Ellis Edward Sylvester
Bill Biddon, Trapper: or, Life in the Northwest

My eye was still resting upon the glistening bend of the river above, when the quietness of the scene was interrupted by a dark speck which suddenly came in view, around a curve about a mile above. At first I supposed it to be some animal or log floating upon the surface; but as I looked at it, I saw to my astonishment that it was a canoe coming down-stream. Several forms were visible, yet their number, at that distance, was uncertain. The bright flash of their paddles was visible in the morning [Pg 93][Pg 94][Pg 95]sunshine, and they maintained their place near the center of the stream.

I scrutinized them, vainly to make out their number, until it occurred to me that it would be best to make myself invisible. The approaching canoe might contain nothing but Indians, and it was not desirable that our presence in this section should be known to any but ourselves. I slipped behind the trunk of a tree, nearer the water, yet still upon the elevated knoll, which entirely concealed my body from sight.

From this point I watched the approach of the canoe with interest. Soon it came nigh enough to enable me to distinguish the forms within it. There were two Indian warriors seated each with a paddle in his hand, but not using them, except to keep the canoe in the channel, and in the stern, with a guiding oar, sat a young female. I supposed her a squaw, belonging to the same tribe with her companions, and scrutinized her as closely as my position would permit. She wore a beautiful head-dress, gayly ornamented with stained porcupine quills and beads, and a brilliant crimson shawl enveloped her slight form. The savages maintained their places as motionless as statues, their gaze apparently resting upon the stream behind them; while that of the female was fixed upon the stream in front, and her whole attention absorbed in directing her canoe.

I know not whether the inmates discovered me before I concealed myself, but I fancied I detected a glance of the Indians at my hiding-place, as they floated slowly by, and some cause led the female, when directly opposite, and but a few hundred feet distant, to turn her face toward me. Judge of my astonishment, at perceiving that she was not an Indian – but a white woman! Her appearance, as she turned her gaze directly upon the spot where I was standing, I can never forget. She was so close at hand, and my view so perfect in the clear sunlight, that I saw every feature. The pale white face, surrounded by dark, luxuriant hair falling upon the shoulders, the dark eyes shaded by long inky lashes, and the mute, untranslatable look, haunted me for many a night after. She merely glanced toward me, and slowly floated past.

Dropping upon my hands and knees, I crept hastily from the knoll into the undergrowth below, and made my way hurriedly but noiselessly to the stream. I could not have been over a minute in so doing, but when I reached the water, and peered through the bushes, not a trace of the canoe was visible. I looked closely into each shore, up and down the stream, everywhere that I could look, but could not detect the slightest ripple or movement to account for this mysterious disappearance. For over an hour I waited in the hope that the canoe would reappear, but I saw nothing more of it.

CHAPTER V
CONVERSATIONS AND PLANS

The disappearance of the canoe, although singular in itself, had nothing supernatural about it. The shrubbery, which overhung the water on either shore, offered a secure and impenetrable hiding-place, and a few dexterous, vigorous strokes of the paddles were all that was needed to send it beneath their shadows. That this had been done, was plainly evident. Yet why had it been done? What motive was there for concealment? And why, if apprehensive of danger, had the Indians waited till they were in its vicinity?

These and numerous questions, I asked myself, as I carefully retraced my steps down-stream again. The whole proceeding was mysterious to me. I had, doubtless, exposed myself while watching the canoe and its occupants, and thus betrayed to an enemy our presence in their country. What would result from this, I could not conjecture, and determined to make everything known to the trapper. But then I felt somewhat fearful of this. He would, doubtless, be incensed at my imprudent thoughtlessness, which might compel him to leave a country offering such inducements to the trapper and fur-trade; and I argued it was not certain that I had really been seen by the Indians in question. If they meditated hostility, Biddon would be warned soon enough for all purposes – and so I decided to keep my own secret for the present.

