men, instantly observing 
 the effect of the shot, turned round, and, swim- 
 ming towards their late enemy, laid hold of him, 
 and dragged and pushed him with some difficulty 
 toward the shore. 
 
 Meanwhile Black Gibault, who had issued from 
 his hiding-place and had witnessed Redhand's 
 successful shot, began to caper and dance and 
 shout in the exuberance of his glee. Most men 
 are apt to suffer when they give way to extrava- 
 gant action of any kind. Gibault forgot that he 
 was on the edge of an overhanging bank. The 
 concussion with which' he came to the ground 
 after the performance of a peculiarly complicated 
 pirouette broke off the edge of the bank, and he 
 was precipitated headlong into the river, just a 
 yard or so from the spot where his comrades 
 were engaged in landing the bear. 
 
 A loud laugh greeted his sudden and unex- 
 pected descent. Scrambling on shore, and laying 
 hold of the bear's tail, he exclaimed 
 
 Hah ! mes gar^ons, heave away. I have come 
 down for to give you leetle help. Splenderous 
 bear ! Pull avay ! " 
 
 The bear was then dragged out of the water 
 and stretched upon the green sward, where for 
 some time the trappers stood round it in a pic- 
 turesque group, commenting upon its size and 
 appearance, and remarking upon the various in- 
 cidents of the chase. 
 
WILD MAX OF IE 
 
 As T r bear 
 
 \vill 
 
 . On its hind Irp* r 
 
 10 
 
 iiirh' 1 -. It \v:is \vhity-l>ro\\n in color, and 
 
 A dl 
 
 . 
 
 Her 
 
 ;it t ! :! rind i< 
 
 " \\ 
 
HOSPITALITY EXTENDED TO THE ARTIST. 77 
 
 starin' at him," said Redhand, " so you'd better 
 go and pick up yer guns and things, while 
 Bounce and I skin this feller and cut off his 
 claws." 
 
 The party separated at once, and the artist, 
 who seemed a little disappointed at being thus 
 checked in his work, no sooner observed the 
 flaying process begin than he turned over the 
 leaf of his book, and began a new sketch. 
 
 Not many minutes were required for the skin- 
 ning of the bear. When it was done, it, along 
 with all the scattered things, was placed in the 
 canoe, and then Redhand, approaching the artist, 
 touched his cap and said 
 
 " You have shared our hunt to-day, sir ; may- 
 hap you'll not object to share our camp and our 
 supper." 
 
 " Most willingly, my good friend," replied the 
 artist, rising and holding out his hand, which the 
 trapper shook heartily. " You seem to be trap- 
 pers." 
 
 " We are, sir, at your service. It's gettin' late 
 and we've a good bit to go yet, before we come 
 to the place where we mean to camp, so you'd 
 better come at once." 
 
 " Certainly ; by all means ; let us embark 
 without delay," replied the artist, pocketing his 
 sketch-book. 
 
 " Pardon me, sir," said Redhand with some 
 hesitation, " are you alone ? " 
 
lii:n 1 ! 
 
 \\ ' . th. 
 
 . 
 
 Hi!*! IK! rlirri 
 
 !<'(! tin 
 
 ii \\ liirli 
 
FIERY REMARKS AND COGITATIONS. 79 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Fiery Remarks and Cogitations. Round the Camp Fire. The 
 Artist gives an Account of Himself Value of a Sketch-Book 
 Discoveries and Dark Threats. The Bears'-claw Collar. 
 
 THERE is no doubt whatever that a western 
 trapper knows how to make a fire. That is an 
 axiomatic certainty. He also knows how to 
 enjoy it. He is thoroughly conversant with it in 
 all its phases, and with all the phenomena con- 
 nected with it, from the bright little spark that 
 flies from his flint and steel and nestles on his 
 piece of tinder, to the great rolling flame that 
 leaps up among the branches of the forest trees, 
 roaring lustily as it goes out upon the night air, 
 like a mighty spirit set free from some diminutive 
 prison-house, rejoicing in being once more per- 
 mitted to reassume its original .grand dimensions, 
 
 Yes, a western trapper has a grand, a massive 
 notion of a fire, and his actions are all in keeping 
 with that notion. Almost every thing is small at 
 the fountain. A mighty river usually begins in a 
 bubbling spring or a tiny rivulet. So the trapper's 
 initial acts are delicate. He handles the tinder 
 gently, and guards it from damp. Pie fosters the 
 spark, when caught, and blows upon it softly, and 
 
80 .1) MAN 01 
 
 up in < ! 
 as a mother mi 
 
 ibe. But when 
 cam ! of 1'rtle dry twi<:> 
 
 of brok' 
 . be tripper'.- eh;t: 
 
 . 
 ng, 
 
 -own, 
 
 - :- *. 
 
 Ih' d ot 1 ! 
 
 Nrin^s '* 
 
 the pl:5ii 
 l i niassi 
 
 i tiie abstraei to tin 
 that whether th 
 .nil pro. 
 
 . 
 
 ilinrly L r if:< <1 in th:r. ( >n 
 th cn- 
 
 :t individuiil 
 
A TRAPPER'S FIRE. 81 
 
 derous axe and felled the trees around him in a 
 way that would have paled the ineffectual fires of 
 Ulysses himself, and would probably have induced 
 that hero not only to cease cutting trees, but to 
 commence cutting his stick thenceforth from the 
 field of competition ! March Marston meanwhile 
 kindled the spark and nursed the infant flame. 
 The others busied themselves in the various occu- 
 pations of the camp. Some cut down pine 
 branches, and strewed them a foot deep in front 
 of the fire, and trod them down until a soft elastic 
 couch was formed on which to spread their blan- 
 kets. Others cut steaks of venison and portions 
 of the grisly bear, and set them up on the end of 
 sticks before the fire to roast, and others made 
 fast and secured the canoe and her lading. 
 
 The artist, seating himself beside the fire, just 
 near enough to profit by the light, but far enough 
 away to obtain a general view of every thing and 
 everybody, proceeded with enthusiasm to sketch 
 the whole affair, collectively and in detail. He 
 devoted his chief attention, however, to Big 
 Waller. He " caught " that gigantic Yankee in 
 every conceivable action and attitude. He photo- 
 graphed him, we might almost say, with his legs 
 apart, the hatchet high above his head, and every 
 muscle tense and rigid, preliminary to a sweeping 
 blow. He " took " him with a monstrous pile of 
 logs on his brawny shoulder ; he portrayed him 
 resting for a moment in the midst of his toil ; he 
 
le until 
 
 him ilia! 
 n In- shut uj) i. 
 
 infinite 
 
 - 
 . 
 
 \\ r 
 
 . 
 
 :nd 
 
 . . 
 
SUPPER IN THE WILDERNESS. 83 
 
 in particular looked him, figuratively speaking, 
 through and through. He did not remove his 
 eyes off him for an instant, but devoured his food 
 with somewhat the expression of a dog that 
 expects his bone to be snatched from him. 
 
 " Try a duck," said March Marston to the 
 artist, observing that he had finished his steak. 
 
 " Thank you," answered the artist, accepting 
 the proffered bird which happened to be a teal, 
 and beginning to carve it with a pen-knife. He 
 had no fork, but used the fingers of his left hand 
 instead. 
 
 Silence again ensued. 
 
 " Try another," said March again. 
 
 The artist hesitated. 
 
 " You'd better ; it's a fat un." 
 
 " N no. No ! " said the artist, shutting up 
 his knife with an air of decision. " No, thank 
 you, I always advocate moderation, and it would 
 
 ill become me to set an example of glut ah, 
 
 of the reverse. 
 
 " Wai, stranger," said Waller, who, having 
 finished eating, wiped his mouth with a tuft of 
 grass, and began to fill his pipe. " You do come 
 out in the way o' moderation rather powerful. 
 Why a teal duck an' a ven'son steak is barely 
 enough to stop a feller dyin' right off. I guess a 
 down-east baby o' six months old J ud swab up 
 that an' ax for more." 
 
 " Nevertheless it is quite enough for rne," 
 
84 
 
 mon . 
 
 in ill- ir i 
 
 , to 
 tin; 
 
 it. 
 \V <>at yer till \vYn yr L'i 
 
 M I 
 
 \\ 
 
 > to kli 
 
 dl< <1. M M\ i :;- iiiual was < 
 
 ;uilt ; 
 ur face 
 
 :iini looking :i: 
 with much i; 1 with j 
 
 : OFI :i i 
 of a li< 
 
 it \va- 
 ch." 
 ( )n hand on 
 
THEODORE BERTRAM. 85 
 
 his stomach, as if the mere thought of such a 
 delicately-minute breakfast caused him pain in 
 that region. 
 
 " I say, stranger," broke in Waller, in a tone 
 of voice that seemed to imply that he was deter- 
 mined to be at the bottom of this mystery and 
 would stand it no longer " Wot's your name ? " 
 
 " Theodore Bertram," replied the artist, without 
 hesitation. 
 
 " Where do you come from ? " 
 
 " From England." 
 
 " Where air you ago in' to ? " 
 
 " To the Rocky Mountains." 
 
 Wot for to do there ? " 
 
 " You are inquisitive, friend," said Bertram, 
 smiling ; " but I have no reason for concealing 
 my object in travelling here, it is to sketch, and 
 shoot, and take notes, and witness the works of 
 the Almighty in the wilderness. I hold it to be 
 an object worthy the ambition of a great man to 
 act the part of pioneer to the missionary and the 
 merchant in nature's wildest and most inacces- 
 sible regions; and although I pretend not to 
 greatness, I endeavor, humbly, to do what I 
 can." 
 
 " No one can do more than that," said Red- 
 hand, regarding the young enthusiast with inter- 
 est. " But surely you have not travelled to this 
 out-o'-the-way place without a guide ? " 
 
 Bertram pointed up to the stars. 
 
Mj 
 
 ain't al 
 
 Fm--i!-:i<lrrs in the mJiT mo 
 
 }io\v to asrrriain ti.- 
 
 So sayiiii: h i j)ull' 
 
 inii'T p.- 
 
 .ill it kill gam. . 1 1 
 
 in ; now tl. 
 
 ,<>ul<l (1. 
 
 l >rrn //< 
 
 ill ! '' 
 
MG11E A130UT THE WILD MAX. 87 
 
 Man of the West at all ! The bare possibility of 
 such a crushing blow to all his romantic hopes 
 and dreams caused his heart to sink. Bertram 
 observed the change in his countenance, and, 
 quickly divining the cause, added, " But I am of 
 a sceptical turn of mind, and do not easily believe 
 unless I see. There is one thing I have observed, 
 however, which is in favor of his existence." 
 
 " What's that ? " inquired March, brightening 
 up. 
 
 " That the nearer one comes to 'his reputed 
 dwelling-place, this wild man assumes smaller 
 and more natural proportions. I first heard of him 
 in the Red River Prairies, where he is held to be 
 a giant who devours men as well as brutes. As 
 I came nearer to the Missouri, I found that the 
 people there do not believe him to be either a 
 cannibal or a giant, but assert that he is an enor- 
 mously tall and powerful man, exceedingly fierce 
 and the sworn enemy of the whole human race ; 
 a species of Cain, whose hand is against every 
 man and every man's hand against him. The 
 last white man I met about two weeks ago 
 told me he had been with a tribe of Indians, some 
 of whom had seen him, and they said that he was 
 indeed awfully wild, but that he was not cruel, 
 on the contrary, he had been known to have per- 
 formed one or two kind deeds to some who had 
 fallen into his power." 
 
 " Most astonishin' ! " exclaimed GibauJt, who 
 
ss 
 
 Wild .M 
 
 Th' D 
 
 . 
 . lunr (! 
 
 Up without <pr;ikh: 
 
 - 
 
 bree, h- said, 
 
 * I 
 
 Bfl I ': 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 
 - 
 . 
 
 :l. \\'i; 
 
 ' 
 
 i ifii \\ iii 
 slitui 
 Uj> t! 
 ambitioiL i-'or th.tt \>\. 
 
 'I Oil (jli 
 
 hind \\ Bfl unlxMiii.ird. hut " 
 
 Bertnu 
 
BERTRAM TELLS HIS STORY. 89 
 
 glowing embers of the camp-fire with an expres- 
 sion that led the trappers to infer that experience 
 had somewhat moderated his enthusiasm. After 
 a few minutes he resumed : 
 
 " I have done wrong to make this venture alone. 
 On reaching Canada I succeeded, through the 
 kindness of the governor of the Hudson's Bay 
 Company, in obtaining a passage in one of the 
 company's canoes through that series of rivers and 
 lakes by which the fur-traders penetrate into the 
 regions of the far north. Arrived at Red River 
 Settlement, I pushed forward on horeback over 
 the plains with a small party of horsemen to the 
 head-waters of the Saskatchwan. Here I suc- 
 ceeded in engaging a party of twelve men, com- 
 posed of half-breeds and Indians, and set out on 
 a journey of exploration over the prairies toward 
 the Rocky Mountains. Circumstances led me to 
 modify my plans. We diverged towards the south, 
 and finally came to within a few days' journey of 
 the region in which we now are. We were sud- 
 denly surprised one night by a war-party of 
 Blackfoot Indians. My men had grown careless. 
 They neglected to keep a strict watch, and before 
 we were aware that danger threatened us, all our 
 horses were carried off. 
 
 " This was a terrible calamity. My men de- 
 clared that it was impossible to advance without 
 horses, and refused to accompany me any further. 
 I remonstrated in vain, then, filled with indigna- 
 
 8* 
 
Till: \\IIA* MAN OF THE WE 
 
 .nicy alone, 
 oi ih . \vlio \vjt.- 
 
 Aith 
 hin.. I frit > 
 
 iplished 
 
 : >o hr 
 
 ;i*h gam- 
 
 :ilint kill i:. 1 
 
 :llr|| ill ' 
 
 . 
 
 irrillij < ;n|)1 \ 
 
 llir >ini|)lr- 
 in a tr 
 
 in which hr \\ 
 
 \V:illrr. 
 
 ' 
 
 \\ ith a i 
 
 i . I 1 1 1 ~~ 
 
 : 
 
BIG WALLER IN A BOOK. 91 
 
 enterprise to open it up. I mean to take notes 
 and sketches, and, if spared, return to my native 
 land and publish the result of my observations. 
 I do not, indeed, expect that the public will buy 
 my work ; but I shall publish a large edition at 
 my own cost, and present copies to all the influ- 
 ential men in the kingdom." 
 
 The trappers opened their eyes wider than ever 
 at this. 
 
 " What ! Make a book ? " cried Redhand. 
 
 Even so." 
 
 " Will it have pictures ? " eagerly asked March, 
 who regarded the artist with rapidly increasing 
 veneration. 
 
 " Ay, it will be profusely illustrated." 
 
 "Wot! pictures o' grisly bears?" inquired 
 Bounce. 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 " An' men ? " cried Big Waller. 
 
 " And men also, if I fall in with them." 
 
 " Then here's one, I guess," cried the bold 
 Yankee, combing out his matted locks hastily 
 with his fingers, and sitting up in what he con- 
 ceived to be a proper position. " Here you are, 
 sir. I'm your man ; fix me off slick. Only 
 think ! Big Waller in a book a raal book ! " 
 
 He chuckled immensely at the bright prospect 
 of immortality that had suddenly opened up to 
 him. 
 
 "I have drawn you already, friend," said 
 Bertram. 
 
.!) MAN OF TI1K \ 
 
 
 ! 
 
 g his 
 the ir:ij>i" 
 \vitli nnmitiirair 
 
 . 
 
 \vas almos; 
 Imr-' 'iitrollal>! 
 
 (lflii:ii T . II ivrcpiujr Nv iii, 
 
 bod .as so tr< in 
 
 1 
 
 HIT diilu't hrar him ; so 
 
 for :i lunir ; 
 
 In tho.-r 
 
 . 
 
 nh what <! 
 
FINDS A FACE HE KNOWS. 93 
 
 beheld scenes of their own beloved woods and 
 prairies, as well as their own rough forms, vividly 
 sketched by a master-hand. One of the most 
 interesting points in the inspection of the sketch- 
 book was, that old Redhand recognized almost 
 every one of the landscapes as spots with which 
 he was well acquainted ; and as Bertram had 
 sketched most diligently as he travelled along, 
 Redhand told him that by the aid of that book, 
 without compass or any thing else, he could trace 
 his route backward, step by step, to the Saskatch- 
 wan river. Moreover, he described to the artist 
 accurately many scenes which were near to those 
 he had sketched, and gradually fell to talking 
 about adventures and rencontres he had had in 
 many of them, so that at last it became evident 
 there would be no proposal to go to rest that 
 night at all unless some wise one of the party 
 should remind the others that another day's toil 
 lay before them in the course of a few hours. 
 
 At length they took up their pipes, which had 
 been forgotten in the excitement, and refilled 
 them with the intention of having a last quiel 
 whiff before lying down. 
 
 " Ho ! " exclaimed Redhand, who still con- 
 tinued to turn over the pages of the book, 
 " here's a face I know. Where saw ye that 
 Indian ? " 
 
 " I cannot easily tell where it was we met 
 him; but I remember well that it was just a 
 
91 WILI M 
 
 our hurs'-s 
 \\Vre there others with him .' " 
 
 Nil a1 , 
 
 donbl 
 
 hi! 
 
 I to tllr 
 
 th< Did lie ch:u.. 
 
 i 
 
 :i- miirli. A greater tliief :m<l 
 
 ; hr'< :ilw;iy- L r 
 Bf NOM th'nk. I Kn- 
 
GIBAULT IN LOVE WITH A NECKLACE. 95 
 
 expect you to carry me along with you for the 
 purpose of redressing my wrongs." 
 
 " Make your mind easy on that pint," returned 
 Redhand, " we'll talk of it in the mornm'." 
 
 While the old trapper and the artist were con- 
 versing, Bounce had busied himself in stringing 
 the claws of the grisly bear on a strip of deer- 
 skin, for the purpose of making a collar. A 
 necklace of this description is very highly prized 
 among Indians, especially when the claws are 
 large. 
 
 While it was being made, Gibault sighed so 
 deeply once or twice, that March suggested he 
 must be in love. 
 
 So I is," sighed Gibault, 
 
 " That's interesting," remarked March ; " who 
 with?" 
 
 " Ay, that's it," said Bounce ; " out with her 
 name, lad. No one ought never to be ashamed 
 o' bein' in love. It's a glorious state o' mind an' 
 body as a feller should gratilate hisself on havin'. 
 Who be ye in love wi', lad ? " 
 
 " Vid dat necklace," replied Gibault, sighing 
 again heavily. 
 
 " Oh ! if that's all, ye don't need to look so 
 blue, for it's yer own by rights," said Bounce. 
 " I'm jist doin' it up for ye." 
 
 " Non ; it cannot be mine," returned Gibault. 
 
 " How so ? " inquired Waller, " ye arned it, 
 didn't ye ? Drew first blood I calc'late." 
 
96 
 
 -3 blood. 
 
 tLTtin n- 
 
 1 \V;til r. 
 !*! Trll us that . Come, I' 
 
 . 
 t tin- 1> ar, Imi it seemed 
 
 llrll- 
 16 lliiiiL r 
 
 . 
 
 .nurd \\ 
 
 iv \\ hie: iruih, h- 
 
 .s to possess. 
 
 pate, 
 
THE CAMP BUBIED IN KEPOSE. 97 
 
 each man rolled himself in his blanket and lay 
 down to sleep with his feet to the fire. Being in 
 a part of the country where there were very few 
 Indians, and these few on pretty good terms with 
 the white trappers, no watch was set. Bertram 
 lay down with his tattered cloak around him, 
 and, taking a little book from his pocket, read it, 
 or appeared to read it, till he fell asleep, on 
 observing which, March Marston crept noise- 
 lessly to his side, and, lying gently down be- 
 side him, covered him with a portion of his 
 own blanket. Ere long the camp was buried in 
 repose. 
 
WILD SI WEST. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The Dangers of the Wilderness. An Unexpected Cat/ut: 
 
 . necessitates a Change of Plans. A Descent upon Robbers 
 Ioeed and agreed to. 
 
 \v passages in th more 
 
 i is \ 
 hrini: 1"' 
 imrrrt tinty of iub liings is pr. 
 
 lllT ill thr llir \\ ildrn. 'hT 
 
 :iir t (>-<!; 
 
 licity in 
 
 10 be found in thr \\ il 
 - ! ( >n 
 
MARCH MARSTON'S REVERIE. 99 
 
 he awoke refreshed, invigorated, and buoyant with 
 a feeling of youthful strength and health. Start- 
 ing up, he met the glorious sun face to face, as it 
 rose above the edge of a distant blue hill, and the 
 meeting almost blinded him. There was a saffron 
 hue over the eastern landscape that caused it to 
 appear like the plains of Paradise. Lakelets in 
 the prairies glittered in the midst of verdant 
 foliage ; ponds in the hollows lay, as yet unillu- 
 mined, like blots of ink; streams and rivulets 
 gleamed as they flowed round wooded knolls, or 
 sparkled silvery white as they leaped over rocky 
 obstructions. The noble river, on the banks of 
 which the camp had been made, flowed with a 
 calm sweep through the richly-varied country 
 refreshing to look upon and pleasant to hear, as 
 it murmured on its way to join the " Father of 
 waters." The soft roar of a far-distant cataract 
 was heard mingling with the cries of innumerable 
 water-fowl that had risen an hour before to enjoy 
 the first breathings of the young day. To March 
 Marston's ear it seemed as though all Nature, 
 animate and inanimate, were rejoicing in the 
 beneficence of its Creator. 
 
 The youth's reverie was suddenly broken by 
 the approach of Theodore Bertram. 
 
 " Good morrow, friend," said the latter, grasp- 
 ing March's hand and shaking it heartily. " You 
 are early astir. Oh, what a scene ! What heavenly 
 colors ! What a glorious expanse of beauty ! " 
 
WILD MAN OF THE WEST. 
 
 he was 
 
 9fl sueli a scene as t! 
 li eon- 
 
 rani tumr<l his eyes on his co; i. and, 
 
 . 
 
 t rose/' he said, stooping ea 
 
 il it, 
 
 . 
 And waste it* sweetoeaB on the desert I 
 
 1 1- 
 
 was a good 
 
 iose is wasted h< 
 
 inert th- iat, as far a^ 
 
 " < 
 
CONVERSATION ABRUPTLY TERMINATED. 101 
 
 his nose (a difficult feat, by the way, for his nose 
 by nature turned down). " An' pray what's 
 < civilized man ' that he should think every thing's 
 wasted that don't go in at his own eyes, ur up 
 his own nose, or down his own throat? eh! ' 
 Bertram laughed slightly (he never laughed 
 heartily). " You are a severe critic, friend." 
 
 " I don't know, and I don't care, what sort o' 
 cricket I am ; but this I do know, that roses are 
 as little wasted here as in your country may- 
 hap not so much. Why, I tell ye I've seen the 
 bars smell 'em." 
 
 " Indeed." 
 
 " Ay, an' eat 'em too ! " 
 
 " That was not taking a poetical view of 
 them," suggested Bertram. 
 
 " Perhaps not, but it was uncommonly prac- 
 tical ; " returned March, laughing. 
 
 The conversation was abruptly terminated at 
 this point by a flock of wild ducks, which, igno- 
 rant of the presence of the two youths, swept 
 close past their heads with a startling whirr. 
 The artist leaped backwards, and March, partly 
 in the exuberant glee of his heart, and partly to 
 relieve his own startled feelings, gave utterance 
 to a hideous yell. 
 
 " Hi ! hallo ! " roared Big Waller, starting up 
 and replying to the yell with compound interest. 
 " Wot's to do ? Bars or savages which ? 
 Oh ! savages I see," he added, rubbing his eyes, 
 
 9* 
 
il:t! 
 lad. 
 
 1 as tilt - 
 
 - hat sort, as can lau^ 
 
 'iily beast a> > 
 
 cas< 'niin^ at Irast among lu'alihy 
 
 tongues an 
 
 . 
 
 :i-n an 
 
 thry \\rrf in iln-ir j 
 1 Ir vi Bfl 
 
 the 
 
MODE OP PROCEEDING SETTLED. 103 
 
 that there was a rapid of considerable length and 
 strength, which boiled furiously among the rocks, 
 and seemed to be impassable to a canoe. After 
 close inspection of it, however, Redhand and 
 Bounce, who were tacitly recognized as joint 
 leaders of the party, agreed that the canoe could 
 easily enough be hauled up by means of a line, 
 To make a long portage, and so avoid the whole 
 obstruction, was desirable ; but the precipitous 
 nature of the banks at that place rendered the 
 carrying of the canoe and goods a work not only 
 of severe labor, but of considerable danger. 
 
 The mode of proceeding having been settled, 
 all hands went to work without delay. The 
 goods were carried to the top of the fall, which 
 was about fifteen feet high, then the canoe was 
 shouldered by Waller and Bounce, and soon it 
 floated in a calm eddy near the head of the cata- 
 ract. Having replaced the cargo, a strong line 
 or rope was fastened to the bows, and Redhand 
 and Bounce proceeded to take their places in the 
 canoe, in order to guide it through the rapid, 
 while the others were engaged in hauling on the 
 track-line. 
 
 " Stay," cried March Marston, as Bounce was 
 stepping in, " let me go in the canoe, Bounce. 
 You know well enough that I can manage it ; 
 besides, you're a heavy buffalo, and more able to 
 track than I." 
 
 " Nay, lad," replied Bounce, shaking his head, 
 
V . 
 
 11 Y< run tli- n 
 
 if woi> 
 thaffl too bud. D'ye think nobody can 
 
 go." 
 
 -lung 
 
 - 
 
 Were 
 
 . aware of \\ h;it | h was al> 
 
 \oe oil'. 
 
 <M'(1 the still \\ 
 
 i nd was 
 .1 on the line \vi; 
 
 brink of the fall. In a ^eeond, 1 
 i^er was pa>' iittin^ their >ir 
 
 (ragged 
 up-.-treain, \\ h ; 
 
 gllid- d 
 
 iiiin 
 han 
 
 lie 
 
 !>ov to $:< 
 
DANGERS OF A TRAPPER'S LIFE. 105 
 
 " March is a bold fellow," observed Bertram, 
 who walked immediately behind Bounce, hauling 
 on the line like the rest. 
 
 " Bold he is, sir," replied Bounce ; " an' if ye'd 
 seed him, as I did not many weeks agone, a-ridin' 
 on the back of a buffalo bull, ye'd mayhap say 
 he was more nor that." 
 
 " Hah! he is mad! " cried Gibault, who, although 
 the last in the line of tracksmen, was sharp-eared, 
 and overheard the conversation. 
 
 Don't' talk, Gibault," interposed Big Waller, 
 " you need all the wind in your little carcase, I 
 guess, to enable you to steam ahead." 
 
 " Oui, mon dear ami, you is right I do ver' 
 much require all mine steam mine spirits for 
 to push such a heavy, useless hulk as you before 
 me.'* 
 
 " Here's a steep bit, lads ; mind your eye, 
 Hawk swing," said Bounce, as the Indian who 
 led the party began to ascend a steep part of the 
 bank, where the footing was not secure, owing 
 to the loose, gravelly nature of the soil. 
 
 As they advanced, the path along the bank 
 became narrower, and the clifT itself so precipi- 
 tous that it seemed as if a jerk on the line would 
 drag the men off and send them rolling down into 
 the flood below, in the midst of which the canoe 
 was buffeting its way through the hissing foam. 
 
 Bertram, who was unused to such a position 
 of comparative danger, and whose head was not 
 
106 
 
 . 
 
 bank at hi 
 the n:i 
 
 _'< 1 to j 
 ^ a Icdg 
 th'-: ' :m almost inv- 
 
 |f hr 
 
 ;ld do .- 
 
 
 
 come, a 
 
 pass ai 
 
 I lli> ll ihr 
 
 tlion- !i . I. 
 
 h an air 
 was going ( i 
 
 him in 
 
 MII I will 
 
THE CANOE IN THE RAPID. 107 
 
 " Hallo ! up there," shouted Redhand, who 
 was at that moment, along with March, exerting 
 his utmost strength in order to keep the canoe 
 off a rock over which the water was bursting in 
 volumes of thick foam ; " haul away ! haul away! 
 we're just about up." 
 
 The shout attracted Bertram's attention : he 
 turned his eyes involuntarily towards the river. 
 Instantly his brain swam round ; he staggered, 
 and would have fallen over the bank, had not Big 
 Waller, who was close behind, observed his situa- 
 tion and caught him by the collar. In doing so 
 he was compelled to let go his hold of the line. 
 The additional strain thus suddenly cast upon 
 Gibault wrenched the line from his grasp with a 
 degree of violence that wellnigh hurled him into 
 the river. Bounce and Hawkswing held on for 
 one moment, but the canoe, having been eased 
 off a little, caught a sweep of the rapid, and went 
 out with a dart that the united strength of the 
 whole party could not have checked. The two 
 men had to let go to save themselves, and in a 
 shorter time than it takes to relate, the canoe 
 went down the river towards the fall dancing like 
 a cork on the heaving spray, while the old man 
 and the youth stood up in the bow and stern 
 wielding their paddles, now on one side, now on 
 the other, with ceaseless rapidity in their efforts 
 to avoid being dashed to pieces on the rocks. 
 
 The sight of this catastrophe, superadded to his 
 
ins THE u 
 
 'liiiLfs. ' 
 uriird instantly, ami spr.uiir i 
 
 bfl could 10 1; 
 
 of Big \VailtT anil tli 
 
 . 
 md thr \\;i 
 
 ps as fa> 
 run. 
 
 li not g; 
 
 pass over \vhi 
 thr wliirlinir nl 
 
 ,tln-^r. 
 
 a drit'tii; th 
 
 as only 
 thr old 
 \\ hen tii 
 
DANGEROUS POSITION OF MARCH MARSTON. 109 
 
 hand was hurled violently into the eddy, where 
 the canoe had lain before the ascent was com- 
 menced, and was dragged safe to land by his 
 comrades. March Marston, on the other hand, 
 was swept out near to the main current, and 
 would, in two seconds more, have been carried 
 over the fall, had he not, with wonderful presence 
 of mind and an almost superhuman exertion of 
 muscle, dashed into an eddy which was formed 
 by a rock about fifty yards from the top of the 
 fall. The rock was completely covered with the 
 bursting spray, so that it formed no resting-place, 
 and it, with the partial eddy that tailed away from 
 it, was about twenty yards from the shore, where 
 the trappers stood gazing in horror at their com- 
 panion as he struggled bravely to maintain his 
 position by swimming ; but to cross those twenty 
 yards of gushing water, so as to afford him aid, 
 seemed beyond the power of man. 
 
 Men bred in the wilderness are not usually slow 
 to act in cases of danger where action is possible. 
 Each man was revolving in fervid haste every 
 plan that seemed likely to afford succor. Red- 
 hand's quick eye observed that the rocks at the 
 edge of the fall, on the side of the river on which 
 they stood, projected out so far that a straight 
 line drawn from the eddy to the fall would pass 
 within a yard of them, and that, consequently, if 
 March would pull straight across the stream and 
 make vigorously for the bank, he might hit the 
 10 
 
. 
 
 .Irr and ' 
 
 . aJ M irrh, \\ 1;< 
 
 ruitl 
 
 trrowii 
 
 hr had 1<>M all 
 .id. 
 
 bream 
 
 In :m in 
 
 bind 
 
 e his COIUJKI 
 
 did 
 
NARROW ESCAPE FROM SUDDEN DEATH. Ill 
 
 obeyed ; yet so exhausted was he, that, in the 
 effort, he lost strength and sank. Bounce was pre- 
 pared for this. He seized him by the hair and 
 struck out with the energy of despair. A moment 
 more and he was within a foot of the brink of the 
 f a ll ? but also, within a foot of the point of rock 
 on which Big Waller was lying at full length, 
 part of his body overhanging the cataract, his 
 arms extended, and Gibault and Hawkswing hold- 
 ing him firmly by the legs. Bounce caught his 
 comrade's hand, and swung close in to the bank, 
 while with the other hand he continued to grasp 
 March by the hair of the head. The force of the 
 current was so great, however, that not one of the 
 party dared move, and it seemed for a moment as 
 if all of them would be lost, when Bertram rushed 
 forward, and, seizing Bounce by the arm dragged 
 him still nearer the bank, and relieved the strain 
 upon the others. Just then, Redhand came to 
 the rescue, and in another moment the two men 
 were safe upon the land. 
 
 Poor Bertram fell upon his knees, and while he 
 thanked God for the deliverance of his compan- 
 ions, sobbed like a little child. 
 
 For some time the trappers spoke little. Ac- 
 customed though they were to danger, they were 
 solemn 'zed by the recent narrow escape from 
 sudden death. Perhaps, too, their minds were 
 more deeply affected than usual with a sense of 
 their dependence upon the living God, by the 
 
1 L2 
 
 -I tin* li 
 . 
 of alarm.- a. 
 
 . 
 
 . in truth, 
 
 . 
 r (juick . 
 
 to subsist and how prorrrd on thrir 
 said R< 
 
 c iV>r his late ^all.nr 
 
 1 till \\ . 
 
 . 
 March, v 
 
 . 
 i'T in ill- 
 
AN IRRELEVANT QUESTION. 113 
 
 their necks, and a few slugs and bullets in their 
 pouches. The only fire-arms left were Bertram's 
 cavalry pistols. 
 
 As for the canoe, it was smashed so thor- 
 oughly, that only a very few shreds of bark were 
 cast up on the shore ; but entangled with these 
 shreds they were happy to find several of their 
 steel traps a most fortunate circumstance, as it 
 held out hopes that they might still be enabled to 
 prosecute to some extent the main object of their 
 expedition. 
 
 As each man had been in the habit of carry- 
 ing his axe and knife in his belt, those indispen- 
 sable implements of the backwoodsman were 
 saved; but the loss of guns and ammunition 
 was a very severe misfortune, and one which, for 
 at least half an hour after every attempt to 
 recover them had failed, cast a damp over the 
 spirits of the whole party. But these men had 
 neither time nor inclination to hang down their 
 heads and sigh. Big Waller, being a careless 
 individual by nature, was the first to regain 
 somewhat of his wonted tone and manner. 
 Sitting on a grassy knoll, on which all the party 
 had been resting for some time after their fruit- 
 less exertions, in moody silence, Waller looked 
 up suddenly and said " Who's afraid ? " 
 
 As no one happened at that moment to be 
 exhibiting symptoms of terror, and there was 
 no apparent cause for fear, the question seemed 
 10* 
 
1 1 I 
 
 \ . . 
 
 r how 
 . 
 
 - 
 
 knl at 
 
 . and i -iu-li a 
 
 .-less Miriam-holy that 
 i unroll' 
 
 , liouncr, \vitliout 1. why, 
 
 \\ at it," 
 
 r-'li'l 
 
 i to be s< 
 
 'ill' k'r- 
 
 . 
 
 n to 
 ran't pi. 
 in it in ' :ld." 
 
 i 
 
 u 1 1- i. l:nl>. That outra- 
 
 illain the J) 
 
PREPARATION TO ATTACK THE ROBBERS. 115 
 
 part, in a pretty little spot just three days' march 
 from this place. He stole, as ye all know, the 
 horses belongin' to Mr. Bertram's party. Well, 
 I propose that we shud go an' call on him, an' 
 make him stand an' redeliver. What say yon ? " 
 " Agreed," cried Waller, tossing his cap into the 
 air. " Hurrah ! " shouted March Marston. In 
 one way or another, each gave his consent to the 
 plan of making a descent upon the robbers and 
 causing them to make restitution. 
 
 The plans of backwoodsmen, once formed, 
 are always quickly put in execution. They had 
 no arrangements to make, no portmanteaus to 
 pack, no difficulties in the way to overcome. 
 Each man strapped a portion of the remaining 
 property on his broad shoulders, and, pushing 
 into the forest with vigorous strides, they were 
 soon far from the spot where their late disaster 
 had occurred, and gradually drew near to the 
 wild glens and gorges of the Rocky Mountains. 
 
1 16 WILD v \rB8T. 
 
 C ii \ PT i: i; v 1 1. 
 
 lain detcritod. Bounce become* ' 
 ring enlarged on. A ^ 
 
THK WOLF AND THE BUFFALOES. 
 
. 
 
 . . . 
 
A BEAUTIFUL AFTERNOON. 117 
 
 toes against stumps, is good for though some- 
 what trying to the temper. 
 
 Further still we affirm tnat wandering through 
 the wild woods is a funny thing. Any one who 
 had observed our friends March Marston, and 
 Redhand, and Bounce, and Big Waller, and 
 Black Gibault, the trappers, and Bertram the 
 artist, and Hawkswing the Indian, one beautiful 
 afternoon, not long after the day on which they 
 lost their canoe, would have admitted, without 
 hesitation, that wandering through the wild 
 woods was, among other things, a funny thing. 
 
 On the beautiful afternoon referred to, the first 
 six individuals above named were huddled together 
 in a promiscuous heap, behind a small bush, in 
 such a confused way that an ignorant spectator 
 might have supposed that Bounce's head be- 
 longed to Big Waller's body, and the artist's 
 shoulders to Redhand' s head, and their respective 
 legs and arms to no one individually, but to all 
 collectively in a miscellaneous sort of way. The 
 fact was that the bush behind which they were 
 huddled was almost too small to conceal them 
 all, and, being a solitary bush in the midst of a 
 little plain of about a half a mile in extent, they 
 had to make the most of it and the least of 
 themselves. It would have been a refreshing 
 sight for a moralist to have witnessed this in- 
 stance of man whose natural tendency is to 
 try to look big thus voluntarily endeavoring to 
 look as small as possible ! 
 
TIIK W/LU MAN OP THE WEST. 
 
 inity was staring tin 
 ih- bush, v. iih, EM thr ia; til its ;. 
 
 of ort\vrl ln:il , 
 
 :tn r: 
 
 our 1! 
 
 . 
 
 :i8 a Btrn 
 
 il. Thr 
 
 v'll oil ll 
 
 . 
 : 
 
 1 
 
 - 
 
 tlir } 
 
 M I ho; - 1 I!. .line-. u tl Injun 
 
WOLVES ENEMIES TO BUFFALOES. 119 
 
 " Never fear," said March, with a quiet grin. 
 " If he aims within a yard o' the brute he's sure 
 to hit, for I loaded the old blunderbuss myself, 
 an' it's crammed nigh to the muzzle with all sorts 
 o' things, includin' stones." 
 
 At this Big Waller stared, and said, emphati- 
 cally, " It'll bust ! " Bertram felt and looked un- 
 easy, but Bounce shook his head. 
 
 " Them old things," said he, " never bust. I've 
 been forty years, off an' on, in these parts, an' 
 I've always obsarved that old irons o' that sort 
 dortt bust ; cause why ? they'd ha' busted w'en 
 they wos new, if they'd bin goin' to bust at all. 
 The fact is they can't bust. They're too useless 
 even for that." 
 
 " How comes it," inquired Bertram, " that the 
 buffaloes are not afraid of a wolf? I have been 
 led to understand that wolves are the inveterate 
 enemies of buffaloes, and that they often attack 
 them." 
 
 To this question March, whose head was in 
 close proximity to that of the artist, replied 
 
 " Ay, the sneakin' brutes will attack a single 
 wounded or worn-out old buffalo, when it falls 
 behind the herd, and when there are lots o' their 
 low-minded comrades along with 'em ; but the 
 buffaloes don't care a straw for a single wolf, as 
 ye may see now if ye pay attention to what 
 Hawkswing's doin'." 
 
 Bertram became silent 01 observing that the 
 
iihin al >!- 
 
 A iihout 
 
 sed 
 
 run. (' 
 b, \\hilt- thr lu-nl 
 
 i of gnr up: >n : 
 
 me of th 
 
KESULT OF A LONtf FAST. 121 
 
 "wot" any thing " wos" since the world began 
 up to that time, " I'll tell ye wot it is, I won't 
 stand this sort o' thing no longer." 
 
 " It is most unfortunate," sighed poor Bertram, 
 who thoroughly identified himself with his pistol, 
 and felt much ashamed of it as if the fault had 
 been his own. 
 
 " Wall, lads," observed Big Waller, drawing 
 forth his pipe as the only source of comfort in 
 these trying circumstances, and filling it with 
 scrupulous care, " it ain't of no use gettin' grow- 
 owly about it, I guess. There air more buffaloes 
 then them wot's gone ; mayhap we'll spliflicate 
 one before we gits more waspisher." 
 
 It may, perhaps, be necessary to explain that 
 Waller's last word referred to the unusually 
 small waists of the party, the result of a pretty 
 long fast. 
 
