Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 6 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

Beadle’s Half-Dime Library back. Howsumever, I changed my mind, and yer we is. Move keerful and don't make a big trail.” We followed nearly a quarter of a mile directl A u stream, when he halted and looked carefully a him. “T don’t s’pose thar’s red "bout, but thar’s no tellin’. I didn’t see none last year, but they mought be "bout now. Jes’ hold on a minute.” The banks of the stream were fringed by a deep undergrowth upon both sides. Stepping forward to the water’s edge, the tra — parted the branches, and glancing a moment within, motioned for us to ap- ro ach. a It’s all right,” said he, ‘‘ there hain’t been no reds pokin’ *bout yer while I's gone.” ‘With this he stoo and pushed a small canoe in- to the water and slipped within it. We joined him, although our combined weight brought the frail vessel down to its very gunwales. It was made of bark after the Indian fashion, ve ht, butstrong. Biddon dipped a long Indian pad- die in the water and we moved slowly up-stream. After going a short distance, he again touched the bank, and from beneath another lot of shrubbery drew forth a number of beaver-traps, These were similar to the common trap used in all parts of the world, and set much after the same fashion, but with a very different bait, At every point where signs of the animals were visible, he dug down the bank, so as to make a certain side perpendicular. Just be- neath the surface of the water he then placed the trap. The next and last proceeding was to smear the bank around with a very odoriferous oil, obtain- ed from the beaver itself. This smell attracts the beavers in the vicinity, who immediately swim to the shore to learn more of it. The trap is so arranged that one is sure to place his foot directly upon it for support in ascending the bank, and the natural con- uence follows. He is caught and falls into his mor- enemy's hands. “Ef we uon’t have a dinner on beaver-tails to- morrow, then I’m a beaver,’’ remarked Biddon, after he had set all his traps and headed his canoe down- stream “A dinner on beaver-tails!’’ exclaimed Nat, in as- tonishment. ‘That must be a fine dinner, Il swow.” “If you had read much of these animals, you would know that the part mentioned by Biddon is the most delicious and nourishing portion,” said L. “And when you gits a bite of it, you'll find it so, I ns ” recko “‘ Perhaps so,” replied Nat, doubtingly; “‘ but whar ar pe going to take us?" *“ You'll find out when we get thar.” The oe rowed the canoe quite a distance down- stream, when he sheered in to shore close to where a huge chestnut tree, larger than any I had ever be- fore seen, overhung the water. Its base was envel- oped by a mass of undergrowth, denser than com- mon, and we were obliged to stoop to the edge of the boat before we could make our way beneath it. As we sprung up the it — up behind us, and I then noticed that the chestnut was hollow, and had a deep orifice at its base “ Foller,”’ commanded Biddon, stooping and crawl- e did so, although there was some hesitation moe my part, and my astonishment was unbounded what I witnessed when within. At first nothin was visible but the darkness, and I stood, fearful o advancing or retreating. **Where are you, Biddon?” asked Nat, in a slight wavering tone. The next instant the trapper struc a light; and as its rays filled the chamber, I t, my astonishment was unbounded. We were stand- in an open space, at least eight feet in diameter. chestnut was but a mere shell, with its trunk but a few inches in thigkness at the most. The in- terior of this was fi up like a house. The rotten chunks upon the sides had been torn down, and formed a a velvety carpet beneath the feet. Ali around the wa/ls were hung numerous , and a pile at one side afforded a bed such as we had not enjoyed for weeks. Added to all this, there was an arrangement so as to make it perfectl and con- venient to kindle a fire. Nat was the first to express his unbounded astonishment. “T is beats all. I never seen anything like it. But don't the Indians know anything of it?’ “No, sir; and I cac'late as how they won't, , ef you don’t tell ’em.”’ Oh! I won't tell them. I swow this is 5 ah and he looked slowly about and above him, “ What’s that hole for?’ he asked, pointing to a small orifice just visible far above us. “That's for the smoke to go out.” “ But it must be likely to attract attention,” I re- marked. “TI never start a fire 'cept at night.” “I see—wonderful!”’ and I, too, re be about me. The light made the whole interior visible. The dark, snuff-colored fragments of decayed wood hung in ponderous masses above us, and the im- mense diameter gradually tapered as it ascended, until only the smell re far above, was seen, re- sembling a faint star. The hickness of the wood, to- with the great number of furs, protected us so well from the cold, that there could be little need of fire in the coldest weather except for cooking pur- “This is rather odd, I allow, to Awe Jarsey; but ef you had beeu with me down onthe’ Yallerstone, you'd seen suthin'’ as would 've made you look, you You may shoot me, ef you wouldn't.” “I suppose I should, but not more than this has.” , not; but don’t stand gapin’ there all day. It’s gittin’ dark, and we'll have our fodder.” The fire was now started, and the smoke ascended finely, ouad at the outlet. A good slice of meat Was COO and we made a hearty supper upon it. After this the fire was allowed to slumber, but the light remained burning until a late hour. We lit our pipes, and chatted dreamily for a long time in our new home. The trapper, feeling in the mood, related many reminiscences of his life, including adventures both tragical and comical, and Nat gave a few of his own experiences. Ata late hour we ceased, and fell into a peaceful, dreamless slumber. When I awoke the trapper had disappeared, Nat was stretched beside me, still asleep. In a short time gy former entered as noiselessly as he had de- arted., ‘** What fortune?” I asked. “Good; had two fat fellers. Wake up, and we'll have a meal as is a meal.” Nat soon made a movement, and, after several yawns, became fully awake. The trapper kindled a small fire, and cooked his beaver-tails. The two made as choice and delicious a meal as I had ever eaten. Nat was convinced. The day was clear and pleasant, and Biddon ex- pressed his determination of going up the stream in order to see the signs of game. I accompanied him, but Nat chose to remain at home and sleep a few hours longer. We sauntered carelessly forth up the stream through the tangled underwood. It was a clear day in autumn; the air was keen and bracing, and the woods gloriously fine. Some of the leaves were just beginning to fall, and they made a dappled and fiery carpet for our feet, rustling with a soft, pleasant sound at every step. Now and then we could hear the shrill notes of some songster of the forest, and once or twice the faint bay of some distant animal. We had wandered some distance, when Biddon pro- or turning back, as he had just discove he d forgotten his pipe. I was too well pleased, how- ever, with the prospect to retrace my footsteps. Ac- cordingly, we parted company fora time, he remark- ing that probably he would return when he had re- gained his indispensable article. Left alone, I now wandered dreamily onward in a leasant reverie, hardly conscious of what I was do- ng, until I was recalled to my senses by the gran- deur of a new scene that suddenly burst upon my view. I had ascended a small rise on the bank of the stream, from which I had an extended view of the river. I stood for a moment rapt in the glories of the scene. Far behind could be discerned the broad bosom of the river, stretching away like a vast body of molten silver, bordered on each side by the mighty forest, until it disappeared in a sweeping curve, with- in the interminable wilderness. Above me the same winding course could be seen, brightly glistening for several miles. Not a ripple disturbed the surface, save when a bird skimmed over it, just tipping its wings, and making a flashing circle or two. é blue sky above, unflecked by a single cloud, harmonized so well with the magnificent view, that I stood a long time, drinking in the splendor of the scene, My eye was still ng 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 num- ber, at that distance, was uncertain. The bright flash of their paddles was visible in the morning sun- shine, and they maintained their place near the cen- ter of the stream. I scrutinized them, vainly, to make out their num- ber, until it occu 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 Fh Riga which entirely concealed my body m sight. From this point I watched the approach of the canoe with interest. Soon it came h enough to enable me to distinguish the forms within it. ere were two Indian warriors, seated, each with a paddle in his hands, but not using them, except to keep the canoe in the charinel, and in the stern, with a guiding oar, sat a young female. I supposed her a squaw, belonging to the same tribe with her com- panions, and scru her as closely as Py po- sition hee permit. — heb AS Nace paper eine. dress, ornamen Ww n rcupine- quills Bi beads and a brilliant Grimson shaw en- veloped her slight form. The savages maintained their places as motionless as statues, their gaze ap- paren Vy resting upon the stream behi them; while that of the female was fixed upon the stream in front, and her whole attention absorbed in direct- ing her canoe, know not whether the inmates discovered me be- fore I concealed