Читать книгу Adventures of Big-Foot Wallace: The Texas Ranger and Hunter (Illustrated) - John Crittenden Duval - Страница 13

October 25th.—Here I am, miles away from camp, and not the slightest idea of the direction I ought to travel to reach it. Not daring to go back by the way I had come, for fear of being waylaid by the Indians, who, I was satisfied, would make every effort to capture me, after they found out I had killed one of their party, I scarcely knew which way to turn.2 I had not a mouthful to eat, nor had I drank a drop of water since the day before, and I was suffering exceedingly from thirst. Upon investigating the extent of my worldly goods and chattels, I found they consisted of the clothes I had on, my rifle, shot-pouch, a steel for striking fire, a butcher-knife, powder-horn, (filled with powder,) and a memorandum-book and pencil.

Before I left my hiding-place, I reconnoitered the pass cautiously, and seeing nothing suspicious, I started off in the direction I supposed our camp to be. I was suffering very much from thirst, and when I had gone a few hundred yards, I thought myself fortunate in finding a little pool of rain-water in the hollow of a rock. It was clear and cool, and I took a hearty drink of it, which refreshed me exceedingly, and gave me new life and strength.

The whole of the country I travelled over was a succession of rugged, rocky hills, separated from each other by narrow gulches and cañons,3 and almost impassable even for a man on foot.

About twelve o’clock, tired out and very hungry, I stopped in one of these cañons to rest myself by the side of a small creek that ran briskly for a few steps, and then disappeared in the sand. I had been there but a little while when a large buck came down to the creek to drink, within twenty yards of where I was sitting. I raised my rifle cautiously, and fired at him. He ran off a short distance, as if he wasn’t hurt at all, when he stopped and began to reel from side to side, and in a moment or so dropped down dead. I dragged him to the bank of the creek, where I skinned and cut him up, and in a little while had a side of his ribs roasting before a fire. He was one of the fattest deer I ever saw, and as I thought it very uncertain when I would reach camp, I concluded it would be good policy to remain where I was the balance of the day, and jerk up as much of the flesh as I could conveniently carry. So, after I had made a hearty dinner on my roasted ribs, I went to work and cut up a quantity of the meat into thin slices, which I placed on a low scaffold made of little poles, and then built a fire under them, and before sundown I had enough meat nicely “jerked” to last me for several days. I then looked around for secure quarters for the night, and a few yards below where I had butchered the deer, I found a shallow cave in a cliff, into which I carried my dried venison and some dry grass for a bed. I was very lucky in finding this cave, for that night a torrent of rain fell, which would have made camping out of doors extremely unpleasant, especially as it was accompanied by a strong and chilly wind; but as it was I slept as “snug as a bug in a rug,” and didn’t mind the howling of the wind any more than that of the wolves, who were holding a “jubilee” over the remains of the deer I had killed.

October 26th.—When I awoke in the morning, it was broad daylight. The rain had ceased, but it was still cloudy and misty, and I couldn’t see the sun, which was the only guide I had to indicate the direction I ought to go.4

However, when I had made a breakfast off of my venison, and taken a drink of water from the creek, I packed up my jerked meat, tying it firmly together with thongs of bear-grass, and set out again in the direction I supposed the camp to be. The country continued exceedingly rough and broken, and I was frequently headed off by impassable gulches and cañons, that I could only avoid sometimes by going a long distance out of my course.

Toward noon, I came to a little valley, in which there was a beautiful bold spring bursting out from the foot of the hills, and round it four or five large pecan-trees, filled with fruit. Here I rested for an hour or so, and made a hearty dinner on venison and pecans, the pecans answering pretty well in the place of bread. In the bed of the little creek formed by this spring I picked up some curious-looking pebbles, about the size of buck-shot, and put them in my shot-pouch. They proved to be “garnets,” and I have no doubt that a quantity of them might be collected in that locality; but I am told they are not a very valuable stone. I have found them in several other places in Texas; and at one point on the road from San Antonio to El Paso, I found a number of rubies, but I was ignorant of their value at the time, and only picked up two or three as curiosities.

Near the spring where I had stopped, there was a petrified forest. The trees were all lying upon the ground, as if they had been blown down by a heavy wind, but in some instances they were nearly whole, even the small twigs and branches being petrified.

Toward evening I continued my route, and never stopped for a moment until the sun was about setting, when I began to look out for a convenient place for camping. I had already passed several deep gulches or hollows, in which I expected to find water; but they were all dry. I went on until it grew so dark it was with great difficulty I made any headway at all, and at last I was compelled to stop without finding water. Although pretty hungry, I did not venture on my dried venison, for fear of increasing my thirst, and, having started a small fire, I lay down under a spreading live-oak, and soon forgot all my troubles in a sound sleep.

October 27th.—I woke just at daylight. The morning was cloudy and still, and the first thing I noticed was a pattering sound, as if made by a small stream of water falling from a precipice. I got up and went in the direction of the sound, and in forty or fifty yards from where I had slept I came to one of the finest springs I had ever seen. It broke out at the foot of a huge cliff, in a stream as large as my body, and, after running a little way, it fell fifteen or twenty feet into the bottom of the ravine below, forming a beautiful cascade. Where the stream came out at the foot of the cliff, there was a deep pool of clear, cold water, out of which I took a hearty drink; and after I had bathed my face and hands, I built up a small fire, and roasted some of my venison, and though I had neither bread, nor salt, nor coffee, I made a satisfactory breakfast upon it, with a few of my pecans.