 " I'll tell ye what it is," said March, advancing 
 toward Bounce with a swagger and drawing his 
 hunting-knife, " I quite agree with Waller's senti- 
 ments. I don't mean to allow myself to get any 
 more waspisher, so I vote that we cut Bounce 
 up and have a feed. What say you, comrades ? " 
 
 " All right," replied Bounce, laying bare his 
 broad chest as if to receive the knife, " only, 
 p'raps, ye'll allow me to eat the first slice off 
 myself afore ye begin, cause I couldn't well have 
 my share afterwards, d'ye see? But, now I think 
 on't, I'd be rather a tough morsel. Young meat's 
 11 
 
gin'raOy thought tin- midm-st. \Vot say ye to 
 
 I: \oii'll onh i Rrdhand. "till 
 
 Bertram L r it- a n-\v iiinT into his pistol, v 
 
 o* ruttin 1 him up. It'll 
 be quirkrr, \o\] know. w 
 
 - 1 1 i!i ! !j)ini? :i 
 
 ipulse of a 
 
 i .-how to yon vat vr vill do. 
 
 vill r-ich c. vill 
 
 begin \ 
 
 an 1 I vill c.t hot!' inin- .nger. Each \ill 
 
 )H' fiiiL r T ol'df odrr, an' BO ve shall 1, 
 
 As I had by 
 
 rch \\it: 
 Ir 1 
 
 OH \\ W'-npons ;i> 
 
 [K)8- 
 
 pping a 
 skill of \\hi< 
 
A MOST LOVELY SCENE. 123 
 
 seen, an unsuccessful effort to shoot a buffalo. 
 Soon after this failure the party came to a ridge 
 of gravelly soil tEat stretched across the plain like 
 a wave. 
 
 % The plain, or smah 1 prairie, to which we refer 
 was in the midst of a most lovely scene. The 
 earth was carpeted with rich green grass, in 
 which the wild flowers nestled like gems. The 
 ground was undulating, yet so varied in its form- 
 ations that the waves and mounds did not pre- 
 vent the eyes of the travellers ranging over a vast 
 tract of country, even when they were down 
 among the hollows ; and, when they had ascended 
 the backs of the ridges, they could cast a wide 
 glance over a scene of mingled plain and wood, 
 lakje and river, such as is never seen except in 
 earth's remotest wilds, where man has not at- 
 tempted to adorn the face of Nature with the 
 exuberances of his own wonderful invention. 
 
 Far away on the horizon the jagged forms and 
 snowy peaks of the Rocky Mountains rose clear 
 and sharp against the sky. For some days past 
 the trappers had sighted this stupendous " back- 
 bone " of the far west, yet so slowly did they 
 draw near that March Marston and Bertram, in 
 their impatience, almost believed they were a 
 range of phantom hills, which ever receded from 
 them as they advanced. 
 
 On reaching the summit of the gravelly ridge, 
 Redhand looked along it with an earnest, search- 
 ing gaze. 
 
I MAN OF THB WEST. 
 
 V 
 
 . 
 
 a stnnr and drawing forth his >krt. 
 
 foreground." 
 
 . 
 
 was il to a sketch rat 
 
 . 
 
 dge o' you 
 
 . 
 
 ly a small . 
 
 /<<! thr 
 |)ll! 
 
 ni.iLrniti- 
 Uij inlli 'i CCO 
 
 > 
 la in th- 
 
 . 
 we make a < -regrouiK. 
 
CONVERSATION ABOUT A FOREGROUND. 125 
 
 Bounce looked at his companion in silence for 
 a few seconds ; then he removed his pipe, pursed 
 his lips, frowned heavily, looked at the ground, 
 and repeated slowly, " How does we make a 
 capital foreground ? " 
 
 Waller nodded. 
 
 " Ay, that's it." Bounce resumed his pipe for 
 a few seconds, and then said with an air of the 
 utmost profundity, 
 
 " Don't you know ? " 
 
 No, I don't." 
 
 Wot ? Nothin' about it wotiver ? " 
 
 " Nothin' wotsomediver." 
 
 " Hm, that's okard," said Bounce, once more 
 applying to his pipe ; " 'cause, d'ye see, it's most 
 'orrible difficult to explain a thing to a feller as 
 don't know nothin' wotiver about it. If ye only 
 had the smallest guess o' " 
 
 " Wall, come, I does know somethin' about it," 
 interrupted Waller. 
 
 " Wot's that ? " inquired Bounce, brightening 
 up. 
 
 " I calc'late that I knows for certain it ain't 
 got no place wotever in my onderstandin'." 
 
 " Hah ! " exclaimed Bounce. " Come, then, 
 I'll do my best for to explain it t'ye. Here's wot 
 it is. D'ye see Mr. Bertram, there ? " 
 
 Yes I does." 
 
 " An' d'ye see yerself ? " 
 
THE WILD MAS OF THE V 
 
 :i d'ye see the ground over th- 
 ing with hi 
 
 Waller i 
 
 iien," said J! ii tho-e de< , 
 
 with which men usually atle'iip- 
 >e the i of some desperately Ki: 
 
 s a 
 of, an' trie.* 
 
 ie comes before the ground, 
 ><> we're, as ye may say, before-grov 
 
 studies huiii 
 see, coi 
 is always gitiin pmi'-ee-.-a: 
 
 - 
 
 \\ith th- 
 
 els himself as \\ 
 as he was B ma- 
 
 I 
 
 . 
 
 nld 
 it woul.i 
 
 ve see, and 
 
GIBAULT'S DISCOVERY OF BUFFALOES. 127 
 
 taste in this wurld I've obsarved that iver since 
 I was three fut two." 
 
 Having delivered himself of this graphic expo- 
 sition of an abstruse subject, Bounce relapsed 
 into silence, and the whole party continued for 
 some minutes in a profound reverie. From this 
 felicitous condition they were awakened by the 
 sudden appearance of Black Gibault, who darted 
 out of the poplar bluff and made toward them 
 at the top of his speed. He uttered no cry, but, 
 on coming near enough to permit of his features 
 being clearly seen, it was observed that his eyes 
 were eagerly wide open, and that his mouth was 
 engaged in the formation of words. A second 
 or two more, and he was near enough to be 
 heard uttering the word " buffaloes " in a hoarse 
 whisper. 
 
 " Ho ! boy, wot is't ? " cried Bounce, in an 
 equally hoarse whisper. 
 
 " Ba buffaloes, hah ! buffaloes," cried Gi- 
 bault, panting violently as he came up ; " Where 
 be de leet gun ? Ho ! Monsieur Bertram, out 
 vid it." 
 
 " Where saw ye them ? " asked Redhand, seiz- 
 ing the two pistols, and examining the priming. 
 
 " Jist oder side of de bluff. Ver' close to de 
 bushes. Queek ! queek ! vite ! mon gargon, you 
 is so drefful slow." 
 
 The latter part of this sentence was addressed 
 to Hawkswing, who was quietly putting on his 
 
TUB WILD MAN OF THE WEST. 
 
 loughtoc 
 
 of ( in was quirk enough for all 
 
 useful purposes. In three iiiinu: 
 Bfl behind wl. 
 \vn to be feeding, and in another 
 
 vas out upon the pi iin ere. 
 ward h .s, while the rest of the j. 
 
 e again huddled together behind a bi 
 
 with deep and breathless 
 
 nd slow! ward 
 
 buffaloes, pansing and -nulling abi 
 time to time as if he were a \ 
 search of eat At last he hid ap- 
 
 h *o the herd to attniet their 
 it scarcely near enough to ma 
 of bringing one down. T 
 
 oked up iiKjuiringly for a i. 
 . a solitary enen, 
 
 of him, and v 
 
 paused within a fe\v yards <. 
 
 their 
 
 a low groan of 
 re and a win 
 
 . 
 
 agon in. 
 
SUGGESTIVE OF A BUTCHER'S SHOP. 129 
 
 The knife of the Indian hastened the end, and 
 with a rush and a yell of delight the whole party 
 fell upon the luckless animal. 
 
 It was a wonderful sight to see, the way in 
 which these experienced men flayed and cut up 
 that buffalo ! Hawks wing, without taking time 
 to remove his wolf-skin covering, commenced 
 upon the head and speedily cut out the tongue 
 a more difficult operation than inexperienced 
 persons would suppose. Redhand and Bounce 
 began at the shoulders, and Big Waller and 
 Gibault fell to work upon the flanks. March 
 Marston seized his axe, and hastening into the 
 bluff felled a dead pine and kindled a fire. As 
 for Bertram, he sat down to sketch the whole 
 with a degree of prompt facility and gusto, that 
 showed the habit had become second nature to 
 him. 
 
 The way in which these men wielded their 
 bloody knives, flayed and sliced, dismembered 
 and divided that buffalo, is past belief almost 
 beyond description. Each man threw off his 
 capote and tucked up his shirt-sleeves to the 
 elbows, and very soon each had on a pair of 
 bright red gauntlets. And the bloody appear- 
 ance of Hawkswing's mouth proved that he had 
 been anticipating the feast with a few tidbits 
 raw. The others were more patient. 
 
 In very nearly as short a time as it takes to 
 tell, the buffalo was converted into a mass ol 
 
. 
 
 ally Ug| 
 
 to a 
 to wa.- hands : 
 
 i us engaged; "I mean- . e a 
 
 i go to .- 
 
 . hours mi 61 
 .-irked Big Wall. 
 \vhirh old Redband n pi 
 
 .' who be go to vaTrh, tin '" in- 
 
 tO llir C8 
 .'11 ;i>k 
 
 urn 
 11 lirr | o' dry wood, le^t 
 
 \V:illt-r; 
 ruesa we'll have wak-hiu' ciituirli w'm we gits 
 
 . 
 \V.-M ' irood 1)1 
 
 "ii tin- al 
 
THE PARTY PARTAKE OF A GOOD SUPPER. 131 
 
 to give to his naturally thin and lank figure a 
 thread-papery appearance that might have sug- 
 gested the idea that he was evaporating. He 
 smiled good-humoredly when March Marston, 
 who had now become rather familiar with him, 
 shut up his sketch-book and set him forcibly 
 down before the fire, all round which steaks and 
 hunks of meat were roasting and grilling, and 
 sending forth an odor that would have rendered 
 less hungry men impatient of delay. But they 
 had not to wait long. Each man sat before his 
 respective steak or hunk, gazing eagerly, as, skew- 
 ered on the end of a splinter of wood, his supper 
 roasted hissingly. When the side next the fire 
 was partially cooked, he turned it round and 
 fell to work upon that while the other side was 
 roasting thus the cooking and the eating went 
 on together. 
 
 After a considerable time symptoms of satiety 
 began to appear, in the shape of an occasional 
 remark. Soon Bounce uttered a deep sigh, and 
 announced his belief that, having taken the edge 
 off his appetite, it was time to begin with the 
 marrow-bones. Thereupon, with the marrow- 
 bones he began, and his example was quickly 
 followed by his companions. There was a busi* 
 ness-like steadiness of purpose in the way in 
 which that meal was eaten, and in the whole 
 of the procedure connected with it, that would 
 have been highly diverting to a disinterested 
 spectator. 
 

 When the feast was concluded, the pipes i 
 
 ;isa mat im 
 
 the.-- < d, and in full blast, ;>ere 
 
 " Dat be a mo * re- 
 
 Noir. (iibault spo 
 
 It waa q \vas 
 
 he did not possess in a high degree 
 
 
 if 11 need a* i y ' good si 
 
 ill, jist," said Waller; "an' so will this 
 
 il '' 
 
 Big \vas going to h < 
 
 'i a yav. 
 
 
 jaws could st <>ng. 
 
 Dch 
 
 , rre many mini; 
 passed, half their in 
 
 ieir biindir- 
 
 - 
 
 ' a large cotton-tree, dropped into at 
 [ij>e lian^in^.uraccfiilly :V 
 
BERTRAM AND THE YANKEE'S PORTRAIT. 133 
 
 This seemed so picturesque to Theodore Ber- 
 tram, who sat immediately opposite to the Yan- 
 kee, on the other side of the fire, that he pulled 
 out his sketch-book and began enthusiastically 
 to sketch by the flickering light. While he was 
 thus occupied, the others lay down, one by one, 
 and he was left, at last, the only waking member 
 of the camp. 
 
 But Theodore Bertram was human, and this is 
 tantamount to saying that he was not capable of 
 ignoring the somnolent influences of human na- 
 ture. To his own extreme surprise his head fell 
 forward with an abrupt nod while he was engaged 
 in the act of depicting Big Waller's nose, and he 
 found, on resuming work with an imbecile smile 
 at what he deemed his weakness, that that mem- 
 ber of the Yankee's face was at least two feet 
 long, and was formed after the pattern of a some- 
 what irregular Bologna sausage. India-rubber 
 quickly put this to rights, however, and he set to 
 again with renewed zeal. Throwing back his 
 head, and looking up as if for inspiration, his 
 wide-awake fell off, and it required a sudden and 
 powerful effort to prevent his head and shoulders 
 falling in the same direction. 
 
 Having replaced his hat and shaken himself a 
 little, the persevering man once more applied him- 
 self to his task of finishing the Yankee's portrait, 
 which, to say truth, now presented a variety of 
 12 
 

 e outlhi' 
 
 For lOme timr th- }M 
 upon ihr }> 
 /as beginnin 
 
 CM*?, \\!P . he observed that 
 
 air ain.-t which thr ^ 
 of tailing 
 
 hr received a shock upon the 1 
 . 
 n ]><>.. r < - breast, and that Wallrr 
 
 re m statuquo. IV 
 
 was too det'i ' upon sleeping to n 
 
 trifles. 
 
 kly as he rc\- 
 
 -e beneath his nose ! i 
 
 in l.r lEgic hrn-, :n 
 
 .inir in thr li<:ht of 
 
 beer in 
 tion, hr discovered Wallrr' 
 
 lliT hryond thr , . f his rolintr M;IM< 
 
 6 his head, on thr stem of 
 again>t which he leaned. 
 
 and led ] 
 
 must be dreaming, nndrr \vhirli impression 
 I and \vrnt to si- 
 
 
LUDIC'KOLS POSITION OF LERTRAM. 135 
 
 Of course, Bertram recollected nothing after 
 that; but when Gibault awoke next morning, 
 he found him lying on his back, with his feet 
 in the ashes of the extinct fire, his tall brig- 
 andish wide-awake perfectly flat beneath his 
 shoulders, and his sketch-book lying open across 
 his face. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ichc discovered. Bertram booouMM vtJorou.. Failur- 
 lows, and * brief Skirmish, Flight, and Separation are the Re- 
 
 h< bright sky, gilding the hill-tops, flocx 
 ying vegetable* 1 
 
 ini: ili- \\ h 
 
 lo\\i .-Jiinir, uur \\t-;i; 
 
 . .n-^.in to tin. 
 
 . 
 
 ' 
 
 lining t'r> 
 words 1*^8. 
 
 :iiid \ 
 
 good and 
 
 it \\ith mil 
 
EARNEST CONVERSATION INTERRUPTED. 137 
 
 yes, happy creatures, for, despite the existence 
 of death, and sin, and sorrow everywhere, and 
 the croaking of misanthropes, there is much, 
 very much, of pure, overflowing happiness here 
 below. 
 
 " Come, March Mr. Bertram, time presses," 
 said Redhand, interrupting the two friends in the 
 midst of an earnest conversation ; " we've got a 
 long day before us, and, mayhap, a fight with 
 redskins at the end o't, so it behoves us to make 
 a good breakfast and set off as soon as we can. 
 We're late enough already." 
 
 " Ah, Redhand ! " exclaimed March, " you're a 
 terrible fellow for duty an' business, an' all that 
 sort o' thing. It's always < time to be off,' or 
 'time to think o' this or that,' or 'we mustn't 
 put off,' with you. Why won't ye let us take 
 a breathin' spell once in a way to enjoy ourselves, 
 eh?" 
 
 The old man pointed to the sun " You've 
 enjoyed yourself late enough to-day, han't 
 ye?" 
 
 " Come, March, you're in a fault-finding hu- 
 mor this morning," said Bertram, as they walked 
 toward the camp. " Let's enjoy ourselves in 
 spite of circumstances. Do you know, I hold it 
 to be exceedingly wise as well as philosophical, 
 to make the best of things at all times." 
 
 " Do you ? " exclaimed March, in a tone of 
 affected surprise ; " now that's odd. You must 
 
 12* 
 
bearralrl. 
 
 in- 
 ink tha 1 ' thr tnij>jH'i> 1 
 
 about s are as wise as yoursi -If on 
 
 juM in thr Bam ' 
 
 ilrr, now, as '11 ' A lirn he i 
 
 :'t hrlp n. hr guesses hr'll jist irrin an' \"-^ 
 
 ' - Mil in 
 
 y years i ' who's :i 
 
 - if In- hrant (lr;id that ux 
 
 iin > 
 , boy, ni 
 
 as aisy as ye can.' So you see, Mr. I 
 <* got a few sparks 
 
 so as to 
 
 DOh .ii'lli't U>r to 1 
 
 Man 
 
 in 'cause we're gettiif nigh ti< 
 
 <! no r 
 
 ,'lrr, <rt . 
 
 \Vhrr, iii i 
 
 his 
 
 . 
 
REDHAND'S DISCOVERY. 139 
 
 During the course of that day the trappers 
 walked about thirty miles. Toward the after- 
 noon they came to a large river, along the banks 
 of which they pursued their way, led by Redhand, 
 who seemed as familiar with the country as if he 
 had dwelt there from infancy. The old trapper's 
 kindly visage was lighted up with a smile of 
 recognition, ever and anon, when some new and 
 striking feature of the landscape opened up to 
 view, as if he had met with and were greeting 
 some personal friend. He spoke occasionally in a 
 low tone to March, who kept usually close to his 
 side, and pointed to spots which were associated 
 in his memory with adventures of various kinds. 
 But RedhancPs observations were few. He pre- 
 ferred to listen to the conversation of his com- 
 rades, as they plodded steadily along, enlivening 
 their march with many an anecdote and legend. 
 
 At last R^dhand called a halt, and gazed in- 
 quiringly around him, as if in search of some 
 object. 
 
 " Wot's up ? " inquired Bounce, earnestly. 
 
 " It was hereabouts, somewhere," muttered 
 
 Redhand, to himself rather than to his friend , 
 
 then added quickly, as he threw down his pack, 
 
 " Ay, there it is never touched. Now that's 
 
 I call luck." 
 
 " Wufs luck.? " inquired Waller. 
 
 " Ah, dat is de keevestion," added Gibault, with 
 a look of surprise. 
 
110 I) MAN 
 
 .ruing 
 ho obsei 
 
 wi\ : :ioW| 
 
 .vas an old (hap \\ ho < >\wd\ 
 
 TS up in them parts, v 
 
 a Ol 
 
 >'th> M I guess we'd as well 8< ' So saying 
 
 })> -ratrd }, die and, as a matted 
 
 -e, proc< pr. Tl 
 
 fdl!< lird- 
 
 . 
 \vh 
 
 " R 
 
 us. ^H 
 nil I 
 
 parts came do\\n tn I'mr 1 
 year 
 
 Ihand paused, 
 thr urdiind. 
 
 i 
 
 \ith- 
 
 . 
 
CURIOSITY AKOUSED. 141 
 
 said Redhand, Pm goin' onder, an' Fve got 
 some property as I don't want lost. Ye know 
 Beaver Creek ? ' ' \ es,' says I, ' every fut of it.' 
 ( Well, then,' says he, ' there's a spot there with 
 three mounds on the right side o' the Creek, and 
 a tall poplar in Xront of 'em.' ' I know it,' says 
 I. * Well, w'en I last come from that part,' says 
 he, ' I made a cache at the foot o' that poplar, 
 an' put one or two things in, which it 'ud be a 
 pity to lose so I give 'em to you, Redhand. I 
 was chased by Injuns at the place, so I couldn't 
 stop to bring 'em away, d'ye see ? ' { An' what 
 were the things ye put there ? ' said I. But he 
 gave me no answer ; his mind began to wander, 
 and he never spoke sense again. Now, lads, this 
 is Beaver Creek, and there stands the poplar in 
 front o' the three mounds." 
 
 Redhand pointed to the tree as he spoke, and 
 the others started up with alacrity, for the little 
 touch of romance connected with the incident, 
 combined with their comparatively destitute con- 
 dition, and their ignorance of what the concealed 
 treasure might be, powerfully stirred their cu- 
 riosity. 
 
 Arming themselves with strong staves, they 
 began to dig away the earth at the roots of the 
 poplar. 
 
 After a few minutes' hard work, Bounce rose 
 to wipe the perspiration from his brow, and 
 said, 
 
II'. 1 THE WILD M >1E WEST. 
 
 W irll us 0* thi> h 
 
 hand 
 
 isn't sure the cat it not 
 
 d long ago, and I didn' 
 <i>oi lit in' 
 
 II re's*oni> j Big \V:d 
 
 stake \vith which \ 
 up the earth 
 
 "II . 
 
 iring away the e 
 
 roken. No w! 
 
 "So it ! (Jil-iu 
 
 : 
 LT and 
 operation \\ h 
 
 T the shake sho 
 were liijuid. In a moment t 
 
 - 
 
 1 
 
 1 1 
 
 iid dniLTL 
 
 :i was soon 
 
 r unrolled, and 
 
 tin 1 die trappers, whose looks si: 
 
BERTRAM'S RECOMMENDATION. 143 
 
 pretty clearly that this latter discovery was much 
 more agreeable than the former. 
 
 After digging deep all round the tree, they 
 came to the conclusion that this was all that the 
 cache contained. 
 
 " Now," said Bounce, after some talk in refer- 
 ence to their newly-found treasure, " wot's to be 
 done with dis here keg o' brandy ? As for the 
 baccy, we'll carry that along with us, of course, 
 an' if Master Redhand's a liberal feller, we'll help 
 him to smoke it. But the brandy keg's heavy, 
 an' to say truth, I'm not much inclined for it. 
 I never wos fond o' fire-water." 
 
 " If you'll allow me, friends, to suggest," said 
 Bertram, whose experience among trappers in 
 other regions had convinced him that spirits was a 
 most undesirable commodity; " I would recom- 
 mend that you should throw this brandy away. 
 I never saw good come of it. We do not require 
 it for health, neither do we for sickness. Let us 
 throw it away, my friends ; it's a dangerous and 
 deceitful foe." * 
 
 " Mais, monsieur," interposed Gibault, with a 
 rueful countenance ; you speak the trooth ; but 
 though hims be dangereaux an' ver' bad for drink 
 of tin, yet ven it be cold vedder, it doo varm de 
 cokils of de hart ! " 
 
 Big Waller laughed vociferously at this. " I 
 guess Gibault's right," said he, "it 'ud be a 
 powerful shame to fling it away." 
 
1 I I THE WILD MAN OP THE WEST. 
 
 U ^ 
 
 we < ;id4 
 
 our r I in- \v- jrhtl 
 
 ir \vr can't carry it with us on a wai 
 -o I propose that \vr >liouM put if 
 <>un<i it an* coi;: lor it \vhei| 
 
 is linally agreed to ; th- 
 
 he parM 
 
 : 
 ll thriu. 
 
 - 
 
 .cat, tiiiL ith ro8j| 
 
 re came upon t! 
 
 in thei 
 
 1 lyinfl 
 !i thr bank ii- l{nl- 
 
 han 
 
 :it! 
 
 ui fi 
 
 le 
 m 
 
: 
 
 sflk 
 
 a 
 
 i 
 
CAUTION REQUIRED. 145 
 
 and for their safety. Surrounded as they are by 
 perils of every kind, their eyes and ears are con- 
 stantly on .the alert, as they pass through the 
 pathless wilderness on the hunt or on the war- 
 trail. No object witnm the range of vision is 
 passed with indifference. Every thing is care- 
 fully yet quickly noted the breaking of a twig, 
 the crushing of a blade of grass, or the footprint 
 of man or beast. Hence the backwoodsman 
 acquires the habit of turning all things in his 
 path to account, or notes them in case they 
 should, by any possibility, be required by him at 
 a future time: 
 
 Redhand had no definite object in view when, 
 with the assistance of March Marston, he lifted 
 the canoe and placed it in the stream to ascertain 
 that it was water-tight, and then replaced it on 
 the bank with the paddles close beside it. But 
 he had a general idea, founded on experience, 
 that a good canoe was a useful thing in many 
 supposable circumstances, and that it was as 
 well to know where such an article was to be 
 found. 
 
 " We shall have to go cautiously now," said 
 he, before resuming the march. " The Injuns 
 are not far off, as ye may see by yonder thin line 
 o' smoke that rises aboj^e the trees on the moun- 
 tain side. If they are the men we seek, they're 
 sharp as foxes, so we'll have to step like the 
 painter." 
 
thru h- 
 
 panther was thu~ 
 
 . 
 the] 
 
 ;1)<T ha 
 ' 
 
 whi< 
 
 . 
 
 >1 him 
 i of his doing i. ut 
 
DISCOVERY OF THE RED WARRIORS. 147 
 
 what he was desired to do, and keeping as quiet 
 as a mouse. This the artist promised to do, and 
 the two accordingly set forth, armed with their 
 knives and the two pistols. Bertram also carried 
 his sword. The rest of the party were to remain 
 in ambush until the return of the others. 
 
 During the first part of their advance through 
 the wood Bertram trod as softly and carefully as 
 an Indian, and watched every motion of his 
 companion, who led him down into a ravine 
 which conducted them to within a few hundred 
 yards of the camp. From the absence of such 
 noises as the barking of dogs and shouts of 
 children, the old trapper conjectured that this 
 must be either a party of trappers or a war party 
 of Indians. A few minutes' creeping on hands 
 and knees through the underwood brought them 
 to a spot whence the camp could be seen, and 
 showed that in the latter conjecture he was right. 
 The red warriors, forty in number, were seated 
 in a circle round their watch fire smoking their 
 tomahawks in moody silence. 
 
 To the eye of Bertram they all seemed to be 
 lost in dreamy reverie, but Redhand observed, 
 with a feeling of anxiety, that he who seemed to 
 be their chief sat in that peculiar attitude which 
 indicates intense attention. Laying his hand on 
 Bertram's shoulder, the old man said, in the 
 faintest possible whisper 
 
 " Yonder sits the thief, an't he ? " 
 
148 THE WILD MAN OF THE WEST. 
 
 . thr Indian I 
 
 i violently, and loo 
 
 heard. 
 
 1. M Thr th 
 
 . 
 . 
 
 I Iiirani 
 to hi .Id iiiHii. 
 
 ce** 
 
 Illdi 
 
 liandrd on tin- \ 
 
 LTround 
 
 iiis 
 
CAPTURE OF BERTRAM AND REDHAND. 149 
 
 his party lay, as softly and noiselessly as if he had 
 been bred to the work from infancy. On regain- 
 ing the edge of the ravine, they rose and advanced 
 in a crouching posture. Then Bertram sighed 
 and felt that imminent danger was over. Alas f 
 that feeling of partial security cost him dear. The 
 step that succeeded the sigh was a careless one. 
 His foot caught in a projecting root, and next 
 moment he went headforemost into the centre of 
 a decayed bush with a crackling crash that was 
 absolutely appalling in the circumstances. 
 
 Redhand cast upon the luckless man one glance 
 of horror, and uttering the words, " Run for your 
 life ! " dashed down the bank, and coursed along 
 the bottom like a hare. At the same moment 
 that terrific yell, which has so often chilled the 
 heart's blood of men and women in those western 
 wilds, rang through the forest, telling that they 
 were discovered, and that the Indians were in 
 pursuit. 
 
 Bertram kept close to the heels of the old trap- 
 per at first, but before he had run fifty yards he 
 tripped and fell again. On attempting to rise 
 he was seized and thrown violently to the ground 
 by an Indian warrior. Looking back and ob- 
 serving this, Redhand turned at once, like a hare 
 doubling on its course, and rushed to the rescue ; 
 but before he reached his friend he was surrounded 
 by a dozen yelling Indians. At the foremost of 
 these he levelled his pistol, but the faithless weapon 
 18* 
 
WILD M 
 
 ind he w:is ill the B 
 
 . \, hrn ;i 1.1,. 
 
 him ad 
 
 .iidiiiiT to tin- 
 tin- \ 
 
 In-held ;m lining i 
 
 amp :i*es rushing toward 
 
 nid 
 
 i:il eonl 
 80 t 
 
 111: tin- hushes so as i 
 
 tin- canoe had 1 
 formrr >c (JUK kly th:it 
 
 1 him. I 
 thr tin* 
 
 \vlio r:u: 
 
 ! 
 tnick, lad j 
 
 hi.-, hcih in an 
 
BOUNCE'S LIFE IN DANGER. 151 
 
 made a sudden rush at the foremost Indian, who 
 little dreamed of such an attack, and hit him with 
 the paddle with all his force. The savage dropped 
 like a stone, and the paddle flew into a dozen 
 splinters. This was a foolish act on the part of 
 Bounce, for the second Indian was now close upon 
 him, and, seeing the fate of his companion, he 
 . stopped short, and hastily fitted an arrow to his 
 bow. Just then several of the savages burst from 
 the wood with fierce cries. There was no time 
 to lose. Bounce turned, pushed off the canoe, 
 and leaped in as an arrow grazed his neck. 
 
 The bold trapper's condition seemed hopeless ; 
 for, having broken the paddle to pieces, he could 
 not propel his little bark out of danger. The 
 stream was broad and rapid at that place, and 
 swept him away swiftly. Immediately a shower 
 of arrows fell around him, some grazing his person 
 and piercing his clothes and the canoe, but for- 
 tunately not wounding him. 
 
 Meanwhile three of the Indians darted down 
 stream, and, throwing themselves into the cur- 
 rent, swam out so as to intercept the canoe as 
 it passed. Bounce, having laid down, at fulJ 
 length in the bottom of his tiny bark to avoid the 
 arrows which were discharged at him, did not 
 observe these men, and the first intimation he 
 had of what was taking place was the canoe being 
 nearly upset, as a powerful savage laid hold of the 
 side of it. 
 
WILD MAN OP THE WEST. 
 
 To 
 
 if Indian, SO as I 
 
 >e savage fell ku-k \\ i 
 i. The others set 
 :nrd and ED 
 
 ini: tin- trap; .! India; ,ml- 
 
 rhi'ir OOl ad cease*, 
 
 arro n they again ventured to <! 
 
 re. 
 hisopp^ Aa he .< 
 
 all 
 
 
 . anij up 
 
 edge of thr uii-. 
 
 turning round, shook i 
 
 ish howl, an M>ud of arrows, n 
 
 of \vhirh frll -In 
 
 - to the <^roi 
 had i'inrr'd 
 
BOUNCE THINKS OF NUMBER ONE. 153 
 
 CHAPTER IX-. 
 
 Bounce cogitates upon the embarrassing Circumstances of his Con- 
 dition. Discovery of Black Gibault Terrible Fate in Store 
 for their Comrades. A Mode of Rescue planned. Dreadful 
 Effects of Fire-water. The Rescue. 
 
 ABOUT ten minutes after making his escape 
 from his Indian foes, Bounce seated himself on 
 the trunk of a fallen tree and began to think 
 upon " Number One." 
 
 A little red squirrel had been seated on the 
 trunk of that tree just two minutes before his 
 arrival. It was now seated on the topmost 
 branch of a neighboring pine, looking at the un- 
 ceremonious intruder, with a pair of brilliant 
 black eyes, indignantly. 
 
 Possibly the reader may think that it was selfish 
 of Bounce, at such a time, to devote much atten- 
 tion to Number One. He had just escaped ; he 
 vvas in comparative safety ; he was free ; while 
 here could be little or no doubt that his late 
 companions were prisoners, if not killed, and 
 that, in the ordinary course of things, they would 
 eventually suffer death by torture. At such a 
 time and in such circumstances it would be 
 more natural, even in a selfish man, to think of 
 
TE 
 
 i iliry M cm. .Mm 
 
 ; BO on this OCCai 
 
 . 
 
BOUNCE'S REASONING. 155 
 
 At this point Bounce recollected having seen 
 an Indian missionary who had been taken when 
 a boy from his father's wigwam and educated 
 and who had turned out as good and respectable 
 a Christian gentleman as most white men, and 
 better than many, so he checked himself and 
 said : 
 
 " Leastwise they can't be nothin' but savages 
 so so long as they is savages." 
 
 This argument, although exceedingly obvious, 
 seemed even to his own mind to possess so little 
 power, that he endeavored to enforce it by slap- 
 ping his thigh with such energy that the body of 
 the red squirrel nearly jumped out at its own 
 eyes. It clasped the tree-stem to its beating 
 heart bravely, however, and, judging from its 
 subsequent conduct, speedily recovered its self- 
 possession. 
 
 " That's how it is," continued Bounce ; " an' 
 that bein' the case, savages always invariably 
 thinks o' number one, before they thinks on 
 nothin' else. Now, as men judge theirselves so 
 they judges of others that's a fact, as all fee- 
 losophy has preclaimed, an' all experience has 
 pruven. Wot then? Why, them savages '11 
 think Fve-cleared off made tracks thankful to 
 git away with my own skin whole, and carin' no 
 more for my comrades than if they wos so many 
 stumps. Thinkin' that, of coorse they'll think 
 it's o' no use to try to cross the river and give 
 
156 
 
 f SO, 
 
 aboi 'd ! very go 
 
 r j>;i\V 1 
 
 ' s recall me to mind." 
 
 : the trapper >o p 
 
 he chuckled in a <p; . and in doing so 
 
 'hat 
 
 \vhirh had remained for 8or 
 in i;an to ^1 
 
 .ess. 
 
 \V, I'll tell ! I'll cL 
 
 iis look of ri 
 u I'll go 
 
 rn 
 
 the -m 
 
 . hen :i H, 
 
 lie t ! : : 
 
 )ed up fr- iallen 1 
 
 roin the >pot \\ |1 
 tude, t! idly 
 
BOUNCE'S RECOKNOISANCE. 157 
 
 into empty space and vanished from the scene 
 forever ! 
 
 For a quarter of an hour Bounce glided noise- 
 lessly through the forest, keeping a course par- 
 allel with the river. In the deepening gloom of 
 evening, he appeared more like a spectre than a 
 human being so quick and agile were his mo- 
 tions as he flitted past the tree-stems, yet so 
 noiseless the tread of his moccasined feet. The 
 bushes were thick and in places tangled, com- 
 pelling him to stoop and twist and diverge right 
 and left as he sped along, but, being unencum- 
 bered with weapons or weight of any kind, he 
 advanced so rapidly that in the short space of 
 time we have mentioned he stood opposite to 
 that part of the bank where the attack had been 
 made, and below which he had been swept for a 
 great distance in the canoe by the rapid stream. 
 
 Here he spent some time in reconnoitring the 
 opposite bank, but without gathering much in- 
 formation from his observations. No^ymptorn 
 of the presence of human beings could be dis- 
 covered. No column of smoke rising above the 
 trees to tell of the watch-fire of white man or 
 red. The trapper listened intently, then he be- 
 thought him, for the first time, of giving the 
 signal which, at setting out on their journey, 
 they had agreed to use in all circumstances of 
 danger. It was the low howl of a wolf followed 
 immediately by the hoot of an owl. The re- 
 
 14 
 
. 
 ho? 
 
 * signal i u 
 
 litinir a 
 Forth airain. Ii 
 
 \vas heard on tin- oppo-itr I 
 
 ;li;tn 1> 
 .nit. 
 
 iiMlr 
 ,;ui. Ill iivr ininutrs hr hail . 
 
 ' 
 . 
 
GILAULT'S NARRATIVE. 159 
 
 " Non ; dey be all alive, for certain." 
 
 " I'm thankful for that very thankful. Now 
 go ahead, lad, and tell me what ye know, while I 
 pull on my leggins." 
 
 " Veil, dey be alive, as I have say. Mais dey 
 not live long." 
 
 Gibault said this with such a look of woe- 
 begone despair that Bounce paused in the midst 
 of his dressing and said with much anxiety 
 " Wot's wrong! why not, lad ? " 
 
 " 'Cause dey vill be tortured to death demain, 
 or de day apres de morrow. Stay, I vill tell to 
 you all I knows. You mus' know, ven I run 
 avay from you, I do so 'cause I know dat canoe 
 ver' probabilie git opturned, so I come to river 
 bank before every von. Dere is von big tree 
 dere, so op I go like von skvirrel. You know vat 
 come to pass apres dat. You smash de head of 
 de Injun, aussi, you smash de paddil. Den you 
 escape, an' de Injuns howl vid passion ! 
 
 Ver' soon after dat, dey all come to de bank 
 of river forty of 'em, I tink draggin' our 
 comerades vid dem, all tied by de wrist Red- 
 hand, an' Big Valler, an' March, an' Hawksving, 
 an' poor Monsieur Bertram. Mais, dat Monsieur 
 Bertram, be most 'straordinary man ! He terrible- 
 ment frightened for every leetil ting, but him not 
 fright von bit for big ting ! Hims look at de 
 sauvage dat hold him as if him be a lion, x do 
 
160 WILD M 
 
 ur ]J-n 
 ol>, 
 
 L^ood deal of c< 
 puirrin', dej 
 
 ;tll to de ground. It vas v 
 
 V()H 
 
 r Injun. \ ! 1 link 
 
 inn else 
 
 1101 
 
 . 1 1<> turns t: 
 
 >ud laugh, li 
 ' Veil d 
 
 : 
 
 \i\ dfii lu laiiLrh again. Ah! I- 
 
 r liini 1 
 
 .-1 h;ii:'-r his 
 
 :n. 
 
DESPAIK OF BOUNCE AND GIBAULT. 161 
 
 Bounce's honest face assumed an expression of 
 deep anxiety, for, fertile though his resources 
 usually were, he could not at that moment con- 
 ceive how it was possible for two unarmed men, 
 either by force or stratagem, to rescue five com- 
 rades who were securely bound, and guarded by 
 forty armed warriors, all of whom were trained 
 from infancy in the midst of alarms that made 
 caution and intense watchfulness second nature 
 to them. 
 
 " It looks bad," said Bounce, sitting down on 
 a stone, clasping his hard hands together, and 
 resting an elbow on each knee. " Sit ye down, 
 Gibault. We'll think a bit, an' then go to work. 
 That's wot we'll do d'ye see ? " 
 
 " Non, I don't see," groaned Gibault. " Vat 
 can ve do ? Two to forty ! If it was only swords 
 ve had to fight vid Hah ! But alas ; we have 
 noting dey have every ting." 
 
 " True, lad, force won't do," returned Bounce ; 
 " an' yit," he added, knitting his brows, " if 
 nothin' else '11 do, we'll try at least how much 
 force '11 do." 
 
 After a short pause, Bounce resumed, " Wos 
 they tied very tight, Gibault ? " 
 
 " Oui. I see de cords deep in de wrists, an' 
 poor Redhand seem to be ver' moch stunned ; he 
 valk as if hims be dronk. 
 
 " Drunk ! " exclaimed Bounce, suddenly spring- 
 ing up as if he had received an electric shock, 
 
 14* 
 
THE WILD MAN OF T1IE WK 
 
 \\}i\ inoilK'iit. hr LT:i 
 
 "ii pii.-hini: him v'n>initl\ 
 round and -loni: th- 
 
 ult. I'll 
 
 of ^ 
 
 \vlii 1 \vhirh ' 
 
 
 
 
 
 i \\hirh 
 
 . 
 
 :ik until 
 tin. - in this 
 
 . 
 
 into 
 
 halt, 
 ihrir \. 
 
 'J'li 
 
PLAN TO AVOID DISCOVERY. 163 
 
 their path, as if they wished them success in their 
 enterprise. It was all-important that they should 
 reach the Indian camp before day-break ; so, 
 although footsore and weary from their late exer- 
 tion after a long day's march, they nevertheless 
 ran steadily on at a long swinging trot, which 
 brought them, to their inexpressible joy, much 
 sooner than they had anticipated, to their jour- 
 ney's end. 
 
 It was two hours before dawn when they came 
 suddenly upon the camp, so suddenly that they 
 had to crouch the instant they saw the watch- 
 fires, in order to avoid being discovered. 
 
 " Now, Gibault," whispered Bounce, " you'll 
 have to remain here. Get into a hiding-place as 
 fast as ye can, and keep close. You're clever 
 enough to know what to do, and when to do it. 
 Only, lad, come near and have your knife handy 
 when the row is at the loudest, and see that ye 
 don't let the squaws cut out our livers when we're 
 tied up." 
 
 Gibault nodded significantly. 
 
 " It's a curious fact," continued Bounce, in a 
 somewhat sad tone, " that I'm more afraid o' the 
 squaws than o' the men. Hows'ever, it's got to 
 be done ! " 
 
 So saying, Bounce shouldered the keg, and, 
 shaking his comrade bjt the hand, as if he felt 
 that he might be parting with him forever, he 
 glided into the darkness of the forest, leaving 
 
1 I THE WILD MAN OF THE V 
 
 i ill 
 
 !j). 
 
 -f ohsrrvatiHii tlir )><>or ( 
 
 Ol ralcui 
 ;> l:iy in a hollov. . : ly 
 
 !)l;r/r<l ;i l;trL r ' cMiup fire. \l 
 \va: 
 
 rsrs hoi. 
 
 . 
 
 illi- 
 :ially, a- f tin: 
 
 ()1'1 111' . tlll'Sl' ll'l| 
 
 M'liili* ( \vitli 
 
 miii 
 
BOUNCE AND HIS FIRE-WATER. 165 
 
 whole band of Indians suddenly sprang to their 
 feet and seized their weapons. Almost at the 
 same moment Bounce strode into the circle of 
 light and deposited his cask on the ground. 
 Then, making signs of peace, he advanced 
 toward one of the Indians, who, from his dress 
 and appearance, seemed to be the chief, and 
 presented him with a piece of tobacco. The 
 chief accepted the gift in silence. 
 