But the question which occupied my thoughts, almost to the exclusion of everything else, was the identity of the female in the canoe. What could bring a white maiden to these wild regions of the northwest? What meant her appearance in the canoe with two savage Indian warriors? What if she was the child which Biddon had referred to, as being captured upon the night of the massacre? This thought intensified the interest I already felt in her. I believed she had seen me; and her silent look toward the shore had something more than curiosity in it. I imagined there was a mute, eloquent appeal in those dark eyes.

Still ruminating upon this all-absorbing theme, I reached the tree, and, stooping upon my hands and knees, crawled within it. The movement had well-nigh cost me my life. As my head entered, I encountered the alarmed visages of Nat and Biddon – the latter with his knife drawn, and just preparing to spring upon me.

“You liked to got rubbed out that time!” he exclaimed, replacing his weapon. “What made you forgit the sign?”

“It must have been because it did not occur to me,” I laughed; “I have had no occasion to use it before, and forgot it altogether; but I will remember it, you may be assured, in future.”

“You’d better, for I was just going to shoot, too,” added Nat, rising to his feet, and then seating himself again.

“You shoot!” repeated Biddon, contemptuously, “You’re shooter ain’t loaded!”

“I forgot that. I wonder if I couldn’t load it, say?” he indignantly demanded.

“Yes, in course, if the reds waited fur yer.”

Nat made no reply to this, except that of instantly proceeding to load his piece. As it was near noon, the meal was prepared – this time from the beaver’s body. The hair was singed off from a piece, which was then cooked in the usual manner. This, although very palatable, was not equal to the tail of the animal, the meat being more tough and oily.

Shortly after, the trapper departed for the purpose of visiting his traps, and setting new ones. When alone with Nat, I determined to impart to him my morning’s experience.

“Nat, I have seen Indians,” I remarked, in a quiet tone.

“You hain’t!” he exclaimed, starting up from his bed of skins with such suddenness as to break the remains of his pipe.

“I have; and, what is considerably more, they have seen me.”

“I should think it was considerably more, umph! What did you do to them? I didn’t hear you shoot. Why didn’t you tell me before? Why didn’t you – why, it seems to me you’re very cool about it.”

“There is no occasion for excitement at all. Just remain quiet, and I will tell you how it all happened.”

And thereupon I related the particulars of the incident already known to the reader. Nat’s wonder, excitement, and apprehension were roused to the highest pitch at the narration. Springing to his feet, he pulled his flattened hat violently over his forehead, and striding about a moment, demanded:

“Why didn’t you tell Bill? Like as not he’ll be shot and scalped before he gets back.”

“I did not think it best,” I returned. “Biddon is not the man to walk into danger with his eyes shut, and if there is any cause for fear, he will discover it soon enough.”

“Suppose he will; but ain’t it terrible?”

“Isn’t what terrible?”

“Why, that we’re surrounded by Injins, thirsting for our blood!”

“We are not surrounded by Indians, Nat,” I returned, reprovingly.

“I know; but then they are all around us. It won’t do to stick our heads out, except at night, and then, like as not, we’ll be shot for our trouble.”

“You are not afraid, I hope.”

“Oh, no! not a bit; but then you know it’s rather unpleasant to feel that those infarnal Blackfeet (because this is the country of the Blackfeet Injins) are all about you, and waiting for a chance to shoot you from behind every bush.”

“Nat,” I commenced, earnestly, “you say you are not afraid of Indians, and yet you show it in every word, look, and action. There is no excuse for this. I saw only two savages, and a girl, evidently a captive; no words or actions were exchanged between us. They disappeared very suddenly and were, more probably, frightened at my presence. I see nothing in this to excuse the excitement and terror you have exhibited.”

“I wonder what that girl is?”

“I am afraid you will have to wonder a long time, as I can see no occasion for satisfying your curiosity.”

“Is she good looking?” asked my companion, seriously.

“Very! What makes you ask that question?”

“I declare, if I don’t marry her, just to spite Alminy, and make Bill Hawkins mad,” he exclaimed, joyously.

At this point I could restrain my mirth no longer; but, as I indulged it, I was considerably surprised to feel a slight twinge of jealousy at his words. This discovery was painful.

