Young Briton, No. 422 — page 6: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

86 -IN SEARCH OF ADVENTURE. FEW years before work actually began on the Northern Pacific Raikway, but ata time when it was being talked about as an enter prise that would certainly be carried through, I determined, with two young friends, who, like myself, were anxious io find a good place for in- Vestment, to cross the euntivent from the head- waters of Lake Superior to Puget’s Sound on the Pacific. «. Our intention was to follow as near the line of the proposed read as possible, and to note care- fully the agricultural advantages of the country in connection with its mineral resources. We organised at Superior City, though our outfit was not very extensive, as the party was small, Two waggons, filled with supplies and artieles for barter with the Indians, whom we expected to meet, and horses for ourselves and ecok, con- stituted our train. .D-was familiar enough with the necessities of the trip to feek assured, this was all that was necessary. ' My friends were Julian Whitchurch and Henry 8. Brougham, both as bravo, earnest, and cultured gentlemen as I ever had for companions in my life. They knew nothing of ‘ wild life,’’ as they considered existence on the plains or in the mountains beyond, so that they were as cager and anxious about the trip as boys. They had fishing rods end rifles and knives and pistols for every kind of gawe, and they read every book they could find that said anything that region at that time were as purely works of imagination as the records of *‘ Gulliver's Travels.” I had never travelled across the continent on this parallel, but my experience in the Far West made me certain of its general charactoristics. Our cook was a very remarkable black mam. He had been the body servant of a prominent public official, and hence was something of a politician—indeed, he considered himself a very superior and higbly-cultured specimen of the American variety of that article. He was a perfect budget of trite maxims, whose commonplace became bearable by his genius for misquoting, and his constant effort. to improve upon thents” He was rich in the songs and hy in which his people delight, and he could sing them very well, but he had the knack of mixing up the sacred and secular, that was unintentional, and therefore very ludicrous. Patsy, that was the misnomer of our black man, though Brougham yowed that our cook spoke with an Trish accent; but be that as it may, he was a capital cook, and I never eaw him out of humour but once, the reason for which I shall presently explain. ‘We reached the Red River of the North with- out adventure or mishap, snd here engaged a guide to accompany us as far as the Columbian River, from which point I anticipated no diff- eulty in working my way to Olympia, in Washington Territory. We struck the buffalo country in August, and a3 the only game we had seen so far were ante- lopes in the far distance, rabbits that ran out of range, ald prairie-dogs that refused to be ahot, Whitchurch and Brovgham were wild with excite-. ment, and, went in to killbuffalo pell mell. This thing of riding into. a herd of buffalo, that dash across the plains with lowered heads, banging tongues and flashing eyes, is no child’s play. The ground is 80 honeycombed with prairie- dog and coyote burrows, that a horse and rider, no matter how good, if unaccustomed to it, are in. constant danger of going down, and. a strange horse is always so-alarmed atthe sight of the buffalo that it is next to impossible to get within pistol-shot. My friends were. not, therefore, successful in the first hunt, but Paul, our hali-bred guide, shot a splendid animal, and consoled my friends by assuring them that a little practice would make them as fine, buffalo-hunters as conld be found in the Northwest, and this compliment encouraged) them. Indeed, subsequent events. proved that Paul was a veritable prophet. THE YOUNG BRITON, In September we reached the mountains, and here our work Was to begin in earnest. The Crows were at peace with the whites, but we learned it was dangerous for so small a party as ours to travel in that country at that time, as bands of the young braves, not only from the Crows, but also from the Nez Perces and Sioux, were out, ostensibly; hunting, but in fact, com- mitting depredations, killing and scalping every white man they came scross. When we heard this news we held a couneil in our camp, for, while persodally I was in favour of pushing on, I wished to defer to my friends, who knew nothing about Indian fighting, and, for the matter of that, nothing’ about fighting at all. Paul, the guide, thought we could get on safely by exerelsing proper vigilance, and, aa he was personally well known to the Indians, he felt. sure he could prevent their attacking our party if we could only eet up a truce with them. Whitchurch and Brougham were not only willing, but anxious, to go ahead, and I felt relieved by their decision. ; Patsy bad listened to our conversation during the conseil, and a short time afterward I heard bim raying to one of the teamsters— *‘ We’s a gwine inter deden ob lions, my feller citizens, an’ da’s no backin’ out. ‘Taint for myself J now raise my woice in dis meeting. No, banish dat obserwation.” ** Well, who are you raisin’ of your voice for, then, Patsy ?’”? asked the amused teamster. “ For de white men ob de party. lk suffab, my ceuntrymen, like de chillen in de fiah, what’s in de prophets of old, but, like dem, my brethren, my hsr won’t be singed.”’ about the country, and wore out several maps | studying its geography, though all the maps of | “Why, what do you mean, Patsy ?’’ . ‘*T mean “we're all a gwine ter be killed an’ scalped—all save me—dey can’t scalp dis chile, kasé why I need not say, an’ may de Lord hab merey on yer souls.” This judicial ending to Patsy’s prophecy was so ludicrous that I could not help discovering my:elf by a loud and hearty laugh. As I turned away, I heard Patsy muttering something abouat— “When de wicked stop dar troubie, and de tired folks am at rest.’’ About ten days after this, we were encamped on a tributary of the Yellowstone that bore the suggestive name of Scalp Creek. The country was interesting, and we dectded to ' petal : eek for a week or two, while we examited the volcanic hills and beautiful ‘yalleys inthe vicinity. Fortunately, as we thought, there was no sign of Indians in the vicinity, so, instead of moving in one body, we divided into three parties, that is, if the two teamsters, loft in charge of the camp, be called one party. Whitchurch and Brougham, the latter a first-rate geologist, went with Paul, the guide, and I took, in my separate explorations, the philosophic Patsy. One day—by the bye, it was to have been the last of our stay at Scalp Creek—I started with Patay to examine a range of hills about seven miles from the camp. We took a cooked dinner in our bhaversacks, as we did not expect to get back before night. We were both well armed with rifies and pistols, bat each morning Patsy would protest that he was a non-combatant, and that it was juet throwing armsaway for bim to carry them. ‘‘Wor,’’ he would reason, ‘I neber could shoot and keep my eyes open at one. an’ de same time. Ne only danjab in dem tings is, dat if I carries ’em’ I may shoot myeelf’, an’ if I’se killed, de Injuns won’t know I couldn’t shoot. Dey’ll tink I’se a great warrior ’mong de ten tousand, an’ altogedder lubbly. So dey’ll hack me up pretty bad afore dey leaye me alonein my glory, like de yellah rose ob Texas, what’s bloomin’ alone.” Despite this, I insisted on my companion’s cooing sxrmed, and subsequent events proved Patsy and { were both right. We remained in the hills till tho sun was well down, but leaving us ample time to get back to camp before it wa3 dark; so we started, delighted with our success, but not a little fatigued hy the day’s hard work. We entered a deep ravine, or canon, that led) -eut to Scalp Creek, about six miles below the camp, and I was in the lead, carefully watching | © August 4, 1877. the ground from force of habit, as we walked along. A green weed that had been lately uprooted attracted my attention, and, after examining it, I came to the conclusion that it had been pulled up within an hour. Had-it been done by an animal, it would have beeu trampled oreaten, but! saw that it had been pulled from the side of the riftat an elevation as high as a man’s hand would reach as he clung to the rocks for support while making his way over the boulders underneath. LTeaid nothing to Patsy about my discovery, but now kept my eyes in front or searching the cliffs above. We had gone to within about a hundred and fifty yards of Scalp Creek, and already we could seo it through the rocky defile, when an unearthly yell, accompanied by a shower of arrows, came from foes whom I could not see; but, from the direction of the missiles, I knew they were in front. ; ‘ ‘‘Get back, Patsy!’’ Lakeuted, pointing to a rock about thirty feet behind, thas nearly blocked up the passage. He obeyed me with astonishing alacrity, but I never can forget the look of overwhelming horror in his face as he turned to run back. “Ts dey Injuns, sah?’’ he asked, as he rubbed bis head and turned his protruding eyes on me, “Yes, man; get your rifle ready !’’ I shouted. and at the same moment catching a glimpse ofa feathered black head above the reeks in front, I raised my Spencer rifle and fired. >, My shot was answered by anofber:yell, and at the same time a dozen bullets struck the rocks about me. We were effectually cut off, and, judging the number of Indians in front by the explosion of their riflesand the discharge of their arrows, I concluded it would be inspossible for our friends to render us immediate ald, even if aware of our danger. Behind us were a number of loose boulders, and while I watched the opening near the creek, I called out to the trembling Patsy to roll the rocks up, 80 a8 to make a barricade in the narrow pase, This was something Patsy could comprehend, and being a stout fellow, he at once went to work, and, in less than twenty minutes, the rocks, were as high as his head. ‘‘Dar, Muss Costlah, dat’s done; now let dis sarvant lie down an’ purpay-ah foh death.” Patsy dropped on his kneos, and assumed the attitude of an Ethiopian martyr. But if he coule not cr would not shoot, it struck me I could utilize him by making him keep the arms loaded. It was now sundown ; I conld see the last rays gilding the snow-peaks away in the distance, and, as may be supposed, the approach of dark- ness increased my alarm, for it added to the dan- ger of our situation. I had. just told Patsy to place his rifle and pis. tcl where I could reach them, and that he must at once reload the arms I Jaid down, when again the Nez Perce and Crow war-whoops echoed through tho defile, and, looking out, I saw the painted braves coming towar. me at a run. The rift was sonarrow that they were forced to push on in single file, while a few warriors from precarious p2sitions on the steep, flanking rocks, tried to cover the advance. ~ I trembled with fear and excitement, and only by astrong effort of will coald I control my weapon soas to make sure of my aim, [I had seven loads in my repeating rifle, and, waiting till the nearest brave was within twenty yards, 1 opened fire. I am astonished now at the rapidity with which I sent the seven balls into the howl- ing enemy. ‘Load, Patsy !”’ I dropped my rifle and took up his, but tomy horror 1 found it would not work. Itwas as us-- less a8 so Much wood. Fortunately, my revolvers were near, and with one in each hand I opened fire again, The line staggered, broke, and then, yelling like demons, the warriors ran back or threw them- salves on their faces. I had breathing time to re- load, and though never addicted to the vulgar and immoral babit of profanity, 1 could not on this occasion, resist hurling an tmprecation at the cowering Patsy. All the weapons were out of order, and I had no time to correct his bungling. While 1 was making these preparations, a num- = GOmicbdoo S (©)