 Bounce, who was well acquainted with many 
 of the dialects of that region, had no difficulty in 
 making himself understood. He stated that he 
 was a trapper, that he had come to that country 
 to trade, and asked whether his Indian friends 
 had furs to dispose of. As he had anticipated, 
 the savages were in no mood to treat with a sol- 
 itary man who was entirely in their power. The 
 chief, who evidently suspected that he was a 
 friend of the prisoners, instead of replying, asked 
 him sarcastically what he had in the keg. 
 
 " Fire-water," replied Bounce, unhesitatingly. 
 
 At this the eyes of the savages sparkled with 
 delight. Not deigning to waste more time with 
 him, they seized the unfortunate trapper, and 
 confronted him with his companions, gazing 
 earnestly in their faces the while to observe 
 whether they betrayed any sign of recognition. 
 
 It said much for the self-control of these hardy 
 men, that, although their comrade was thus sud* 
 denly and unexpectedly placed before them, they 
 
of their 
 niiii and on 
 
 \vhi 1 in 
 
 which til 
 
 f ; 1 1 ! 
 
 \Vrll \v 
 
 . 
 
 rrihly and 
 
 iiad BMI 
 n of B 
 
 rtTlainl) 
 
 . 
 -srd away from him \\ith a hov . , 
 
 'i thrir ; 
 No one \\ h of 
 
 I 
 
THE EFFECTS OF FIRE-WATER. 167 
 
 The head of the keg was quickly knocked in, 
 and the eyes of the savages seemed positively to 
 flash as they gazed upon the precious fluid. 
 The chief advanced first with a little tin mug, 
 such as was sold to them by traders, and drank 
 a deep draught ; he then handed the cup to 
 another, but the impatience of the others could 
 not be restrained ; they crowded round with 
 their mugs, and dipping them into the keg, drank 
 eagerly, while the squaws, who loved the fire- 
 water as much as did their masters, formed an 
 outer circle, and, as patiently as they could, 
 awaited their turn. They knew full well that it 
 would soon come. 
 
 The Indians, being unaccustomed to frequent 
 potations, were quickly maddened by the spirit, 
 which mounted to their brains and rushed 
 through their veins like wild-fire, causing every 
 nerve in their strong frames to tingle. Their 
 characteristic gravity and decorum vanished. 
 They laughed, they danced, they sang, they 
 yelled, like a troop of incarnate fiends! Then 
 they rushed in a body toward their prisoners, 
 and began a species of war-dance round them, 
 flourishing their tomahawks and knives close to 
 their faces as if they were about to slay them ; 
 shrieking and howling in the most unearthly 
 manner, and using all those cruel devices that 
 are practised by Red Indians to terrify those 
 unfortunates whom they intend ultimately to kilL 
 
1G8 
 
 \varriors observed tliut the 
 
 ilthily :ijjrn:irhi: 
 ;md ru-hed toward I 'ill :i ln>\vl 
 
 the \vo: 
 
 upon t 
 
 hT- 
 
 . 
 
 Mrii!y :i younir mini rusluMl 
 
 ful ree *>f the muni- 
 
 unkcn /;/ / '/ bet : 
 
 l>een too mudi ii 
 ihnn ;. 
 
 illy 
 
 ill, t(> \\ ! 
 
 to be th 
 
 be ; 
 
GIBAULT RELEASES HIS COMRADES. 169 
 
 And now Gibault Noir felt that it was time for 
 him to draw near to the horrible scene, in order 
 to be ready, when the moment should arrive, to 
 release the prisoners, or to protect them in the 
 event of any of the drunken crew being tempted 
 to a premature slaughter. 
 
 The women were now actively interfering to 
 prevent further bloodshed. Most of the Indians 
 were already dead drunk. Only a few, whose 
 powers of endurance were greater than those of 
 their comrades, continued to shout their war- 
 songs. When these were down, the women 
 rushed at the spirits like wolves. Even the little 
 children came out from the tents and got their 
 share. It was a terrible scene, such as has, alas ! 
 been often enacted before in the wilds of the Far 
 West, and, doubtless, shall be enacted again, 
 unless (so-called) Christian traders give up fire- 
 water as an article of traffic. 
 
 In a very short space of time the women were 
 . as helpless as their masters. Then Gibault cut 
 the thongs that bound his comrades, and set them 
 free! 
 
 " Thanks, thanks to the Almighty," said Ber- 
 tram, earnestly, when his bonds were cut. " I 
 had thought that my days were numbered ; that 
 it was to be my sad fate to fill a grave here in 
 the wilderness. But H',s hand is indeed mighty 
 to save. And thajiks be to you, good Gibault. 
 Under God we owe our lives to you." 
 
 15 
 
170 
 
 Bertram attempted to B6J hand as 
 
 he spoke, but his o\\ 11 han< 
 to his will. They had l>een so long and so 
 tightly bound that they were utterly powerless. 
 
 b 'cm. nil. 'cm well," said ( iibauli, sei/inLT 
 the ing his < 
 
 'y. 
 . that's Redhand, whd, with his 
 
 i. the in-tan: he wa- 
 rub and chafe 1; 
 limbs into \ .as if hi- 
 
 as indeed lh> 
 
 1 extent, for, had th- 
 to li ' tliat nunii- eonld 1 
 
 neither. 
 
 " Now. lads," said B<nn< 
 
 horl time, was nnhm 
 
 bond-, " \\ h i I'll 
 
 tell ye \ Them - 
 
 to the j 
 
 Of course, bein' white n. 
 
 kill tli- heir 
 
 ;> " 
 
 interriij 
 hand, u who 
 
 jot the 
 eha- 
 
 the pity. It'> sich-like ! 
 
 ps honest tnippers and i'ur-traders for iver in 
 
BOUNCE'S PLAN ACCEPTED. 171 
 
 hot water here. Howsomediver, we're not agoin' 
 to turn ourselves into brute beasts 'cause they're 
 turned theirselves into sich." 
 
 " I'm not so sure o' that," broke in Big Waller, 
 casting a scowling glance on the savages as he 
 surveyed a wound in his left arm, which, al- 
 though not serious, from want of dressing, suffi- 
 ciently painful, " I calc'late it would serve them 
 reptiles right if we was to w r hangskiver the whole 
 on 'em as they lie." 
 
 " I don't b'lieve," retorted Bounce, " that 
 ' whangskiver ' is either English, Injun, French, 
 or Yankee ; but if it means killin' you'll do 
 nothing o' the sort. Here's what we'll do. We'll 
 ketch as many horses as wos took from Mr. 
 Bertram's fellers, an' as many guns too (the same 
 ones if we can lay hands on 'em), an' as much 
 powder an' shot an' other things as that keg o' 
 brandy is worth, an' then we'll bid the red-skins 
 good-by without wakenin' of 'em up." 
 
 " Goot," ejaculated Gibault, pausing in hi? 
 manipulation of the artist, " now you can do ! " 
 
 " Capital ; thanks, I feel quite strong again." 
 
 " I say, Gibault," observed March, ruefully, 
 " they've almost sawed through the skin o' my 
 ankle. I've no left foot at all, as far as feelin' 
 goes." 
 
 " Hah ! me boy, 'tis well you have foot left, 
 though you not feel left foot ! Let me see." 
 
 " That's it, Gibault, rub away ; if your jokes 
 
good as ym; 
 
 . for the ] 
 
 :nd rul> ipiiiiT 
 
 1 up in 
 
 ; i bond 
 
 :i^ tin-in tli. his 
 
 llicll he 
 
 . 
 
 hol>M'-<l, Ell 
 
 Thru : 
 
 Miiimmiitioi 
 
 id sugar, :ui< 
 
 \vlr-- ! up ii ' 
 
 as 80 :: 
 
 Thi- wafl :i much Bfl 
 
 \ i.-hed to 
 chihlren of the \\ildn IH- e at 
 
DEEP 'SORROW OF REDHAND. 173 
 
 least some white trappers who were actuated by 
 different and kindlier feelings than many who 
 sought their livelihood in those regions. 
 
 " Hullo ! wot have we here ? " cried Big Wal- 
 ler, who was poking inquisitively about among 
 the tents, to the consternation of the poor Indian 
 children, who lay huddled up in their rabbit-skin 
 blankets, trembling from head to foot, and ex- 
 pecting to be scalped forthwith, such of them, 
 at least, as were old enough to expect any thing. 
 " Here's your blunderbusses, I guess, mister." 
 
 " What ! my pistols," cried Bertram, seizing his 
 weapons with as much delight as if they had 
 been really serviceable. 
 
 " Hah ! ver' goot for play vid," observed 
 Gibault, contemptuously. 
 
 " I say, here's something else," said Bounce, 
 picking up a rifle. 
 
 " Wah ! " exclaimed Hawkswing, pointing to 
 the weapon in surprise, and turning his eyes on 
 Redhand. 
 
 " Wot ! d'ye know who it belonged to ? " 
 inquired Bounce. 
 
 An expression of deep sorrow overspread Red- 
 hand's countenance. " Ay," said he, mournfully, 
 I know it well. It belonged to young Blake." 
 Glancing quickly up at a place where several 
 scalps were hanging to a pole, he took one down, 
 and, after gazing at it sadly for a few seconds, he 
 added, in a tone of deep melancholy "Poor, 
 
171 THE WILD M 
 
 li;id ;i hc;ir:y Bpirh an' a kindly 
 liuniin' 
 
 Ber- 
 old irappn-'s look :ind 
 
 Ay. ay, li he was," said Kedhand, 
 
 . and with a Mernness of main.' 
 
 1 his coinpiinions : K OOme, 1 
 nit! The riMl.-kins won't part \\ilh plundrr 
 ut malxiiiLf an < ll'Tt to | 
 But, StO] rrird 1 
 
 be 
 \ 
 
 loncs - \\ <' . 
 
 . 
 tin- inoi L'ood hit from i; 
 
 u What rf that? w 
 
 \vh -.. rll 
 
 inii _., and I. 
 
 - W< !! 
 
 Her. 
 
 -n we'll do .itinir 
 
 1:111 
 
 in a few 
 -illy 
 down tin- ravine in \\ hVh the li, 
 
OUT ON THE PRAIRIE. 175 
 
 situated. Leaving this quickly behind, they 
 trotted briskly along the more open banks of the 
 river until they gained a level sweep of land which 
 terminated in a belt of low bushes. Beyond this 
 lay the great plains. Breaking into a gallop, they 
 speedily cleared the underwood, and just as the 
 rosy smile of morning beamed in the eastern sky, 
 they dashed away, with light hearts and loose 
 reins, out upon the springy turf of the open 
 prairie. 
 

 C II APT Kit X. 
 
 ~ctle.*h. Komarks 0:1 - and 
 
 and Sight* on t Mountain 1 
 
 rulcrful tiling il \v 
 i* so nob! 
 
 ihr ! in S*M ' :li :i 
 
 ninny [ 
 
 niii- 
 iii a C8 ; !ito 
 
 rtheless, 
 
 Ull- 
 
 will .-}>( 
 
 i hr \\ ill talk of 
 
 and his Imr 
 
 each for 
 
THE TRAITEll AND HIS HOUSE. 177 
 
 man and horse to amalgamate. On the one 
 hand, the horse is tended, hobbled, patted, sad- 
 dled, spoken to, watched over, and tenderly cared 
 for by the man ; on the other hand, the man is 
 carried, respected, sometimes bitten (playfully), 
 depended on, and loved by the horse. Day after 
 day, and week after week, the limbs of the one 
 and the ribs of the other are pressed against each 
 other, until they become all but united, and the 
 various play of muscles on the part of both 
 becomes so delicately significant that the bridle, 
 to a great extent, becomes unnecessary, and the 
 rider feels when the horse is about to shy, just as 
 quickly as the horse feels, by a gentle pressure 
 on either side, how much the rider wishes him 
 to diverge to the right or left. 
 
 Sometimes the horse breaks his hobbles and 
 runs away, thus aggravating the spirits of, and 
 causing infinite annoyance to, the man. Fre- 
 quently the man, out of revenge for such or 
 similar freaks, larrups and pains and worries the 
 horse. But these little asperities are the occa- 
 sional landmarks that give point and piquancy 
 to the even tenor of their loving career. Neither 
 would, for a moment, think of allowing such 
 incidents to rankle in his bosom. Both would 
 repudiate with scorn the idea that they were a 
 whit less useful, or in any degree less attached 
 to each other on account of such trifling tiffs ! 
 
 Day after day, our trappers mounted their 
 
els and tr 
 
 Hop; fr< 
 at a qi< 
 
 ,'id pro- 
 
 168 and : 
 
 iful 
 
 i:iind an 
 
 having Bt 
 [8 afl tliry \vrrr, \\ith 
 >age on 1 
 
 I to th< 
 
 .mil 
 e of 
 
 : 
 
 rrinir; and thus quad : bipeds 
 
 be so familiar and \\ <-ll 
 
 !KT SO til- 
 
 
 
 . 
 
ON SLANG. 179 
 
 There was one among the quadrupeds which 
 was striking in appearance not to say stun- 
 ning. No ; we won't say stunning, because that 
 is a slang expression, and many persons object 
 to slang expressions ; therefore we will avoid that 
 word ; although we confess being unable to see 
 why, if it is allowable (as every one will admit 
 it is) to assert that men may be mentally 
 " struck," it is not equally proper to say that they 
 may be stunned. But we bow to prejudice. 
 We won't say that the horse was " stunning." 
 While on this subject, we think it right to 
 guard ourself, parentheticaUy, from the charge of 
 being favorable to all kinds of slang. We are 
 in favor of speech yes, we assert that broadly 
 and fearlessly, without reservation but we are 
 not in favor of all speech. Coarse speech, for 
 instance, we decidedly object to. So we are in 
 favor of slang, but not of all slang. There are 
 some slang words which are used instead of 
 oaths, and these, besides being wicked, are 
 exceedingly contemptible. Tempting, however, 
 they are too apt to slip from the tongue and 
 from the pen, and to cause regret afterwards. 
 
 But to return. Although we won't say that 
 the quadruped in question was stunning, we will 
 say again that it was striking so powerfully 
 striking that the force of the stroke was calcu- 
 lated almost to stun. It was uncommonly tall, 
 remarkably short in the body, and had a piebald 
 
it had no t.iil to sj>ral, of as 
 tha- 
 
 I 
 
 16 whrn the 
 
 d a gigai 
 
 be horse 
 . which was ^n 
 
 I'a own ; i was 
 
 . :i. II' 
 
 l hut 
 
 bec-i his own 
 
 which hr h. 
 
 whi 1 with 
 
 16 of ;i 
 
 Id 
 We have sa 
 
 to < . re. 1 
 
 iiinga of a mil: 
 duri e of thai 
 
DOINGS ON THE PRAIRIE. 181 
 
 It would require a work equal in size to the 
 "Encyclopaedia Britannica" to contain all the 
 interesting things that were said and seen and 
 done on those prairies by these trappers within 
 that brief space of time. A conscientiously par- 
 ticular chronicler of events would have detailed 
 the route of each day, the latitude and longitude 
 of each resting-place, the very nature of the wood 
 which composed the fuel of each fire. He would 
 have recorded that March Marston's little bay 
 ran away with him (not, in a general way, fifty 
 or a hundred times, but) exactly so many times, 
 specifying the concomitant circumstances of each 
 separate time, and the results of each particular 
 race. He would have noted, with painful accu- 
 racy, the precise number of times in which Theo- 
 dore Bertram (being a bad rider) fell off his horse, 
 or was pitched off in consequence of that quad- 
 ruped putting its foot inadvertently into badger- 
 holes. He would have mentioned that on each 
 occasion the unfortunate artist blackened his eye, 
 or bled or skinned his nasal organ, and would 
 have dilated anatomically on the peculiar color 
 of the disfigured orb and the exact amount of 
 damage done to the bruised nose. He would 
 have told not only the general fact that bears, and 
 elks, and antelopes, and prairie-dogs, and wolves, 
 and buffaloes, were seen in great numbers contin- 
 ually, and were shot in abundance, but he would 
 have recorded that Bertram did, on one occasion, 
 
 16 
 
iii i 
 
 :i'-d hi- li 
 
 horse did toss his 
 
 :i full-tilt toward thr brar ui:' 
 
 tunird oil' at a sharp a> 
 on tin- plain at thr D 
 
 ho was in nowisr alan 
 
 ith him : 
 uly ha\ 
 
 Ige on the onr hand. 
 
 n-nd 1, 
 r, had 
 
 hand >h<! it thr 
 
 - 
 
 tma 
 
 of t 
 
 . &c., of every li\inir th :i the LT 
 
 (which h 
 
MARCH BECOMES MADDER THAN EVER. 183 
 
 was not the buffalo, but the bison) down to the 
 sly, impudent, yet harmless little prairie-dog 
 (which he would have also carefully noted was 
 not the prairie-dog, but the marmot). 
 
 Had this supposed recorder of facts been of an 
 erratic nature, given to wander from anecdote to 
 description, and vice versd^ he would perhaps have 
 t9ld, in a parenthetical sort of way, how that, 
 during these three weeks, the trappers enjoyed 
 uninterrupted fine weather; how the artist 
 sketched so indefatigably that he at last filled 
 his book to overflowing 'and had to turn it up- 
 side down, begin at the end, and sketch on the 
 backs of his previous drawings ; how Big Waller 
 and Black Gibault became inseparable friends 
 and sang duets together when at full gallop, the 
 latter shrieking like a wild cat, the former roaring 
 like a buffalo bull ; how March Marston became 
 madder than ever, and infected his little steed 
 with the same disease, so that the two together 
 formed a species of insane compound that caused 
 Redhand and Bounce to give vent to many a low 
 chuckle and many a deep sagacious remark, and 
 induced Hawkswing to gaze at it the. com- 
 pound in grave astonishment. 
 
 All this and a great deal more might be told, 
 and, no doubt, might prove deeply interesting. 
 But, as no man can do every thing, so no man can 
 record every thing ; therefore we won't attempt it, 
 but shall at once, and without further delay, pro- 
 
184 
 
 hirh 1>" 
 llir \V If. 
 
 thr parr of hi- h>r>r and ; 
 
 summit 
 UK! or hill 
 
 'i as 
 
 I ordinary p! 
 
 Men of plnok lofnetimea g 
 
 i .Mars'. 
 
 ' 
 
 " So 'urnrd i, 
 
 y Iiuntih 
 
 ' 
 
 if ll: . 1 
 
 . 
 
 I a rh 
 
MARRYING FOR PEACE. 185 
 
 o' war, that they had to make peace by givin' 
 them no end o' presents o' guns an' cloth 
 an' beads enough to buy up the furs o' a 
 whole tribe." 
 
 " I guess they was powerful green to do any 
 thing o' the sort," said Big Waller; " I know'd a 
 feller as was in command of a party o' whites, 
 who got into much the same sort of fix with the 
 Injuns always fightin' and murderin' ; so what 
 does he do, think ye ? " 
 
 " Shooted de chief and all hims peepil," sug- 
 gested Gibault. 
 
 "Nothin' o' the sort," replied Waller. "He 
 sends for the chief, an' gives him a grand present, 
 an' says he wants to marry his darter. An' so he 
 did marry his darter, right off, an' the whites an' 
 redskins was friends ever after that. The man 
 what did that was a gentleman too so they said ; 
 tho' for my part I don't know wot a gentleman 
 is no more do I b'lieve there ain't sich a thing ; 
 but if there be, an' it means any thing good, I 
 calc'late that that man wos a gentleman, for w'en 
 he grew old he took his old squaw to Canada with 
 him, 'spite the larfin' o' his comrades, who said 
 he'd have to sot up a wigwam for her in his gar- 
 den. But he says, ' No,' says he, < I married 
 the old ooman for better an' for worse, an' I'll 
 stick by her to the last. There's too many o' you 
 chaps as leaves yer wives behind ye when ye go 
 home I'm detarmined to sot ye a better ex- 
 
 16* 
 
WILD M VRgT. 
 
 An' so ln did. He ink her li 
 
 ;d housr 
 I | \\ hic-h. hut v. ln-ii 1) 
 
 :KT, thr old ooman \\ 
 on ihr 
 
 ii;idn't hin iiM-d t<> ehaire. 1 1 - Brim : 
 
 . :isf tlir kindlier 
 
 not 
 lrinLT IHT into comji . 
 
 Id in;ui Miid ; d \vays, * SI \v- 
 
 ' Jibault. 
 
 . 
 
 tin- in- 
 
 i 
 u \\"(.uld ii 
 
 :dl kill'. If as wd 
 
 ihc Inj . 
 
 men and ih 
 
ARRIVAL AT THE FORT. 187 
 
 " Ay, you're used to the signs, no doubt," re- 
 turned Redhand, "for you've lived here once 
 upon a time, I b'lieve." 
 
 The Indian made no reply, but a dark frown 
 overspread his countenance for a few minutes. 
 When it passed, his features settled down into 
 their usual state of quiet gravity. 
 
 " Have ye ever seed that fort before ? " in- 
 quired Bounce, in the Indian tongue. 
 
 " I have," answered Hawkswing. " Many 
 moons have passed since I was in this spot. My 
 nation was strong then. It is weak now. Few 
 braves are left. We sometimes carried our furs 
 to that fort to trade with the pale-faces. It is 
 called the Mountain Fort. The chief of the pale- 
 faces was a bad man then. He loved fire-water 
 too much. If he is there still, I do not wonder 
 that there is war between him and the redmen." 
 
 " That's bad," said Bounce, shaking his head 
 slowly " very bad ; for the redskins '11 kill us 
 if they can, on account o ? them rascaUy fur- 
 traders. Hows'ever we can't mend it, so we 
 must bear it." 
 
 As Bounce uttered this consolatory remark, 
 the party cantered up to the open space in front 
 of the gate of the fort, just above which a man 
 was seen quietly leaning over the wooden walls 
 of the place with a gun resting on his arm. 
 
 " Hallo ! " shouted this individual, when they 
 came within hail. 
 
,: 
 
 WILD MAN OF TILE WEST. 
 M I 
 
 .:i:tinl. ri '.v;inl, 
 
 some of our jr 
 and 
 
 - 
 
 ;, 
 
 \\ -llrr, irrullly. 
 
 k . \\ 
 ton, \vh<).-.' i nuist-ii 
 
 (juittii; 
 
 inouir 
 
 . 
 ;i in \n< 
 
INTERIOR OF THE JTOU.T. 189 
 
 cumstances, and built in the same manner, at 
 the present day, in the Hudson's Bay territories ; 
 with this difference that the Indians, having had 
 long experience of the good intentions and the 
 kindness of the pale-faces, no longer regard them 
 with suspicion. The walls were made of strong 
 tall palisades, with bastions built of logs at the 
 corners, and a gallery running all round inside 
 close to the top of the walls, so that the defend- 
 ers of the place could fire over the palisades, if 
 need be, at their assailants. There was a small 
 iron cannon in each bastion. One large gate 
 formed the entrance, but this was only opened 
 to admit horsemen or carts ; a small wicket in 
 one leaf of the gate formed the usual entrance. 
 
 The buildings within the fort consisted of three 
 Little houses, one being a store, the others dwell- 
 ing-houses, about which several men and women 
 and Indian children, besides a number of dogs, 
 w T ere grouped. These immediately surrounded 
 the trappers as they dismounted. " Who com- 
 mands here ? " inquired Redhand. 
 
 " I do," said the sentinel before referred to, 
 pushing aside the others and stepping forward, 
 " at least I do at present. My name's McLeod. 
 He who ought to command is drunk. He's 
 always drunk." 
 
 There was a savage gruffness in the way in 
 which McLeod said this that surprised the vis- 
 
190 
 
 B, fur hi- L lite- 
 
 nan ieS. 
 
 I who /if IH\. 
 
 "Oli regor 
 
 see him lo-niLrln, though. There '11 be bio- 
 re long if he don't turn ov 
 
 if " 
 
 Me 1 1 i* as if he frit thai he 
 
 :. Th.-n lie a.Mnl in 
 
 ral to him .\ 
 
 -.ho 
 
 se horses and see iheni 
 tin- ha! 
 
 will to e:it \ 
 
 and a I 
 
 :. \\lio was a 
 !iL r e eompou f and a i:entlei: 
 
 in< ipal dwellinir-hoi; 
 throwinir >I><'n the door. 
 
THE KECEPTION-IIALL. 191 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Original Efforts in the Art of Painting. Fur-trading Hospitality. 
 Wonderful Accounts of the Wild Man of the West, from an Eye- 
 ' witness. Buffalo-hunting, Scalping, Murdering, and a Summary 
 Method of inflicting Punishment. 
 
 THE reception-hall of the Mountain Fort, into 
 which, as we have stated, the trappers were ushered 
 by McLeod, was one of those curious apartments 
 which were in those days (and in a few cases 
 still are) created for the express purpose of " as- 
 tonishing the natives ! " 
 
 It was a square room, occupying the centre of 
 the house, and having doors all round, which 
 opened into the sleeping or other departments of 
 the dwelling. In the front wall of this room were 
 the door, which led direct into the open air, and 
 the two windows. There were no passages in the 
 house it was all rooms and doors. One of these 
 doors, toward the back, opened into a species of 
 scullery but it was not exactly a scullery, neither 
 was it a kitchen, neither was it a pantry. The 
 squaws lived there especially the cooking-squaws 
 and a few favored dogs. A large number 
 of pots and pans and kettles, besides a good 
 deal of lumber and provisions in daily use, also 
 
A doer It 
 
 :d into a 
 \vh; 
 
 ill thr ii 
 
 -hall. 'I 
 A alls, 110 dra: 
 
 as no m to put ( 
 
 ial wood. T 
 
 
 
 to .-' iirir 
 
 d on in 
 
 into 
 
 hill- 
 
 Bruit 
 
 - 
 
 :i jilanh. 
 :irir 
 boti 
 
 'int n 
 
DECORATION OF T1IE HALL. 193 
 
 piece in the ceiling, in the execution of which 
 there was an extraordinary display of what can 
 be accomplished by the daring flight of an original 
 genius revelling in the conscious possession of 
 illimitable power, without the paralyzing influ- 
 ence of conventional education. 
 
 The device itself was indescribable. It was a 
 sun, or a star, or, rather, a union and com- 
 mingling of suns and stars in violent contrast, 
 wreathed with fanciful fruits and foliage, and 
 Cupids, and creatures of the now extinct species. 
 The rainbow had been the painter's palette ; 
 Genius his brush; Fancy-gone-mad his attend- 
 ant ; the total temporary stagnation of redskin 
 faculties his object, and ecstasy his general state 
 of mind, when he executed this magnificent 
 chefcPasuvre in the centre of the ceiling of the 
 reception-hall at the Mountain Fort. 
 
 The fire-place was a capacious cavern in the 
 wall opposite the entrance-door, in which, during 
 winter, there usually burned a roaring bonfire of 
 huge logs of wood, but where, at the time of which 
 we write, there was just enough fire to enable 
 visitors to light their pipes. When that fire blazed 
 up in the dark winter nights, the effect of that 
 gorgeous apartment was dazzling absolutely 
 bewildering. 
 
 The effect upon our trappers when they entered 
 was sufficiently strong. They gazed round in 
 amazement, each giving vent to his feelings in his 
 
 17 
 
194 
 
 Bounce smoi 
 
 out something tl> 
 
 ;ir ; 
 
 1 he laughed aloud an u 
 
 I, and, 1'. 
 like him, an unusual < 
 
 in his speech and bearing, was 
 of some edui 
 for ->ok the lid off a large canister of 
 
 lg it into th<- middle of ih<- 
 . said 
 
 r\;mi|)l' 11 his 
 
 in tin- 
 
 <>ok a j> 
 
 . 
 
 ression on h 
 
 M Ha ! " B 
 
 Iiall (|>n!K pull'). I' 
 
 Bounce, to whom the light was < > 
 
 the i 
 
THE ARTIST OF THE BACKWOODS. 195 
 
 " Well, yes (puff), it is (puff, puff), raither wot 
 ye may call (puff) pecooliar." 
 
 " Most visitors to this place think so," said 
 McLeod. " The Indians highly approve of it, 
 and deem me quite a marvel of artistic power." 
 
 " Wot ! did you paint it ? " inquired Waller. 
 
 " I did," answered McLeod, with a nod. 
 
 " Vraiment, de Injuns am right in deir opinion 
 of you," cried Gibault, relighting his pipe, which, 
 in the astonished state of his mind, he had 
 allowed to go out. 
 
 McLeod smiled, if we may so speak, gravely, 
 in acknowledgment of the compliment. 
 
 " Ha ! " cried Gibault, turning to Bertram, as 
 if a sudden thought had occurred to him, " Mon- 
 sieur Bertram et Monsieur Mak Load, you be 
 broders. Oui, Monsieur Mak Load, dis mine 
 comrade him be von painteur." 
 
 " Indeed ? " said McLeod, turning to the artist 
 with more interest than he had yet shown toward 
 the strangers. 
 
 " I have, indeed, the honor to follow the noble 
 profession of painting," said Bertram, " but I 
 cannot boast of having soared so high as as " 
 
 " As to attempt the frescoes on the ceiling of a 
 reception-hall in the backwoods," interrupted 
 McLeod, laughing. " No, I believe you, sir ; but, 
 although I cannot presume to call you brother 
 professionally, still I trust that I may do so as an 
 amateur. I am "delighted to see you here. It is 
 
196 -I> MAN OF THE WEST. 
 
 not oftrn \\v an d \\iih the HI:!:' 
 
 face of a civilized m;m in thrsr \vild 
 
 "U an- plaii: 
 ; March 
 
 \ hat do you call US?" 
 
 don me, young lied M< 
 
 ; trapper-, \\ Inch mean- neither < 
 nor savage; m-rlnT li-li, : 1\>\\1 ?J 
 
 :il ralim 
 
 th t's wot may be called a u " 
 
 M Li* ," suggestf(l \\'ai, 
 
 M .\o." . "it ain't ilia;. 1 don't 
 
 lhat \\ord. I | i .. 1] - . . ,. aa 1 
 to use it, \Vallrr. It's i\ cr 
 
 ' so lin! 
 \\ 
 
 \\ 
 
 Inn \\hoin 
 
 \\ h \\ I -:,v. 
 
 irtto 
 
 I, and ut tl 
 UK" s appeared, bearing n 
 
 \\ liitf-lisli and 
 
 knows something about the ' 
 i o 1 tlic \\'->t;' said March M n a low, 
 
FUR-TRADING HOSPITALITY. 197 
 
 eager tone, to his comrades. " Twice has he 
 mentioned his name since we arrived." 
 
 " So he has," observed Redhand, " but there 
 may be other wild men besides our one." 
 
 " Unpossible," said Bounce, emphatically. 
 
 " Ditto," cried Waller, still more emphatically 
 " what say you, Hawkswing ? " 
 
 " There is but one Wild Man of the West," 
 
 V 
 
 replied the Indian. 
 
 "By the way, Hawkswing, what was the 
 name o' the rascally trader you said was in 
 charge o' this fort when you lived here ? " asked 
 Redhand. 
 
 " Mokgroggir," replied the Indian. 
 
 " Ha, Macgregor, ye mean, no doubt." 
 
 Hawkswing nodded. 
 
 "Here you are, friends," said McLeod, ree'n- 
 teririg the room with a large roll of tobacco. 
 " Help yourselves and don't spare it. There's 
 plenty more where that came from. But I see 
 the steaks are ready, so let us fall to, we can 
 smoke afterwards." 
 
 During the repast, to which the trappers 
 applied themselves with the gusto of hungry 
 men, March Marston questioned McLeod about 
 the Wild Man. 
 
 " The Wild Man o' the West," said he in some 
 surprise ; " is it possible there are trappers in the 
 Rocky Mountains who have not heard of him ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," said March, hastily, " we've heard 
 
I'.H ; F THE WEST. 
 
 > hrar n. 
 
 '; nil Jiur 
 
 >ne says ! 
 
 ' BO on. 
 
 " 
 
 : Bouncr's 
 
 ll ll.' V till' 
 
 * 
 
 riflr," said M'-Iieod, 
 noise made by 
 
 TO have got 
 T wild .1 about 
 
 1 in* is a gin 
 anxi 
 
 i>es beg:t 
 ;LII ordinary inai. 
 
 ." rrtumrd M( I 
 
 hi?n ^ 
 
 him in t 
 
 . 
 exci ;rs for powder an i^ '11 
 
AN ACCOUNT OF THE WILD MAN. 199 
 
 Bpeak to no one, except in the sharpest, gruffest 
 way. I think he's mad myself. But he seems 
 to lead a charmed life here ; for although he has 
 had fights with many of the tribes in these parts, 
 he always puts them to flight, although he fights 
 single-handed." 
 
 " Single-handed ! " exclaimed Bounce in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " Ay. I've seen him at it myself, and can 
 vouch for it, that if fever there was a born fiend 
 let loose on this earth it's the Wild Man of the 
 West when he sets-to to thrash a dozen Indians. 
 But I must do him the justice to say, that I 
 never heard of him making an unprovoked at- 
 tack on anybody. When he first came to these 
 mountains, many years ago before I came 
 here the Indians used to wonder who he was 
 and what he meant to do ; then after a while, 
 seeing he had a good horse, a good rifle, and 
 plenty of ammunition, they tried to kill him ; 
 but the first fellow that tried that only tried it 
 once. He lay in a close thicket nigh to where 
 the Wild Man used to pass from his home in the 
 mountains to places where he used to hunt the 
 elk and the buffalo, so, when he came up, the 
 Indian laid an arrow on his bow. But the Wild 
 Man's eye was sharp as a needle. He stopped 
 his horse, took aim like a flash of lightning, and 
 shot him through the head. I heard this from 
 another Indian that was with the murderin' fel- 
 
900 
 
 low Lfl shot The Wiid .Man did not:. 
 
 lie let him 
 "Of course the relations of the man who was 
 
 out to murder the "Wild M 
 
 >rses, spears, and bo\vs with them, and 
 sit a place where he was of: 
 tare enough, up he came, on horee- 
 
 slow walk, looking as careless and 
 if no blood of a H'd-kin rested on 
 hand. 
 
 ' It eh:r 
 had run out of fresh meat, so Mr. Mae^regor, 
 
 red me to tsi ' 
 i, -and go r thr builai 
 
 Indians had been treated by M 
 gregor so I- ay, thai 
 
 knew our N 
 
 I>ened to paaa doee IM re the 
 
 u-h, and \\ e came to 
 
 of a |>r- the spot. \\V 
 
 saw them I.eiore they saw us, so v. .jui- 
 
 etly back ii u-h, tied our hor.-es I 
 
 and lay on the edg litl to v. m. 
 
 ; In about ten i Wild 
 
 Man riding sio\\ ly forward. 1 1.- was a strn. 
 sight. It was the 'aim, 
 
 although I had often heard of hii. 
 
 u \\"--il. on 1 .vith hi- head bent and his 
 
AN ACCOUNT OF THE WILD ?: 201 
 
 eyes fixed on the ground. A dense thicket hid 
 his enemies from him, though not from us, we 
 being so high above them. The Wild Man was 
 armed with his long rifle slung at his back, a 
 hunting knife, and a small shield, such as the 
 Blackfoot Indians use to protect themselves from 
 arrows. The only unusual sort of weapon he 
 carried was a long sword. 
 
 " Not knowing at the time that the Indians 
 were waiting for him, of course I gave no alarm 
 to warn him of his danger. When he came within 
 a hundred yards of the thicket, I saw him push 
 his arm a little further into the handles of the 
 shield. It was but a slight action such as one 
 might perform to ease the arm by change of posi- 
 tion ; but the redskins are quick-witted. They 
 knew that he suspected they were there, so, giv- 
 ing one tremendous yell, they sent a cloud of 
 arrows at him, and sprang out upon the plain at 
 full gallop with their spears lowered. 
 
 " Instead of turning to fly from such an un- 
 equal combat, the Wild Man drew his sword and 
 rushed at them like a thunderbolt. His onset 
 was the most awful thing I ever saw in my life. 
 The plain seemed to shake under the tread of his 
 gigantic horse. His hair streamed wildly out 
 behind him, and as he was coming toward me I 
 could see that his teeth were set and his eyes 
 flashed like those of a tiger. The Indians were 
 appalled by the sight. The idea of one man 
 
; occur:'- 
 but it v. 
 
 ;i yell from th< 
 
 I saw ihr long sword gleam i 
 
 as tlic sin- ^>f a 
 
 ier along the ground. 
 
 . 
 
 to pursue tin- living horse- 
 erded not. The Wild Man was 
 living, he was only unable at first t. 
 the headlong pace of n;<'r. In a 
 
 he \\hrrlrd about and charged afr 
 
 the i> 
 
 u is 
 
 . . 
 Kill him. 
 
 ts can -i-li 
 
 i eyes, ai horse is, like hin. 
 
 i . .Ueh til'' 
 
 Me! - u of thi- 
 
 li his guest.- 
 
 I mouthed, and helped li 
 
AN ACCOUNT OF THE WILD MAN. 203 
 
 " An' what did he when the Indians ran 
 away ? " inquired March Marston. 
 
 " Oh ! he quietly pulled up his horse and let 
 them run. After they were gone, he continued 
 his journey, as slow and cool as if nothing had 
 happened. Few Indians attack him now, except 
 new bands from distant parts of the country, who 
 don't know him ; but all who meddle with him 
 find, to their cost, that it would have been better 
 had they let him alone." 
 
 " Is he cruel ? Does he eat men and childers ? " 
 inquired Bounce, commencing a fourth steak with 
 a degree of violent energy that suggested the pos- 
 sibility of his being himself able to do some 
 execution in the cannibal line, if necessary. 
 
 McLeod laughed. " Oh, dear, no ; he's not 
 cruel. Neither does he eat human flesh. In 
 fact, he has been known to do some kind acts 
 to poor starving Indians when they least expected 
 it. The real truth is, that he is only fierce when 
 he's meddled with. He never takes revenge, and 
 he has never been known to lift a scalp." 
 
 " But what like is he when he comes to trade 
 his furs at the fort here ? how does he speak, and 
 in what language ? " inquired Marston, who, 
 although delighted with the account given of the 
 strength and valor of the Wild Man of the West, 
 was by no means pleased to learn that he was not 
 an absolute giant, something like the -giant 
 Despair of whom he had read in the " Pilgrim's 
 Progress." 
 
\U1,I> M 
 
 - only he's a tre- 
 
 idous big one six feet six, if he's an inch, 
 and > of the biggest o; 
 
 mid the dhraldeni Uut he's 
 ;id won't 1ft any one question hi: 
 
 ; and tin- .-hort of it j is a 
 
 n luckily he's a well-dispo^ 
 and Mich for it he is a crack hunter, t h 
 
 he don't bring many furs to trade. I think 
 
 most of his idle time in mopiiiLT among 
 
 ihc muiinta: 
 "Docs any one know \\hcrc he lives?" 
 
 ;illy becomin. 
 in ihis strange being. 
 
 . him, 
 
 e we have invar; 
 M o!' him." 
 
 March, eagerly; "you h 
 
 liiiiLT al>. 
 
 Mcl^-^d PF8 :i. 
 
 the 
 
 ingfrom 
 
 ran 
 
 1 McLeod, seizing his cap 
 ; hurry iim out M These art 4 
 
 \vho ha : . ii'l 1 .-ce 
 
 fort-gate N .swim# o, 
 
 as the guesi i fnun t'' 
 
RETURN OF A HUNTING PARTY. 205 
 
 hunters galloped into the square with all the reck- 
 less noise and dash peculiar to that class of men. 
 Leaping from their foaming steeds, they were 
 quickly surrounded by their comrades, and by the 
 women and children of the place, who congratu- 
 lated them on their success in the chase, and plied 
 them with eager questions. 
 
 That they had indeed been successful, was 
 evident from the masses of fresh meat with 
 which the horses were laden. 
 
 " Well done, Davis," said McLeod, stepping up 
 to one of the men, who, from his age and intelli- 
 gence, had been put in command of the hunting 
 party. " You are back sooner than I anticipated. 
 Surely, your good genius sent the buffalo across 
 your path." 
 
 " We have bin in luck, sir," replied the hunter, 
 touching his cap. " We've killed more than we 
 could carry, an', what's worse, we've killed more 
 than we wanted." 
 
 How so ? " 
 
 " We've had a brush wi' the redskins, sir, an 
 we had to kill one or two in self-defence." 
 
 McLeod' s brow darkened. He clenched his 
 teeth, and the large veins swelled in his neck and 
 forehead. With a powerful effort he repressed 
 his anger, and said, 
 
 " Did I not warn you to avoid that if you 
 could ? " 
 
 " True, sir," replied Davis, humbly ; " but we 
 
 18 
 
206 
 
 | 
 
 irse, 
 
 Leod, 
 
 tun. ; ;i t;iil -1. 'UcliihLT 111:11;, v. 
 