myself, but I fancied I detected a — of the Indians at my hiding-place, as they oated 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 In- dian—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, sur- rounded 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 hasti- ly from the knoll into the undergrowth below, and made my way hurriedly but ye rpene Ay. the stream. I could not have been over a minute in so doing, but La when I reached the water, and peered through the bushes, not a trace of the canoe was visible. I look- ed closely into each shore, up and down the stream, everwhere that I could look, but could not detect the slightest ripple or movement to account for this mysterious disappearance. For over an hour I wait- ed 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 singu- lar in itself, had nothing supernatural aboutit. The shrubbery, which overhung the water on either shore offered a secure and impenetrable hiding-place, an a few dextrous, vigorous strokes of the oars 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? I carefully retraced my steps down-stream again. The whole proceeding was mysterious. chad, doubtless, exposed myself while watching the canoe and its occupants, and thus betrayed to an enem our presence in their country. What would result from this I could not conjecture, and determined to make every thing known to the trapper. But then I felt somewhat fearful of this. He would, doubt- less, be incensed at my thoughtlessness, which might comp¢l him to leave a country offering such inducements to the trapper and fur-trader; and I argued it was not certain that I had really been seen by the Indians in : gi oeage ie If they meditated hos- tility, Biddon would be warned soon enough for all Sard ge “Ha roar so I decided to keep my own secret or the seas But the question which occupied my thoughts, al- most to the exclusion of every thing else, was the identity of the female in the canoe. What could bring a white maiden to these wild regions? What meant her a nce in the canoe with two 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 interes 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. I reached the tree, and, stooping upon my hands and knees, crawled within. The movement had well- nigh cost me my life. As my head entered I en- countered the alarmed visage of Nat, and Biddon, with his knife drawn, just prepared to spring upon me. ‘You liked to got rubbed out that time!’ he ex- claimed, replacing his weapon, ‘What made you forgit the ap oot “It must have been because it did not occur to me,’’ I laughed; “I have had no occasion to use it, and forgot it altogether; but I will remember it, be assu in future.” - ** You'd better, for I was just going to shoot, too,’’ added Nat, rising to his feet, and then seating him- self again. * You shoot!’ repeated Biddon, contemptuously. “Your shooter ain't loaded!" **T 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 pr to lo 8 piece. As it Was near noon, e 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, . although ve — was not equal to the tail of the ani- mal, the meat being more tough and oily. Shortly after, the trapper departed for the purpose of visiting his traps, and setting new ones. en alone with Nat I determined to impart to him my morning's experience. arn Nat, Ihave seen Indians,” I remarked, in a quiet ne. “ You hain’t!"’ he exclaimed, starting up from his bed of skins with such suddenness as to break the remains of his pine. **T have; and what is more, they have seen me.”’ “Tshould think it was considerably more! What. did you do? I didn’t hear you shoot. Why didn’t you tell Biddon? Why didn't you—why, it seems to me yooxe very cool about it.” “ There is no occasion for excitement atall. Just seep: ip quiet, and I will tell you how it all hap- Dn ” pened. And thereupon I related the particulars. Nat's wonder and apprehension were roused to the high- est pitch. Sp to feet, he pulled his hat violently over his fore and striding about a mo- men oman you tell BU? Lik he'll be “4 n't you é as not he shot and before he gets back.”’ “Oh nol not a bit; but then, ‘Oh no! not a bit; but then you know it’s rather ac poems to feel that those infernal Blackfeet are about you, and waiting for a chance to shoot you from behind every bush.’ ‘* Nat,” I commenced, earnestly, ‘you say i are not afraid of Indians, and yet you show it in every word, look, and action. Thereis no excuse for this. I saw only two savages, and a girl, evidently a captive. Soe 4 eg pee suddenly, and were, rae frightened at my presence, 1 see nothing = As excuse the excitement and terror you have lis?” “IT wonder who that “‘T am afraid you have to wonder a long time.’” ‘Ts she good looking?’ asked my com on, seri a “Very. What makes you ask that question?” El OO KS <eom (E(@)