“I am afraid you will meet with several formidable obstacles, before you can accomplish that; the most difficult of which will be to obtain an audience with the fair one herself.”

“Don’t suppose she’d be very anxious to see me; and I wouldn’t care if I only had my pipe and jack-knife to pass away time with.”

“I think it would be as well not to mention this affair to Biddon.”

“Why not?”

“It can do no good, and he would be displeased at the thoughtlessness I have evidenced. I do not think there are savages enough in the vicinity to render us fearful of our safety. The canoe, I am disposed to believe, belongs to some tribe quite distant from here.”

“But what are they here for?”

“I can only conjecture. Biddon has never seen savages in this particular section, and these may be returning from some journey to their tribe.”

“Perhaps so, and may be not. These plagued Injins sometimes live in one place and sometimes in another, you know, and it may be that a notion has just entered their heads to come and live in these parts.”

“There is reason in what you say, but, as I stated, if danger threatens, Biddon will undoubtedly detect its signs himself in time.”

“I think he will, though I shall feel a little flustered every time he goes out. You remember when he was after the antelope, he walked right among the Injins, without knowing it till it was too late to stop.”

“He did, it is true, but how nicely he walked out again. I tell you, Nat, that fellow has nerve equal to any emergency. What man, when conscious of an overwhelming foe being concealed within a few feet of him, could have repressed every sign of trepidation or fear, as he did, and bring the antelope through the same fearful ordeal, with the same coolness and deliberation?”

“That was a clever thing, I allow.”

“Biddon told me he felt a little nervous when he saw us start to come up to him, for, if we had reached him, it would have been all up with us. He called out to us, though we did not hear him, that there were more animals in the grove, and our approach would frighten them. The impatient Indians were thus held at bay, in the hope of being offered a better opportunity to accomplish our ruin, until it was too late to accomplish anything save the loss of two or three of their number. Such a man, I repeat, will scent danger soon enough without the help of others.”

“He will, and I hope he’ll find out who that white girl is.”

“Nat, do you remember the account Biddon gave some time ago of a horrible massacre, upon the sandy island near where we encamped one night?”

“I don’t think there is much likelihood of my ever forgetting it.”

“You will also recall his account of the capture of a small child by the savages? Now, it has occurred to me that this is that child grown to womanhood.”

“I know it is!” exclaimed Nat, joyously.

“It is true there is much against it. It was a great distance from here, but as these savages wander hundreds of miles at times, it is not improbable, upon that ground. Instances are only too common of persons spending their lives in captivity among these Indian tribes. She is a captive, beyond a doubt, and must long for restoration to her home and friends. If possible, I am bound to know more of her.”

“So am I!” exclaimed my excitable companion.

“As I said, we will say nothing of this to Biddon, until he discovers signs of Indians himself. To-morrow, we will go forth together, and spend the day in endeavoring to gain traces of the canoe and its inmates; and if anything is discovered which is alarming, we will impart it to him.”

This Nat agreed to, and shortly after we heard three raps upon the outside of the tree – the trapper’s signal of his presence. A moment after, he made his appearance. He was considerably elated at his prospect for a goodly quantity of furs; had set a number of traps; was sure of half a dozen next day; had seen no signs of Indians, and was convinced there were none in the vicinity. None of us passed out again that day, but remained indulging in our pipes and conversation as usual, until a late hour.

The next morning the trapper proposed that I should accompany him upon his daily round. I complied, while Nat remained behind.

The day was as warm and pleasant as the preceding one, and the forest and stream as delightful. Biddon paddled slowly up the unrippled surface, and in a short time reached the first trap; it had not been disturbed. Still hopeful, he passed on to the second and third and all the others. But there were no signs of beaver in any.

“Shoot me, that’s quar’!” he exclaimed, thoughtfully, as he saw the last one. “I don’t understand it; I must git out and take a look round.”

He sprang ashore, and minutely examined the ground around. A few seconds sufficed. He looked up with a gleam of deep meaning, and said:

“Here’s the track of a thunderin’ moccasin. The reds have found us out.”