 (liiiir oast of 
 
 tkL 
 
 ig up 
 
 it your : 
 
 again, you scoundrel. Ilali '. 'ing 
 
 of tlir \\ heir I: 
 
 .1, and on ihr li 
 
 i -calp \K liich 
 !i blood a.-? it hun: 
 
 to you 
 
 1 choose to li ihr so. 
 
 llir 1)' 
 
 talk 
 
 to lift il 
 !. as hr 
 Oy tli 
 
 aid 
 
 All eyes 
 
 
MR. MACGREGOR. 207 
 
 and the crowd fell back to permit Mr. Macgregor, 
 the person in command of the Mountain Fort, to 
 approach the scene of action. 
 
 The man who now appeared on the scene was 
 a sad and a terrible sight to behold. He was one 
 of that wretched class of human beings who, 
 having run a long course of unbridled wickedness, 
 become total wrecks in body and mind long before 
 the prime of manhood has been passed. Mac- 
 gregor had been a confirmed drunkard for many 
 years. He had long lost all power of self-control, 
 and had now reached that last fearful stage when 
 occasional fits of delirium tremens rendered him 
 more like a wild beast than a man. Being a large 
 and powerful man, and naturally passionate, he 
 was at these times a terror to all who came near 
 him. He had been many years in charge of the 
 fur-trading establishment, and having on many 
 occasions maltreated the Indians, he was hated 
 by them most cordially. 
 
 One of his mad fits had been on him for some 
 days before the arrival of March Marston arid his 
 friends. He had recovered sufficiently to be able 
 to stagger out of his room just at the time the 
 buffalo-hunters, as above described, entered the 
 square of the fort. As he strode forward, with 
 nothing on but his shirt and trousers, his eyes 
 bloodshot, his hair matted and dishevelled, and 
 his countenance haggard in the extreme, he was 
 the most pitiable, and, at the same time, most 
 
208 THE WILD MAN OF THE WEST. 
 
 trrr: i of human d<--. 
 
 mind of 1:1,111 ronld . of. 
 
 M \Yh :: now : who has bmi lifting sea! 
 
 .(('11 his Srt 
 
 .nl glaring in , with hi> blood- 
 
 shot --a tiger. 
 
 .Mchco.l h-ld uj) the bloody scalp. 
 \Vho did it .' " ro:ir-d Macgrei: 
 I did." said Larocque, with an atrnnpt 
 drfiunt air. 
 
 The words had barely passed his lips \vh. 
 
 i a blow hrtwrrn thr 'y ilrd liim 
 
 to tlir rarth. 1 1<> attn: 
 
 LgC than tin- wrathful 
 
 gregor K n ai/ain. 
 
 raiiL'h' h 
 
 .ni inlrr- 
 fcriiiL r , for hr was not >orry to II 
 
 Pksi 
 
 \ ith tip- Bfld 
 
 fully as 
 
MCLEOD AND BERTRAM. 209 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 An Argument on Argumentation ; also on Keligion. Bounce '* feelo- 
 sophical " again. A Race cut short by a Bullet. Flight and Pur- 
 suit of the Redskins. 
 
 WHEN McLeod returned to the square, he 
 found that the trappers had adjourned with the 
 men of the establishment to enjoy a social pipe 
 together, and that Theodore Bertram was taking 
 a solitary, meditative promenade in front of the 
 gate of the fort. 
 
 " You seem in a pensive mood, Mr. Bertram," 
 said the fur-trader on coming up, " will you not 
 try the soothing effects of a pipe ? Our tobacco 
 is good ; I can recommend it." 
 
 He offered a plug of tobacco to the artist as 
 he spoke. 
 
 " Thank you, I do not smoke," said Bertram, 
 declining the proffered luxury. " Tobacco may 
 be good though I know it not from experience. 
 Yet, methinks, the man is wiser who does not 
 cieate an unnatural taste, than he who does so 
 for the purpose of gratifying it." 
 
 " Ah ! you are a philosopher." 
 
 " If judging of things and questions simply on 
 
 18* 
 
WILI> >l.\ 
 
 I 1 with thr single' object of 
 
 i j'liilo.-. 
 u Don't you i n \vho j>! 
 
 as he ] 
 "An<l <l>n't you think the charge i- j 
 
 te are ofirn much n 
 serving of t 
 sense of 
 
 ledge and i 
 
 Ige, 
 
 . 
 
BOUNCE, BERTRAND, AND MCLEOD ARGUE. 211 
 
 Thinking out a subject in a calm, dispassionate, 
 logical manner, from its first proposition to its 
 legitimate conclusion, is laborious to all. A very 
 large class of men and women have no patience 
 for such a process of investigation hence argu- 
 mentation, that most noble of all mental exercises, 
 is deemed a nuisance. Certainly argumentation 
 with unphilosophical persons is a nuisance ; but 
 I know of few earthly enjoyments more gratify- 
 ing than an argument with a true philosopher." 
 
 " That's wot I says, so I do, out-an'-out," ob- 
 served Bounce, who had come up unperceived, 
 and had overheard the greater part of the above 
 remarks. " Jist wot I thinks myself, Mr. Ber- 
 tram, only I couldn't 'xactly put it in the same 
 way, d'ye see. That's wot I calls out-an'-out 
 feelosophy." 
 
 " Glad to hear you're such a wise fellow," said 
 McLeod, patronizingly. " So you agree, of 
 course, with Mr. Bertram in condemning the 
 use of the pipe." 
 
 " Condemn the pipe ? " said Bounce, pulling 
 out his own special favorite and beginning to fill 
 it, " wot, condemn smokin' ? No, by no means 
 wotsomdiver. That's quite another keewestion, 
 wot we haint bin a disputin' about. I only 
 heered Mr. Bertram a-talkin' about obst'nitness 
 an' argementation." 
 
 " Well, in regard to that," said Bertram, " I 
 firmly believe that men and women are all alike 
 eqiially obstinate." 
 
THE WILD MAN OF TBB WEST. 
 
 <1 Bounce, with ne of 
 
 mil;. .inty ami 
 
 \vh illingness to commit i 
 
 ;o a in ing prop 
 
 " On what grounds do you think so 
 McL 
 
 Why MI the Dimple ground that a : 
 ;^.- ;inv opinion until he is c<> 
 tlniT it is \\TOMI:, ami tliat hr inrvi'al.ly imM.aml 
 :ally (Kcs. change his o} 
 is so convin 
 
 ill, but ; on of his mind. 
 
 are of such a nature i 
 
 md weak gr 
 
 >t be en 
 
 are so !> Mnt they readily sei/e upon I. 
 
 \\ IP 
 
 inii: 
 adin 
 
 M to th.-ir at 
 . that tli- 
 
 plied 
 thai 
 
 \vould n 
 
THE ARGUMENT INTERRUPTED 213 
 
 "there is plenty of it, but obstinacy does not 
 consist in the simple act of holding one's opinion 
 firmly." 
 
 " "Wot does it consist of, then ? " 
 
 " In this : in holding firmly to opinions that 
 have been taken hastily up, without the grounds 
 on which they are founded having been duly 
 weighed; and in refusing to consider these 
 grounds in a philosophical (which means a 
 rational) way, because the process would prove 
 tiresome. The man who has comfortably settled 
 all his opinions in this way, very much resembles 
 that ' fool ' of whom it is written that he ' is wiser 
 in his own conceit than seven men who can render 
 a reason? " 
 
 " Well, but, to come back to the starting- 
 point," said McLeod, " many wise men smoke." 
 
 " If you say that in the way of argument, I 
 meet it with the counter proposition, that many 
 wise men don't smoke." 
 
 " Hah ! " ejaculated Bounce, but whether 
 Bounce's ejaculation was one of approval or 
 disapproval we cannot tell. Neither can we tell 
 what conclusion these philosophers came to in 
 regard to smoking, because, just then, two horse- 
 men were seen approaching the fort at full speed. 
 
 Seeing that they were alone, McLeod took no 
 precautions to prevent surprise. He knew well 
 enough that Indians frequently approach in this 
 manner, so waited in front of the gate, coolly 
 
1) MAN OF THE V 
 
 .mil thr savages 
 him. IT 
 
 11, hut ji 
 
 to v N of him, tli 
 
 h'-ir l"f! 
 
 ground, the Indians who 
 pie of strong, fine-locking savages, 
 
 mm (juill \\ i M-;I!|)- 
 
 !<! ami B] 
 
 ;iguage, and iinn 
 horsrs ; 
 
 iiiin 
 
 -full gallop v 
 red. 
 
 ammunition to hunt 
 
AN ARGUMENT ON RELIGION 215 
 
 blood seems to be the universal cry here, and, 
 now that we've had so many quarrels with the 
 redskins, I fear that the day is not far distant 
 when blood will flow even in the Mountain Fort. 
 I see no prospect for a better state of things, for 
 savage nature cannot be changed. It seems a 
 hopeless case." 
 
 " There was a touch of pathos in the tone in 
 which this was said that was very different from 
 McLeod's usual bold and reckless manner. It 
 was evident that his natural disposition was 
 kind, hearty, and peaceable ; but that the con- 
 stant feuds in which he was involved, both in the 
 fort and out of it, had soured his temper and 
 rendered him wellnigh desperate. 
 
 " You are wrong, sir, in saying that their case 
 is hopeless," said Bertram, earneslfy. " There is 
 a remedy." 
 
 " I wish you could show it me," replied the 
 trader. 
 
 " Here it is," returned the artist, taking his 
 little Testament from the inside pocket of his 
 hunting-shirt. " The gospel is able to make all 
 men wise unto salvation." 
 
 McLeod shook his head, and said, " It won't 
 do here. To be plain with you, sir, I don't be- 
 lieve the gospel's of any use in these wild regions, 
 where murder seems to be as natural to man, 
 woman, and child as food." 
 
 " But, sir," rejoined Bertram, " you forget that 
 
WJl.h M 
 
 our h .in-- -If says that he came not to 
 
 repentant -. In 
 
 \olume we are told th:ii the bkx 
 
 !i us from al , .<!, not only : 
 \\\< as.Miranee th;it none who come unto him 
 it \ve have examples in ;il 
 kfl of the known world of men and \\omen 
 \vh" * steeped to the lips in 
 
 ving becMi turned to 
 f God through faith in Chri.-t. and 
 tie I Inly Spirit, \\ h. 
 
 u It may be 8O, V r turned Mrl,nd; "I havi? 
 
 these things much. 1 d 
 
 to 1) ijious man, and I eannoi pretmd 
 
 much of what the gospel hi 
 
 whTr ; hut 1 f- -ure th do 
 
 do not believe the Bible, which 
 !y that this 'go- r of 
 
 th. 1 '' 
 
 " Ay, but t; I Indian- . 
 
 -adcr. 
 
 I it is to 
 
 he h. 
 
 >'ll never ask 
 
 : them 
 
 
MACGREGOR MEETS THE TRAPPERS. 217 
 
 a trial? Did you ever preach the gospel to 
 them ? " 
 
 " No, I never did that." 
 
 " Then you cannot tell how they would treat it. 
 Your remarks are mere assertions of opinion not 
 arguments. You know the wickedness of the 
 Indians, and can, therefore, speak authoritatively 
 orj that point ; but you know not (according to 
 your own admission), the power of the gospel; 
 therefore you are not in a position to speak on 
 that point." 
 
 McLeod was about to reply, when he was in- 
 terrupted by the approach of Mr. Macgregor, who 
 had now recovered somewhat from the effects of 
 his violent fit of passion. Having observed during 
 the melee that strangers had arrived at his fort, 
 he had washed and converted himself into a more 
 presentable personage, and now came forward to 
 the group of trappers, all of whom had assembled 
 at the gate. Addressing them in a tone of affable 
 hospitality he said, 
 
 " Good day, friends ; I'm glad to see you at the 
 Mountain Fort. That blackguard Larocque 
 somewhat ruffled my temper. He's been the 
 cause of much mischief here, I assure you. Do 
 you intend to trap in these parts ? " 
 
 The latter part of this speech was addressed to 
 Redhand, who replied, 
 
 " We do mean to try our luck in these parts, 
 but we han't yet made up our minds exactly 
 
 19 
 
218 
 
 \\ !l'!r to gO. IM I oifli jji 
 
 \\'li; ;hr t'iir-i 
 
 \\ ith an rariirst \<-; half 
 
 > ere, as if hr \\islinl to imprr-s ihrir 
 ires mi his memory. 
 tt Acl\i(M-," h 
 
 <-e I've got to give ye ; and i -go 
 
 _ro 10 xvlicrc you 
 
 iiainiiirr 1> any thing you 1. 
 
 keepsyouoii ' Rfaegpegor paused ft 
 
 inoiii- lit as it' hf v.rrc aln)i,' 
 
 then 
 
 " I griefs, ill- -. 
 
 t)l'l ! 
 
 \\ e beant 
 
 ! the 
 
 . 
 
 !ir<l for :i i n lie 
 
 <1, 
 (Ik frit-i' 
 
A RACE. 219 
 
 and fighting, if you're fond of that. What say 
 you now, lad," turning to March, " to remain 
 with us here at the Mountain Fort? I've ta'en 
 a sort of fancy to your face. We want young 
 bloods here. I'll give you a good wage and plenty 
 to do." 
 
 " Th-inks ; you are kind," replied March, 
 sijiiling, " but I love freedom too well to part 
 with it yet awhile." 
 
 " Mais, monsieur," cried Gibault, pushing for- 
 ward, pulling off his cap, and making a low bow ; 
 u if you vants yonger blod, an' also ver' goot 
 blod, here am von ! '' 
 
 The trader laughed, and was about to reply, 
 when a sudden burst of laughter and the sound 
 of noisy voices in the yard interrupted him. Pres- 
 ently two of the men belonging to the establish- 
 ment cantered out of the square, followed by 
 all the men, women, and children of the place, 
 amounting probably to between twenty and thirty 
 souls. " A race ! a race ! " shouted the foremost. 
 
 " Hallo ! Dupont, what's to do ? " inquired 
 M&Leod, as the two horsemen came up. 
 
 " Please, monsieur, Lincoln have bet me von 
 gun dat hims horse go more" queek dan mine, 
 so we try." 
 
 " Yes, so we shall, I guess," added the man 
 named Lincoln, whose speech told that he was a 
 Yankee. 
 
 44 Go it stranger ; I calc'late you'll do him 
 
TI! MAN OF 
 
 <>art 
 
 , ! noii. (io home ; pu: your hor 
 
 pft Dis is de von as vill <; 
 u \\Yll. well: <l;ir the course; we shall soon 
 
 MrljCOd. " 
 
 o aw;i 
 
 rrf whip- . :md 
 
 ifd at a furiou.- i:;ill>p. 
 good spirited animals, 
 
 be 
 age. Ti 
 
 ' Tt \vas a 
 iliful strt'trh of l'\rl in- 
 
 I the gates. 
 
 \\ hcrr r .'iin<l in 
 
 . 
 . 
 
 original 
 
 
 
 Dii| \\T h:i\ti 
 
 ILK! cleared 
 
 r.tl>l\ in :id\ 
 
 to ti 
 
A MURDER AND ITS PUNISHMENT. 221 
 
 with whom he was a favorite. On gaining the 
 loop above referred to, and making the graceful 
 sweep round it, which brought the foremost rider 
 into full side view, the distance between them 
 became more apparent, and a cheer arose from 
 the people near the fort-gate. 
 
 At that moment a puff of smoke issued from 
 the bushes. Dupont tossed his arms in the air, 
 uttered a sharp cry, and fell headlong to the 
 ground. At the same instant a band of Indians 
 sprang from the underwood, with an exulting 
 yell. Lincoln succeeded in checking and turning 
 his horse before they caught his bridle, but an 
 arrow pierced his shoulder ere he had galloped 
 out of reach of his enemies. 
 
 The instant Dupont fell, a savage leaped upon 
 him, and plunged his knife into his heart. Then, 
 passing the sharp weapon quickly round his head 
 with his right hand, with the left he tore the 
 scalp off, and, leaping up, shook the bloody 
 trophy defiantly at the horrified spectators. 
 
 All this was accomplished so quickly that the 
 horror-stricken people of the Mountain Fort had 
 not time to move a finger to save their comrade. 
 But, as the savage raised the scalp of poor 
 Dupont above his head, Redhand's rifle flew to 
 his shoulder, and in another moment the Indian 
 fell to the earth beside his victim. Seeing this, 
 the other Indians darted into the forest. 
 
 Then a fearful imprecation burst from the lips 
 
of M 
 
 o horsr, men ! and see thai your li 
 
 :ld ball ! ' 
 
 The 
 
 :m<l n hither and tlii 
 
 !!id Badd ir \\or^ : 
 
 ;>oor Dii] - inini:! 
 
 hrn tl all a> 
 
 h;n 
 
 ' ihr 
 
 r the BS 
 
 aii-i 
 
BERTRAM JOINS IN THE PURSUIT. 223 
 
 " Git on, lads ; I'll look arter him," said 
 Bounce, with a grin, catching up the bridle of 
 the artist's horse. 
 
 Without a moment's hesitation, the remainder 
 of the party turned, and galloped after Mac- 
 gregor, who, with the most of his own men, had 
 already wellnigh gained the edge of the forest. 
 
 In a few seconds Bertram rushed wildly out of 
 the fort, with the sketch-book in one hand and 
 the two blunderbuss-pistols in the other. In 
 leaping on his horse, he dropped the latter ; but 
 Bounce picked them up, and stuck them hastily 
 into his own belt. 
 
 " Now put that book into its own pouch, or 
 ye'll be fit for nothin'," said Bounce, almost 
 sternly. 
 
 Bertram obeyed, and grasped the rifle which 
 his friend placed in his hand. Then Bounce 
 vaulted into his saddle, and, ere those who were 
 left behind had drawn the bolts and let down the 
 ponderous bars of the gate of the Mountain 
 Fort, the two horsemen were flying at full speed 
 over the plain in the track of the avengers of 
 blood who had gone before them. 
 

 CHAPTER XII I. 
 
 I of the Artist. 
 
 .it Pass. March 
 
 Coolne*8 ai .mger. A 
 
 slaufc 
 
 CROSSING the open groiuul in of the 
 
 M Bertram 
 
 nd traversed 
 
 ease, by means of a, bri which h 
 
 cut tin 
 gall< -hi th< i 
 
 h was one of those i 
 
 C'llli. 
 
 th;i' ictnrcstluc region \\hrrr th. 
 
 :in<i tin- 
 
 level at least, sui; 
 around tht-m. 
 
 turf at 1 
 
 low hill or ridge that in; 
 
 more 
 
BERTRAM'S SCRUPLES. 225 
 
 " They'll have to draw in a bit," said Bounce, 
 turning to his comrade. " Horses no more nor 
 men can't go helter-skelter up a hill without 
 takin' breath ; so rouse up your beast, Mr. Ber- 
 tram, an' we'll overtake 'em afore they gits to the 
 tother side." 
 
 Bertram obeyed his friend's command, but 
 made no rejoinder, his thoughts being too deeply 
 engaged at that moment in a controversy with 
 his conscience as to the propriety of the business 
 he had then in hand. 
 
 The young artist had a deep veneration for 
 abstract truth truth pure and simple, not only 
 in reference to morals, but to all things terrestrial 
 and celestial ; and he was deeply impressed with 
 the belief, that what was right was right, and 
 what was wrong was wrong, and could not, 
 by any possibility, be otherwise. He felt, also, 
 that the man who recognized truth, and acted 
 upon it, must go right, and he who saw and did 
 otherwise must go wrong ! 
 
 Holding this simple creed very tenaciously, and, 
 as we think, very properly, Bertram nevertheless 
 found that his attempts to act up to it frequently 
 involved him in a maze of perplexities. 
 
 On the present occasion, as he and Bounce 
 thundered over the green turf of the flower- 
 ing plains, scattering the terrified grasshoppers 
 right and left, and causing the beautifully-striped 
 ground-squirrels to plunge with astonishing pre- 
 
iiniM'lf, 
 
 - 
 
 . 
 a ii : 
 
 . 
 wa- -t of ili 
 
 lull 
 
 the 
 r liad alreacl . 1, so 
 
 . 
 
 <1 might possi! 
 so 
 
 rers to I 
 
 savage \ :<<<! and 
 
 savage v 
 
MACGREGOR'S PLANS. 227 
 
 question as to whether there might or might not 
 be a murderer among the Indians, and returned 
 to the original proposition, as to whether it was 
 right in him to take part in a pursuit of ven- 
 geance that would very likely terminate murder- 
 ously. But before he could come to any satis- 
 factory conclusion on that point, he and Bounce 
 found themselves suddenly in the midst of the 
 cavalcade, which had halted on the summit of 
 the ridge, in order to allow them to come up. 
 
 " Here we are, lads," cried Macgregor, his 
 flushed face still blazing with wrath, which he 
 made no effort to subdue, and his eyes red with 
 prolonged debauchery, flashing like the eyes of a 
 tiger, " here we are, too late to cut off the re- 
 treat o' these detestable reptiles from the woods, 
 but not too late to circumvent them." 
 
 The fur-trader spoke rapidly, almost breath- 
 lessly, and pointed to the band of Indians they 
 were in pursuit of, who, observing that their pm> 
 suers had halted, also drew rein on the edge of 
 a belt of thick forest that extended for miles into 
 the mountains. They appeared to wait, in order 
 to ascertain what their enemies meant to do. 
 
 u The villains," continued Macgregor, " think 
 we've given up pursuit as hopeless, but they're 
 mistaken they're mistaken, as they'll find to 
 their cost. Now, mark rne, men; we shall turn 
 back as if we had really given in ; but the mo- 
 ment we get down into the hollow, out of sight, 
 
th< -mid f>\ ce we call the Wild- 
 
 lit who ran- 
 
 'mrr 
 
 is right in ti 
 
 :>y ihrir dress; and B 
 o' the country, 1! 
 of rhr pass. But some of us n 
 
 . who'll be sure to get 
 y can to see \\ h-n- we've gone to. > 
 
 away! Stay/' In- addrd, in a lr runmi:inl- 
 dnn't k J guests a 
 
 iih us thron an' thin in 
 
 unuilli' 
 
 riors." 
 
 ' nd, 
 
 so goo<: 
 that vftUey, 
 
 -him izoiiir hai-K to : 
 
 ihr |K^.- 
 
 To i and his 
 
 to the j' 
 
 en of the A 
 
A STRATEGIC MOVEMENT. 229 
 
 triumphant shout from the Indians showed i 
 they imagined the pursuit was given up; bur. 
 Macgregor knew their cunning too well to fall 
 into the mistake of at once concluding that they 
 were thoroughly deceived. He knew that they 
 would send out scouts to dog them, and felt, that 
 if his plan was to succeed, he must put it into 
 execution promptly. 
 
 " I've scarce had time to ask your names or 
 where you've come from," he said, on parting 
 from the trappers ; " but there'll be plenty of time 
 for that when we meet again. Keep close in the 
 bottom, and ride fast, till the shadow of yonder 
 crag conceals you from view. If the Indians get 
 sight of you, they'll smell the dodge at once and 
 escape us. Perhaps, young man, you'd like to 
 come with my party ? " 
 
 The latter part of this speech was made rather 
 abruptly to March Marston, who received it with 
 some surprise, and with a distinct refusal. 
 
 " I'll stick by my comrades," said he, " till I 
 see good reason " 
 
 " Well, well, boy please yourself! " muttered 
 the trader angrily, as he broke away at full speed, 
 followed by his men. 
 
 Our trappers instantly turned their horses' 
 heads toward the mountains, and made for the 
 Wild-cat Pass. 
 
 Macgregor's estimate of the cunning of the 
 Indians was but too correct. The instant the 
 
 20 
 

 
 of their 
 to the 
 eh the D 
 
 which commanded 
 oundiiii; . and iii 
 
 ,ii{ swifi 
 lion of the i'uri. I 
 
 u.-h of Ucrtra 
 . behind the crai: \\ hii'h : 
 he rc>t c 
 
 is disco. 
 
 :i them and tlir 
 
 ll they | 
 lhr\ 
 
 of the country, I 
 
 't throi. .ss of BOI: in- 
 
 lllClll, :: ;>U88 
 
 iiius? lie at 
 
 bottle-brush had vani^lied. the\ | 
 
 cecd to the >aiue spot : 
 
scp ie hill from the crag or rocky ridge 
 
 before referred to. 
 
 Promptitude they knew to be every thing, so 
 they swept up the gorge like a whirlwind. 
 Thus both parties drew nearer to the chaotic 
 opening styled the Wild-cat Pass, the trap- 
 s, all ignorant of what awaited them there ; 
 the savages, bent on giving their enemies an 
 unpleasant surprise. 
 
 But, unknown to either, there was a pair of 
 eyes high on a rock above the Wild-cat Pass, 
 that overlooked the two valleys or ravines, and 
 gazed with considerable interest and curiosity oil 
 the two advancing parties. Those eyes belonged 
 to a solitary horseman, who stood on the edge of 
 the wild precipice that overhung the pass. The 
 hunter, for such his leathern dress bespoke him, 
 stood beside his horse, his right arm over 
 arched neck, and his right hand patting its sleek 
 shoulder. From the position which he occupied 
 he could see without being seen. His magnifi- 
 cent steed seemed to be aware that danger was 
 at hand, for it stood like a statue, absolutely 
 motionless. with the exception of its fine fiery 
 eyes. Whatever this solitary hunter's thoughts 
 regarding the two approaching parties might be, 
 it was evident i hat he meant to remain an invis- 
 ible spectator of their doings ; for he stood in the 
 same attitude of statue-like attention until they 
 reached the heads of the two ravines, where they 
 
WILD M 
 
 i'roin each ol her . 
 Here, on the one side, the li 
 number, lay in anibii.-h am 
 
 <-(\ to -urprisr anil attack lii 
 thry ^lould pass. On the 
 
 Micir 
 
 horses to graze, while they 
 of ?>1 ad his pa 
 
 " Tl r be long ( 
 
 iliand, seali. 
 
 . 
 'he inaii tO Wmste time \vh 
 
 e redskins. I only hope h 
 he gets 
 
 " So 
 "Redhain 
 
 sofa scalping-lci 
 " A 
 
 . 
 
 is i: 
 
 Big 
 
 " Tin oil' to 
 
THE WILD-CAT PAriS. 233 
 
 Marston, vaulting suddenly into the saddle. 
 " Come, Bertram ; you'll go with me, won't 
 you, and see if we can find some wild cats in 
 it?" 
 
 The artist, who had not dismounted, merely re- 
 plied by a nod and a smile, and the two reckless 
 youths galloped away, heedless of Bounce's warn- 
 ing not to go too far, for fear they should find 
 something worse than wild cats there. 
 
 The Wild-cat Pass, through which they were 
 speedily picking Iheir steps, in order to get a 
 view of the country beyond, was not inappro- 
 priately named ; for it seemed at the first glance 
 of those who entered it, as if no creature less 
 savagely reckless than a wild cat could, by any 
 possibility, scramble through it without the aid 
 of wings. 
 
 The greater part of it was the ancient bed of 
 a mountain torrent, whose gushing waters had, 
 owing to some antediluvian convulsion of nature, 
 been diverted into another channel. The whole 
 scene was an absolute chaos of rocks which had 
 fallen into the torrent's bed from the precipice 
 that hemmed it in on the west, and these rocky 
 masses lay heaped about in such a confused way, 
 that it was extremely difficult to select a pathway 
 along which the horses could proceed without 
 running great risk of breaking their limbs. The 
 entire length of the pass could not have been 
 much more than a quarter of a mile, yet it took 
 
 20* 
 
Till-: WILD MAN OF Ti 
 
 .ion full li:tl 
 it. 
 11 ;il)0ti! half throuirli 
 
 ; \vhich he could survey ' 
 
 ihr iniiUt of \\ 
 
 " Upon 11 . "Bertram," ! 
 
 ud, "if ! ii in ih 
 
 h :i 
 1 
 " I know no 
 
 r he has be< 
 
 i irroiincl in 
 
 , 
 
 on; ] 
 
 the 
 
 It 
 in a half j 
 
BERTRAM AND MARCH IN THE PASS. 235 
 
 in reality much delighted with the singularity of 
 this extemporized and interesting ramble. 
 
 " I say, Bertram, don't you like this sort o' 
 thing?" inquired March, looking back at his 
 companion, on reaching a somewhat level part 
 of the pass. 
 
 "Like it? Ay, that do I. I love it, March. 
 There is a freedom, a species of wild romance about 
 it, that is more captivating than I can describe." 
 
 " You don't need to describe it," returned 
 March," I have it all described splendidly within 
 me. One don't want words when one's got 
 feelins. But I've often thought what a pity it is 
 that we can't describe things or places at all with 
 words. At least, I cant," he added modestly. 
 " When I try to tell a fellow what I've seen, it 
 ain't o' no manner of use to try, for I don't get 
 hold of the right words at the right time, and so 
 don't give out the right meanin', and so the fellow 
 I'm speakin' to don't take up the right notion, 
 d'ye see ? It's a great pity that words are such 
 useless things." 
 
 " Why, that was spoken like Bounce himself," 
 said Bertram, smiling. 
 
 u Look out, or you'll go bounce into that hole, 
 if you don't have a care," cried March, turning 
 aside to avoid the danger referred to. They pro- 
 ceeded through the remainder of the pass in 
 silence, as the rugged nature of the ground re 
 quired then* undivided attention. 
 
236 THE WILD M 
 
 there been a sprite in who 
 
 could bave 1 M some el 
 
 !e, or have soared on go ;h<- 
 
 <o as to take in a bird's eve view 
 
 mild h:i liile Mi: 
 
 through the pa-s, h> 
 
 A cf d( rn. 
 
 \\'i h slo^ eu 
 
 his (juifT :in:i d -e deeper iir 
 
 and when lie had L r 't BO deep in;o the e 
 
 . 
 
 ay. 
 
 this 
 
 ! out upon 
 
 9 line view of 
 
 . 
 
 of the Rod 
 
 th'- 
 
 moi 
 
 ground. ;:ieh 
 
 the t.jM-ninir O u1 o; . On 
 
A STARTLING DISCOVERY. 237 
 
 the fourth side it was skirted by a dense thicket 
 of bushes that formed the entrance to a magnifi- 
 cent forest which extended for several miles in 
 front of the spot. Beyond this forest the scene 
 was broken by hills and valleys, and little plains, 
 richly diversified with wood and water the for- 
 mer in dense masses, scattered groups and isolated 
 clusters ; the latter shining in the forms of 
 lakelet and stream, or glancing snow-white in 
 numberless cascades. Beyond all, the dark blue 
 giant masses of the Rocky Mountains towered up 
 and up, hill upon hill, pile upon pile, mass on 
 mass, till they terminated in distant peaks, so 
 little darker than the sky that they seemed 
 scarcely more solid than the clouds with which 
 they mingled and blended their everlasting 
 snows. 
 
 " An't it beautiful ? " cried March, riding for- 
 ward with a bounding sensation of inexpressible 
 d( 'light. 
 
 Bertram followed him, but did not answer. He 
 was too deeply absorbed in the simple act of in- 
 tently gazing and drinking in the scene to listen 
 or to reply. 
 
 At the precise moment in which March made 
 the above remark, his quick eye observed a spear- 
 head which one of the savages, hid among the 
 bushes there, had not taken sufficient pains to 
 conceal. 
 
 March Marston was a young hunter, and, as 
 
238 
 
 , by 
 
 ' 
 
 h:nl 
 
 nt ml were very L 
 
 liirht in 
 
 j]ut M - first se\ 
 
 in 1! 
 
 .1 hr |>:i- 
 
 . 
 
 Th;; 
 
 linlian jrnl):iMy 
 former; th;f. 
 
 : and ihiit. i 
 
 tllr Hid 
 
 JjU- 
 
 and tij.i 
 
 del,. t-llort h- I- 
 
COOLNESS OF MARCH. 239 
 
 and exclamation of surprise. That WJLS the mo- 
 ment of danger past. To continue his praise of 
 the lovely scene in gay delighted tones was com- 
 paratively easy. 
 
 " Isn't it beautiful ? " he said, turning his face 
 fully toward the ambushed savages, gazing over 
 their place of concealment with an unconscious 
 joyous air, and sweeping his hand toward the 
 mountains, as if to draw the attention of his com- 
 panion to them. March's only weapon at that 
 moment was the small hatchet he was wont to 
 carry in his girdle. This implement chanced to 
 be in his hand. Placing it carelessly in his belt, 
 as though nothing was further from his mind 
 than the idea of requiring to use it at that time, 
 he cried, 
 
 " See, yonder is a mound from which we may 
 get a better view," and trotted to the summit of 
 the spot alluded to. In doing so he placed him- 
 self still nearer to the Indians. This was a bold 
 stroke, though a dangerous one, meant to deceive 
 the enemy. After gazing a few seconds from this 
 spot, he wheeled round and walked his horse 
 quietly toward the entrance to the pass. Arrived 
 there, he turned, and pretending that he saw 
 something in the far distance, he shaded his eyes 
 with his hand and gazed for a short time intently, 
 then calling to Bertram, who still remained in his 
 original position all unconscious of his danger 
 said : 
 
" I sa\ . ; look I'M | 
 
 ,1^, Well Worth Srrilirr; ami 
 
 t cwriaut 
 
 re to see it at all." 
 
 lie first i> 
 
 rh was unhrcdrd ; but the r 
 liirlit" had the desir'(i 
 . 
 Bertram into such a p<- 
 
 i partially s< 
 hemadethefoll< 
 
 ling to end, in the <_ r 
 
 h'-n- an 
 
 tM in 
 
 \\-\> ! |)o< 
 
 i it 
 iinn'h ,u-ut-ii 
 
THE ENCOUNTER. 241 
 
 Scarcely had the symptoms of alarm been ex- 
 hibited, when four arrows whizzed through the 
 air and passed close to the persons of the two 
 friends, who instantly turned and made a dash for 
 the entrance of the pass. At the same time the 
 savages uttered a yell and darted after them. 
 
 " We'll never be able to escape by the pass," 
 exclaimed March, looking behind him hurriedly, 
 as they approached the rocky gorge, " and, I de- 
 clare, there's only four o' them on foot. Come, 
 Bertram, let's make a bold stroke for it. We'll 
 easy break through 'em." 
 
 He reined up so suddenly as almost to throw 
 the horse on its haunches, and, wheeling round, 
 darted toward the savages. Bertram followed, 
 almost mechanically. 
 
 The Indians offered no opposition, but at that 
 moment another yell rose from the bushes, and 
 about thirty mounted Indians, who had been con- 
 cealed behind a projecting cliff, sprang forward 
 and closed up the only pi ice of escape with a 
 formidable array of spears. From their not using 
 their arrows it was evident that they wished to 
 capture the white men alive, for the purpose, no 
 doubt, of taking them home to their wigwams, 
 there to put them to death by slow torture with 
 the assistance of their squaws. 
 
 March Marston's spirit rose with the occasion. 
 He uttered a furious cry, flourished his hatchet 
 above his head, and dashed at full gallop toward 
 
 21 
 
n \VB8T. 
 
 /mi. 1) 
 . 
 
 IK ing savage, 
 . 
 
 ;ian. Th- inis-i 
 
 :iiin. On l-rholding 
 \\ holr body of savages rushed u, 
 
 tCIL 
 
 .vrrfnl Imiian sri/nl March ]>: 
 1hr i . I' >uld use his i tW 
 
 fell viol 
 grci: I off his hon?r 
 
 ', but he was ii 
 and for 
 
 - a .-I:.' 
 
 ' 
 
 . 
 
 an Indian, .nit 
 Inu 
 
THE WILD MAN COMES TO THE RESCUE. 243 
 
 swept over the little plain, which seemed to 
 tremble beneath his heavy tread, the wind blew 
 out these and the tags and scalplocks of his coat 
 and leggings as well as his own beard and hair in 
 such a confused and commingled way as to make 
 the man and horse appear like one monstrous 
 creature. 
 
 The Indians turned to flee, but, seeing only one 
 enemy, they hesitated. In another moment the 
 wild horseman was upon them. He carried a 
 round shield on his left arm and a long double- 
 edged sword in his right hand. Two Indians 
 lowered their spears to receive him. The point of 
 one he turned aside with his shield, and the shock 
 of his heavy war-horse hurled horse and man 
 upon the plain. The other he cut the iron head 
 off with a swo^ of his sword, and, with a con- 
 tinuation of the '-same cut, he cleft his opponent to 
 the chin. Turning rapidly, he bounded into the 
 very midst of the savages, uttering another of his 
 tremendous roars of indignation. The sudden- 
 ness of this act prevented the Indians from using 
 their bows and arrows effectively. Before they 
 could fit an arrow to the string two more of their 
 number lay in the agonies of death on the ground. 
 Several arrows were discharged, but the per- 
 turbation of those who discharged them, and their 
 close proximity to their mark, caused them to 
 shoot wide. Most of the shafts missed him. Two 
 quivered in his shield, and one pierced the sleeve 
 
\VILI .V 
 
 Turnir 
 
 f ! ip lo one side, and turning round, lit 
 
 bow. 
 
 . 
 
 , seemed during ;m 
 
 on of \vluT<' thr <rr< 
 
 < >m<'iit \\ i re \vhir 
 :ii him in all d: 
 
 hut lie sinirlfd out tins clii CC and 
 
 down upon him like a thni 
 . 
 
 ! as the o 
 
 !iis steed as i: 
 
 \\n '. 
 
 that 
 the 
 
 Thr r 
 
 Ml a 
 
 . 
 
 i and d 
 iriei 
 ih< March M 
 
THE TRADERS PURSUE THE INDIANS. 245 
 
 savage who had first attacked him, and whose 
 throat his own hand grasped with the tenacity 
 and force of a vice. 
 
 Most of -the Indians leaped over the bushes and 
 sought the shelter of the thick underwood, as the 
 tremendous horseman, whom doubtless they now 
 deemed invulnerable, came thundering down upon 
 them again ; but about twenty of the bravest stood 
 their ground. At that moment a loud shout; and 
 a fierce " hurrah ! " rang out and echoed hither 
 and thither among the rocks ; and, next instant, 
 Big Waller, followed by Bounce and his friends, 
 as well as by Macgregor and his whole party, 
 sprang from the Wild-cat Pass, and rushed 
 furiously upon the savages, who had already 
 turned and fled toward the wood for shelter. 
 The whole band crossed the battle-field like a 
 whirlwind, leaped over or burst through the 
 bushes, and were gone, the crashing tread of 
 their footsteps and an occasional shout alone re- 
 maining to assure the bewildered artist, who was 
 still transfixed immovable to the ground, that the 
 whole scene was not a dream. 
 
 But Bertram was not left alone on that bloody 
 field. On the first sound of the approach of the 
 white men to the rescue,, the strange horseman, 
 who, from the moment of his bursting so op- 
 portunely on the scene, had seemed the very 
 impersonation of activity and colossal might, 
 pulled up his fiery steed ; and he now sat, gazing 
 
 21* 
 
216 -D MAN OF IK 
 
 (1 though h ; not 
 
 ;<1 brinir iinprt 1 surprised 
 
 :ihk' Iniiiif r. A 
 
 . mid |-luckiiiL r :i 'ul't of ^ 
 from the ] 
 
 . 
 
 i-e was a mi! 
 
 ere. 
 
 i 
 
 . 
 
 .. 
 
BERTRAM'S ALARM ON SEEING MARCH. 247 
 
 being turned and rode toward that part of the 
 wood that lay nearest to the wild rocky masses 
 that formed the outlet from the pass. On gain- 
 ing the verge of the plain he turned his head 
 full round, and fixed his clear blue eyes on the 
 wondering artist. A quiet smile played on his 
 bronzed features for an instant, as he bestowed 
 upon him a cheerful nod of farewell. Then, 
 urging his steed forward, he entered the woods 
 at a slow walk, and disappeared. 
 
 The heavy tramp of his horse's hoofs among 
 the broken stones of the rugged path had scarcely 
 died away, when the distant tread of the return- 
 ing fur-traders broke on Bertram's ear. This 
 aroused him from the state of half-sceptical hor- 
 ror in which he gazed upon the scene of blood 
 and death in the midst of which he stood- 
 Presently his eye fell, for the first time, upon the 
 motionless form of March Marston. The sight 
 effectually restored him. With a slight cry of 
 alarm, he sprang to his friend's side, and, kneel- 
 ing down, endeavored to loosen the death-like 
 grasp with which he still held the throat of his 
 foe. The horror of the poor artist may be imag- 
 ined, when he observed that the skull of the 
 Indian was battered in, and that his young 
 comrade's face was bespattered with blood and 
 brains. 
 
 Just then several of the trappers and fur-trad- 
 ers galloped upon the scene of the late skirmish. 
 
THE WILD MAN OF THE WEST. 
 
 " H:dlo ! Mr. Bert ess 
 
 r polished 'rm 
 
 icd Big Waller, as In- 
 
 the o;hT- leaped to the ground and 
 
 . 
 
 The tone in which the Yankee 
 this betrayed as much rage :i , The 
 
 _r c'oinnule having heen killed 
 llilll to L': 3 teetli \ 
 
 ( 
 
 l^ounce, nil' il up at 
 
 him 
 
 at Ills ride, 1 i:<l his hand on .March 
 -ton's h< 
 
 i a drop 
 . The hor.-M 
 Lfood lu 
 
 "Ah! , as 
 
 he ran 10 obey. 
 
