Читать книгу The Forest Monster; or, Lamora, the Maid of the Canon - Edward Sylvester Ellis - Страница 9

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Black Tom and old Stebbins had a hard day’s ride of it, and they drew the rein in a heavily-timbered grove, just as the sun was setting, with the intention of camping there for the night.

They were well up toward the Black Hills, in a country broken with forest, hill and prairie, and interspersed with streams of every size, from the rivulet and foaming cañon to the broad, serenely-flowing river.

They were in a region infested with grizzly bears and the fiercest of wild animals, and above all with the daring and treacherous Blackfeet—those dreaded red-skins of the North-West, with whom the hunters and trappers are compelled to wage unceasing warfare, and who are more feared than any tribe that the white men encounter.

So these veteran prairie-men proceeded with all their caution and kept their senses on the alert for any “sign” of their old enemies, who came down sometimes like the sweep of the whirlwind, and who had the unpleasant trait, after being thoroughly whipped, of not staying whipped.

Dismounting from their ponies, old Stebbins walked back to the edge of the timber, and carefully made a circuit around it. He was thus enabled to gain quite an extended view of the surrounding prairie, although his view was broken and obstructed in several places.

Tired and ravenously hungry as he was, he moved cautiously and made his tour of observation as complete as it was possible to make it. Finally he turned about and joined his companion, who had kindled a good roaring camp-fire during his absence, and had turned both horses loose to crop their supper among the luxuriant grass and budding undergrowth of the grove.

“Well, Steb., how do you find the horizon?” asked Black Tom, who bore that soubriquet on account of his exceedingly dark complexion.

“Cl’ar, as the sky above?”

“Nary a sign?”

“Yas—thar’s signs, but the sky is powerful cl’ar.”

This apparently contradictory answer requires a little explanation. Old Stebbins had detected signs of Indians—indeed had indubitable evidence that they were in the neighborhood; but the signs which indicated this fact to them indicated still further that the same Indians, or Blackfeet, as they undoubtedly were, had no suspicion of the presence of white men. This, therefore, disclosed a “clear sky” so far as the trappers were directly concerned, although they were thus made aware that there was a dark, threatening cloud low down in the horizon, which might rise, and send forth its deadly lightning.

Looking to the westward, Stebbins saw a wooded ridge a hundred rods or so distant, which shut off any further view in that direction; but, about a half-mile beyond this, his keen eyes detected the smoke of a camp-fire. It was very faintly defined against the clear blue sky, but it was unmistakable, and indicated that a party of Indians were encamped there.

Why, then, did Black Tom sit so unconcernedly upon the ground, after hearing this announcement, and permit their fire to burn so vigorously, when its ascending vapor might make known to the Blackfeet what they did not even suspect?

Because night was closing around them, and ere the red-skins would be likely to detect the suspicious sign, it would be concealed in the gathering darkness—and the dense shrubbery effectually shut out the blaze from any wanderers that might venture that way.

As there was nothing at hand immediately to engage their attention, the trappers, after gathering a goodly quantity of fuel, reclined upon the ground, and leisurely smoked their pipes.

“Teddy is gone a powerful while,” remarked Tom, as he looked up and saw that it was quite dark; “he can’t be as hungry as we are.”

“He’s seed the sign—and he’s keerful—hello!”

At that instant, the report of a gun was heard, sounding nearly in the direction of the Indian encampment. The trappers listened a moment, and then Tom added, in the most indifferent manner possible:

“Wonder ef that chap’s got throwed.”

“Hope not,” returned his companion, “fur ef he is we’ll have to go to bed on an empty stomach, or scratch out, and hunt up our supper for ourselves.”

The individual who had occasioned this remark was Teddy O’Doherty, a rattling, jovial Irishman, who had got lost from an emigrant train several years before, and in wandering over the prairie fell into the hands of the trappers, with whom he had consorted ever since.

He had spent enough time among the beaver-runs of the north-west, to become quite an expert hunter; he had acquired a certain degree of caution in his movements, but there still remained a great deal of the rollicking, daredevil nature, which was born in him, and he had already been engaged in several desperate scrimmages with the red-skins, and the wonder was that he had escaped death so long.

Like a true Irishman, he dearly loved a row, and undoubtedly he frequently “pitched into” a party of Indians, out of a hankering for it, when prudence told him to keep a respectable distance between him and his foes.