There were one or two Indian camps near this spring, but they did not seem to have been occupied for some time. In one of them I picked up a Mexican gourd that would hold about two quarts of water, which the Indians had evidently forgotten when they left. To my great joy, I found, on examining it, that it was not broken or cracked in any way. I had suffered a good deal for the want of something in which to carry a supply of water along with me, and I looked upon this gourd as a valuable addition to my worldly effects. I fastened a band of bear-grass around it, so that I could carry it conveniently when travelling.

And here, most unexpectedly, I met up with a companion that was never separated from me afterward, (except on one occasion for a few days,) during all my wanderings. While I was sitting down eating my breakfast, I saw some animal poke his head out of a hollow in the rock, a few feet distant, and gaze at me, apparently with considerable curiosity. At first I took it to be a wolf, but, upon closer inspection, I saw that it was a dog, and I whistled and snapped my fingers at him to coax him out of his den. For a while he paid no attention to this, but at length he ventured out, attracted more, I think, by the smell of roasted meat than by the signs I made him. He approached me very cautiously, however, frequently stopping and looking back at his den; but he finally came up to me, and I gave him a piece of venison, which he eagerly devoured. He was the most wretched specimen of a dog I had ever seen. Both of his ears were cut off close to his head, and he had been starved to such a degree that he looked for all the world like a pile of bones loosely packed in a sack of hair and hide. He was too weak to hold his tail up, which dragged upon the ground like a wolf’s. I suppose he had been left behind by the party of Indians whose camps I had seen near the spring. I gave him as much venison as I thought he ought to eat at one time, which he swallowed so greedily that he choked himself several times. I named him “Comanche” on the spot, and we were soon upon the most friendly terms.

Comanche’s company, ugly and wolfish as he looked, was very acceptable to me, and relieved me, to some extent, from that feeling of loneliness usually experienced by one like myself, unaccustomed to the solitude of the wilderness. I believe the company of a dog, next to that of a man, and more than that of any other animal, seems to satisfy that longing for companionship we feel when circumstanced as I was then.

After breakfast, I filled up my gourd with water from the spring, and took my way again across the hills, Comanche following at my heels. By this time, the breakfast of venison I had given him had improved him amazingly, and his tail began to curl in its usual style.

To-day I passed over the roughest and most desolate-looking country I had yet seen—rocky hills, some of which were entirely bare of all vegetation, and others covered with dense chaparral and thorny bushes, through which I sometimes found it almost impossible to force my way. Game of all sorts seemed to be exceedingly scarce here, for except two or three antelopes I saw no animals on my route; but rattlesnakes were more numerous than I ever saw them elsewhere. I stirred them up every few yards as I walked.

My gourd proved very serviceable to-day, for I did not see a drop of water, after leaving the spring, until night, and we would have suffered without it.

Ever since I had left the pass where the Indians gave me the run, I had scarcely had a glimpse of the sun, for it had been misty and cloudy all the time, but to-day it shone out for a little while, and, to my great disappointment, I found I had been travelling nearly due north, instead of south, which was the direction I ought to have taken. This was exceedingly vexatious, and from that time I abandoned all hope of finding the surveyors’ camp. However, I didn’t despair of making my way back into the settlements in the course of time, provided the Indians, or the snakes, or the “varmints” didn’t get me on the route. I immediately changed my course, steering due south instead of north, passing over a desolate and barren tract of country.

Toward sundown, I came to the top of a high ridge, at the foot of which there lay a little grassy valley, surrounded on all sides by steep rocky hills similar to the one on which I stood. I descended into this little valley just as the sun was setting, and, to my great joy, nearly the first thing I saw after entering it was a fine spring of water, breaking out from the foot of the hill I had just scrambled down.

Near this spring, in a ledge of rocks, I found a sort of shallow cave, walled up in front with loose stones, through which there was a narrow entrance. Inside, there was a comfortable little room about twelve feet square, perfectly protected from the weather, and with a smooth, dry rock floor. It had evidently been built and used by the Indians long ago; but there was nothing about it to indicate that they had occupied it for years.

After supper, I cut a few armfuls of dry grass, which I carried into the cave, and with which I made a soft bed on the floor for myself, and another for Comanche near the entrance, and we slept soundly till morning.

2. At that time, you must remember, I was as “green as a cut-seed watermelon,” and had no knowledge of the woods, and knew not how to steer my course through them. Under the same circumstances now, I should be as much at home as I would be here in my little ranch.

3. Cañon. A deep gorge, or ravine, between high and steep banks, worn by a watercourse.—Gulch. A dry watercourse or gully.—WEBSTER.

4. With the experience I now have, I could have pursued my course with as perfect a certainty as if the sun had been visible, for I can tell the points of the compass very nearly at all times, by the bark on the trees, which is generally thicker on the north side, and by the moss growing upon them, or by sticking a pin perpendicularly into a piece of white cloth or paper. In the cloudiest day, the pin will cast a dim shadow opposite the sun, and thus point out its position. But, you see, at that time I was ignorant of all these things, and had to steer my course by guess, when the sun could not be seen; and, unfortunately for me, a spell of misty weather had set in, that lasted for more than a week.