 'i'l. d in a 
 
 few 11 similes he was abl- 
 rcineinl. 
 
 i .McLeod, a< h 
 hurt, young m in, i tx 
 " Oh ! nothing to speak 
 
DIFFERENT IDEAS AEOUT THE WILD MAN. 249 
 
 the head from a horse's hoof," said March ; " I'll 
 be all right in a little time. Did you say any 
 thing about the Wild Man of the West ? " he 
 added earnestly. 
 
 " To be sure I did ; but for him you and Mr. 
 Bertram would have been dead men, I fear. Did 
 you not see him ? " 
 
 " See him ? no," replied March, much excited. 
 ' c I heard a tremendous roar, but just then I fell 
 to the ground, and remember nothing more that 
 happened." 
 
 " Was that quiet grave-looking man the Wild 
 Man of the West ?" inquired Bertram, with a 
 mingled feeling of interest and surprise. 
 
 This speech was received with a loud burst of 
 laughter from all who heard it. 
 
 " Well I've never seed the Wild Man till 
 to-day," said one, " though I've often heer'd of 
 him, but I must say the little glimpse I got didn't 
 show much that was mild or grave." 
 
 " I guess your head's bin in a swum, stranger," 
 said another, " I've only seed him this once, but 
 I don't hope to . see him agin. He ain't to be 
 trusted, he ain't, that feller." 
 
 " Arid I've seen him five or six times," added 
 McLeod, " and all I can say is, that twice out o' 
 the five he was like an incarnate fiend, and the 
 other three times when he came to the Moun- 
 tain Fort for ammunition he was as gruff and 
 sulky as a bear with the measles." 
 
. 
 
 more 
 
 !i of the West, h 
 
 i M'irMn rosr 
 . 
 niii 
 
 . 
 
 : 
 
 . 
 
 \v 
 
THE TRAPPERS PART FROM THE TRADERS. 2-Ji 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The Hunting-ground. How they spent the Sabbath Day 
 among the Mountains. Threatening Clouds on the Hori- 
 zon. 
 
 NEXT day the fur-traders prepared to return to 
 the Mountain Fort, and the trappers to continue 
 their journey into the Rocky Mountains. 
 
 At the period of which we write, the fur of 
 the beaver was much in demand in the European 
 markets, and trappers devoted much of their time 
 to the capture of that sagacious animal. From 
 McLeod, Kedhand learned that a journey of eight 
 or ten days to the south-eastward would bring 
 them to a country that was reported to be much 
 frequented not only by the beaver, but by many 
 .other fur-bearing and wild animals ; so it was 
 resolved that, having brought their traps and 
 supplies with them, the trappers, instead of re- 
 turning to the fort, should part with then* enter- 
 tainers at the spot where the skirmish had oc- 
 curred, and make for that hunting-ground as 
 quickly as possible. 
 
 " I suppose you don't want to part company 
 with us yet, Mr. Bertram," said old Redhand, as 
 they were about to start. 
 
>n of qi 
 i do not find me a burd 
 
 1 with a sa<i 
 " A burden! " cried Bounce in surpri 
 
 -ider yen company a hm 
 
 return with D 
 io March Marston, as he i 
 hi- . in want of a stout youm 
 
 and you'll like the I 
 
 " I thai, 
 turned March. " hut in;. 
 
 comrades; I like trappin 
 like tradin' thouuh IV 
 80 prt'. in' all the .-a; 
 
 separat* d thr one retracing its \ 
 ^'Lid-cat Pass; 
 
 Boendiog 
 
 ; I weeks : 
 thr stormy j- passed, i 
 
 ! pleasantly 
 beautiful a region c. 
 
 i could \vi>h to I!A ell in. 
 com, 
 
 moved i one be 
 
 and remaining a longer or i 
 
 place, according to tl ml 
 
 hunting. 
 
THE HUNTING-GROUND. 253 
 
 The country was of so peculiarly diversified a 
 formation, that, within the compass often miles, 
 every possible variety of scenery existed, from 
 the level stretch of prairie to the towering snow- 
 peaks of the mountains ; from the brake-encom- 
 passed swamp, in which the frogs, ducks, geese, 
 plover, and other denizens of the marshes main- 
 tained perpetual jubilee, to the dry bush-dotted 
 mounds and undulating lands, where the badger 
 delighted to burrow in the sandy soil, while in 
 other places, the wolf, the fox, and the grisly bear 
 prowled amid the dark recesses of the forest. 
 
 It was a truly beautiful and a preeminently 
 enjoyable region, and, in the midst of it, under 
 the spreading branches of a magnificent pine, 
 which grew on the top of a little mound that 
 commanded an extensive prospect on every side, 
 the trappers pitched their camp, and began their 
 campaign against the fur-bearing animals that 
 dwelt there. 
 
 It was a quiet sunny Sabbath morning when* 
 our trappers arrived at the tree above referred to. 
 They had encamped the previous night on a 
 swampy piece of ground, having travelled too laie 
 to afford time to search for a better spot, so that 
 they were glad to rise and push forward at the 
 peep of day on Sabbath. But when, in the course 
 of a couple of hours, they reached the dry coun- 
 try, they at once proceeded to encamp. 
 
 During their journeying the trappers had 
 

 1>8O- 
 
 dless oi 
 
 who has to! 
 
 . 
 !r thr L" 
 
 . who 
 
 iholllfll i 
 
 ihc 
 
 
 I a sensation of 
 
 hill 
 
 the uf tlii'ir 
 
 :)lc<l CM- i> Bted tui llir 
 SOlli' in cull]' 
 
THEOLOGY 01' 3!.Ui< II AM.- < M. 255 
 
 March Marston and the artist sauntered about 
 together, and conversed with animated fluency 
 and wandering volubility as young mind, 
 wont to do on things past, present, and to come ; 
 things terrestrial and celestial. In short, there 
 was no subject, almost, that did not get a share of 
 their attention, as they sauntered by the rippling 
 brook or over the flowering plain, or stood upon 
 the mountain side. They tried u every thing by 
 turns, and nothing long," and, among other 
 mental occupations, they read portions of the 
 Bible together ; for Bertram found that March 
 earned his mother's Testament in an inner breast- 
 pocket of his hunting-shirt, and March discovered 
 that his friend had a small copy of the Bible 
 also a mother's gift which shared the pouch of 
 his leather coat with the well-known sketch-book. 
 They conversed freely and somewhat boldly on 
 what they read, and we doubt not that our learned 
 divines, had they listened to the talk of the 
 youthful pioneer and the young hunter, would 
 have been surprised, perhaps edified, by the 
 simple, practical, common-sense views promul- 
 gated by those raw theologians. Certainly, any 
 one listening to the grave, kindly, philosophical 
 commentary of March Marston, would never have 
 believed in the truth of that statement at the 
 commencement of this story, wherein it is as- 
 serted somewhat positively that " March Marston 
 was rnad ! " 
 
256 
 
 , l>iir Waller, :m<i 1> 
 tlly tog 
 
 reach of their 
 
 ewshe set forth D 
 ith (1-iy wtT- so vriri- 
 
 lir cir.-clll-llly (jlld 
 
 tilled Big Waller \\ ith 
 
 As 1'. 
 
 . 
 . . 
 
 , 
 
 iii* 
 the 
 
 . 
 . 
 
 .1 niinii- h \vith the 
 
 ijite: :i linl i it 
 
THE FIRST DAY OF TRAPPING. 257 
 
 staggered along under its gigantic burden of a 
 single seed, climbing over a mountainous twig, 
 tumbling into a cavernous hole the size of a hazel- 
 nut, or being brought to a hesitating pause by a 
 mountain-torrent a quarter of an inch broad. 
 
 The sedate Indian took special pleasure in 
 watching the doings of his old friend. Usually, 
 he contented himself with a grunt of assent when 
 Redhand made a remark on the peculiarities of a 
 plant or an insect, but sometimes he ventured on a 
 brief observation, and occasionally even proposed 
 a question to his aged companion, which Redhand 
 found it difficult to answer. There was little 
 interchange of thought between those two silent 
 men, but there was much of quiet enjoyment. 
 
 So passed the Sabbath day. Early on the follow- 
 ing morning the trappers were astir, and before the 
 sun tinged the mountain-peaks, their beaver-traps 
 were set, an extensive portion of the territory they 
 had thus quietly taken possession of had been 
 explored in several directions, a couple of deer had 
 been shot, a mountain-goat seen, and a grisly bear 
 driven from his den and pursued, but not killed ; 
 besides a number of wild fowl having been bagged, 
 and an immense number of creatures, including 
 mustangs, or wild horses, roused from their lairs. 
 
 When the scattered hunters returned to the 
 camp to breakfast, they found themselves in a 
 satisfied, happy state of mind, with a strong dis- 
 position, on the part of some, to break their fast 
 
 22* 
 
WILD MAN OP THE WB8T. 
 
 It 
 
 '1 on tl- 
 
 'on! 
 
 I tin- piprs ' 
 
 . 
 
 tin 1 
 
 ; tiling to 
 Big Wall-T ii: 
 
SUCCESS OF THE TRAPP1 259 
 
 from him. Whereupon Gibault, wilfully mis- 
 understanding, said, with a look of unutterable 
 surprise, that he would never have believed it 
 no, never had anybody else told him, that Big 
 Waller had actually run away from a bear ! He 
 couldn't bear to hear of it, and would not believe 
 it though Waller himself said it. As for Bertram, 
 having filled the pages of his sketch-book, back 
 and front, he was compelled to take to miniature 
 drawing in corners and blank bits, and in this 
 way began to book the entire region, and to revel 
 in his- loved art. 
 
 Several weeks passed away, and during that 
 time of peace and plenty, our trappers had it all 
 to themselves. They caught and killed numbers 
 of animals ; stripped off, dried, and packed quan- 
 tities of valuable furs ; ate enormous meals, with 
 the gusto of men who had laboriously earned 
 the right to do so, and related stories and anec- 
 dotes enough to fill a huge volume. In short, 
 they enjoyed themselves beyond conception, and 
 Bertram agreed with March Marston in thinking 
 that Bunyan's land of Beulah could not have 
 surpassed that delightful region. 
 
 But one day there came a small cloud on their 
 blue sky of felicity. An event occurred which 
 mdely dispelled their pleasant dreams, filled their 
 hearts with anxiety, and finally broke up their 
 camp in a way that led to disastrous, though not 
 altogether ruinous, consequences. 
 
260 wu.i 
 
 CH A I'TER XV. 
 
 The Mountain 
 ti> th- !: - | with Foe- 
 
 - h meets with a Severe Misfortune. 
 
 ruing, just as the tr; 
 
 ilhoil! lli 
 
 11 with the produce of tin 
 they were st;iri!ed 1>V tin 1 MIC 
 
 i to 
 
 
 
 h up ill- run to a pl:i> 
 
 . 
 
 srd tli:, 
 
 li;uid ;ni<l \\( in ice were altogether 
 
 sur; . I 
 
 at ti 
 
 . 
 
 hollow in the i^roun... ihr 
 
 mound on \vliic-h ;hcy were . . 
 
 their valiiiii.les h;id ba D iiiid tlu' 
 
PRECAUTION OF THE THAPPERS. 261 
 
 edge of the hole a rude breast-work had been 
 raised, so that the party, when in it, could fire 
 through little openings in the breast- work with- 
 out exposing themselves to view. 
 
 To this fortress they retired, the instant the 
 Indians made their appearance. Fortunately all 
 the members of the little party had come in. 
 
 " They're holdin' a council o' war," said 
 Bounce, carefully examining the priming of his 
 piece. " It's as like as not they'll attack us, but 
 they'll git a hearty, and an oncommonly warm, 
 welcome." 
 
 " They'll not attack us," said Eedhand. They 
 know that white men never travel without plenty 
 of powder and ball, and they don't like taking a 
 place by storm." 
 
 " Ay," remarked Waller, sarcastically, " 'cause 
 they knows that the first man as comes on is 
 sartin sure to fall, an' they knows that they can't 
 come on without somebody comin' first. 
 
 " But there's brave fellers among the redskins," 
 rejoined Bounce, " I knowed a set o' young 
 fellers as banded thirselves together, and swore 
 they'd go through fire an' water, thick an' thin, 
 but they'd niver turn back from the face o' 
 danger wherever they met it. So, one day they 
 wos crossin' a river on the ice, and the first on 
 'em fell in, an' wos earned away by the current, 
 an' what does the second do, but he walks 
 straight into the hole, an' wos drowned too, an' 
 
WILD MAN 0. 
 
 wos goin' to follrr. whm tin- oll > 
 . I do bTicve *' 
 
 u \ iiry \V<>: 
 
 is occasion they w 
 
 . 
 . 
 hip, 
 
 bold an' appear 
 \ ing do\ 
 
 . 
 
 ' see tr 
 . 
 
 
 * 
 
 . 
 
 iMii;k< i\ 
 
THE OFFERED FRIENDSHIP DECLINED. 263 
 
 wishin' to keep friends with us instead of tryin' 
 to lift our scalps and carry off our furs and 
 horses, shows me that they've some more press- 
 in' business on hand. Mr. McLeod described 
 to me the appearance of one or two o' the In- 
 juns that hates the fur-traders most, so that I 
 might be on my guard, an' I'm quite sure ,of 
 some of them are with that band. Now, what 
 say ye ? Shall I tell 'em we don't want ther 
 acquaintance ? " 
 
 " Tell 'em they're a set o' lyin' thieves," said 
 Big Waller ; " I guess we'll have nothin' to say 
 to 'em wotiver." 
 
 " Oui, et give to dem mine complements," 
 added Gibault, " an' say we ver' moch 'blige by 
 dere goodness, mais, dey vill all be shooted if dey 
 not go away queek." 
 
 Redhand did not give these polite messages to 
 the Indian, but on returning to him he presented 
 him with a piece of tobacco, and advised him to 
 continue his journey without loss of time, as the 
 buffaloes were travelling south and might be out 
 of the way whip they reached the prairie. 
 
 Whether the Indians felt angry or not it is 
 impossible to say. They seemed indifferent to 
 their cool reception by the trappers, and soon 
 after rode off at full speed, in a direction that led 
 away from the Mountain Fort a circumstance 
 which still further confirmed Redhand in his 
 suspicions. 
 
THK \\l\A) MAN UF THK Wi 
 
 is re- 
 
 'ind t<> ;is was fully 
 
 pasfl them in tin- 
 
 ie impend 
 
 Jn lc.-s ;lr:n nn In i 
 
 galloping n i in 
 
 ;lu k tr;iil doubled b:i 
 
 icir w;i\ 
 s had a 
 
 I 
 
 1 with tiir ii 
 
 
 guessed ill. 
 
A PELL-MELL RACE TO THE FORT. 265 
 
 they pushed on at full speed and very soon came 
 up with the white men. It was a dark night, 
 so that they could not see far in advance of 
 them, and thus it happened that the two parties, 
 on entering a narrow defile, almost rode into 
 each other, with a yell of fierce surprise on both 
 sides. 
 
 As there were at least fifty Indians, Redhand 
 thought it better to avoid a doubtful combat by 
 scattering his men through the woods, and let- 
 ting each make the best of his way to the fort 
 
 " Run, boys ! scatter ! to the fort ! " 
 This was all that was deemed needful in the 
 way of command or explanation. Firing a 
 single volley at the enemy, they turned and fled. 
 " Foller me,'' shouted Waller to the bewildered 
 Bertram, as a shower of arrows whistled past 
 their ears. The artist obeyed mechanically, and 
 in another moment they were flying through the 
 wood at a pace that seemed, and actuaUy was, 
 reckless under the circumstances. But the Indi- 
 ans did not attempt to pursue. They knew 
 that their intention had been discovered, and 
 that their only chance of success now lay in out- 
 riding the pale-faces. The ride, in fact, became 
 a long race ; neither party making the slightest 
 attempt to hunt up the other, but each straining 
 every nerve and muscle to get first to the doomed 
 fort. 
 
 23 
 
tin-in m- T . ;iiid \\hrn tli 
 
 Hill Ha- . Rrdhuiid, and (iikiult, 
 
 \'.i\x in : 
 11 came dash 
 
 Lme nr;n 
 : tin 1 gate w:i 
 I into thr square. In ;i lr\v h 
 
 UK! W8I ;unl 
 
 :innilion \vi-n- served out, and MX n. 
 
 ihc gate to br in n-;tdiin>s to OJM n it 
 JILT trifiidsi or t<> >hut it in thr 
 
 bad 
 
 \Vhcn i i the 
 
 on's 
 
 .id \voiih u-<-li 
 
 thiMiLflit the \\ omul 
 
 tges not 
 him, hf ur^rd h 
 
MARCH ALONE IN THE FOREST. 267 
 
 nature of the ground would admit of. Before 
 he had gone a quarter of a mile, however, the 
 poor steed fell, throwing March over its head. 
 In his flight the youth's forehead came into vio- 
 lent contact with a branch, and he fell to the 
 ground insensible. 
 
 His comrades, ignorant of his fate, continued 
 their wild flight. Thus, our hero was forsaken, 
 and left bruised and bleeding in the dark forest. 
 
UII.l' M 
 
 [APTEB XVI. 
 
 ta with a Strange I .<* in a > 
 
 .1 Strange Cavern and beholds Strange Sights. Bo- 
 
 crini/ r<> 
 was broad day-liirlit, from \\liich he 
 
 all nii:ht. lie :il< t . 
 
 e of some un 
 
 . 
 
 up 
 bin 
 
 Mng exc 
 
 . 
 
 IILT in 1! 
 
 J by a j 
 
 luiid;ii.-s oi' tli- with a 
 
MARCH MEETS A KIND FRIEND. 269 
 
 mantle and idealizing tendencies of human na- 
 ture ; or that the color is (or ought to be, if it 
 is not), emblematic of purity. We throw out 
 this suggestion solely for the benefit of unimpas- 
 sioned philosophers. Those whose hearts are 
 already under the pleasant thraldom of black or 
 brown eyes are incapable of forming an opinion 
 on the abstract question. 
 
 Well, March observed, further, that below those 
 soft blue eyes, there was a handsome Roman 
 nose, and immediately below that a moustache, 
 and a thick short beard of curly light-brown hair. 
 A slight very slight, feeling of regret mingled 
 with the astonishment with which March passed 
 from the contemplation of the soft blue eyes to 
 the bushy beard. He also noted that the stranger 
 wore a little leathern cap, and that a profusion 
 of rich brown hair descended from his head to his 
 shoulders. 
 
 " Ye're better, lad," said the owner of the blue 
 eyes in that deep musical bass voice, which one 
 meets with but rarely, and which resembles 
 strongly, at times, the low pipes of a cathedral 
 organ. 
 
 " Thank ee, yes, I'm " 
 
 " There, don't move yet awhile. You're badly 
 bruised, lad. I'll go fetch ye another drop o' 
 water." 
 
 The owner of the blue eyes rose as he spoke, 
 laid March's head softly on the ground, and 
 
 23* 
 
of M tn. 
 his 
 
 one \VMS 
 
 lmi; H and l'L r L. r 'ng8 Of a 
 
 h df], I 
 
 in. 
 
 - 
 
 full of \v:itrr ill hi- ban 
 the lines of his fo. 
 
 I. Hr 
 
 llic 
 
 - 
 tlir (Ifscrip] .iiiu 
 
MAUCH AND THE WILD MAN. 271 
 
 seemed quite irreconcilable with the soft blue eye 
 and gentle manner of the hunter who had come 
 thus opportunely to his aid. For one moment, 
 indeed, the idea did occur to March that this 
 was the Wild Man. It was natural that, having 
 bad his thoughts for so long a period filled with 
 conjectures in reference to this wonderful creature, 
 he should suppose the first tall, mysterious man 
 he met must be he. But he dismissed the notion 
 as untenable and absurd on second thoughts. 
 That the blue-eyed, calm, dignified hunter who 
 kneeled by his side and held the refreshing water 
 to his lips as if he were a trained sick-nurse, 
 should be the Wild Man, the man reported to be 
 forty feet high, covered with hair, and exceeding 
 fierce besides ugly, was out of the question. And 
 when March shut his eyes in the full enjoyment 
 of the cool draught, of which, poor fellow, he 
 stood much in need, and heard the supposed 
 wild man give vent to a sigh, which caused him 
 to look up in surprise, so that he observed the 
 mild blue eyes gazing sadly in his face, and the 
 large head to which they belonged shaking from 
 side to side mournfully, he almost laughed at him- 
 self for even momentarily entertaining such an 
 absurd idea. 
 
 March Marston had much to learn we mean 
 in the way of reading human character and in 
 judging from appearances. He had not yet ob- 
 served, in the course of his short life, that if a 
 
D MAN C-i 
 
 MU- of expressing & 
 
 pecfe H' did 
 
 if tills : 
 
 of being eni_ 
 
 . 
 
 ; as 
 
 ;i large baini 
 a small and 
 m\^ all thr 
 
 le him ' 
 . 
 
 a i. 
 
 1 
 
 I'll 
 
 tin- Wild Man in a 
 low. 
 
THE JOURNEY TO THE HUNTEK J S HOME. 273 
 
 March performed this somewhat endearing ac- 
 tion in silent surprise, whereupon the Wild Man 
 introduced his left arm below the poor yoi. 
 back, and with his right grasped him round the 
 legs, and thus lifted him from the ground and 
 carried him away. 
 
 March experienced a sensation as if all his 
 larger joints were being dislocated, and felt dis- 
 posed to cry out, but restrained himself with a 
 powerful effort. Presently his bearer stopped, 
 and, looking round, March observed that he was 
 standing by the side of a horse. 
 
 " Hold on, lad, tiU I mount." 
 
 " You'd better let me down till you get up," 
 suggested March. 
 
 " No," replied this singularly laconic indi- 
 vidual. 
 
 Standing as he was, the Wild Man managed 
 by raising March a little to lay his left hand on 
 the pommel of his saddle ; next moment his foot 
 was in the stirrup, the moment after he himself 
 was in the saddle, and a touch of his heel sent 
 his horse cantering away toward the mountains. 
 
 Had March Marston seen his deliverer at that 
 time, with his long hair waving freely in the 
 breeze, in emulation of the voluminous mane and 
 tail of his splendid horse, his thoughts regarding 
 the Wild Man of the West would have certainly 
 returned more powerfully than ever. But March 
 did not see him, his eyes being shut, hi# lips 
 
. 
 
 pill 
 
 vhirh he was si. 
 In liulf ;in hour ill 
 
 the R< 
 Wild Man had to rh 
 
 n. 
 
 i the 
 is charg. 
 
 \vere ;i sin:ill iiifint in :i 
 
 /t you think 
 1 
 on." 
 
 h. 
 . hut, us he (1 :hrr 
 
 are broken ?" iiKjuired .M 
 
 ' 1 ! 
 
 1m; * 
 the : 
 
THE JOURNEY TO THE HUNTEIl'S HOME. 275 
 
 " I fear there are," said March, as a rude 
 motion of the horse caused him excruciating 
 agony. 
 
 " Very likely," replied the other not 'by any 
 means in a careless, indifferent way, but with 
 the ah- and tone of a straightforward man giv- 
 ing his opinion in reference to a matter of fact. 
 " But," he added in a consolatory tone, " I'll see 
 when we get home." 
 
 " Home ! " repeated March ; " Why, where is 
 your home ? " 
 
 " In the mountains here. We're about there 
 now." 
 
 As he spoke, the hunter turned his horse sharp 
 to the left and entered a still more narrow and 
 gloomy defile than the one they had just been 
 ascending. So narrow was it and overshadowed 
 by high precipitous cliffs that the light of day 
 had to struggle for entrance even at noontide. 
 At night it was dark as Erebus. The horse had 
 considerable difficulty in advancing. Indeed no 
 horse that had not been trained to pick his steps 
 among the confused masses of rock and debris 
 that formed the bottom of that ravine or chasm, 
 could have ascended it at all. But the fine ani- 
 mal which bore March and the Wild Man of the 
 West seemed to act more like a human being 
 than a horse in winding out and in among the 
 intricacies of the place. 
 
 At length they reached the upper end of the 
 

 J 
 ir.in ihrre yards asunder. .1 
 
 \\ liicli < 
 
 id rosr 
 13 if one had got into th 
 
 of i 
 
 . 
 
 pui 
 
 But he i 
 con, mind \v. 
 
THE HOME OF THE HUNTER. 277 
 
 a violent state of agitation by the fact that the 
 horse, turning to the right, began deliberately to 
 ascend the precipice, which was as perpendicular 
 as a wall. It did not indeed ascend after the mari- 
 ner of a fly on a window, but it went up on what 
 appeared to be a narrow, spiral pathway. In a 
 lew seconds they had ascended about fifty feet, 
 and March, projecting out from the precipice as 
 he did, owing to his position in the rider's left 
 arm, felt a horrible sensation of giddiness come 
 over him, and could not suppress a slight groan. 
 
 " Don't be affeared, lad," said his companion, 
 " I've got ye tight, an' the horse is used to it. 
 The track's broader than ye think, only ye can't 
 see it as ye lie now." 
 
 March felt reassured ; nevertheless, he shut his 
 eyes very tight and held his breath. 
 
 Presently he felt that they had turned sharp to 
 the right, so he ventured to open his eyes, and 
 found that they were standing at the mouth of 
 what appeared to be a cavern. In another mo- 
 ment they were under its dark roof, and the horse 
 came to a stand. From the hasty glance he gave 
 it, he could only ascertain that the interior was 
 buried in profound darkness. 
 
 Without causing March to move in any way, 
 the stout horseman dismounted. In fact, the 
 burden seemed no greater to him than a child 
 would be to an ordinary man. 
 
 24 
 
ill." 
 
 [6 
 
 with tin 
 
 inut.- \\ lirn : 
 
 . 
 
 1 in \\ ind EU 
 
 ing 
 
 . lir frll 
 
 iild. 
 
 in-n to be 
 thus ln\v SOUK 
 \\}i;ii the; 
 
MARCH IN THE HUNTER'S CAVE. 279 
 
 and helpless ones of this world, are dependent 
 at all times on their fellows. 
 
 On reaching the outer end of the outer cave, the 
 hunter turned to the left, stooped down in order 
 to pass below a small natural arch, and finally 
 stood in the middle of another cavern, on the 
 floor of which he deposited his burden with much 
 tenderness and care. 
 
 There was a light in this cave, but it was so 
 dim as to be insufficient to illuminate the sur- 
 rounding objects. March perceived, on looking 
 up, that it entered through a small aperture in the 
 side of the cavern near the roof, which was not 
 more than twelve feet from the floor. There were 
 several pieces of charred wood on one side of the 
 cave, in which a few sparks of fire still lingered. 
 
 Without saying a word the owner of this 
 strange abode went toward these, and, blowing 
 them into a flame, heaped large logs upon them, 
 so that, in ten minutes, the place was brilliantly 
 illuminated with a ruddy blaze that did one's 
 heart good to look upon. 
 
 By the light of the fire March perceived that he 
 had been deposited on a couch of pine-branches. 
 He was about to make other observations, when 
 his captor turned to him and said 
 
 " 1'H go an' see to the horse, an'll be back in a 
 minute ; so keep yer mind easy." 
 
 " And, pray, what name am I to call my host 
 by ? " said March, unable to restrain his curiosity 
 any longer. 
 
B8T. 
 
 . 
 
 thing 
 
 mol 
 
 r than r 
 
 i th< 
 
 ii, I'll l>o 
 ,-8." 
 
 had 
 had 
 
 
DICK PRONOUNCES MARCH ALL RIGHT. 281 
 
 sion, as well as with the pain that racked his head 
 and limbs, that he had had no time to think 
 about them. But, now that he was left in that 
 quiet place alone, the whole circumstances of the 
 recent pursuit and flight rushed suddenly upon 
 him, and his mind was filled with anxious fore- 
 boding as to the fate of his comrades. 
 
 " Oh ! I'm glad you've come back," he cried, 
 as Dick reentered the cave ; " I quite forgot my 
 comrades shame on me! but my miserable 
 head has got such a smash, that a'most every 
 thing's been drove out of it." 
 
 " Time enough to speak o' them after #e've 
 seen to your bones," said Dick. 
 
 " Nay, but " 
 
 " After" said Dick, in a tone that was not to 
 be gainsaid. 
 
 March submitted with a sigh, and his eccentric 
 host proceeded to manipulate and punch him in 
 a way that might, perhaps, have been highly 
 necessary, but was by no means agreeable. After 
 a few minutes he pronounced his patient all right, 
 only a little bruised! Having said which, he 
 proceeded to prepare some food, and said to 
 March that he might now speak about his com- 
 rades. 
 
 At first he seemed to pay little attention to the 
 youth's hasty narrative ; but on hearing that the 
 Indians were hastening to attack the Mountain 
 Fort, he sprang up, and asked a few questions 
 
 24* 
 
.L) MAN OF TIIE V 
 
 iu or t\vo h : 
 Iiich lie 
 
 1 gone so far as to r:irn him 
 
 i 
 
 he 
 
 I, 
 
 rly. 
 
DICK'S ACCOUNT OF THE WILD MAN. 283 
 
 " I have, many a time." 
 
 " What is he like.- 
 
 " He's like me" replied Dick, with another 
 smile, the softness of which would have driven 
 March to an immeasurable distance from the 
 truth, had he ever been near it. 
 
 "Like you! Oh, I suppose you mean he's 
 something about your size. Well, I don't wonder 
 at that, for you're an uncommonly big fellow, 
 Dick ; but I fancy his appearance is very dif- 
 ferent." 
 
 " Well, no. He's got light hair and blue eyes, 
 like me." 
 
 This was a poser to March. It was so totally 
 subversive of all his preconceived ideas, that it 
 reduced him for some moments to silence. 
 
 " Isn't he hairy ah 1 over, like a fox, and very 
 ugly ? " inquired March, recovering from his 
 surprise. 
 
 This was a poser, in turn, to the Wild Man. 
 To be called upon suddenly to pronounce an 
 opinion on his own looks was embarrassing, to say 
 the least of it. 
 
 " He's not exactly hairy all over," said Dick, 
 after a moment's thought, " though it can't be 
 denied he's got plenty of hair on his head and 
 chin like me. As for his looks, lad, it ain't 
 easy to say whether he's ugly or pritty, for men 
 don't agree on sich pints, d'ye see." 
 
 " Do sit down beside me, Dick, and tell me 
 
WILD MAN Oi 
 
 MI! thi- 
 \ 
 
 Pvc 
 
 i in o' the \\VM. An' 
 iT ' I mii, r ht h 11 him 
 
 agonc. if I hii.in'i hiii Mimm-d with 
 e jiiiii|)ii.' 
 
 hundrr " 
 
 u \\"h it, l:i- :. 1 Dirk, 
 
 " 
 
 did frui: 
 
 i 
 
 . who 
 
 tll< \ 
 ' 1 
 
 things a 
 
 . 
 
 ; - 1\ 
 
 " Why, lu> 
 
DICK PUZZLES MARCH. 285 
 
 about things in this part o' the country. I know 
 every thing the Wild Man does. He can't move 
 without my bein' on his track d'rectly. In fact, 
 I follers him like his shadow. Leastwise, his 
 shadow follers me." 
 
 " Indeed, exclaimed March, whose interest 
 in Dick became suddenly tenfold more deep on 
 learning this. " But why do you follow him about 
 in this fashion ? Does he like your company, or do 
 you only follow him on the sly, and keep out of 
 sight ? Explain yourself, Dick you puzzle me." 
 
 "I can't explain just now, lad," said Dick, 
 rising abruptly. " You forget that your com- 
 rades may be in a fix before now wi' them black- 
 guard redskins. I must go an' help them. It's 
 but right that white men should lend one another 
 a helpin' hand in these regions, where the Injuns 
 have it almost all their own way." 
 
 " But the Mountain Fort is far away from this, 
 an' I'm afraid you'll never be able to get there in 
 time," said March, with an anxious expression 
 of countenance. 
 
 " HI try," returned Dick. " Anyhow, I'll send 
 the Wild Man o' the West to help them," he 
 added, with a peculiar smile. " Now, boy, listen, 
 I must not waste more time in idle talk. I shall 
 leave you here under the charge of my little 
 girl " 
 
 " Your little girl ! " echoed March in surprise. 
 
 " Ay, she ought to have been in before now," 
 
US WEST. 
 
 < inir the intrrrnjf 
 I ould li 1 her win 
 
 how I ' what to do till 
 
 10 hT V. 
 
 WBfl lu-iinl in 
 
 /nuii: n: 
 ml Mn><: . throuirli thr u;i;ur:il 
 
 a silver. 
 
 Led h-ll 
 
 1 l>y :i / 
 siL r lit 
 
 MB 
 
 UK" 
 
 toll 1 Ix-rli b <1 
 
 I, in a \v*8. 
 
 ir'H 
 
 ye d 
 
 f j?o, j 
 \\"hi!- the \\ 
 
DICK GOES TO THE MOUNTAIN FORT. 287 
 
 fences abruptly, he was striding about the cave 
 with what maybe styled enormous vigor, picking 
 up and buckling on his weapons of war. He 
 seized a double-edged sword of gigantic propor- 
 tions and buckled it to his waist, but March saw 
 it not. He pulled on the scalp-fringed coat of 
 a Blackfoot chief, with leggins to match, but 
 March knew it not. He slung a powder-horn 
 and bullet-pouch round his shoulders, stuck a 
 knife and tomahawk into his belt, and grasped a 
 long rifle which stood in a corner ; and, in doing 
 all this, he made such a tremendous clatter, and 
 displayed such wonderful activity, and grew so' 
 much fiercer to look at in every stage of the 
 process, that March would certainly have recurred 
 to the idea of the Wild Man, had he been in his 
 ordinary state of mind ; but he was not in that 
 happy condition. March knew nothing about it 
 whatever ! 
 
 Before going, Dick stooped and kissed the 
 " vision " on the cheek. March saw that ! It 
 recalled him for a moment and made him aware 
 of the disappearance of his host, and of the loud 
 clattering sounds of his charger's hoofs, as he led 
 him, at a rapid walk, across the outer cave. 
 March even heard the general clatter of all his 
 accoutrements, as he vaulted into the saddle at 
 one bound, and went down that terrible rocky 
 way at a breakneck gallop that would have 
 caused him (March), in other circumstances, to 
 
\\ii.i. y 
 >hi:<! : i. t lie \vas but 
 
 :(' (>f tli 
 
 /turiu'd ; his whole soul : his 
 
 . hi- c 
 all i 
 
 . 
 in A 
 
ON VISIONS. 289 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 The Vision in Leather. 
 
 IT is all very well for men of the world, men 
 of fashion, men who pride themselves on being 
 highly civilized and peculiarly refined, to fancy 
 that there are no other visions in this world than 
 " visions in silk," " visions in white," and the 
 like. Those who think thus labor under an 
 egregious, though a civilized, mistake. 
 
 Happily there are kind, loving, pretty faces in 
 this world, the possessors of which know nothing 
 about pink gauze or white muslin. Faces that 
 have never felt the hot air of a drawing-room, 
 but are much used to present themselves, un- 
 veiled, to the fresh breezes of the prairie and the 
 mountain ; faces that possess the rare quality of 
 universal attraction, and that cause men to fancy, 
 when they see them for the first time, that they 
 have beheld a vision ! 
 
 The fact is that some faces are visions, whether 
 the forms that support them appear to us in 
 muslin or in deer-skin. The only requisite need- 
 ful to constitute a face a vision to any particular 
 person, is that it should have in it that peculiar 
 something 1 which everybody wants, but which 
 
 25 
 
29C 
 
 though in:- e : and \\ 1 
 
 \vhni oner seen by ai thr 
 
 ssesses it a \ 
 
 thr drr<- in which t)i 
 thr tir-t Tim 
 
 ress goes for little or nothing. M 
 
 l :iJ)J)r;irnl, :i< \\ 6 li 
 
 r the \\'ild .M:ni i, M;tr< ;. 
 
 tinned to gaze B 
 
 kinds nf 
 
 :il>() witlioii' :iif or tai. 
 
 him, 
 
 11 in 
 
 t eoniplexionrd In- 
 
 . 
 
 all, 
 
 h r 
 
 s young, 
 
 look o. 
 
DICK'S LITTLE GIRL. 291 
 
 guessed her to be sixteen. He was wrong. She 
 had only seen fifteen summers. 
 
 Her dress was a beautifully-dressed deer-skin 
 gown, reaching below the knees, as soft as cha- 
 mois leather, and ornamented with beads and 
 quill- work. It was girded round her small waist 
 by a leather belt, from which depended a small 
 hunting-knife. A pair of ornamented leggings 
 of the same material as the gown covered her 
 limbs, and moccasins her feet, which latter, as 
 well as her hands, were small and beautifully 
 formed. Over her shoulders were slung the 
 masculine appendages of a powder-horn and 
 bullet-poucn, proving that this creature was, so 
 to speak, a Dianic vision. 
 
 Her staring so hard and so long at March 
 without speaking or smiling, or taking any more 
 notice of him than if he had been an effigy on a 
 tombstone, seemed unaccountable to that youth. 
 Had he been able to look at himself from her 
 point of view, he would not have been so much 
 surprised. 
 
 In his late accident he had received so severe a 
 blow on the left eye that that orb was altogether 
 shut up. As he did not move, and as the other 
 eye, with which he gazed in supreme astonish- 
 ment at the sweet face before him, happened to 
 be furthest from the fire, besides being hid in the 
 shadow of his own nose, which was not a 
 small one by nature, and was a peculiarly large 
 
WILD M 
 
 urully ' IP- was fast ael' 
 
 i/iiiir \v y and M 
 
 h ihr r< 
 iTinir ll:unr of lli<- tin up hr: 
 
 masses of h< r rich 
 thoogbi 
 
 Suj>|M,.-injr lh;it },,- 
 
 y on a lo^ I 
 
 March's sound < 
 
 . 
 
 hr was \vi.i 
 and \\cii' 
 
 AUS 
 
 \Vh\ 
 
MARCH AOT> MART. 293 
 
 " For thinkin' o' you ! " replied the bold youth, 
 firmly. 
 
 The vision looked at him in still greater aston- 
 ishment, opening her eyes slowly until they 
 seemed like two pellucid lakelets of unfathom- 
 able depth into which March felt inclined to 
 fling himself, clothes and all, and be drowned 
 comfortably. She then looked at the fire, then 
 at March again. It was evident that she had 
 not been accustomed to hold intercourse with 
 jocular minds. Perceiving this, March at once 
 changed his tone, and, with a feeling of respect 
 which he could not well account for, said, rather 
 bluntly 
 
 " What's your name ? " 
 
 " Mary." 
 
 " Ay ! did your father give you that name ? " 
 
 " My father?" echoed the girl, looking hastily 
 up. 
 
 " Ay, did Dick give it you ? " 
 
 "Did him tell you him's name be Dick?" 
 asked Mary. 
 
 " Oh ! he's known by another name to you, 
 then, it would seem. But, Mary, what is nis 
 name." 
 
 The girl pursed her mguth and laid her finger 
 on it. Then, with a little sad smile, said 
 
 "Him tell you Dick that be good name. 
 But Dick not my father. My father dead." 
 
 The poor thing said this so slowly and in such 
 
 25* 
 
i. 1 1 
 
 Ig nj> \vi h a ll i 
 . lln-li'<l face, \vhil-' \\iili one of ! 
 
 ; ossed b: 
 ' l\i ! ! I !;m -lirr n<nr. \ : 
 
 ir[)rL-r, ;. 
 led M:i 
 
 \\'ild .Man : 
 
 : 
 
 inned 
 
 .. u but i 
 
 . 
 
 - 
 - 
 
 "d. 
 
 : lllU- 
 
 socalni 
 
MAECH TRIES TO SLEEP. 295 
 
 disappointed. In the height of his enthusiasm he 
 forgot that the poor girl had as yet seen nothing 
 to draw out her feelings toward him as his had 
 been drawn out toward her. She had seen no 
 " vision," except, indeed, the vision of a wretched 
 dishevelled youth, of an abrupt excitable tempera- 
 ment, with one side of his countenance scratched 
 in a most disreputable manner, and the other 
 side swelled and mottled to such an extent that 
 it resembled a cheap plum-pudding with the 
 fruit unequally and sparsely distributed over its 
 yellow surface. 
 
 March was mollified, however, w T hen the girl 
 suggested that his pillow seemed uncomfortable, 
 and rose to adjust it with tender care. Then she 
 said " Now me bring blankit. You go sleep. 
 Me sit here till you sleep, after that, me go away. 
 If ye wants me, holler out. Me sleep in nixt 
 room." 
 
 So saying, this wonderful creature flitted across 
 the cavern and vanished, thereby revealing to 
 March the fact that there was a third cavern in 
 that place. Presently she returned with a green 
 blanket and spread it over him, after which rhe 
 sat down by the fire and seemed absorbed in her 
 private meditations while March tried to sleep. 
 