On this afternoon, when riding forward over the prairie, old Stebbins indicated to him the grove where they proposed spending the night, when the Irishman instantly demanded:

“And what is it yees are a-gwine to make yer sooper upon?”

“We’ll have to hunt up something,” replied Tom; “we’re out of ven’son, and thar don’t seem to be any fish handy.”

“Do yees go ahead, and make yerselves aisy,” instantly added Teddy. “I’ll make a sarcuit around the hill yonder, jist as I used to sarcle around Bridget O’Moghlogoh’s cabin, when I went a-coortin’, to decide whether to go down the chimney or through the pig-stye in the parlor. Do yees rest aisy, I say, and I’ll bring the sooper to yees.”

And with this merry good-by, he struck his wearied pony into a gallop, and speedily disappeared over the ridge to which reference has been already made, and the trappers passed on to the grove, where we must spend a few minutes with them, before following the fortunes of the Irishman, who speedily dove, head foremost, into the most singular and astounding adventure of his life.

The hunters listened some time for a return-shot or shout to the gun, but none was heard.

“It was Teddy’s bull-dog,” said old Stebbins. “I know the sound of that critter, for I’ve fired it often ’nough.”

“Wal, thar hain’t been any answer to it, as I guess it was p’inted at some animile instead of red-skin.”

This seemed to be the conclusion of both, as they gave no further thought to the absent member of their party.

It was a mild day in late summer, before the vegetation had given any indication of the approaching cold season. The hunters had ventured thus early into the trapping-grounds for two reasons: one was to mislead the Blackfeet, who would be looking for their coming a month or two later, and the other reason will become apparent hereafter.

“To-morrow we’ll strike the trapping-grounds,” said old Stebbins, in his careless manner, as he lazily whiffed his pipe.

“It’s two months yet afore we need set our traps,” said Black Tom.

“That’ll give us plenty of time to find out all we want to,” replied his companion.

“Yas,” added the other, somewhat significantly; “we’ll l’arn whether thar’ll be any need of our ever settin’ them ag’in or not.”

“Not quite that,” said old Stebbins, with a laugh and shake of the head. “I don’t b’l’eve that.”

“I don’t know,” continued Black Tom, who seemed in the best of spirits; “it looked powerful like it when we had to dig out last spring.”

“It did, summat—”

“B’ars and beavers!” exclaimed Tom, suddenly coming to the upright position, jerking his coonskin hat from his head, and dashing it upon the ground, “don’t you remember, Steb.?”

“Remember what?” demanded his companion, not a little startled at his manner.

“It was right hyar that we see’d that!”

“See’d what?”

“Old Steb., you’re a thunderin’ fool!” replied Tom, with an expression of disgust. “I guess you’re gettin’ childish. I, s’pose, you don’t remember that—that—what shall I call it?—that we see’d near hyar?”

“How did I furget it? How did we all forget it—Teddy, too?”

There was no doubt that Stebbins recalled the creature to which reference had been made. Unquestionably brave as both of these men were, their appearance showed that they were frightened. Their bronzed and scarred faces were pale, and they looked into each other’s eyes in silence, both revolving “terrible thoughts.”

“Right out thar,” said Stebbins, speaking in a terrified whisper, and pointing toward the open prairie, over which they had just ridden; “how was it that we wa’n’t on the look out fur it?”

“Dunno, when we’ve been talkin’ ’bout it all the way. It’s too bad that it should come right hyar—jest near the very spot we’re after.”

“Mebbe it’s gone away,” added Stebbins, speaking not his belief, but his hope.

“It will be a powerful lucky thing for us, if it has.”

As frightened children huddle close together, around the evening fire, at the thought of the dreadful ghost, so these two stern-featured men, whose faces had never blanched when the howls of the myriad red-skins, who were closing around them, sounded in their ears, now instinctively sat closer together, and looked off furtively in the darkness, as if in mortal dread of some coming and appalling monster.

But this sudden exhibition of fear was mostly temporary in its manifestations. As each clutched his trusty rifle, and recalled the terrible weapon of which he was master, their confidence almost, but not entirely, returned.

“If that thing does come,” finally spoke old Stebbins, in his deliberate but emphatic manner, “and I can get the chance, I’m going to put a rifle-ball into it, smash and clean.”

“S’posen it doesn’t hurt it.”

“That’s onpossible.”

“Dunno,” persisted Black Tom, “from what we’ve hearn of it, they say it don’t mind our guns.”