He stepped into the canoe, and taking the paddle moved it carefully back again. He touched at each trap on the way. The footprints of a stranger were visible at each.

“Thar’s been a beaver taken out of that one!” he remarked, as the last one was reached. “It’s lucky for the sneakin’ coward that I didn’t see him. He wouldn’t ’sturbed any more gentlemen’s traps.”

“Are you sure it is an Indian who has been annoying you?”

“Wogh! Don’t you s’pose I could tell a red’s track from a grizzly’s?”

“But it might have been a white man – some hunter or trapper?” I suggested.

“A white man wouldn’t be mean ’nough to do sich a thing, ’less it war some of those Hudson Bay fellers. They try them tricks sometimes, but they git come up to. I catched a feller once from Fort Hall at mine, and the way I walked into him war a caution; but this ar’ an Injin’s track, sure.”

“Do you suspect there could be a number in the vicinity?”

“Ef there war, I’d’ve heard of ’em afore. This is some varmint, sneakin’ round yer, and he’s got to be rubbed out afore he makes more trouble.”

“I fear that will be a difficult and dangerous job.”

“Let me be for that.”

Shortly after we reached our home, and running the canoe beneath the bushes, entered it. We were somewhat surprised to find Nat absent. He returned, however, in a short time, and I saw at once by his nervous, flustered manner that something unusual had occurred. Biddon questioned him rather closely, as he suspected something, but Nat evaded his inquiries, and would not admit that he had seen anything to excite alarm or apprehension.

“I’m goin’ out, and when I come back I’ll tell you what’s the matter with them traps,” said Biddon, seizing his rifle and departing.

I waited until he was beyond hearing, and then turning to my companion, asked,

“What is the matter with you, Nat?”

“Why?” he asked, in turn, with a start.

“Because you show plainly that something has occurred to alarm you.”

He remained silent a moment, and then seizing his hat, jerked it off his head, and threw it spitefully down, where he gazed at it a second, and exclaimed,

“I’m sick of this.”

“Sick of what?”

“Why, of being in this fix.”

“I don’t understand you. Please explain what you mean.”

“I should think you ought to know.”

“But I do not.”

“Why, this wood is full of Injins; they’re behind every tree and stump, and in every bush, and you can hardly step without pitching over some painted heathen.”

“I am afraid you are exaggerating,” I answered, suppressing a smile which was struggling at the corners of my mouth.

“No, I ain’t. I swow there are ten thousand Injins just waiting outside to pounce upon us.”

“You are talking nonsense, and you know it.”

“Well, there’s one Injin, for I seen him. Come now,” he affirmed, as if the matter was now settled beyond a question.

“Ah! that alters the case considerably. I shouldn’t wonder at all if there is one or a half-dozen savages in the forest.”

“If you see one savage haven’t you a right to suppose there’s a hundred more about, I should like to know?”

“Not always, Nat; I have seen three myself, yet I do not believe there is another one in the neighborhood. But I have not heard the particulars of this affair of which you have been speaking. Please let me hear them.”

“There isn’t much to tell, but there is enough to make you do a heap of thinking. You see, after you had left, I took a notion that I must have a morning ramble; and I thought, too, there might be such a thing as you two running into danger and needing my help (I should like to know what you are laughing at). So, on the whole, there was no hesitation upon my part. Taking my rifle out, I was soon making my way as noiselessly as possible, in a direction from the river.

“I hadn’t gone more than a dozen yards before I commenced thinking about Injins, and came nigh going back again. I wasn’t afraid at all, you know, but then it appeared to me I might bring you and Biddon into trouble. However, I kept on. I had gone some distance further, when all of a sudden I heard a terrible whirr and rattle, and jumped clean off my feet. But it was only a big owl which I had stirred up. I was so provoked at the start he gave me, that I should have wrung his neck had I got my hands upon him. But I went on. Pretty soon I reached a little stream of water, and as I jumped across, what do you suppose I saw in the sand?”