 But what a night March had of it ! Whichever 
 way he turned, that vision was ever before his 
 eyes. When he awoke with a start, there she 
 was, bending over the fire. When he dreamed, 
 
296 WILD M 
 
 stars. Sometimes she was sm ill ni: on hii. 
 
 in ins? <M: 
 
 Km . her (irli- 
 
 id !ir was about 
 
 ' soon, \\lirn lie (the 
 
 \ViM .M Irnly changed ii 
 
 !IT li-T own tl:irlinir 
 :id to it. Slic never left him. 
 
 in < 
 
 i IHT j! 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 
 nigh 
 
MARCH'S WAKING RECOLLECTIONS. 297 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 The Cave of the Wild Man of the West. March and Mary hold 
 Pleasant Intercourse. Dick's Good Qualities enlarged on. The 
 Wild Man gives a Redskin a Strange Lesson. A Startling Inter- 
 ruption to Pleasant Converse. 
 
 WHEN March Marston awoke the following 
 morning, and found himself lying on a low couch 
 in the mysterious cavern of the Wild Man of the 
 West, he experienced the curious sensation, with 
 which every one is more or less familiar, of not 
 knowing where he was. 
 
 The vision in leather which had worried him 
 to such an extent during the night, had left him 
 in peace as most visions usually do an hour 
 or so before day-break, and as the real vision had 
 not yet issued from the inner chamber of the 
 cave, there was nothing familiar near him, when 
 he awoke to recall his scattered senses. H's first 
 effort to rise, however, quickened his memory 
 amazingly. Pains shot through all his limbs; 
 the chase, the fall, Dick, the cavern, recurred to 
 him; nnd last but not least, for it obliterated 
 and swallowed up all the rest the vision broke 
 upon his beclouded brain and cleared his faculties. 
 
 Looking curiously round the cavern, he ob- 
 
;mr \\ hat In* miL r ht lj 
 
 |rc- 
 rfiil 
 
 hnn 
 
 id skull 
 inning at him in 
 
 .-kin ;iml 1 
 r places ihri- 
 
 ea of bears o 
 : as of dt-rr, :ml. ih- 
 
 .-kull and j)'inl i 
 Ik. 
 
 . and an 
 
 pears, an 
 
 and 
 
 is seats thr nielli I- 
 
MARCH MARSTON IN THE CAVE. 299 
 
 March was staring earnestly at one of 
 logs which lay close to the ashes of the fire, try- 
 ing to recall the form that had last occupied it, 
 when a rustle at the inner passage attracted his 
 attention, and next moment the vision again 
 stood before him. It was, if possible, more in- 
 nocent, and young, and sweet, than on the previ- 
 ous night. 
 
 " Good mornin'. You very good sleep, me 
 hope ? " 
 
 " Ay, that had I, a capital sleep," cried March, 
 heartily, holding out his hand which the vision 
 grasped unhesitatingly, and shook with manly 
 vigor. 
 
 " Bees you hongray ? " 
 
 " No, not a bit," said March. 
 
 The girl looked sad at this. " You muss heat," 
 she said, quickly, at the same time raking to- 
 gether the embers of the fire, and blowing them 
 up into a flame, over which she placed a large 
 iron pot ; " Dick hims always heat weh 1 an' keep 
 well. Once me was be sick. Dick him say to 
 me, 4 Heat.' Me say, ' No want heat.' Hims 
 say, ' You muss heat.' So me try ; an', sure 'nuff, 
 get well to-morrow." 
 
 March laughed at this prompt and effectual 
 remedy for disease, and said, " Well, I'll try. 
 Perhaps it will cure me, especially if you feed 
 me." 
 
 Poor March saw, by the simplicity of his com- 
 
. ' hai gallantry and 
 ik6 tlm> 
 
 !io\v you ) be 
 
 . 
 
 . ail 
 
 \v IHT 1. as he dc 
 
 trll, mi- ]|.) ' 
 
 ^'l .M irdi, in a some 
 M id. 
 
 " D; 
 
 
 
 ; opinion 
 him 
 
 1 hrr lif. 1 up 
 
 I, 
 
 i ! ha! ho ! 
 
 tur 
 a sl 
 
 whj 
 
MARCH MARSTON AND MARY. 301 
 
 thin' to eat. I really believe my appetite's comin' 
 back agin." 
 
 Mary looked at March in much concern. She 
 had once nursed the Wild Man through a severe 
 illness, and knew what delirium was, and she 
 began to suspect that her guest was beginning to 
 give way. 
 
 " Now, lie down," she said, with an air of 
 decision that was almost ludicrous in one so 
 youthful. Yet March felt that he must obey. 
 " Me will git meat ready. You sleep littil bit." 
 
 March shut his eyes at once ; but, the instant 
 that Mary turned to attend to the iron kettle, he 
 opened them, and continued to gaze at the busy 
 little housewife, until she chanced to look in his 
 direction, when he shut them again quickly, and 
 very tight. This was done twice ; but the third 
 time Mary caught him in the act, and broke into 
 a merry laugh. It was the first time she had 
 laughed aloud since March met her ; so he 
 laughed 'too, out of sheer delight and sympathy. 
 
 When March had finished breakfast, he tried 
 to get up, and found, to his great relief and satis- 
 faction, that no bones were broken a fact of 
 which he had stood in considerable doubt and 
 that his muscles were less acutely pained than 
 they had been. Still, he was very stiff, and quite 
 unable, with any degree of comfort, to wall; across 
 the cave; so he made up his mind to lie there till 
 he got well, a resolution which, in the pride of 
 
 26 
 
.ml th:i! 
 
 . ' 
 .'li:il. 
 
 k - .Mary." hr saU, \vhcn <hc 
 . ihc inoruiiiir 11. 
 dungs. 
 
 ,': UIH\V \\ h:it In- in:iy ask 
 \vh . Hal i 
 
 iir toni:' 
 
 ' 
 
 \\ 
 
 n a 
 lo\\ . 
 
 March v. 
 
 Id hurt ihr 
 
 -d ho\\ 
 \viih 
 
DICIv'S GOOD QUALITIES. 303 
 
 Mary pressed her lips. 
 
 " Oh! very well; don't tell if it ain't right, by 
 no manner o' means. Do ye think that Dick 
 intends to keep ye here always ? " 
 
 " Me not know." 
 
 " Humph ! An' you say he's good to ye ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," cried Mary, with a sudden blaze of 
 animation on her usually placid countenance, 
 " him's good, very good gooder to me than 
 nobody else." 
 
 " Well, I could have guessed that, seem' that 
 nobody else has had any thing to do with ye but 
 him for ten years past." 
 
 " But him's not only good to me good to ev- 
 erybody," continued the girl, with increasing ani- 
 mation. " You not know how good can't know." 
 
 " Certainly not," assented March ; " it ain't 
 possible to know, not havin' bin told ; but if 
 you'll tell me I'll listen." 
 
 March Marston had at last struck a chord that 
 vibrated intensely in the bosom of the warm- 
 hearted child. She drew her log closer to him 
 in her eagerness to dilate on the goodness of her 
 adopted father, and began to pour into his willing 
 ears such revelations of the kind and noble deeds 
 that he had done, that March was fired with enthu- 
 siasm, and began to regard his friend Lick in the 
 light of a demigod. Greatheart, in the " Pilgrim's 
 Progress," seemed most like him, he thought, 
 only Dick seemed grander, which was a natural 
 
l>un\;m lrv\v 1: 
 . hile M i! \ and March i, 
 
 . 
 
 11 our OO 
 
 littl( 
 
 i, :ili(i : 
 
 
 
 I tllf fil- 
 
 . 
 
 torn 
 
MARY'S STORIES ABOUT DICK. 305 
 
 blow a feat which no one had ever done, or 
 had ever heard of as being done, from the d 
 of the first Indian to that hour. 
 
 Many such stories did Mary relate to the pool- 
 in valid, who bore his sufferings with exemplary 
 patience and fortitude, and listened with unflag- 
 ging interest ; but of all the stories she told, none 
 seemed to afford her so much pleasure in the 
 telling as the following : 
 
 One day Dick went out to hunt buffaloes, on 
 his big horse, for he had several steeds, one or 
 other of which he rode according to fancy ; but 
 he always mounted the big black one when he 
 went after the buffalo or to war. Mary here 
 explained very carefully, that Dick never went to 
 war on his own account, that he was really a 
 man of peace, but that, when he saw oppression 
 and cruelty, his blood boiled within him at such 
 a rate that he almost went mad, and often, under 
 the excitement of hot indignation, would he dash 
 into the midst of a band of savages and scatter 
 them right and left, like autumn leaves. 
 
 Well; as he was riding along among the moun- 
 tains, near the banks of a broad stream, and not 
 far from the edge of the great prairie, he came 
 suddenly on an object that caused his eyes to 
 glare and his teeth to grind ; for there, under the 
 shade of a few branches, with a pot of water by 
 her side, sat an old Indian woman. Dick did 
 not need to ask what she was doing there. He 
 
 26* 
 
A- the ways (,f the : 
 
 . 
 
 her 
 
 hill. left 
 
 lirr there to die. '1'iie j 
 
 - a bnrd< 
 the UB of her tribe 
 
 .: \ietim 
 
 her 
 
 iiin the 
 was kin 
 
 ieh. 
 . 
 i \va> < 
 
 1 in 
 
 s of ti 
 
 1 
 
 . 
 . 
 
DICK AND THE OLD INDIAN WOMAN. 307 
 
 and blind, for she evinced no knowledge of his 
 presence. She was reaching out her skinny arm 
 to place another stick upon the sinking fire at 
 the time, for it was a sharp and cold, though a 
 bright and sunny autumn day. Dick stopped 
 his horse, crushed his teeth together, and sat for 
 a few moments regarding her intently. 
 
 Either the firewood had originally been placed 
 too far away from the old woman's hand, or she 
 had shifted her position, for she could not reach 
 it. Once and again she made the effort she 
 stretched out her withered arm and succeeded in 
 just touching the end of one of the pieces of 
 wood, but could not grasp it. She pawed it 
 once or twice, and then gave up the attempt 
 with a little sigh. Drawing herself slowly to- 
 gether, she gathered up the rabbit-skin blanket 
 which rested on her shoulders and attempted 
 feebly to fold it across her chest. Then she 
 slowly dropped her white head, with an expres- 
 sion of calm resignation on her old wrinkled 
 visage. 
 
 Dick's great heart almost burst with conflict- 
 ing emotion. The wrath that welled up as he 
 thought of the deserters was met by a gush of 
 tender pity as he gazed through blinding tears 
 on the deserted. With a fling that caused his 
 stout war-horse to stagger, he leaped to the 
 ground, tore open the breast of his hunting-shirt, 
 and, sitting down beside the old woman, placed 
 her cold hand in his bosom. 
 
WILD MAN or KB 
 
 - 
 
 pn -.Hid 
 
 lh< ,1 IHT u fa 
 
 >mlv t!i friend, tint ihe j 
 
 :utli 
 i so much in n 
 
 . 
 !i liis loi 
 
 . ;h which her 
 
 A jL r ' 
 
 r, he's // 
 a 8( 
 
 In liot ! 
 
DICK AND THE OLD INDIAN WOMAN. 309 
 
 down beside the old woman and made her par- 
 take of it. 
 
 " Is it long since they left ye, mother ? " he- 
 said, after she had swallowed a little. 
 
 The old woman pondered for a few seconds. 
 
 " No," she said, " not long. Only one sun 
 has gone down since my son left me." Then 
 she added, in a sad tone, " I loved him. He is 
 a great warrior a brave chief and he loved 
 me too. But he had to leave me. I am old 
 and useless. It is my fate." 
 
 " Describe your son to me," said Dick, ab- 
 ruptly. 
 
 " He is tall and straight as the poplar," began 
 the old creature, while a look of pride played 
 for a moment on her withered countenance. 
 "His shoulders are broad and his limbs are supple. 
 He can run and leap like the deer, but not so 
 well as he once could. Gray hairs are now 
 mingling with the black " 
 
 " Has he any mark by which I could find him 
 out ? " interrupted Dick, impatiently. 
 
 " He has a deep cut over his right eye," re- 
 turned the woman ; " but stay," she added, in 
 some alarm, " you would not harm my son, you 
 are not an enemy ? " 
 
 " No, I would not ; I would do him good. 
 Which way did they go ? " 
 
 " To the prairie to the rising sun." 
 
 Dick at once arose, placed the kettle of soup 
 
310 
 
 mini's - 
 
 llir I 
 . and fr 
 shi> 
 
 d, ht- 
 ^id da.-hrd ;i 
 'or his li 
 
 : 
 
 ' 
 
 |)r:iiri-, v. iii 
 
 ; 
 
 6f in srarrh of tl 
 
 
 
 se 
 
 'pinu o\ ihr pl:i ; 
 
DICK DISCOVERS THE REDSKIN. 311 
 
 They had encamped for the night, and \\vrn 
 preparing their evening meal ; but when they 
 saw the solitary horseman on the far-off horizon, 
 the braves and old men went to the verge of the 
 camp to watch him. On he came, bounding over 
 the turf like the prong-horned antelope, turning 
 neither to the right hand nor to the left, but 
 taking every thing that intercepted him in a flying 
 leap, and bearing down on the camp as an arrow 
 flies from the bow. 
 
 Although a single horseman is not usually an 
 object of terror to a band of Indians, these braves 
 soon began to evince by their looks that they did 
 not feel easy in regard to this one. As he drew 
 near they recognized him ; for Dick had on a 
 former occasion given this particular tribe a taste 
 of his prowess. Each man instantly rushed to his 
 weapons and horse ; but the horses had been 
 turned out to graze, and could not be easily 
 caught. Before they secured their weapons Dick 
 was in the midst of them. With an eagle glance 
 he singled out the chief with the cut over his right 
 eye, and rode between him and his tent. The 
 Indian, seeing that he was cut off from his 
 weapons, darted swiftly out upon the plain, and 
 made for a clump of stunted trees, hoping to find 
 shelter until his comrades could come to his 
 rescue. But Dick was there before him, and rode 
 down upon him in such a way that he was corn- 
 
hi* 
 
 6 him into the j>ar- 
 uii :i hravr chi'T. A|j 
 
 <li' than to In- huil'r.l \\\\\^ 
 
 'ace as li> 
 
 is of hi: 
 
 i-x (1 ii -age 
 
 . 
 
 him 
 
 .nip, 
 
 . 
 . 
 
DICK'S LESSON TO THE REDSKIX. 313 
 
 Whatever astonishment the Indian felt at this 
 singular treatment, or whatever his curiosity as 
 to the result of it all, his countenance expressed 
 nothing but calm scorn and defiance. He was 
 evidently working himself into that state of mind 
 which these redskin warriors endeavor to assume 
 when they are captured and taken to the stake and 
 the torture, there to prove their title to the name 
 of brave by enduring the most inconceivable 
 agonies with stoical indifference, or there to 
 bring discredit on their tribe, infamy on their 
 name, and joy to their enemies, by breaking 
 down under the infliction of tortures, at the bare 
 mention of which humanity shudders. 
 
 For some time they maintained the same head- 
 long speed. When, however, all danger of pursuit 
 was over, Dick drew rein, and proceeded more 
 leisurely, in order to relieve his now jaded steed. 
 But that was a steed of the true metal. It pos- 
 sessed that generous spirit which would have 
 induced it willingly to exert itself even to the 
 death. Its owner might have ridden it till it fell 
 prostrate and dying on the plain, but he could 
 not have ridden it to the point of refusing to 
 advance because of exhaustion. He was merciful 
 to it, and went slowly during the night; but 
 he did not come to a final halt until the rising 
 sun found him close to the camp of the dying 
 woman. 
 
 The Indian now for thr first time began partly 
 
31 1 
 
 to guess the object of h Kg l>-rn brought 
 
 there, and steeled his heart to bear v 
 
 nounted, and graspingthe Indian with 
 a force that showed him how helpl. >uld 
 
 be in a i -truggle should he vent in 
 
 led him forward, and placed him a 
 lev. f his dying i: 
 
 ULT ju>t as she h 
 
 the lire had gone out, and she thMnbl- .tly 
 
 ilx< i t which she had sought to pull 
 round her v 
 
 himself ing put ft 
 
 the lire, and proceeded to rekind! 
 
 doing so, he to 
 
 will m to a tree t 
 
 stoo a which the old 
 
 1111(1 
 
 him he could sit on the.^ro 
 
 t he < MiKl 
 
 the 
 
 1- . He belir 
 
 in^ 
 
 i 1 the thought filled him 
 \\ ith ho 
 
 n difficul' M h' knew th:r 
 
 Id not see the ri-hing; but to be 
 
 ii^ht there and 
 ble dooi: :ninute 
 
DICK'S LESSON TO THE REDSKIN. 315 
 
 horrible details on the mother whom he had 
 once loved so tenderly, was maddening to think 
 of. All the dread tortures that had yet been 
 invented and practised on warriors must have 
 seemed to him as nothing compared with this 
 awful device of the pale-face, on whom he now 
 glared with the eyes of implacable hate and 
 ferocity. 
 
 " Will the pale-face," he said, fiercely, " cast 
 me loose, and meet me hand to hand in a fair 
 fight? Surely," he added, changing his tone to 
 one of ineffable scorn, " the pale-face is not weak, 
 he is not a small man, that he should fear a chief 
 like Bighorn." 
 
 " Hark'ee ! Bighorn," said Dick, striding up to 
 him, and laying the cold edge of his hatchet on 
 the Indian's forehead ; " if you speak another 
 word above yer breath, the pale-face will cleave 
 ye to the chin." 
 
 There was something so thoroughly resolute 
 in Dick's voice that the Indian was cowed 
 effectually. 
 
 The fire was soon lighted, and Dick chafed 
 and warmed the limbs of the old woman until he 
 brought back the vital spark. Then he set on 
 the kettle to boil. While a new mess was pre- 
 paring, he went into the wood, and, with lusty 
 blows, brought down the trees and cut them inlo 
 huge billets, which he piled upon the fire until it 
 roared again, and the heart of the feeble cretitme 
 
. 
 
 began to b 
 
 vigor. This clow. 1: 
 
 it >h' mi^ht ir l t thr full 
 
 of 1: i- \\hich 
 
 ,M>'d down his gooc oee 
 
 i he cooked an i 
 
 
 
 ill she should die; 1 lie 
 _ r ns of death too 
 
 All ;1. 
 
 ill thr 1. 
 
 same \ 
 
 k as 
 
 the 
 tried to ga/ 
 
 . 
 !KT son sat 
 
 iiini- 
 
 I 
 
 . 
 
DICK'S LESSON TO THE REDSKIN. 317 
 
 give him some food, but Dick said, sternly, 
 " I'll give ye food before ye die, if ye keep quiet" 
 
 At last, about nightfall of the second day, the 
 sands of life began to run slowly. Dick saw 
 that the old woman's end was approaching, so 
 he rose, and, going toward her son, he placed 
 food before him. He devoured it ravenously. 
 Then he gave him drink, and, loosing him, led 
 him to the fire, where he speedily recovered his 
 wonted heat and energy. After that, Dick led 
 him to his mother's side and made him kneel. 
 
 " Mother," said Dick, " can you see and hear 
 me?" 
 
 " Ay, but you are not my son," said the dying 
 woman, faintly. " You are a pale-face you are 
 very good but you are not my son." 
 
 " True, mother ; but see, I have brought your 
 son back to you ! Lay your hand on her fore- 
 head," he added, in that low, stern undertone 
 which he had used throughout to Bighorn, who 
 could not but obey, " stroke her head, look in her 
 eyes, and speak to her." 
 
 The redman did not require to be told now. 
 A natural impulse led him to do as he was bid. 
 The instant the tones of his voice struck her ear, 
 the old woman seemed to awaken with a start ; 
 she looked up eagerly, caught the hand that 
 touched her forehead, and, passing her own thin 
 hand up to the Indian's face, felt the scar over 
 his eye, as if to render herself doubly sure. 
 
 27* 
 
THE WILD M.\ IE WEST. 
 
 he grasped the hand a^ain in both of 
 -, and, taUni: n undrr ihr Nai . saed 
 
 thrrr. 
 
 Din th it hurst of unexpr< :< d j\ hastrnrd the 
 fall cw grains of sand. 1 
 
 inimiTrs longer they wutdird h- e hreath 
 
 d went more and more feebly. Th'-n it 
 
 1 her eyes. 
 
 lease the band of her son. 
 ;,liy iii loo.-. 
 
 which was stronger even thai* 
 h. 
 
 r all was OV< 
 
 l-d him to \vhi( li him 
 
 agii <r a grave in thr 1, in 
 
 \\hi< an \\ illi 
 
 irr. Iia\;iiL r c o'.rr ; 
 
 ; saddlrd his horse, 
 i'iing savage. \\ i 
 he one*- moi' 
 
 
 - !1 thr 
 
 thin 
 
 hi' did and Baid 
 
MARY AND THE SECRET. 319 
 
 Saying this, Dick mounted his horse and rode 
 very slowly into the forest, leaving the redman 
 standing by the side of his mother's grave. 
 
 After Mary had concluded this story, which, we 
 may remark, she related with much fewer com- 
 ments than we have seen fit to pass upon it, she 
 and March looked at each other for a long time 
 in silence. Then March suddenly exclaimed, 
 
 " He's a splendid fellow, Dick! " 
 
 Mary, both by looks and words, highly ap- 
 proved of this opinion. " And yet," said she, 
 somewhat abstractedly, " this bees the man who 
 peepils call " 
 
 Mary pursed her lips suddenly. 
 
 " Call what ? " inquired March, quickly. 
 
 " Wicked, wild, bad man," replied Mary, who, 
 fortunately, could say all this with perfect truth 
 without betraying her secret. In fact, poor Mary 
 had never had a secret confided to her before, and 
 having been told by the Wild Man of the West 
 that she was on no account to reveal his real title 
 to their guest, she was in the utmost perplexity 
 lest it should slip out unawares. 
 
 " Mary," said March, who was always stum- 
 bling upon the verge of the truth in a most unac- 
 countable way, without actually getting hold of 
 it, " have you ever seen the Wild Man of the 
 West?" 
 
 " Yes," replied the girl, with a gay smile. 
 
.' Well now, that's od 
 much I should like to see hi 1 :<!! you 
 
 h, one o: 
 was to see him. \\ 
 
 " Like Dir ly. 
 
 Dick!" echoed March in <ur; 
 "\v! - \vhat Dick said himself, ;m<: 
 
 ast be v 
 
 /ho seems to be tin* kin< 
 i man that < ,c to trap in 
 
 us." 
 
 k * Whal dot ll Wild Mans 
 
 of the Wo: ry. 
 
 " That he's 
 
 . 
 
 u ( 
 
 Nfffl i 
 
 oked so inctlab! 
 tlia: yirue 
 
 :hr Ian- . 
 
 rain for 
 
 of a g\\ ich 
 
 .long th- 
 
A STRANGE OCCURRENCE. 321 
 
 like muttering thunder. It was followed by a yell 
 that caused Mary to start up with a look of horror 
 "and rush out of the cave, leaving the invalid in a 
 most distressing state of uncertainty as to what 
 he should do, and in no little anxiety as to what 
 would happen next. 
 
THE WILD MAN OP 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Mysteries of the Cave explained. Ingenious Devices of the 
 Man. March and Mary besieged. The Rfrflikint prooad 
 ike themselves At Home in the Cavern. 
 
 KE are few tliinir- in this world which are 
 
 ;it mysterioi. \ye by a 
 
 es, more or 
 
 :\nd we hold it to be 
 
 :m unfair and a \<TV pa!" 
 
 an auth rep- 
 
 in unii 
 
 'I'll- L; leave \< 
 
 last 
 
 ! Tin- I 
 -ed by a savage 
 harging his gun. it foll< 
 
 i and gi' 
 
 ho\\ 1. 
 
 this was a ho\. 
 
 16 \\-ar-\\ 
 
 man. "i'haT it \\ 
 
DICK AX OBJECT OF CURIOSITY. 323 
 
 prise was evident, at least to Mary, who knew 
 the mysteries of the place. 
 
 In order to make this plain without further 
 circumlocution, we may as well inform the rejid.-r 
 at once that the Wild Man of the West (perhaps 
 we should call him Dick, in deference to March 
 Marston's ignorance of his real character at this 
 time) was not only a subject of terror to the 
 Indians inhabiting this region of the earth at 
 that particular era in the world's history, but 
 also a subject of intense curiosity. Hence, for 
 many years past it had been an object of ambi- 
 tion, on the part of the more courageous of the 
 Indian warriors, to trace this terrible creature to 
 his familiar haunts, and " beard the lion in his 
 den." 
 
 Dick soon became fully aware of this, and, not 
 being a mysterious monster or demon, but a 
 mere mortal (although, doubtless, a singularly 
 huge and eccentric one), it behoved him to frus- 
 trate the amiable intentions of his savage tor- 
 mentors. In order to effect this, he first of all 
 selected, as we have seen, a gloomy, secluded, 
 and almost inaccessible spot among the Rocky 
 Mountains as his residence, which he made a 
 point of quitting and returning to only in the 
 dark hours of night or early morning, so far as 
 was practicable. 
 
 Still further to bewilder the savages, against 
 \vhom he bore no grudge, and to avoid encoun- 
 
beat 
 
 h'T 
 times in the huniinLT-.-liirt and raj) 
 
 ; i iost efforts, he occ;i 
 
 rh so exasperated h 
 
 i such occasions, he be< 
 gardless of his 1 i rushing upon any 
 
 would 
 
 riirht through their 
 
 : 
 
 the 
 
 and ho is a 
 
 i:d and j 
 
 t lie c< i in 
 
 . 
 unless . 
 
 lilt! 
 
DICK'S CHARGER. 
 
 scalp-locks and fringes of his dress, and the wild 
 masses of his long hair. He rode, as we have cl 
 where mentioned, a magnificent charger, which 
 he had purchased in Mexico, and whose sire, no 
 doubt, had been one of those noble barbs which 
 bore the cavaliers of Spain to the conquest of the 
 New World. The mane and tail of this animal, 
 having never been cut, were of immense length, 
 and, when violently agitated, seemed to envelop 
 horse and man. Altogether, the tout ensemble of 
 Dick and his charger on any of the rencontres 
 above referred to, was sufficiently awful, and as 
 he was seldom seen near at hand, except in a 
 condition of blazing fury, there is little wonder 
 that, in the process of time, he became celebrated 
 throughout the country as the Wild Man of the 
 West. 
 
 The white trappers, too, were somewhat curious 
 to know something about this mysterious brother ; 
 but he shunned them even more determinedly 
 than he did the Indians, though, of course, he 
 never fought with them, seeing that they did not 
 attempt to murder him or interfere with his 
 movements as the savages did. But there were 
 one or two bolder or more inquisitive than their 
 comrades, who dogged the Wild Man, and 
 tried to force themselves upon him. These he 
 caught and thrashed soundly, after the fashion 
 of a schoolmaster with a refractory boy, and 
 turned them adrift with a warning thenceforth 
 
 28 
 
la-i the Indians 
 him down as a "great inc.. 
 - impossible 
 
 trappers shook their heads ;incl UHK h<-d thrir 
 If M-nitirantly, as if to h, 
 
 :d. 
 
 Tin; i ooone - IT in 
 
 a great measure from am 
 
 ;)}><T3, began to be circulated and exag- 
 aine a greater i 
 he savages, who natu 
 1 the >pirit in \vhie!i i 
 fur'> is much as 
 
 \er been 1660 or 
 :' in th 
 
 i-ain ! 
 
 traversed this rot 
 
 to have given IF. taf in tli 
 
 really 
 human mi; m an<l ::e, and 1. 
 
 is, at ai. to the 
 
 \no\v this \\rll. i 
 thrir hearers 
 
 _:h Dick 
 not entirely uni 
 
DICK'S INGENIOUS PRECAUTK 
 
 from distant hunting-grounds used to go there, 
 and, not knowing much about the Wild Man of 
 the West, did not believe in him ; even ventured 
 to go in search of him, and, on more than one 
 occasion, almost caught him asleep in his cave. 
 Having an ingenious turn of mind, and being 
 somewhat fanciful, he devised a curious plan to 
 deceive the savages and warn him of their ap- 
 proach. 
 
 By means of an axe and a # knife, he carved a 
 representation of his own head, and covered it 
 with hair by means of the tail of one of his light- 
 colored horses, which he docked for that purpose. 
 (His steeds, by the way, occupied another cham- 
 ber of the cavern in which he dwelt.) The head 
 thus formed, he planted behind a bush that grew 
 on the ledge of rock about two yards from the bot- 
 tom of the cliff of the amphitheatre outside, and 
 directly opposite to the entrance to it. The cave, 
 it will be remembered, was on the right of that 
 entrance. Thus, the first thing the savage be- 
 held, on prowling up to the opening of the amphi- 
 theatre, was Dick's image peeping at him over 
 the bush opposite. Of course the instantaneous 
 result was the firing of a shot or the discharge of 
 an arrow, which, the Indians being excellent 
 marksmen, invariably alighted on the bridge of 
 Dick's nose, or in the centre of his forehead, or 
 in one or other of his eyes. As the head \\ as 
 balanced on the front edge of a deep narrow hole 
 
1 to be i \v:i- in 
 
 knocked in- iiole by the : 
 
 la the supposed fa 
 
 i tin- yell \vhirh ii 
 to 
 
 h except a small der|> h<>. 
 11 to secrete even a little m:i 
 6 of thr t ion of sii 
 
 \v. 
 
 When B 
 . :i large 
 
 k;!l. ! 
 
 tlines< :. 
 
 . 
 
 some eastern CO' 
 
 icninir t 
 
 on : \vas 
 
 much i: 
 
 . 
 
DICK'S INGENIOUS PRECAUTIONS. 
 
 demons of the Rocky Mountains. Dick came at 
 last to know exactly what state of things he would 
 find outside. At the first burst of discord ihe 
 savages, however numerous, took to their heel-, 
 and when Dick emerged from his cave, they \\ 
 always within a yard or two of the entrance to the 
 amphitheatre, every man with outstretched arms, 
 sloped forward at the acutest possible angle with 
 the ground, rushing on the wings of terror in a 
 flight of unparalleled precipitancy. 
 
 To pour the charge of small shot down into 
 the centre of the flying mass was the work of a 
 moment ; to mount his unsaddled charger, and 
 dash down the steep rugged path with a clatter 
 equal to that of half a squadron of dragoons, was 
 the work of two minutes more. To pull up sud- 
 denly, when he had terrified the spirits of the 
 intruders wellnigh out of their bodies, return 
 slowly to his rude domicile, reload his blunder- 
 buss, and retire to rest with a grim smile on his 
 bearded mouth, and a lurking expression of fun 
 in his big blue eyes, as he drew his blanket over 
 him, was the usual termination of such a scene. 
 
 But this was not all. Dick, like a wise man, 
 had prepared for the worst. In the event of the 
 Indians ever getting the length of the interior of 
 his den, there were other contrivances ready for 
 them ; chief among which was a large cistern or 
 tank of water, directly over the fireplace, the 
 front of which was movable, and could be pulled 
 
 28* 
 
\\IM> MAN OF TI1E WB8T. 
 
 of a cor 
 
 all, naim-ly, the th 
 1 to as being M 
 
 By pull cord, the result instantaii' 
 
 hideous would be that a deluge <> 
 Irown the fire black out, till th. 
 \vith hot suffocating steam and ashes, and 11 
 the floor. 
 
 ,<lcd whrii he 
 is a problem \vhieh I ' 
 g a mere man and n rly 
 
 >uld ea-ily 1. 
 ipe :iud . !iut 
 
 uld 
 
 he pre .- 
 
 the 
 
 re ih- i ass, 
 
 small cannon the ca.- 
 ir was despe ! their 
 
 i t he savages would go 
 
 rn. \"ain h. 
 
 He h ry, long ago, 
 
 how to act i 
 
 that tin-re V 
 four Indian warriors out 
 
MARCH AND MARY BESIEGKD. 331 
 
 behind which the head had disappeared, and that 
 they would very soon find out the cave. 
 
 " That's not pleasant news, Mary," said March, 
 starting up in spite of pain and giddiness ; " you 
 seem to take it very easy ! " 
 
 " Com, quick," said she, seizing March by the 
 hand ; " com with me." 
 
 March said, mentally, that he would go with 
 her into the jaws of death, if need be ; but he 
 followed up the mental speech with the audible 
 remark, that he had better take some weapon 
 with him. 
 
 " No, no ; com ! Me git you spear, hatchet 
 very quick ; but, com." 
 
 So saying, she dragged, rather than conducted, 
 March to the little opening which led into her 
 dormitory. He had to stoop on entering; and 
 great was his amazement on finding himself on 
 the brink of a black yawning gulf, that seemed 
 to descend into the bowels of the earth. The 
 end of a narrow plank rested on the edge of this 
 gulf, and appeared to bridge it over, but the 
 other end of the plank, and all beyond, were lost 
 in impenetrable darkness. 
 
 " Com after me," said Mary, passing rapidly 
 across the gulf and disappearing absolutely 
 like a vision. 
 
 March hesitated. He tried to steady his some- 
 what giddy head, but the single word " Com " 
 issuing from darkness in a very commanding 
 
. 
 
 ;>oint. He >\:]<j'. 
 Is, and : 
 
 iul of the }> 
 pected. 
 I will com agin," said Mary, 
 
 Th' \ iew bad WEI a fwy dim-rent 1 ! 
 
 v forward. As he slot . >n the 
 
 ' The yawiiniir L r t; 
 
 :i h' ha 
 
 'buss, also with JM 
 i a bag containing 
 
 ! , l>rii>liiiii^ ; 
 her eoi urther i 
 
 . 
 
 poor fel act, h- 
 
 i inrpas.- 
 
 indu 
 
 ;>lank iuu) tli al passar 
 
 to i 
 turned abnr 
 
THE INDIANS ENTER THE C'.V 333 
 
 bility of any one on the other side of the gulf 
 being able to see into it. Indeed, a light in it 
 was not visible from that point of view, and 
 their voices could not be heard unless they spoke 
 loudly. 
 
 Just as the plank was withdrawn, the Indians 
 discovered the mouth of the cavern, and in a few 
 minutes the two watchers beheld a painted sav- 
 age peep in at the opening of the centre cave. 
 Seeing that it was empty, and observing at a 
 glance the opening into the inner cave, he drew 
 back quickly. A minute after, the four Indians 
 darted across, and got out of range of that 
 opening, evidently fearing that some one was 
 there. They flitted past so quickly, yet noise- 
 lessly, that they appeared more like shadows than 
 real men. 
 
 Presently one of them stepped full in front of 
 the opening with a bow and arrow in his hand. 
 The light of the fire was strong. March saw 
 him raise the bow, and had just time to draw 
 back when an arrow whizzed past him, and was 
 broken to pieces on the rock behind his back. 
 Instantly after the echoes of the place burst 
 forth as a shot was fired in the same direction. 
 Having thus made sure that the way was clear, 
 the boldest of the savages entered with a blazing 
 pine-knot held high above his head the others 
 following with bows ready, and arrows fitted to 
 the string. 
 
On reaching the edge of the yawning eh 
 
 the Ion-must savage held the tore h over it, and 
 they all gazed in <ilrnrr in 
 depths. Sa thai it was im)>a-sa: 
 
 consulted for a few minutes, and thm, q 
 rrntlv coming to the conclusion that tin* }. 
 
 [etmnad to tin- middle 
 
 : 1 bri>:in to niniinage and toss about tin - 
 
 1 th(re. 
 "Bring thr riilr," \\hNpeied Biarch. 
 
 > at a shot a w >it. ' 
 
 "No," Mary replied, lirnily. \\ "hy 
 
 blood .' Ti; 
 
 y was right; but a circumst; 
 \vhirh caused them to go away soon 
 r she or t ! anticipated 
 
DICK'S RIDL TO IJIJi 11ESCUE. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A Gallop to the Rescue. A Discovery. Right-about Face. A 
 Disagreeable Surprise and a Sudden Ejection. A Calm after the 
 Storm. Mary a Huntress. Dick's Story of the Murdered 
 Trapper. 
 
 WHEN Dick, alias the Wild Man of the West, 
 left his cave, as narrated in a previous chapter, 
 and galloped away with reckless speed to afford 
 the aid of his stout right arm to his friends in 
 the Mountain Fort, for he counted them 
 friends, although they little knew it, he felt 
 that if he was to be of any use he must travel 
 over the country as he had never travelled before, 
 except once, when he had to fly for his life before 
 five hundred Pawnee warriors. 
 
 It was a grand sight to behold that Herculean 
 backwoodsman on his noble steed, which seemed 
 so well proportioned to its rider that it carried 
 him as if he were but a boy, flying over the 
 country on this brotherly errand. Mile after mile 
 was passed, not indeed at full speed, for that 
 would have broken the good horse down long 
 before the goal was reached, but at a bowling 
 gallop, taking bogs, and rocks, and fallen trees, 
 and watercourses, with an elastic bound that 
 
Mirplus 
 rgy. 
 
 Dick pattrd thr horsed 
 
 1 \\ith a asure aiul a 
 
 treat them 
 wild, Ion*:, C 
 
 QgS. 
 
 unusually \\ild-l 
 s great size and ma- 
 
 I - hr:id i 
 
 6 a lull: 
 thiiiL's | 
 
 it, in a . 
 
 said, 
 
 . airain. 
 
 was 
 
DICK MAKES A SUDDEN HALT. 337 
 
 dressed to itself, for it only put back one ear and 
 kept the other forward. 
 
 " Now, lass," said Dick, firmly (both ears went 
 full back at that sound and remained there), 
 " take it easy ; don't exert yerself over much, it 
 an't no use, a short pace or two, and so." 
 
 The horse went full swing over a roaring 
 watercourse as he spoke, and alighted safe on 
 the opposite bank, but the gravelly soil was 
 treacherous ; it gave way, and the animal's hind- 
 legs slipped back. With a bound Dick sprang 
 to the ground. 
 
 " Hyp, good horse," he cried, raising the 
 *ein. 
 
 A powerful effort, and footing was regained. 
 Dick vaulted into the saddle (he seldom used the 
 stirrup), and away they went again, blithe as ever. 
 Then a long stripe of tangled forest appeared. 
 Dick diverged here. It was easier to skirt it 
 ;han to crash through it. Presently a broad deep 
 iver came in view. There was no looking for a 
 x>rd, no checking the pace. In they went with 
 sounding plunge, as if water were their native 
 element, breasted the foaming tide, and, gaining 
 :he opposite bank, went steadily forward. 
 
 Thus on they sped, over hill and dale, all that 
 light, for the moon was bright in the cloudless 
 sky, and part of next day. Then Dick made a 
 judden halt and dismounted, to examine some- 
 :hing on the ground. Footprints of Indian 
 
 29 
 
33S I MAN < -VEST. 
 
 tour of them going in 
 
 . rose, and his strong l>ro\vs wen- ki 
 1 his lips iinnly pressed together. F<> 
 
 O he pOIld'Ted, thru he 
 
 horse to follow him, and, dropping the l> 
 set off at a rapid walk. g st-:idii 
 
 :iid stooping now and then to examine 
 lip-in \vhen the nature of the ground 
 
 MI less discernible. Thus he retrae- (1 his 
 irse for about a mile, when he stopped and 
 mi; "No doubt o't Th'-m reptiles i: 
 
 liese diggins hut \vhen | 
 
 As 1. ;nted his horse and sat 
 
 hard lo 
 
 - ea\en with Mary ) 
 
 the cr: -<*lVage8 WCTC liuntilli^ it 
 
 Tii ' ihought M ti. e 
 
 ird the . 
 j)aee tl. had hit). 
 
 The re.-i k gained th- 
 
 ofli savages, 
 
 1 in time to onally. the hos- 
 
 pitalities of his o\\ n d\vei; 
 iij) to the IP 
 
 d the | 
 
 . les and n h -light of 
 
THE INDIANS MAKE A SUDDEN EXIT. 339 
 
 Mary, and the words "too late" would whizz 
 about in his brain. 
 
 The Indians were still sitting round the fire 
 enjoying themselves, when March and Mary, to 
 their unutterable surprise, beheld Dick stride 
 through the low doorway of the cave, raise him- 
 self to his full height, and stand before the 
 stricken invaders, absolutely blazing with wrath. 
 His eyes, his hair, his beard, his glistening teeth, 
 seemed each individually imbued with indigna- 
 tion. 
 
 The Indians did not move they could not 
 move they simply sat and stared, and thus 
 both parties continued for a quarter of a minute. 
 
 Mary used that short time well. She knew 
 exactly what to do. Darting into her chamber, 
 she seized the end of the rope connected with the 
 tank and pulled it violently. March saw the 
 rock above the fireplace drop ! A clear, spark- 
 ling cataract sprang as if by magic from the wall ! 
 Next instant there was black darkness and yells, 
 steam, shrieks, and howls, a hissing, hurling 
 hubbub, such as no man can possibly conceive 
 of unless he has seen and heard it! We will 
 not, therefore, even attempt a description. 
 
 The Indians rushed en masse to the doorway. 
 Death in the jaws of the Wild Man of the Wr.-t 
 was infinitely preferable to being par-boiled and 
 suffocated ; but the Wild Man had judiciously 
 made way for them. They gained the outer cave, 
 
THE WILD MAN OF THB WEST. 
 