“Ef it can stand a shot from my gun, then thar ain’t no use in talking,” was the response of the old hunter.

“Don’t you mind what Stumpy Sam told us about it?” asked Stebbins, some minutes afterward.

“I didn’t hear what he told you; you see’d him first.”

“It was two years ago, come the middle of trappin’ season, when Sam said he and three other fellers see’d him. It warn’t a great ways from hyar, and they war riding up one side of a ridge, when jist as they reached the top they met the thing, coming up t’other side. They had a good sight of it, and the whole four fired right into it.”

“Wal?”

“It give a sort of a snuff, turned tail toward ’em, and walked away, as though they hadn’t done nothin’ more nor sneeze at it.”

“That’s Sam’s story,” replied Tom. “I allers b’l’eved he told a thunderin’ lie about it, ’cause why, thar ain’t no animile that could stand four rifle-bullets right into his face.”

“That’s what I say,” assented Stebbins. “Sam and the rest of them fellers must have been so scared, (though it wouldn’t do to tell ’em so,) that they didn’t hit the critter at all, and that’s what makes me kinder want to draw bead on it, and see what it’ll do afterward.”

“But I say, Steb., now s’pose you do get a crack at it, and it don’t make no difference at all; what then?”

“Why,” fairly whispered the old hunter, in his shuddering earnestness, “then I’ll know it’s a spook!”

That was a dreaded word, for it touched the tender point in a brave but ignorant man’s character. Strong in the face of real, tangible danger, they were like children before a peril which they could not comprehend.

Both of these hunters had sent their ounce of lead crashing through the heart-strings of the buffalo and grizzly bear, a hundred yards distant, and they were warranted in believing that no living creature could face such “music” and live.

What, then, were they to think of any thing that could bid defiance to their weapons? Was it not natural that they should look upon it as something outside of the world in which they lived—something to be dreaded, as the possessor in itself of a power above and beyond theirs?

They had heard strange stories of a wonderful beast seen by different hunters and trappers, who had visited this portion of the Black Hills. Common report had placed it somewhat further to the north-west, so that when the year before they had caught a glimpse of it, in sight of the very grove where they were then encamped, they had double cause for amazement.

They had placed these marvelous stories and rumors which reached their ears in the same category, that listeners doubtless often placed theirs, and believed they originated from an encounter with some mis-shapen, malformed brute, that was no more to be feared than the ordinary creatures to be looked for in these wilds, at any time and by any one.

But there came a time when they were most completely undeceived. The preceding spring, when they were returning to the States, and they were heavily laden with furs and peltries, they made their halt for the night in the same grove. They were sitting around the fire, somewhat late at night, as Teddy was sound asleep, when they heard a peculiar barking sound, and both stole hastily out to the edge of the timber to see what it meant.

As they did so, they saw IT going leisurely toward the ridge, its head being away, and its side partly toward them. Both the hunters identified it on the instant. It was smaller in size than the grizzly bear, but was unlike any creature that either had ever seen. Its appearance, so far as they could judge, allied very well with what they had heard.

It had an immense head, short, thick legs, that moved somewhat clumsily over the ground, and a long, bushy tail, like a squirrel, that was curled over its back, as is frequently seen with that diminutive creature. But the most striking feature about it was its color.

It was a clear night with a faint moon, so that the hunters could not see clearly, but they distinguished the leopard-like spots and zebra-like stripes, that dotted and encircled every part of its head and legs, and on the impulse of the moment, Black Tom raised his rifle and fired at it. He was pretty certain his bullet struck, but if it actually did, the creature paid not the least heed, but moved away at a leisurely gait, and speedily vanished.

Such is an account of the first encounter with the fearful nondescript, which, once seen, could never be forgotten. Since then they had seen nothing of it, although they heard many marvelous stories of it when they reached the settlements on the border.

A full hour had passed since the report of Teddy’s gun, and old Stebbins and Black Tom were conversing in their hushed way, when they were startled by the sound of rapidly-approaching footsteps, and they had scarcely time to look up, when Teddy dashed up to them, panting and almost breathless.

“What’s the matter?” demanded his friends, grasping their rifles and starting to their feet.

“The divil! the divil! I’ve seen him! I shook hands wid him, and he’s comin’!”

“Where? where?”

“There! there!” replied the appalled Irishman, pointing and glancing toward the prairie. “He’s comin’; he’ll be here in a minit! Blessed Virgin, protect me!”