“I am sure I cannot tell.”

“Nothing less than a big moccasin track. And what was more, it hadn’t been made there a week before! I stood and looked at it a good while, cogitating some wonderful things. At last I stooped and went to measuring it. I was just going to rise, when I heard a grunt right by me. I jumped up so quick – to be ready, you know – that I floundered backward into the water. And I may be shot if there wasn’t a big painted Injin standing not ten feet off. He didn’t say a word, but just stood and looked at me with them awful eyes of his. As soon as I could think, I raised my gun, took a quick aim, and pulled the trigger; but the infernal gun snapped. I pulled it again, but it wouldn’t go, and I just happened to think the thing wasn’t loaded. All this time the painted imp stood grinning at me, without saying a word, except to kinder grunt. He had a big shining gun in one hand, and I was dreadful afraid he would shoot it. I told him not to stir, but to stand still till I got mine loaded, and he waited. But somehow or other, I s’pose I was in such a hurry that things wouldn’t go right. Instead of putting the powder in the gun-barrel, I crammed it in my pocket, and jammed the ramrod into my shoe. I told the Injin to have patience and I’d get it loaded in a minute. I got it fixed somehow at last and hauled it up to my shoulder, when, no Injin was there! I looked behind, all about me, and up into the trees but he’d been spirited away somewhere. However, I made up my mind to shoot at the spot where he had stood, and I up and blazed away. That is, I blazed away without the gun going off. I believe he spirited that too.”

“Let me examine it. Perhaps you made some blunder.”

“No, I’m sure I didn’t.”

I took the rifle, with a smile of certainty that I should find something the matter with it. Sure enough the muzzle was crammed with paper, and upon removing it, a pipestem, broken in pieces, rolled out, while there was not a grain of powder in the barrel.

“I declare, I forgot about the powder!” exclaimed Nat, opening his eyes in wonder.

“But not about the bullet,” I laughed, pointing to the fragments of his pipe.

“How’d that get there?” he angrily asked.

“That’s the question.”

“I didn’t put it there.”

“Who did, then?”

“I don’t know, I declare.”

Nat picked up the fragments and examined them carefully.

“That’s my pipe sure; and I had it in my mouth, I remember when I started out, and missed it coming back. I didn’t put it in the gun though.”

“Let it pass then. Did you see no more of your Indian friend?”

“No; he knew enough to keep out of my way. I waited a long time for him, and at last started home again. I kept an eye on every suspicious object, but as I just said, seen nothing.”

At this point I gave free vent to my pent-up mirth. Nat, much astonished, looked wonderingly at me, seemingly at a loss to understand the cause.

“I do not see what there is to laugh at,” he remarked, reprovingly. “If it’s a laughing matter to know that there are Injins all about you, why you must laugh.”

“Your adventure with the Indian, Nat, and the singular load in your rifle appears to me to be a funny matter, and I trust you will pardon me if – ”

“Didn’t I tell you I didn’t put it in there? It was the Injin’s work.”

And to this day Nat cannot be made to believe that he was instrumental in introducing the pipe into his gun.

After a few more unimportant remarks, the conversation ceased. Nat’s adventure began to appear to me in a different light from that in which I had viewed it at first. I doubted not but that he was perfectly honest and truthful in what he said. But why, when exposed to the will of the savage, did he escape unscathed? Why did the latter stand fearless and harmless before him? And what meant these strange signs, these “footprints,” which were becoming visible around us? Matters were assuming a puzzling form. We were being environed by Indians without any evidence of hostility upon their part. What meant it? Surely there was a meaning too deep and hidden for us to divine as yet.

Suddenly Nat spoke.

“Don’t you remember the canoe? We were going to hunt for that to-day!”

“Ah! how did I forget that? But had we not better wait till Biddon returns?”

“No; let us go at once. Hark! what’s that?”

I held my breath, as the distant report of a rifle reached our ears. The next instant came a sound, faint and far away yet clear and distinct – a horrid, unearthly sound, as the cry of a being in mortal agony!