 <l<>\vn the pathway. 
 
 handle of the BhriekingHDMcUlM \vith the :-er<nd- 
 \v i.f rrlirviiiLT his own frrlii 
 :iosr Imii 
 
 'iild be no altrrnaiivr in th- 
 
 and they }i;t IKM-H heard of MINT from 
 
 his! 
 
 were n e are 
 
 doings 01 , a i 
 
 *un\ we\v. 
 :inpnss ;i that such scenes as we 
 
 \vit- 
 
 ;cle(l in | .n any n 
 
 he |>re.-. 
 
 ::: n : ' Dg thfl do -i - (rf a M \\"ild .Man," and, 
 
 ii the a>j 
 
 and 
 
 B8j and vag;-. 
 .'lire U 
 
 sarily, be altogc 
 
 We. lint, 
 
 wli 
 
MARCH EXPRESSES HIS SURPRISE. 341 
 
 reported deeds of this hero, you will not withhold 
 your belief in the fidelity of the other portions of 
 this narrative. 
 
 No sooner, then, were those unwelcome visitors 
 ejected than Dick returned to the scene of devas- 
 tation and shouted, " Hallo ! Mary ! " 
 
 " Safe, all safe," she replied, as, with the as- 
 sistance of March Marston, she pushed the plank 
 across the chasm, and returned to the centre cave. 
 
 " Is the lad March safe too ? " inquired Dick, 
 as he busied himself in striking a light with flint 
 and steel. 
 
 "All right," answered the youth for himself, 
 " but horribly battered, an' fit to yell with pain, 
 not to mention surprise. Do look sharp and get 
 the fire up. Sich doins' as this I never did see 
 nor hear of since I left the frontier. I do declare 
 it's worthy o' the Wild Man o' the West himself. 
 What d'ye find to laugh at, Dick ? Pm sure if 
 ye had my miserable bones in yer body at this 
 moment, ye'd laugh wi' your mouth screwed the 
 wrong way. Look alive, man ! " 
 
 "Patience, lad, patience. That's one o' the 
 vartues, I believe ; leastwise so I am told (ah, it's 
 caught at last. Hand me that dry stuff on the 
 south shelf, Mary ; ye can find it i' the dark, I 
 doubt not) ; yes, it's a vartue, but I can't boast 
 o' having much o't myself; I dun know much 
 about it from 'xperience ; d'ye see ? There, now, 
 we'll git things put to rights," he added, apply- 
 so* 
 
.IE WEST. 
 
 ing the kindled spark to som ;>ro- 
 
 , with which he ignited ;i ; 
 
 knot, ;nj(i BJ 'lazing in a cleft in the i 
 
 "Ju*t sec \vhat them : im-. 
 
 it Pm a good-t< 
 
 h'lirvr 1 '^y- See, .^ 
 
 ry and ED 
 
 in or-lrr." 
 
 !irr hrlj. 'tally. 
 
 :MT- 
 
 haps iril make Hi- 
 
 ii was made 
 
 '11 only hr in our I 
 
 Ig a larL r - hrx>ni and IH-LTHI 
 and pi- 
 oal \\ ith \\ i ully 
 
 1 up the 
 i- and furniture of li 
 
 on th- led: the 
 
 ground. 
 
 . 
 
 g a dry 
 
 id \\\< - 
 
 den and mil irn. 
 
 1 1 
 
 y, \\ ho hu-tled 
 
MARCH'S ANXIETY FOR HIS FRIENDS. - 343 
 
 of a kitten, or to use an expression more in 
 keeping with the surrounding circumstances a 
 wild kitten. 
 
 Dick, without checking his broom, told how 
 he had discovered the tracks of the Indians, and 
 returned at once, as has been related. 
 
 " Then," said March, looking anxiously at his 
 host, " you'll not be able to help my poor com- 
 rades and the people at the Mountain Fort." 
 
 " It an't poss'ble to be in two places at once, 
 no how ye can fix it," returned Dick, " else I'd 
 ha' been there as well as here in the course of a 
 few hours more." 
 
 " But should we not start off at once now ? " 
 cried March, eagerly, throwing his legs off the 
 ledge and coming to a sitting position. 
 
 " You an't able," replied Dick, quietly, " and I 
 won't move till I have put things to rights here, 
 an' had a feed an' a night's rest. If it would do 
 any good, I'd start this minute. But the fight's 
 over by this time leastwise, it'll be over long 
 afore we could get there ! and if it's not to be a 
 fight at all, why nobody's none the worse, d'ye 
 see." 
 
 " But may-be they may hold the place for a 
 long time," argued March, " an' the sudden ap- 
 pearance of you and me might turn the scale in 
 their favor." 
 
 "So it might so it might. I've thought o' 
 that, and we'U start to-morrow, if yer able. But 
 
it v M{ horse 
 
 1, \\itlim. 
 
 and 
 
 .ft to-Iii larch. 
 
 rly. 
 M \ 'i<l ri<lc." 
 
 rof; but hut " at that 
 'a eyeencoun 1 try's "but 
 
 \\h : Mary?" 
 
 No 
 
 : o' red.- ulilin' IHT ai:aiu for m 
 
 . " Come, lass, ! 
 tne Mipj 
 
 COC)K . I'll ki: 
 
 mr. \\ 
 tO b' B 
 
 llOIMi 
 
 In thr course 
 
 . 
 
 ihr rook 
 
 curlintr 
 tlin. 
 
 is -at thr \Vil.l .Man 
 \viiL LOB! inn; 
 
 han 
 
MARY THE 11UNT1. 
 
 expressions beaming in his clear blue ey- 
 gazed first at Mary, who sat on his ri^ht hand. 
 then at March, who sat on his left, and then at 
 the iron pot which sat or stood between his 
 knees, and into which he was about to plunge a 
 large wooden ladle. 
 
 " There's worse things than buffalo-beef-bergoo, 
 March, an't there ? Ha, ha ! my lad, tuck that 
 under yer belt, it'll put the sore bones right 
 faster than physic. Mary, my little pet lamb, 
 here's a marrow-bone ; come, yer growin', an' ye 
 can't grow right if ye don't eat plenty o' meat 
 and marrow-bones ; there," he said, placing the 
 bone in question on her pewter plate. " Ah ! 
 Mary, lass, ye've bin mixin' the victuals. Why, 
 what have we here ? " 
 
 " Moose nose," replied the girl, with a look of 
 pleasure. 
 
 " I do b'lieve so it is ! why where got ye it ? 
 I han't killed a moose for three weeks an' more." 
 
 " Me kill him meself," said Mary. 
 
 " You ! " 
 
 " Ay, me ! with me own gun, too ! " 
 
 " Capital ! " cried Dick, tossing back his heavy 
 locks, and gazing at the child with proud delight. 
 " Yer a most fit an' proper darter for the Wild - 
 a ho!" sneezed Dick, with sudden violn 
 while Mary glanced quickly up and opened her 
 eyes very wide. " Whisst to a hah! whew ' 
 
WILD M 
 
 r! I raally 
 
 chin' e 
 
 !i \\ as al thai i 
 y'a eyes and a m 
 
 arini: i'>r tin- besc 
 
 at this time - ao was i 
 
 qui upon the principle that pre- 
 
 rs a man tt1 \ hundred 
 
 ini: and ol.vioiis fa 
 
 him Bi 
 
 l>ut lii- mind 
 the 
 
 . UL'ly i 
 
 . 
 
 him lull in 
 ihe Wild the 
 
 Wi i he d; 
 
 ecame ^r 
 
 " I'll tell ye <o: 
 
CONVERSATION IN THE CAVI-. o 17 
 
 quietly ; " not now not now. Come, lad, if ye 
 mean to mount and ride wi' me to-morro\v, you'll 
 ha' to eat heartier than that." 
 
 " Pm doing rny best. Did you say it was 
 you that shot the moose-deer, Mary ? " 
 
 " Yes, it was me. Me go out to kill bird for 
 make dinner, two day back, an' see the moose in 
 one place where hims no can escape but by one 
 way narrow way tree feets, not more, wide. 
 Hims look to me me's look to him. Then me 
 climb up side of rocks so hims no touch me, but 
 must pass below me quite near. Then me yell 
 horbuble yell ! (" Ha ! " thought March, " music, 
 sweetest music, that yell ! ") an' hims run round 
 in great fright ! (" Oh, the blockhead," thought 
 March) but see hims no can git away, so hims 
 rush past me ! Me shoot in back of hims head, 
 an' him drop." 
 
 " Huzza ! " shouted Dick, in such a bass roar, 
 that March involuntary started. " Well done, 
 lass ; ye'll make a splendid wife to a Jbold moun- 
 taineer." 
 
 March could not believe his eyes, while he 
 looked at the modest little creature who thus 
 coolly related the way in which she slaughtered 
 the moose ; but he was bound to believe his ear.-, 
 for Mary said she did the deed, and to suppose it 
 possible that Mary could tell a falsehood was, in 
 March's opinion, more absurd than to supp* 
 that the bright sun could change itst'lf inio 
 

 - 
 
 >minsj the wife o 
 ineer startled him. 11< i'< li, that in 
 
 Id no loiiL r ' 
 _'ht made him tir- 
 M D'ye kill many mount;: > here, J). 
 
 reh, wlien his milled temper had : 
 smoothed down with an :ie. 
 
 44 Ay, lots of V: 
 \\ hat like are 
 
 11 a lh Q 
 ' f hin range." 
 Tout : 
 
 - 
 \ 
 
 . like tl 
 
 .s horns. I si v with In 
 
 new in 
 tha- e a good ih< t. .M 
 
 " .M 
 
 I an't a sla like 
 
 u Ilumj . u If 
 
 come to smoke nm. 
 
 n .' \'f may run do\\ n ;i <tee|) hill. 
 
 n I 
 
MARCH MARSTON AND DICK. 349 
 
 like ; ' but ye'll come to a pint, lad, when ye'll 
 try to stop an' find ye can't when ye'd give all ye 
 own to leave off runnin', but ye'll have to go on 
 faster an' faster till yer carried off.yer legs, and, 
 mayhap, dashed to bits at the bottom. Smokin' 
 and drinkin' are both alike. Ye can begin when 
 you please, an' up to a certain pint, ye can stop 
 when ye please ; but after that pint, ye cwrft 
 stop o' yer own free will ye'd die first. Many 
 an' many a poor fellow has died first, as I know." 
 
 " An' pray, Mister Solomon, do you smoke? " 
 inquired March, testily, thinking that this ques- 
 tion would reduce his companion to silence. 
 
 " No, never." 
 
 " Not smoke ! " cried March, in amazement. 
 The idea of a trapper not smoking was to him a 
 thorough and novel incomprehensibility. 
 
 " No ; nor drink neither," said Dick. " I once 
 did both, before I came to this part o' the country, 
 and I thank the Almighiy for bringing me to a 
 place where it warn't easy to get either drink or 
 baccy specially drink, which I believe would 
 have laid me under the sod long ago, if I had bin 
 left in a place where I could ha' got it. An' now, 
 as Mary has just left us, poor thing, I'll tell ye 
 how I came by the big iron pot. There's no 
 mystery about it ; but as it b'longed to the poor 
 child's father, I didn't want to speak about it 
 before her." 
 
 Dick placed an elbow on each knee, and, rest- 
 so 
 
said In . in a low Bad 
 1 lei't home, and lull iiiif 
 
 he pint." In- a<l(l-(l quickly. 
 see, Man h. when I 
 
 li a comrade a 
 to niv likin' : l>e<-n j 
 
 . in a pa iiiu' 
 
 bO return to ; 
 \\-\\ \\hcrr he 00 ^'' the j> 
 
 If a pint he would n 
 
 onlv 
 
 \\"cll, him . I ! 
 
 'lire 
 
 Injun i. 
 was tin 
 
 . a.-kin' 
 her ; 
 an' ; to Lrit th 
 
 er. \\"e 
 
 1 wi' ih ea, and huir an' 
 
 hen out on thi 
 
 ; hem reptile^ took a ^} 
 
in. 
 
 iried by every way he could to raise the Jnjiins 
 agin' him, but couldn't; so he detannined to 
 murder him. 
 
 "One day we was out huntin' together, an' 
 being too far from the Pawnee lodges to i. lurn 
 that night, we encamped in the wood, an' biled 
 our kettle this iron one ye see here. Adam had 
 a kind o' likin' for't, and always carried it at his 
 saddle-bow when he went out o' horseback. We'd 
 just begun supper, when up comes the Wild-cat, 
 as he was called Adam's enemy an' sits down 
 beside us. 
 
 " Of course, we could not say we thought he was 
 up to mischief, though we suspected it, so we gave 
 him his supper, an' he spent the night with us. 
 Nixt mornin' he bade us good day, an' went off. 
 Then Adam said he would go an' set beaver-traps 
 in a creek about a mile off. Bein' lazy that day, 
 I said I'd lie a bit in the camp. So away he 
 went. The camp was on a hill. I could see 
 him all the way, and soon saw him in the water 
 settin' his traps. 
 
 " Suddenly I seed the Wild-cat step out o' the 
 bushes with a bow an' arrow. I knew \\ ! 
 tip. I gave a roar that he might have heard 1en 
 miles off, an' ran toward them. But an arrow \ 
 in Adam's back before lie could git to the shore. 
 In a moment more lie had the Injun by the tlm- 
 an' the two s i for life. Adam could ha' 
 
 choked him easy, but the arrow in his back Irt 
 
WILD M 
 
 rly burst ray heart in that race. 
 he edge o 
 
 i him <! I was tr\ 
 
 over the hank. 
 
 I had my big sword wi' me, an' hewed the 
 
 ith it at one blow, sendi 
 . 
 
 te,'says Ada iid him 
 
 on the 1, 
 
 M I oov I 866 thai. The head of 
 
 1 to spea 
 onl . , 
 
 A'hy sh' 
 
 on i 
 
 . oiiL'lit with 
 
LOOK. 353 
 
 " And have you and Mary lived li<*r<' :dl alone 
 since that day ? " 
 
 " Ay. I came straight here not carin' \ . 
 I went, only anxious to get out o' the sight o' 
 men, an' live alone wi' the child. I sought out a 
 dwellin' in the wildest part o' these mountains, 
 an' fell upon this cave where we've lived happy 
 enough together." 
 
 " Do ye mean to say the child has never played 
 with other children ? " inquired March, amazed 
 at this discovery. 
 
 " Not much. I give her a ran for a month 
 or two at a time, now an' agin, when I fall on a 
 friendly set o' well-disposed redskins just to keep 
 the right sort o' spirit in her, and comfort her a ! 
 But she's always willin' to live alone wi' me." 
 
 " Then she's never learned to read ? " said 
 March, sadly. 
 
 " That has she. She's got one book. It's a 
 story about a giant an' a fairy, an' a prince an' 
 princess. Most 'xtraornar' stuff. I got it from 
 a Blood Injun, who said he picked it up in a fron- 
 tier settlement where the people had all been mur- 
 dered. When we had nothin' better to do, I used 
 to teach her her letters out o' that book, an' the 
 moment she got 'em off she seemed to pick up 
 the words I dun' know how. She's awful quick'. 
 She knows every word o' that story by heart. 
 An' she's invented heaps o' others o' the most 
 
 30* 
 
WILD MAN* n F THB WEST. 
 
 amuxiif kind. I've often though" the 
 
 to ^it her some books, lut " 
 
 iptly, and a<: 
 as if the thoughts of ci\ii 
 
 rd nnpl' 
 Hi fact is, he continued MMnewhal 
 
 been a ha ? uM 
 
 scarce brlir-. !. lui you ;irr ; ; 
 
 f told all lliis to. 1 
 that I IVrl a 
 
 with inc. J$ut ; 
 one iVicnd. I 
 him ! 
 
 . taking 
 1 in hi>. and Btl 1 a likin 
 
 i I likr 
 ." I Ir was t^oing to 
 
 hr 
 
 ,ld live iirn 
 
 the littl 
 
 I 
 I . ' 
 
 i put 
 an c'lid to 1: 
 
MAKCH BREAKS DOWN. 355 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 March, though Willing in Spirit, finds his Body weak. He makes 
 Mary a Present. The Trappers set out to search for their Lost 
 Comrade. An Unexpected Meeting. Big Waller waxes Pug- 
 nacious. News of March. Dick becomes more Mysterious thau 
 ever. A Reckless Proposal and a Happy Meeting. 
 
 NEXT morning before daybreak, March Marston 
 attempted to set out for the Mountain Fort with 
 Dick ; but he was so thoroughly knocked up 
 before the end of the first mile that he had to 
 call a halt, and admit that he could not think of 
 going further. This was just what Dick wanted ; 
 so he laughed, told him to go back and take care 
 of Mary, and he would advance alone. 
 
 March returned, very much humbled, exces- 
 sively pained in ah 1 his joints, and feeling as if 
 he had reason to be ashamed of himself. 
 
 " Oh ! you com back ? " cried Mary, as he 
 entered the cavern with a crest-fallen air. " .M.- 
 so glad ! Me know very well you was no 
 poss'ble for travel." 
 
 Mary was perfectly artless. She made no 
 attempt whatever to conceal her satisfaction at 
 the youth's return, so he felt amazingly coin- 
 
THE WILD MAN OF THE V 
 
 come b 
 
 o' MO use tryiif ; I'd ji* 
 
 kMOelxC,! Uj) Wlhch WOllM 1| , 
 
 a\vk\v;ir<l for Dick, you know, as well as 
 lift tiijht ji, 
 
 u> g& 
 
 ]\ aif \\cll. M. 
 
 Well have no figl 
 
 la If there i-. me take care < 
 in that way." 
 
 there was i; ..mi- 
 
 looking 
 
 s, me ca i 
 
 book. J> She sigl his. 
 
 " Woi i 
 
 " Oh yi.-. vougotc 
 
 one I h-ive in tl 
 
 lint I'll :o you, V 
 
 Chance Q 
 
 the mother ga ., lu n . i 
 
 hon 
 
MARCH'S PKI 
 
 March pulled the little volume out of the t 
 of his coat as he spoke, and handed it to 
 girl, who received it eagerly, and looked at it 
 \vith mingled feelings of awe and curiosity for 
 some time before she ventured to open it. 
 
 " The Bibil. Dick have oftin speak to me 
 'bout it, an' tiy to 'member some of it. But he 
 no can 'member much. He tell me it speak 
 about the great good Spirit. Injins call him 
 Manitow." 
 
 " So it docs, Mary. I'll leave it with you 
 when I go away. You say Dick couldn't re- 
 member much of it ; neither can I, Mary. More 
 shame to me, for many an' many a time has my 
 poor mother tried to make me learn it off by 
 heart." 
 
 " You mother ? " repeated Mary, earnestly. 
 " Is you mother livin' ? " 
 
 " That is she. At least, I left her well an' 
 hearty in Pine Point settlement not many weeks 
 agone." 
 
 " Me wish me had mother," said Mary, with a 
 sigh. 
 
 March gazed at the sad face of his fair com- 
 panion with a perplexed yet sympathetic look. 
 This was a new idea to him. Never having 
 been without a mother, it had never entered into 
 Ids head to think of such a thing as wishing for 
 one. 
 
 "What you mother called?" said the girl, 
 looking up quickly. 
 
WILD MAN OF THE WEST. 
 
 " I ' !-y." 
 
 . Call same as i 
 ill. There are a good 
 
 number of rch, 
 
 will. _rh. ' See here is her name on 
 
 II ll !!!<! 
 
 I loving 
 her, Mary Mar- 
 
 i good round hand <>' 
 ry potty) 91 I'''}''* Hut she 
 
 -j>ell out 
 which 1 :,!'!i into her ha; 
 
 irain draw her ; 
 ; so he was 
 
 Leaving them thus or 
 :-ii to tin- tr 
 
 iiilt, 
 
 1; -rt and i: 
 
 ni. Si- i 
 
 in rrad; 
 
 tln-ir upjx.rtunii . 
 
 :i tin- v 
 
 Her, ll:i 
 
 wrre at oner 
 
 \ as thr others had done. 
 brrn ill BCX 
 
MARCH'S COMRADES. 359 
 
 had not Big Waller been obliged to take charge 
 of poor Bertram, who, owing to the suddenness 
 and violence of all these recent events in savage 
 life, had got into a muddled condition of mind 
 that rendered him peculiarly helpless. But they 
 knew nothing of March Marston they had 
 expected to find him there before them. 
 
 As March was well mounted, and known to 
 be well qualified to take care of himself, his non- 
 arrival threw his friends into a state of the ut- 
 most anxiety and suspense. They waited a 
 couple of hours, in order to give him a chance 
 of coming in, hoping that he might have merely 
 been detained by some trifling accident, such as 
 having lost his way for a time. But when, at 
 the end of that period, there was still no sign of 
 him, they gave up all hope of his arriving, and 
 at once set out to sweep the whole country round 
 in search of him, vowing in their hearts that 
 they would never return to Pine Point settlement 
 without him if he were alive. 
 
 McLeod tried to persuade them to remain at 
 the fort for a few days, but, feeling sympathy 
 with them, he soon ceased to press the mattrr. 
 As for the wretched chief of the fort, Macgregor, 
 the excitement of the recent transactions being 
 over, he had returned to his bosom friend, and 
 bitterest enemy, the bottle, and was at that time 
 lying in a state of drivelling idiotcy in his pri- 
 vate chamber. 
 
360 
 
 fort, Bounce and 
 
 ( lihauli. \\lio c! to le rid 
 
 in : 
 
 a ridge and bei: tn the 
 
 Lrriint. 
 
 r -11. 
 
 - now : d'ye sre 
 
 o' tin* wair of obsars: 
 
 in a L r r:' 
 tight to^be so li lad. 
 
 soon lose yer s< 
 
 ' 
 M 1 see 
 
 j)lirs fr 
 
 mo 
 
 unwoii* 
 
 f ; obsaij^i 
 
MARCH'S COMRADES AND THE WILD MAN. 361 
 
 knees, carefully turning over every leaf and blade 
 of grass, his comrade, who remained on horse- 
 back, and kept gazing at the horizon, without 
 any particular object in view, did suddenly be- 
 hold an object coming towards them at full 
 gallop. Hence the sudden outburst, and the 
 succeeding exclamation from Bounce " It's a 
 hoss!" 
 
 " A hoss ! " repeated Gibault. " Him be one 
 buffalo ; I see hims bump." 
 
 " The bump that ye see is neither more nor 
 less than a man leanin' forard it is." 
 
 At this moment the rest of the party rode upj 
 and Redhand confirmed Bounce's opinion. 
 
 " There's only one, I guess, an' he's in a pow- 
 erful hurry," observed Big Waller. " But we 
 may as well be ready to fix his flint if he means 
 to cut up rough." 
 
 He brought forward his gun as he spoke, and 
 examined the priming. 
 
 " I b'lieve he's an evil spirit, I do," said 
 Bounce ; " wot a pace ! " 
 
 " More like to de Wild Man of de Vest," ob- 
 served Gibault. 
 
 " Think you so ? " whispered Bertram in an 
 anxious tone, with an involuntary motion of his 
 hand to the pouch, in which lay that marvellous 
 sketch-book of his. 
 
 " Think it's him ? " said Redhand to Hawks- 
 
L^ave a slight grunt of a^ 
 th- strange horseman soon put all doubt 
 
 en tin- point ;it rest by bearing down upon T! 
 
 like ;i whirlwind, his loni; hair, and ta^s. 
 
 seal: streaming in the wind, as usual, 
 
 k had a di-tinct purpose in thus acting. !! 
 hed to terrify n at least, u> impress 
 
 thn i wholr-omr dr- 
 
 !ii|)ly he let alone! 
 
 slashing pace until \ 
 bounds of the party. Reining up so 
 
 i conpl 
 . 
 
 ><T> with a grave, almost fierce ezpres.- 
 lor a MTMP 1 or two. 
 
 fated 
 
 ii'- redskins threatr; 
 
 \ !i j>as-rd arross 
 
 , as he a- - lo>t a comrad- 
 
 
 
 ve seed him, 1 guess ye'd as well 
 ts. M 
 
 back in 
 " One d 
 
MARCH'S COMRADES AND THE WILD MAX. 363 
 
 flies, will bring ye to a valley, level and well 
 watered, with plenty o' beaver in it. You'll find 
 him there." 
 
 ' Without waiting a reply Dick turned to ri<k 
 away. 
 
 " I say, stranger," cried Waller (Dick paused), 
 " air you, or air you not, the Wild Man o' the 
 West?" 
 
 " Wild fools of the West call me so," replied 
 Dick, with a ferocious frown, that went far to 
 corroborate the propriety of the cognomen in the 
 opinion of the trappers. 
 
 " Wall, I tell 'ee wot it is, stranger, Wild Man 
 or not, I guess you'll ha' to take us to our com- 
 rade yourself, for I'm inclined to opine that you 
 know more about him than's good for ye ; so if 
 ye try to ride off, I'll see whether a ball sixteen 
 to the pound '11 stop ye, for all yer bigness." 
 
 A grim smile curled Dick's moustache, as he 
 replied, " If ye think that a trapper's word an't 
 to be trusted, or that committin' murder '11 do 
 yer comrade a service, here's your chance fire 
 away ! " 
 
 Dick wheeled about and cantered coolly a \vny 
 into the thickest part of the forest, leaving the 
 trappers gazing at each other in amazement. 
 Bertram was the first to speak. 
 
 " Oh ! why did you not delay him a few sec- 
 onds longer ? See, I have him here all but the 
 legs of his splendid charger." 
 
:.D MAN OF THE WEST. 
 
 The otl laugh. 
 
 <uly all c'reet, it's easy to 
 cale > by the rules o' j>rc 
 
 see ? " obser\ 
 
 ., ikl 
 as j -hiiik. I, for im<\ will 
 
 bout the ( orncr of 
 j pluin whether he's 
 .all find March \ 
 . so the sooner we set 
 iting for a r 
 <> a gallop, a 
 
 Meanwl. 13 al- 
 
 ig out of si 
 
 orach 
 
 nielli <! 
 in 1- 
 
 take a i 
 i; was, tl. 
 
MARCH MARSTON AND DICK. 365 
 
 second unexpected return of Dick ; but the latter 
 relieved his mind by explaining, in an off-hand 
 way, that he had met a man who had told him the 
 Mountain Fort was all safe, and that his comrades 
 also were safe, and wandering about in that part 
 of the country in search of him. After a good 
 deal of desultory conversation, Dick turned to his 
 guest with a sad, serious air, and, fixing his large 
 blue eyes on him, said, 
 
 " March, lad, you an' me must part soon." 
 
 " Part ! " exclaimed the youth in surprise, " 
 glancing at Mary, who sat opposite to him, em- 
 broidering a pair of mocassins. 
 
 " Ay, we must part. You'll be well enough in 
 a day or two to travel about with yer comrades. 
 Now, lad, I want ye to understand me. I've 
 lived here, off and on, for the last fourteen or 
 fifteen years it may be more, it may be less ; I 
 don't well remember an' I've niver suffered 
 men to interfere wi' me. I don't want them, an' 
 they don't want me." 
 
 He paused. There was a slight dash of bitter- 
 ness in the tone in which the last words were 
 uttered ; but it was gone when he resumed, in 
 his usual low and musical voice, 
 
 " Now, although I chose to bring you to my 
 cave, because I found ye a'most in a dyin' state, 
 an' have let ye into one or two o' my secrets, 
 because I couldn't help it, seein' that I couldn't 
 stop up yer eyes an' yer ears, yet I don't choose 
 
 31* 
 
^66 
 
 i^ht to, an' you h 
 
 it tali 
 
 " C 
 
 1 and an this sp< 
 
 Ul my 
 : . MM-in' that y. 
 
 to obey ; but h< 
 ask me to \ 
 You d pooe I < 
 
 r grass f 01 
 ome 
 
 not 1'in . Brig 
 
 ur noti< 
 i a sort 
 
 UM an\l 
 
 !1 li'S 
 
 ou don'' tell 'cm \vhrn 
 
 8 ; an* i 
 . 
 
 an' be 
 
 tell \vh 
 
 . 
 
 not a lir him <j; 
 
 . 
 of demeanor and spt < 
 
TALK ABOUT PARTING. :Ui7 
 
 " Well, I'm bound to think only o' your \\ 
 in this matter," replied March, in a dnappoin 
 tone, "an' I'll do my best to prevent my com- 
 rades interfering with ye, tho', to say truth, I 
 don't 1hink you need be so cautious, for they ain't. 
 over-curious none of 'em. But " here March 
 paused and glanced at Mary, who, he observed, 
 had drooped her head very much during the con- 
 versation, and from whose eye at that moment a 
 bright tear fell, like a diamond, on the work with 
 which she was engaged. 
 
 " But am I the fact is, Dick, I feel a little 
 sore that you should say ye had a likin' for me, 
 an' then tell me I must be off, an' never look near 
 ye again." 
 
 " That's wot I never did say, boy," returned 
 Dick, smiling. " Ye may come alone to see me 
 as often as ye like, while ye remain in these parts. 
 An' if it please ye, yer at liberty to come an' Jive 
 wi' me. There's room in the mountains for both 
 of us. The cave can hold three if need : 
 
 March Marston's heart beat quick. He 
 on the eve of forming a great resolve ! His bosom 
 heaved, and his eye sparkled, as he was about to 
 close hastily with Lhis proposal, when, ai;ain, the 
 memory of his mother crossed him, and a deep 
 sigh burst from his lips, as he shook his head, and 
 said, sorrowfully, "It can't be done, Dick. I 
 can't forsake rny mother." 
 
 " No more ye should, lad, no more ye should,'' 
 

 Baicl I ): k, nodding aj> 
 
 Minim' to yer moth 
 sum: 
 
 .Lrini: up ii- 
 
 as 1, iM permit him. 
 
 nthusiastieally by the h 
 you and send hi 
 I'll be back in I 
 
 . 
 
 for she looked q beaming s; 
 
 so it is a good pl::u" said Dick, 
 1:1 Iiaste. 
 
 i' to repe ie. Go an' q 
 
 comrades, see \\ ye to do. 
 
 . 
 
 will 
 be at the ; 
 
 M II 
 
 M \\ d Man West 
 
 kiit has seed 
 
 I 
 con 
 
 now ; j- 
 
 ara- it. 
 
ARRIVAL OF MARCH'S CO.MKA! 369 
 
 " Bat how came you to know this ? " inquired 
 the astonished youth. 
 
 " Why, the Wild Man an' me's oncommon 
 intimate, d'ye see. In fact, I may say we're jist 
 inseparable companions, and so I come to know 
 it that way. But make haste. We've no time 
 to lose. 
 
 " Gcod-by, Mary," cried March with a cheer- 
 ful smile, as he hurried out of the cave after his 
 eccentric companion. " I'll be back before long, 
 depend on't." 
 
 Mary nodded, and the two men were soon 
 mounted and out of sight. 
 
 " I say, Dick," observed March, as they rode 
 along, " you must get me to see the Wild Man 
 of the West ; if you're so intimate with him, you 
 can easily bring him into the cave ; now won't 
 you, Dick ? " 
 
 " Well, as I can't help doin' it, I s'pose I may 
 say yes, at once." 
 
 " Can't help it, Dick ! What mean you ? I 
 wish ye'd talk sense." 
 
 " Hist ! " exclaimed the hunter, pulh'ng up 
 suddenly, under the shelter of a cliff. " Yonder 
 come yer friends, sooner than I expected. I'll 
 leave ye here. They've not seed us yit, an' that 
 wood'll hide me till I git away. Now, March, 
 he added, solemnly, " remember yer promise." 
 
 In another moment the wild hunter was gonr, 
 and March rode forward to meet his old comrades, 
 
370 TIII: WILD M 
 
 ihr \;iL 
 
 U tliry aj>: . hi ;i 
 
 :. dragged off his horse, passed 
 
 IK- handled nu: 
 
 make smrr that it was really 1 :ml, 
 
 swallowed up by Bonn* 
 
 jiit aln . passed 
 
 of a grisly bear. 
 
BOUNCE ORACULAR. 371 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 March Marston is perplexed, so are his Friends. An unlooked-for 
 Meeting. Terrible News. The Attack. The Wild Man of 
 the West once again renders signal Service to the Trappers. 
 Wild Doings in general, and March Marston's Chagrin in par- 
 ticular. 
 
 " MARCH MARSTON," said Bounce and Bounce 
 was sitting beside the camp-fire, smoking his pipe 
 after supper when he said it "you may think 
 ye're a 'cute feller, you may, oncommon 'cute ; 
 but if you'll listen to what an oldish hunter says, 
 an' take his advice, you'll come to think, in a 
 feelosophical way, d'ye see, that you're not quite 
 so 'cute as ye suppose." 
 
 Bounce delivered this oracularly, and followed 
 it up with a succession of puffs, each of which 
 was so solidly yellow as to suggest to the mind of 
 Bertram, who chanced to be taking his portrait 
 at that moment, that the next puff would burst 
 out in pure flame. Gibault and Big Waller 
 nodded their heads in testimony of their approval 
 of the general scope of the remark ; the latter 
 even went the length of " guessing that it was ;i 
 fact," and Redhand smiled. Hawkswing looked, 
 if possible, graver than usual. 
 
pause, Jurii: < -!i looked and f It 
 
 HDD 
 
 d'ye see ? \\ 
 
 , BO as : 
 id o' figurati\r inill- 
 
 inili > be seen through :tt nil. 
 
 is " 
 
 " '>n suggested Waller, mo 
 
 >t at al 
 
 severity in i ^'in ? io li.. 
 
 tr;m~ say il. 
 
 >o feelo^ 
 
 . 
 
 j)h- 
 
 . 
 
 - 
 
 hiif 
 
 f \VOS O 
 
 ihr 'T 68 * ***' 
 
 him t 
 
 . 
 
 . " The 
 
 hin' 
 in ; 
 
 \<u on^lit to 
 board with comrade?, ye OUL 
 
MARCH MAHSTON PERPLEXED. 373 
 
 " Oui," added Gibault. " Of course, you have 
 live somewhere, an' somehow, all dis time. It 
 am not posseeble for live nowhere on noting.'' 
 
 " Well, I tell you I have lived with a hunter, 
 who treated me very well, and told me I'd find 
 you here ; having learned that, as I understand, 
 from the Wild Man o' the West himself." 
 
 " Very true," said Bounce ; " but where does 
 the hunter live ? " 
 
 " In the mountains," replied March. 
 
 " So does the Blackfeet an' the Peigans an' the 
 Crows, an' the foxes an' wolves an' grisly bars," 
 retorted Bounce, drily. 
 
 " I'll tell ye what it is," cried the exasperated 
 March ; " the curiosity of you fellers beats the 
 squaws out an' out. Now, I'll be open with 
 ye, an' then ye must hold yer tongues. This 
 man that I've been stayin' with is a very fine 
 fellow, an' a very wonderful fellow, an' his name's 
 Dick " 
 
 " Dick what ? " inquired Bounce. 
 
 " Dick nothing," said March. 
 
 " Ay ! that's a odd name." 
 
 " No, I mean he's only called Dick, an' he 
 wouldn't tell me his other name if he has one. 
 Well, he said to me I was not to tell where he 
 lived, as he don't like company, an' so he made 
 me promise, an' I did promise, d'ye see ; so I 
 mean to stick to my promise, and that's all about 
 it. I would like to tell ye about him, comrades, 
 
WILD M 
 
 ive me br word, \\ 
 
 ?" 
 
 "Cer'nl. said Hot 
 
 _eh ah! \\ 
 
 in' , 
 
 KgLfM adopted daughter. liviiT \\ ith him." 
 she good lookin* .' " iinjuinMl tt< 
 i a sharp glance :> 
 
 . 
 
 IB 
 miuilcrahly 
 
 1 
 
 | ml in the far*-, 
 
 r .-tonn. 1 1 
 
 .-I* a IHM 
 \\llO Sr ."llillir t! 
 
 ' 
 
 riain ligl: 
 
 it \\tMil<l h 
 
 .-hort ti: 
 
AN UNLOCKED FOR ]U 375 
 
 tinguished clearly, and the rapid patter of the 
 horse's hoofs on the turf told that the rider was 
 flying over the ground at unusual speed. Pass- 
 ing round a clump of low trees that stretched 
 out from the mouth of the valley into the plain, 
 he came dashing toward the camp a wild- 
 looking, dishevelled creature, seemingly in a state 
 of reckless insanity. 
 
 " The Wild Man again, surely," said Bounce, 
 who, with his companions, had risen to await the 
 coming up of the stranger. 
 
 " D'you think so ? " cried March Marston, 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Ye eh ! why, I do b'lieve it's Mr. Mac- 
 gregor," cried the astonished Bounce, as the 
 reckless rider dashed up to the camp-fire, and, 
 springing from his horse, with a yell that savored 
 more of a savage than a civilized spirit, cried 
 
 " Look out, lads ; up with a pile o' rocks an' 
 trees ! They'll be on us in a jiffy ! There's five 
 hundred o' the red reptiles if there's one. The 
 Mountain Fort's burned to cinders every man 
 and woman dead and scalped look alive! " 
 
 These words were uttered hastily, in broken 
 exclamations, as Macgregor seized the logs that 
 had been cut for fire-wood, and began violently 
 to toss them together in a pile ; while the lr. 
 pers, although much amazed and horrified at the 
 news, seized their hatchets and began to in; 
 instant preparation to resist an attack, without 
 
376 l> MAN 01 
 
 i in<r time in useless q 1 
 served that the coi r of thr M 
 
 Fort was pale as death, that his eyes 
 
 lifl clothes torn, and \\\^ hands and 
 begrimed \\iih powder and stained \vi 
 
 March Marston worked tike a hero at the rude 
 rk for some time, although tb 
 BO inucli pain that he c>uid : 
 showing 'n in his co <-e. 
 
 Lrch," said BOUIH 
 
 by ulder, "you're not 1 an* 
 
 much less fit to fight. I'll tell ye wot to d<>, lad. 
 ,1 11111;) on my horse, an' away to yer fr; 
 
 to help us. ( 
 re good 
 
 t as he was ab< 
 
 ling to him 
 .11. 
 "No not ill, just, a sc i -in an an 
 
 the 
 \Valle:-. 
 
 u Into th 1 Bonne 
 
THE ATTACK ON THE FORT. 
 
 the breastwork, "we don't need to care; with 
 plenty o' powder and lead we can keep five thou- 
 sand redskins off." 
 
 March heard no more. Dashing up the glen ;it 
 full speed, he disappeared from the spot, just as 
 the distant yell of the savage host came floating 
 upon the wings of the night air, apprising the 
 trappers that their fire had been observed, and 
 that they would have to fight manfully if they 
 hoped to carry their scalps home with them. 
 
 In a few minutes the Indians drew near, and 
 scattering themselves round the little entrench- 
 ment, began to discharge clouds of arrows at it, 
 but, fortunately, without doing any damage. An 
 inaccessible cliff protected their rear, and behind 
 a projection of this the trappers' horses were se- 
 cured. The breastwork lay immediately in front. 
 
 Again and again the savages let fly their shafts, 
 but without drawing any reply from the trap] 
 who kept close under cover, and reserved their 
 fire. This tempted their enemies to approach, 
 and, when within short range, they seemed about 
 to make a rush, supposing, no doubt, that the 
 party concealed behind the breastwork must be 
 Indians, since they did not use fire-arms. Just 
 then Redhand gave a preconcerted signal ; three 
 sheets of flame spouted from their guns, and 
 three of the foremost Indians fell dead from their 
 horses. 
 
 With a terrible yell the others turned to fly, 
 
 32* 
 
>re tliry had retr- 
 
 li dead DOW 
 
 toe ' !>< hind trees and roc K 
 
 to dislodge the trappers by L inir an 
 
 such an anule that they sh 
 drop into their fortress. One 
 
 1 to ascend the sterp elill', l.ut 
 arm or B! - d, a ball fn 
 
 hand'fl deadly rifle struck it, so 1 
 
 as goiniz on. Man h Marston gal- 
 he al ru[)tness of his 
 
 so c 
 
 d in th 
 ip'ar the <po! \\ hcrr d frnin ; 
 
 i:d had not c> - -< d th i^of 
 
 -i-rn the an 
 
 of I\I rch 
 
 in tl, ion of ti: 
 
 by the I 
 spec \\'ild Man ( 
 
 i sorry to see him t:<> neli an 
 
 . 
 
 so as to ren 
 
 Observing that the I I 
 
 dier at the foot of a rug- 
 v for thu purpOM' of holding a . of .j 
 
TIMELY .AID OF THE WILD MAN. 379 
 
 \var, Dick made his way quickly to the summit of 
 the cliff, and, leaving his charger on an emiin 
 that sloped down toward the entrance of the 
 valley, quickly and noiselessly carried several huge 
 stories to the edge of the precipice, intending to 
 throw them down on the heads of his foes. Just 
 as he was about to do so, he observed an over- 
 hanging mass of rock, many tons in weight, which 
 the frosts of winter had detached from the preci- 
 pice. Placing his feet against this, and leaning 
 his back against the solid rock, he exerted himself 
 with all his might, like a second Samson. No 
 human power could have moved such a rock, had 
 it not been almost overbalanced ; but, being so, 
 Dick's effort moved it. Again he strained, until 
 the great veins seemed about to burst through 
 the skin of his neck and forehead. Gradually 
 the rock .toppled and fell, and the Wild Man fell 
 along with it. 
 
 In the agony of that moment he uttered n cry 
 so terrible that it might well have been supp< 
 to have come from the throat of a supernatural 
 being. The Indians had not time to evade the 
 danger. The ponderous mass in its desn 
 a projecting crag, and burst into small- 
 ments, which fell in a rattling shower, kill-. 
 men, and wounding others. Those of the group 
 who I, as well as those who chanced to I e 
 
 beyond ihe danger, saw, by the dim moonlight, 
 the Wild Man of the West descending, as it \\ 
 
380 It MAN OF THE WEST. 
 
 rious demon in 
 
 on of dust and rocks. They knew him 
 It \vair- his to fill them to o\erllow 
 
 They turned and ll 
 loiiLfh ama/ed beyond measi 
 
 is that had thus suddenly 
 ) their li'-ir horees, and, 
 
 lr;i j r th'-ir harricad . i dou n the 
 
 i pursuit, iiring a volley . and 
 
 us they rode at full speed, 
 t might well be 
 
 foot of : 
 : through a 
 
 urrd if 
 i in the midst of fcJ I \vhicli 
 
 it lie u as not i 
 
 lie W8fl indulge 
 
 n times of nc':<>n. ( living 1 
 self one bo make .- * 
 
 soun id and limb, he bounded 
 
 by a path with \\ hi< h he was 
 his horr 
 
 to the f the v; ; 
 
 suddenly round, met the hon 
 
 . li ! 
 
 r \\ iili \vliieli 
 pound in aid altogether hideoi. 
 
FLIGHT OF THE INDIANS. 381 
 
 mind was in a mingled condition of amazement 
 and satisfaction at his escape, triumph at the 
 success of his plan, and indignation at the cow- 
 ardly wickedness of the savages. A rollicking 
 species of mad pugnacity took possession of him, 
 and the consequence was, that the sounds which 
 issued from his leathern throat were positively 
 inhuman. 
 
 The rushing mass of terror-stricken men, thus 
 caught, as it were, between two fires, divided, in 
 order to escape him. Dick was not sorry to 
 observe this. He felt that the day was gained 
 without further bloodshed. He knew that the 
 superstitious dread in which he was held was a 
 guarantee that the savages would not return ; so, 
 instead of turning with the trappers to join in the 
 pursuit, he favored them with a concluding and a 
 peculiarly monstrous howl, and then rode quietly 
 away by a circuitous route to his own cavern. 
 
 Thus he avoided March Marston, who on find- 
 ing that his friend Dick was out, had returned at 
 full speed to aid his comrades, and arrived just 
 in time to meet them returning, triumphant and 
 panting, from their pursuit of the foe ! 
 
 " Are they gone ? " cried March in amazement. 
 
 " Ay, right slick away into the middle o' no 
 whar," replied Big Waller, laughing heartily. 
 " Did ye iver hear such a roarer, comrades ? " 
 
 " Have you licked 'em out an' out ? " continued 
 the incredulous March. 
 
382 D MAN OF TI1E WEST. 
 
 u Ay, out an' out, an' no mistake," r 
 Bounce, dismounting. 
 
 \\Yli. that is luck; March; " lor my 
 
 i Dick I found was not " 
 
 !iot have need him." 
 Gi! . ipinir the perspiration Jrom his 
 
 \Vild Man of de West hims c< 
 should see what hims ha 
 
 \ild Man ag nied Mai 
 
 a an' me absei 
 mil nod 
 
 -<m exclamation from Redhand 
 ie attention of the whol< 11 
 
 ig beside Macgregor, who 1 
 mou \vn. 
 
 " I 1 ." said tl: 
 
 . 'said 
 ocL" 
 
 . 
 rest see, 
 
 re." 
 
 1 know tl: r is a good 
 
 ng,'' said Ma 
 
 me," lai; 
 II..\\ far ofl i- 
 
MACGREGOR WOUNDED. 383 
 
 " Four miles from this. I'll take you if you 
 can ride," said March. 
 
 " Ay, that I can, bravely," cried the trader, 
 who, having taken a deep draught of spirits, 
 seemed to be imbued with new life. " Come, 
 young sir, mount." 
 
 The trappers endeavored to dissuade the vio- 
 lent man from the attempt, but he could not be 
 controlled ; so March, hastily observing that he 
 would see him safe to the hunter's abode and 
 return without delay, mounted his horse and rode 
 away, followed by the wounded man. 
 
UII.I> .V HE WEST. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 The Wounded Fur-Trader. 
 
 hey reached the < 
 March and \\\< con. 
 
 from loss of blood 
 foot of the 
 
 . h ran hazily in for assist a 1 was 
 
 surprise 
 side of the fire, and so absorbed in 
 
 mce a 
 
 xls, 
 
 :th. 
 \\ 
 ihr ,_r up, 8t'i, ihr 
 
 is, and gaziin 
 
 i tig. 
 
 March Mar.-ion ; though 
 hov ;ime to .UK- I (I 
 
 i " 
 
THE WILD MAN'S CAVE. 385 
 
 " That is she, an' well, I trust 
 
 " An' your father," interrupted Dick ; " how's 
 he, lad, eh?" 
 
 " I don't know," said March, frowning ; " he 
 forsook us fourteen years agone ; but its little 
 good talking o' such matters now, when there's 
 a poor fellow dyin' outside." 
 
 Dyin' ? " 
 
 " Ay, so it seems to me. I've brought him to 
 see if ye can stop the bleedin', but he's fainted, 
 -and I can't lift " 
 
 Dick waited for no more, but, hastening out, 
 raised McGregor in his arms, and carried him 
 into the inner cave, where Mary was lying sound 
 asleep on her lowly couch. 
 
 " Come, Mary, lass, make way for this poor 
 feller." 
 
 The child leaped up, and, throwing a deer-skin 
 round her, stepped aside to allow the wounded 
 man to be placed on her bed. Her eye imme- 
 diately fell on March, who stood in the entrance, 
 and she ran to him in surprise. 
 
 " What's de matter, March ? " 
 
 " Hush, Mary," said Dick, in a low voice ; 
 "we'll have to speak soft. Poor Macgregor 
 won't be long for this world, I'm affeared. Fetch 
 me the box o' things." 
 
 " You know him, then ? " whispered March, in 
 surprise. 
 
 " Ay, I've often bin to the Mountain Fort and 
 
 33 
 
386 
 
 1 him i 1 '.- romin' to. Put thaf 
 
 U'hind mr, hid. It'll be* !> 
 him iiu* 
 
 As h ;mlr<l man BJ iutly. 
 
 . \\"M. 
 ; in," \vl: 
 his slumMrr :!((!. and, k; 
 
 ii<l : 
 
 allriLrlr. icgregor. 
 
 you to the h . 1 Ir'll drrs- und 
 
 :iii'i n; so m;t 
 
 But you'll h urh 
 
 \vhilc 1) 
 
 to tli- 
 Iporing 
 
 i id occa.< 
 
 ion. 
 
 ull it be," ihonirht March. 
 
THE WILD MAN'S CAYK. 387 
 
 and the wounded fur-trader ? " Not being able 
 to find a satisfactory reply to the thought, he 
 finally dismissed it, and turned his attentions 
 altogether toward Mary, whose looks of sur- 
 prise and concern showed that she, too, was 
 puzzled by the behavior of her adopted father. 
 
 During that night and all the next day the 
 wounded man grew rapidly worse, and March 
 stayed with him, partly because he felt a strong 
 interest in and pity for him, and partly because 
 . he did not like to leave to Mary the duty of 
 watching a dying man. 
 
 Dick went out during the day in the same 
 excited state, and did not return till late in the 
 evening. During his absence, the dying man's 
 mind wandered frequently, and, in order to check 
 this as well as to comfort him, March read to him 
 from his mother's Bible. At times he seemed to 
 listen intently to the words that fell from March's 
 lips, but more frequently he lay in a state appa- 
 rently of stupor. 
 
 " Boy," said he, starting suddenly out of one 
 of those heavy slumbers, " what's the use of read- 
 ing the Bible to me ? I'm not a Christian, an' 
 it's too late now too late ! " 
 
 " The Bible tells me that < now ' is God's time. 
 I forget where the words are, an' I can't find 
 'em," said March earnestly ; " but I know they're 
 in this book. Besides, don't you remember the 
 thief who was saved when he hung on the cro&s 
 in a dyin' state ? " 
 
WILD M 
 
 1 .-lowly, and still 
 inir 
 
 ;t thr 
 
 flung to him. He turn- iges 
 
 hurrinlly to tinl ap 
 a^ain and 
 
 ; of 
 God. II< tin <1 all h< 
 
 i and n. nly 
 
 (1 : 
 
 to savt st all 
 
 (Jod throuir'- 
 
 hear 
 
 n I 
 
 A strange H . tin* 
 
 rnind oi 
 
 I'-ntly a.- 
 
 -\\L: . 
 Bib 
 
MACGREGOR'S DEATH. 389 
 
 in a sudden burst of anger) have murdered my 
 boy." 
 
 " Father ! " exclaimed March, seizing Mac- 
 gregor's hand. 
 
 The dying man started up with a countenance 
 of ashy paleness, and, leaning on one elbow, 
 gazed earnestly into the youth's face " March ! 
 can it be my boy ? " he fell back with a heavy 
 groan. The bandages had been loosened by the 
 exertion, and blood was pouring freely from his 
 wound. The case admitted of no delay. March 
 hurriedly attempted to stop the flow of the vital 
 stream, assisted by Mary, who had been sitting 
 at the foot of the couch bathed in tears during 
 the foregoing scene. 
 
 Just then Dick returned, and, seeing how mat- 
 ters stood, quickly stanched the wound ; but his 
 aid came too late. Macgregor, or rather Obadiah 
 Marston, opened his eyes but once after that, 
 and seemed as if he wished to speak. March 
 bent down quickly and put his ear close to his 
 mouth ; there was a faint whisper, " God bless 
 you, March, my son," and then all was still. 
 
 March gazed long and breathlessly at the dead 
 countenance ; then, looking slowly up in Dick's 
 face, he said, pointing to the dead man, " My 
 father ! " and fell insensible on the couch beside 
 him. 
 
 We will pass over the first* few days that suc- 
 ceeded the event just narrated, during which 
 
 33* 
 
M ; 11! about the wild rn i< n in 
 
 our in 
 
 iid tin* l'i 
 
 him when hr 1 in tin 
 
 1 linn!, allow tl 
 
 briii 
 
 in the t 
 
 I I 
 
 . 
 I 
 
 1. and of tli 
 
LOUIS THE TRAPPER. 391 
 
 times, the dying man listened to 
 
 Word of God; and the tear of sorr< f.-Jl 
 
 upon the grave as he turned to quit that soli 
 
 fc, was mingled with a tear of joy and thank- 
 fulness that God had brought him there to pour 
 words of comfort and hope into his father's dying 
 ear. 
 
 That night he spent in the cave with Dick ; 
 
 he felt indisposed to join his old comrades just 
 
 The grave tenderness of his eccentric 
 
 friend, and the sympathy of little Mary were 
 
 more congenial to him. 
 
 " March," said Dick, in a low sad tone, as they 
 sat beside the fire, " that funeral reminds me o' 
 my friend I told ye of once. It's a lonesome 
 grave his, with nought but a wooden cross to 
 mark it." 
 
 " Had you known him long, Dick ? " 
 
 . not long. He left the settlement in a 
 huff bein', I b'lieve, crossed in love, as I told 
 ye." 
 
 Dick paused, and clasping both hands over hi.s 
 knee, gazed with a look of mingled sternness and 
 sorrow at the glowing fire. 
 
 t; Did ye ever," he resumed, abruptly, " h< 
 a feller called Louis, who once lived at Pine 
 Point before ye> was born, lad; did ye e 
 hear yer mother speak of him ? " 
 
 Louis? Yes well; I b< think 
 
 I've heard the name before. Oh, yes ! People 
 
D MAN OF THE V 
 
 <1 to say 
 
 - a girl; but I n< 
 
 Now ye m "iily tii 
 
 (I h'-r B -In- burst in 
 
 never to speak of him a^rni. T: 
 name Louis Th i 
 
 n ;is Louis 
 
 ost forgotten at the set s so 
 
 long ago. Every our thinks hi 
 
 liy not? My p< llrl 
 
 r go 
 
 i' n<> i! .. no morr lie 
 
 i in 
 
 \\ 
 
 \\ith much i: 
 
 lit' (ll)SC! 
 
 cheerful tone : 
 
 " ^^ go to P 
 
 r that [ 
 
 J looked pu: . i aiUTSc : 
 
 COii^ -;lir(l, " B 
 
MARCH AND THE WILD V 
 
 looking up quickly, she added, " \Vhieh 
 like?" 
 
 " Indeed, I must make the same reply, !\ 
 <I don't know.' But, as I can't expect my 
 friend Dick to give up his wild life, I suppose 1 
 must make up my mind to come here." 
 
 " March, said Dick, quickly, " I've changed 
 my mind, lad. It won't do. You'll have to 
 spend next winter at home any how ye can't 
 spend it with me." 
 
 Had a Ihunderbolt struck the earth between 
 - March and Mary, they would not have been filled 
 with half so much consternation as they were on 
 hearing these words. It was plain that both had 
 thoroughly made up their minds that they were 
 to be together for many months to come. Dick 
 noted the effect of his remark, and a peculiar 
 frown crossed his countenance for a moment, but 
 it gave place to a smile, as he said, 
 
 " I'm sorry to disappoint ye, lad ; but the thing 
 cannot be." 
 
 " Cannot be I " repeated March, in a tone of 
 exasperation, for he felt that this was an un- 
 warrantable piece of caprice on the part of his 
 friend ; "surely you don't claim to be chief of 1 lie 
 Rocky Mountains \ If I choose to come an 1 spend 
 the winter in this region, you have no right to 
 pr vent me. And if I offer to bring you furs and 
 venison, besides pretty good company, will ye l>e 
 such a surly knave as to "refuse me a corner of 
 your cave." 
 
Tin* tiling cai 
 
 All I 
 
 ! 
 ; 1 want * 
 
 . 
 
 i did 
 ilia; M 
 
THE DAY OF DEPART 395 
 
 Each day he passed with his comrades, hunting 
 and trapping, and each night he bade them, adieu 
 and returned to sup and sleep in UK; cave, and of 
 course, persecuted Dick all that time ; but Dirk 
 was immovable. 
 
 Of course, the trappers renewed their attempts 
 to get March to show them Dick's abode, but he 
 persistently refused, and they were too good- 
 natured to annoy him, and too honest to follow 
 his trail, which they might easily have done, had 
 they been so disposed. 
 
 At last the time arrived when it became neces- 
 sary that the trappers should return to Pine Point 
 settlement. In the midst of all their alarms and 
 fights they had found time to do, what Big Waller 
 termed, a " j^etty considerable stroke o' business." 
 That is to say, they had killed a large number of 
 fur-bearing animals by means of trap, snare, and 
 gun, so that they were in a position to return 
 home with a heavy load of valuable skins. The 
 day of their departure was therefore arranged, 
 and March, mounting his steed, gaUoped, for the 
 last time, and with a heavy heart, toward the 
 cave of his friend Dick. 
 
 As he passed rapidly over the wild country, 
 and entered the gloomy recesses that surrounded 
 the Wild Man's home, he thought over the ai 
 ments and persuasive speeches with which he 
 meant to make a last, and, he still hoped, suc- 
 cessful appeal. But March might h nil 
 
<>f all this thoj;; 
 he waa absent 
 
 grieved him drrpK. 
 
 hy his companion- for 
 on their homeward joun 
 hr h are. 
 
 .Mar. .March 
 
 isulnl. B 
 
 : 
 
 hiins 
 
 - 
 
 . 
 
 ' 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 
 nioiiMnitioii. hui (1 80 
 
 1 hro\vn hair hil 
 
 IKT ,rch 
 fain , -riiuine - \\'lial 
 
 lu- l>< came 
 
 him 
 
 .ig ihr half hour ti, 
 
 rene in : 
 
 but \\itliout success. At la.-t In- 
 
MARCH TAKES LEAVE OF MARY. 397 
 
 " Must you go 'way dis night ? " said Mary, 
 with a look of concern." 
 
 " Ay, Mary, an' it's not much matter, for ye 
 don't seem to care." 
 
 The girl looked at him reproachfully, " You is 
 not please' with me, March why ? " 
 
 The question puzzled the youth. He certainly 
 was displeased, but he could not make up his 
 mind to say that he was so because Mary had 
 not fallen into a state of violent grief at the 
 prospect of a separation. But the anxious gaze 
 of Mary's truthful blue eyes was too much for 
 him, he suddenly grasped both her hands, and, 
 kissing her forehead, said : 
 
 " Mary, dear, I'm not displeased. I'm only 
 sorry, and sad, and annoyed, and miserable 
 very miserable I can scarcely tell why. I sup- 
 pose I'm not well, or I'm cross, or something or 
 other. But this I know, Mary, Dick has invited 
 me to come back to see him next year, and I 
 certainly shall come if life and limb hold out till 
 then." 
 
 Mary's eyes filled with tears, and as she smiled 
 through them, March, being very near her face, 
 beheld in each eye an excessively miniature por- 
 trait of himself gazing out at him lovingly. 
 
 " Perhaps ! " faltered Mary, " you no' want for 
 come when it be nixt year." 
 
 Poor March was overwhelmed again, abso- 
 
 34 
 
u 
 
 " \\ 
 
 . the ( i 
 
 . Mary, tii! 
 
 > -f the 
 
 68, and 
 
 . 
 
 the \Vil.l .M-.iii him- 
 
 n :i!id to 
 
 e ;m<l 111:111. I ! 
 
 \vitiM-s. 
 tainly li:i 
 
 ' : 
 
i- 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 March Marston at Home. His astonishing IJi-havior. Xan- 
 of his Extraordinary Adventures. Widn\v Mar.-tmi's Ilowcr. 
 The Rendezvous of the Trappers. A stran^u Iiiti-rruplidii to 
 March's Narrative. A Wild Surprise and Recovery of 
 Lover. Great Destruction of Household Goods. A Double 
 Wedding and Tremendous Excitement. The Wild Man of the 
 West the Wisest Man in Pine Point Settlement. 
 
 THREE months passed away, and at the end of 
 that period March Marston found himself back 
 again in Pine Point settlement, sitting on a low 
 stool at that fireside where the yelling and kick- 
 ing days of his infancy had been spent, and 
 looking up in the face of that buxom, blue-eyed 
 mother, with whom he had been wont to hold 
 philosophical converse in regard to fighting and 
 other knotty not to say naughty questions, 
 in those bright but stormy days of childhood 
 when he stood exactly "two-feet -ten,'' and when 
 he looked and felt as if he stood upwards of ten 
 feel two ! 
 
 Three months passed away, and during Hit; 
 passage of thai period March Marston's bosom 
 became a theatre in \\liicli, unseen by the naked 
 lye, were a legion of spirits, good, middling, and 
 bad, among whom were hope, fear, de>p:iir. 
 
4CO THE WILD MAN 01 
 
 fun, delight, interest, surprise, mi 
 
 tion, and a military demoi 
 
 who overbore and browbeat all the n 
 
 These scampered through his brain up 
 
 his heart and tumbled about in hi.- 
 
 lungs, and maintained a furiou 
 
 and in short behaved in a 
 
 disgraceful, and that caused the poor ian 
 
 alternately to amuse, aimo\. 'mi 
 
 his comrades, who beheld th- 
 
 those private theairicals, but had n.< 
 
 of the terrific combats that took place so 
 
 quently on the stage wit! 
 
 During those th. 
 things. He sa\v \i\> old 
 and the prong-h 
 bears, and th 
 and shot, and a: . j ;. 
 
 Clouds Of lr 
 
 that they sometimes darken* d 
 
 herds of buii' 
 
 ened the whole plain. 
 
 Ikiring ti 
 
 good deal. :n r<l thai t. 
 
 more of every sort o 
 he had had any 
 
 very much, to be ihankful for 
 many, very many, th 
 many also to be gla, 
 knowledge were illimit.i 
 
MARCH RELATES HIS ADVENTURES, 401 
 
 own individual acquirements were preposterously, 
 humblingly, small ! 
 
 He thought much, too. He thought of the 
 past, present, and future in quite a. surprising 
 way. He thought of his mother and her loneli- 
 ness, of Dick and his obstinacy, of Mary and her 
 sweetness, of the Wild Man of the West and his 
 invisibility. When this latter thought arose, it 
 had the effect invariably of rousing within him 
 demon Despair ; also General Jollity, for the gen- 
 eral had a particular spite against that demon, 
 and, whenever he showed symptoms of vitality, 
 , attacked him with a species of frenzy that was quite 
 dreadful to feel, and the outward manifestations 
 of which were such as to cause the trappers to 
 fear seriously that the poor youth had " gone out 
 of his mind," as they expressed it ; but they were 
 wrong quite wrong it was only the natural 
 consequence of those demons and sprites having 
 gone into his mind, where they were behaving 
 themselves as Bounce, when March made him 
 his confidant, said with "horrible obstropolos- 
 
 ity" 
 
 Well, as we have said, March was seated on a 
 low stool, looking up in his mother's face. He 
 had already been three days at home, and, during 
 every spare minute he had, he sat himself down 
 on the same stool, and went on with his inter- 
 minable narrations of the extraordinary adven- 
 tures through which he had passed while among 
 
 34* 
 
freat 
 
 . 
 tin- frr 
 
 rs, \vii 
 
 (1 to this iiitrrmii 
 narration with i, 
 
 ng to a 
 
 \v- have BO 
 eod 
 
 Ah! 
 to i 
 
 Kit talk : 
 
MARCH AND 403 
 
 considerable amount of uncommon sense. aii<l his 
 mother listened with intelligent interest; com- 
 menting on what he said in her quiet -he 
 found opportunity we say this advisedly, for 
 opportunities were not so frequent as one 
 suppose. March had always been possessed of a 
 glib tongue, and he seemed, as Bounce remarked, 
 to have oiled the hinges since his return to Pine 
 Point settlement. 
 
 " Mother," said March, after a short pause that 
 had succeeded an unusually long burst, " do you 
 know it's only a few months since I left* you to 
 go to this trip to the Mountains ? " 
 
 " I know it well, my son," replied .the widow, 
 smiling at the question. 
 
 " And do you know," he continued, " that it 
 seems to me more like five years ? When I 
 tlriik of all that. I've heard, and all that I've done, 
 and all that I've seen, it seems to me as if it 1. 
 took as if it must have took five years to 
 have heard and done and seen it all in! " 
 
 " And yet," said the widow, musingly, " you 
 failed to see the Wild Man o' the We- 
 all." 
 
 " Mother, I'll be angry with you if you 
 that agnin." 
 
 " Weil, I won't," she replied, taking his hand 
 in hers and stroking it. u Tell me again, March, 
 about Dick of the Cave and his liale girl. I 
 like to hear about them ; they were so kind to 
 
404 THE WILD MAN OF TIIK WHBT. 
 
 you, and that Dick, from 
 
 be such a fine fellow ; tell me all 
 
 over again." 
 
 "I will, mother," R / his 
 
 throat, and commencing in a ton*' that 
 clearly his intention of going 
 
 Widow Marston's cottage had a pr 
 fortable-looking flower-garden behind 
 the windows looked out upon a portion of 
 native woods which had been left standing \v 
 the spot for the settlem< 
 back garden -T which 
 
 brother, the blacksmith, ha< 
 creepers on which had been < 
 widow's own hat si \\ h< 
 the belle of th 
 which \ ious one. 
 
 t uiet, joll; 
 
 of whom smoked, and one of whom B 
 They were our lhaiid, 1 Big 
 
 Waller, Gibaulr. Hi 
 
 It is observable among m 
 
 company tcv i irn 
 
 they return again to civilized, or to se 
 life, they feel a strong in. 
 together, either from the 
 pathy, or both. Oi, 
 trappers, after visiting their fri< 
 drew together again as if 
 attraction. In whatever manner they c-hai.. 
 
THE TRAPPERS IN THE BOWER. 405 
 
 to spend their days, they for the first week at 
 least found themselves trending gradually each 
 evening a little before sunset to a common 
 centre. 
 
 Widow Marston was always at home. March 
 Marston was always with his mother. Deep in 
 his long-winded yarns. The bower was always 
 invitingly open in the back garden : hence the 
 bower was the regular rendezvous of the trappers. 
 It was a splendid evening that on which we now 
 see them assembled there. The sun was just 
 about to set in a flood of golden clouds. Birds, 
 wild-fowl, and frogs held an uproarious concert 
 in wood and swamp, and the autumnal foliage 
 glowed richly in the slanting beams as it hung 
 motionless in the still atmosphere. 
 
 " D'ye know," said Redhand, removing his 
 pipe for a few minutes and blowing aside the 
 heavy wreaths of tobacco-smoke that seemed un- 
 willing to ascend and dissipate themselves, " d'ye 
 know, now that this trip's over, I'm inclined to 
 think it's about the roughest one I've had for 
 many a year. An' it's a cur'ous fact, that the 
 rougher a trip is the more I like it." 
 
 Bertram, who was (as a matter of course) sketch- 
 ing, turned over a few leaves and made a note ot 
 the observation. 
 
 " I guess it was pretty much of a middlin' jolly 
 one," said Big Waller, smoking enthusiastically 
 and with an expression of intense satisfaction on 
 his weather-beaten countenance. 
 
406 THE WILD MAN OF THE V 
 
 " An' profitable," observed Bounce, n 
 
 "Ah! oui, ver' prof 'tal > 
 " Dat is de main ting. We have git j 
 an' have bring horn' our own 
 not moche sure of one or two tii. 
 
 " True/' said Bounce ; ' e got 
 
 for to be thankful for. :^ 
 skin of a human ain't to be put in 
 \vi' the skin o' a beaver, d'ye see ? " 
 
 Bounce glanced at 1! ing as li 
 
 but the Indian only looked stolid, and 
 solemnly. 
 
 " Yes," he continued 
 
 nor a broken one, ai k a 
 
 whole one, though I'm not ago 
 that there's son:' in bringing 1> 
 
 other sc 
 
 to prove the true J' . of tli- 
 
 see? " 
 
 Bou; 
 
 ergy, to take a ] . biff I! 
 
 however-, 
 subsided quietly into a si 
 
 " What a splendidly 
 claimed Bertram, pu.-hin^ l.:u-k lii 
 hat, in order the better to g 
 length, of his sketch, and n.mp 
 original. 
 
 " AVot's the meanin' o' ) 
 Bounce. 
 
A SURPRISE. 407 
 
 Theodore Bertram looked and felt puzzled. 
 He was not the first man who thought that he 
 knew the signification of terms well, and found 
 himself much perplexed on being suddenly called 
 upon to give a correct definition of a well-known 
 word. While he is laboring to enlighten his 
 friend, we shall leave the bower and return to the 
 hall, or kitchen, or reception-room, for it might 
 be appropriately designated by any of these terms, 
 where March is, as usual, engaged in expound- 
 ing backwoods' life to his mother. We have 
 only to pass through the open door and are with 
 them at once. Cottages in Pine Point settlement 
 were of simple construction ; the front door 
 opened out of one side of the hall, the back door 
 out of the other. As the weather was mild, both 
 were wide open. 
 
 March had just reached an intensely^ntere sting 
 point in his narrative, and was describing, with 
 flashing eyes and heightened color, his first in- 
 terview with the " Vision in Leather," when his 
 attention was attracted by the sound of horses' 
 hoofs coming at a rapid pace along the road that 
 led to the cottage. The wood above referred to 
 hid any object approaching by the road until 
 within fifty yards or so of the front door. 
 
 " They seem in a hurry, whoever they be," 
 said March, as he and his mother rose and hast- 
 ened to the door, " an' there's more than one 
 rider, if I've not forgot how to judge by sounds. 
 I should say that there's HALLO ! " 
 
408 TIIE WILD 31 
 
 The .ation v ural by 
 
 means, for at that moment a very n mark able 
 horseman dashed round ; 
 galloped toward the c< I5o?h n 
 
 hor 
 
 and his voluminous brown 
 
 behind him. On they came wit: :un- 
 
 drn tks, and dust llyi 
 
 front of the eottage. The noble hor.-e pur 
 
 . and wi 
 of a deer, ie strength of b 
 
 mu- a in pn 
 
 . 
 paling flew ill. 
 
 . 
 as T ndi 
 
 ' D 
 
 thiu Q the sac 
 
 to the groun -h a sin- 
 
 her riirht hand in ; 
 his, and. 
 alarmed coui 
 
 violently to her \ :red 
 
 her name in a low, deep t 
 wild surprise mingl.-d wir 
 
THE RETURNED LOVER. 409 
 
 Louis ! " 
 
 The color fled from her cheeks, and uttering a 
 piercing cry, she fell forward on the breast of her 
 long-lost lover. 
 
 March Marston stood for some time helpless ; 
 but he found his voice just as Redhand and the 
 other trappers, rushing through the house, burst 
 upon the scene " Dick! " shouted March again, 
 in the highest pitch of amazement. 
 
 " THE WILD MAN o' THE WEST ! " roared 
 Bounce, with the expression of one who believes 
 he gazes on a ghost. 
 
 " Fetch a drop o' water, one o' you fellers," 
 said the Wild Man, looking anxiously at the pale 
 face that rested on his arm. 
 
 Every one darted off to obey, excepting Ber- 
 tram, who, with eyes almost starting out of their 
 sockets, was already seated on the paling, sketch- 
 ing the scene ; for he entertained an irresistible 
 belief that the Wild Man of the West would, as 
 he had already done more than once, vanish from 
 the spot before he could get him transferred to 
 the pages of his immortal book. 
 
 Trappers are undoubtedly men who can act 
 with vigorous promptitude in their own peculiar 
 sphere ; but when out of that sphere, they are 
 rather clumsy and awkward. Had they been in 
 the forest, each man would have fetched a draught 
 of clear water from the nearest spring with the 
 utmost celerity ; but, being in a settlement, they 
 
 35 
 
410 THE WILD M 
 
 knew not where to turn. Big Waller dashed 
 
 toward a very small pond which lay i 
 
 cottage, and dipping his 
 
 compound of diluted mud and < 
 
 bault made an attempt on a tiny rivulet 
 
 like success, which v 
 
 its fountain-hend lay at the bor 
 
 pond. Bounce and Ha 
 
 cottage in search of the needful lluid, hi, 
 
 unused to furniture, ' 
 
 small table in their haste, and B< 
 
 floor a mass of crockery, with a cra-h th:r 
 
 them feel as if they had 
 
 ing some din- do," 
 
 almost terrified the household 
 
 Then Bounce made a hopeful 
 which, having Inppil;. 
 had i the wr 
 
 and sail 
 
 fort to wren -, r-ehurn. 
 
 belief tha 
 
 Of all the parly old K 
 with his bald head g 
 the sinking sun, and 
 
 over with a II,- knew well 
 
 that the young widow would soon r< 
 or without the aid i 
 pipe complacently, leaned ai: 
 and looked on. 
 
 He "-** riorhf. Tn a fe\v minutes Mrs. 
 
WIDOW MARSTON AND THE WILD MAN. 411 
 
 recovered, and was tenderly led into the cottage 
 by her old lover, Louis Thadwick, or, as we still 
 prefer to call him, the Wild Man of the West. 
 There, seated by her side, in the midst of the 
 wreck and debris of her household goods, the 
 Wild Man, quite regardless of appearances, be- 
 gan boldly to tell the same old tale, and commit 
 the same offence, that he told and committed 
 upwards of sixteen years before, when he was 
 Louis the Trapper, and she was Mary West. 
 
 Seeing what was going forward, the judicious 
 trappers and the enthusiastic artist considerately 
 retired to the bower behind the house. What 
 transpired at that strange interview no one can 
 tell, for no one was present except the kitten. 
 That creature, having recovered from its conster- 
 nation, discovered, to its inexpressible joy, that, 
 an enormous jug having been smashed by 
 Bounce along with the other things, the floor 
 was covered in part with a lakelet of rich cream. 
 With almost closed eyes, intermittent purring, 
 quick-lapping tongue, and occasional indications 
 of a tendency to choke, that fortunate animal 
 revelled in this unexpected flood of delectation, 
 and listened to the conversation ; but, not being 
 gifted with the power of speech, it never divulged 
 what was said at least to human ears, though 
 we are by no means sure that it did not create a 
 considerable amount of talk among the cat-pop- 
 ulation of the settlement. 
 
412 THE WILD M. 
 
 Be this as it may, when t! 
 length opened the door, an< "Come 
 
 lads it's all right," they found 
 Marston with confusion and happiness 1 
 on her countenance, and the Wild M ui him 
 in a condition that fully justified Boimr<-'> sug- 
 gestion that they had better send for ; 
 waistcoat or a pair of Imndrutl'-. As for Mai 
 he had all along been, and still was, speechless. 
 That the Wild Man of md 
 
 Dick the Wild Man of the West, an 
 should come home at tin 
 and propose to marry his mother, was pa.^ 
 so of course he didn't brlirvr 
 
 " Hallo ! wait a bit ; I do b'lieve I was f<> 
 tin'," cried the Wild M : up in 
 
 own violent impuM 
 (as a matter of course, briuij um 
 icacirs), dashing 
 all but annihilation of 
 door, and giving > shrill \ 
 
 All rushed out 
 
 were prepared for any thing no\v 
 bison to a red warrior's ghost, and would 1 
 been rather disappointed had any thing 
 appeared. 
 
 Immediately there was a cl . 
 beautiful while pony gallop- 
 of the wood, and made straight for ige. 
 
 Seated thereon was the vision i 
 
MARCH AND THE VISION. 413 
 
 seated as a woman sits, but after the fashion of 
 her own adopted father, and having on her 
 leathern dress with a pair of long leggings highly 
 ornamented with porcupine-quills and bead- 
 work. The vision leaped the fence like her 
 father, bounded from her pony as he had done, 
 and rushed into the Wild Man's arms, exclaim- 
 ing, " Be she here, an' well, dear fader ? " 
 
 " Ay, all right," he replied ; but he had no time 
 to say more, for at that moment March Marston 
 darted at the vision, seized one of her hands, put 
 his arm round her waist, and swung her, rather 
 than led her, into his mother's presence. 
 
 " Here's Mary, mother ! " cried March, with a 
 very howl of delight. 
 
 The widow had already guessed it. She rose 
 and extended her arms. Mary gazed for one 
 moment eagerly at her and then rushed into 
 them. Turning sharp round, March threw his 
 arms round Bounce's neck and embraced him for 
 want of a better subject ; then hurling him aside 
 he gave another shout, and began to dance a 
 violent horn-pipe on the floor, to the still further 
 horrification of the kitten (which was now a 
 feline maniac), and the general scatteration of 
 the mingled mass of crockery and cream. See- 
 ing this, Bounce uttered an hysterical cheer. 
 Hawkswing, being excited beyond even savage 
 endurance, drew his scalping-knife, yelled the 
 war-cry, and burst into the war-dance of the 
 
414 THE WILD M 
 
 Seneca Indians. In short, ihe wid. mgQ 
 
 became the theatre of a scene t 
 
 done credit to the violent' wards of a 1m ; 
 
 asylum a scene, which is utT.-rly 
 
 delineative powers of pen or pencil - 
 
 which defies description, r 
 
 conception, and will dwell f. 
 
 rics of those who took part in it like tl 
 
 phantasmagoria of a tremendous dre 
 
 
 
 Of course, a wild mail eould 
 like an ordinary mortal, to wait a rea 
 time in order to give his 
 preparing her tr . I fe wa$ B 
 
 man, and a man of a strong mind. He 
 upon beinp 
 
 done with it." So her 
 
 u out of hand " 
 excellent cl i of Pii: 
 
 On the same ci 
 ]\Iarston was married - 
 no doubt i 
 
 There in 
 
 these proceedings, n 
 who feel 
 mind, ii 
 
 precipitancy at ' 
 cannot be altered in order to ; 
 taste of the so-called civilized world. 
 
 Public opinion in the set 
 
THE WEDDING FESTIVITIES. 415 
 
 in favor of the doings of the Wild Man of the 
 West. Delay was deemed by all to be unneces- 
 sary, and all the more so that the double 
 wedding-day was to be celebrated as a species 
 of public event. 
 
 The romance connected with the previous life 
 of Dick, and especially his singular and unex- 
 pected return to his first love, created quite a 
 sensation, even in a region in which wild deeds 
 and wonderful events were so common that it 
 required a man to be a real hero to enable him 
 to rise conspicuous above his fellows. Many 
 trappers came in from a considerable distance to 
 take part in the rejoicings of that day, and from 
 the dance which followed the ceremony there 
 was not absent a living creature belonging to 
 the settlement. 
 
 Every dog was there, of course, adding its 
 vocal melody to the dulcet tones of the black- 
 smith's violin. Even the cats of the settlement 
 were present, including that celebrated kitten 
 which had been reduced to a state of drivelling 
 imbecility by the furious advent of the Wild 
 Man. Owls and other sagacious birds also 
 came from afar to see the fun, attracted by the 
 light of the fire ; for the ball-room was the green 
 sward of the forest, which was illuminated for 
 the occasion by a bonfire that would have roast- 
 ed a megatherium whole, and also would have 
 
416 THE Wli :IE WEST. 
 
 furnished accommodation fora pot 1 
 
 to boil an elephant. Don't 
 
 vanity of your heart, that you hav 
 
 that fire! You have not, a ulcl 
 
 , the me 
 
 end of a notion of what it was! A i 
 brawny arms, accustomed to wield th- 
 axe, had lent their aid to i mighty 
 
 and feed the ravening il:ime. 
 
 It was kindled on a 
 
 skirts of UK ;ind which the t: 
 
 spread their On a j 
 
 on two ( * the 1)! i with hi 
 
 The carpenter sat beside him wi\ 
 more literally a k 
 
 thing, for tint drum ica* On a li 
 
 mound 
 state, Dick and in 
 
 :ier. their . 
 flou Around 
 
 beauty of the s< 
 
 by a de: in posed of p 
 
 die-aged, an uvenile adn; The 
 
 background of t; ;hr 
 
 monstrous i 
 
 forest with light brk'i 
 The extreme foreground wa 
 trunk of a fallen tree, on which sat our fri- 
 ^he artist, delineating the whole with 
 
THE WEDDING FESTIVITIES. 417 
 
 ness of an enthusiast who had at last fallen upon 
 a scene truly worthy of his genius. 
 
 How Bounce did dance, to be sure ! How the 
 young trappers and the blooming backwoods' 
 maidens did whirl and bound, on heel and toe, 
 and, to a large extent, on the whole sole of the 
 foot ! Yes, their souls were in the work, and 
 their spirits too ; and that although there was 
 not a drop of spirits in the settlement. Happily, 
 owing to the unaccountable delay of a provision- 
 boat, there was not a glass of " fire-water " in the 
 place at that time. The whole affair was got 
 up, carried on, and concluded on tea. It was a 
 great teetotal gathering, which would have drawn 
 tears of joy from the heart of Father Matthew 
 and all his successors, whether Romanist or 
 Protestant, had they witnessed it. 
 
 Yet the excitement was tremendous. The 
 Wild Man of the West, strange to say, and, 
 owing to some peculiar contradictoriness of 
 character which was unaccountable, was almost 
 the only sane man of the whole party. He flung 
 himself on the ground beside his wife, and lock- 
 ing his arm round the tough root of a pine-tree 
 refused to budge from the spot. As the united 
 efforts of all the men who could lay hold of him 
 at one time failed to root him up, he was suffered 
 to lie there and amuse himself by watching the 
 dancers, looking up occasionally at Mary's blue 
 
418 THE WILD MA ilB WB8T. 
 
 eyes, and playing with such of : - aa 
 
 he could attract within the reach < iong 
 
 arm. 
 
 As for March Marstoi,, he 
 ever he had been so in his lile ! He d 
 all the girls, and \vr .th all the in 
 
 played hide-ami- hall the bo;. 
 
 terni/ed with all tin- old people, and ch:ts.-d nil 
 the dogs, an , all 
 
 the cats. Yet, although he did all this. In* 
 not neglect the vision in le no ma., 
 
 of me;',: 
 
 Long before th 
 
 jovial j ;iik a parting c. 
 
 and, dispersing 
 field in ]) 
 
 Now, dc ijj of sa<i 
 
 \ve write all : 
 make th 
 
 ik to you. 
 
 our tale has : k>M. E D in 
 
 hand to \vri; uf our h 
 
 and his fri- in first to 1 
 
 have had to prepare pens, ink, and pap< 
 work equal in size to the "Encyclopedia B 
 tannica." We have detailed one or t 
 in theii wild career. What they did, an 
 and saw in after years, must be left to fu: 
 historians, or to the imagination of r< 
 
CONCLUSION. 4 1 9 
 
 readers. This only. will we say in conclusion, 
 that of all the men who dwelt in Pine Point 
 settlement, for many years after the events nar- 
 rated in these pages, the kindest, the \\ i 
 the gentlest, the heartiest, the wildest, and the 
 most courageous, was the Wild Man of the 
 West. 
 
 THE END 
 
YB 72746 
 
 955 
 BIS? 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY