Bill Biddon, Trapper Part 14

"I came nearer than I wish to again, Biddon. I can tell you, that I am willing to leave this place as soon as you wish; I've seen enough to satisfy me."

"Shouldn't wonder; I did long ago."

"Let us leave to-morrow. Are you willing?"

"I'll go to-night if you want to."

"No; there is no need of that. It will be best to wait until daylight."

"I don't know; that's the only time we've been interfered with."

"Besides," I added. "I have faint hopes that Nat may return."

"Waugh! you'll never see him again, and ef we're 'bout yer another day, we'll never see each other again. No use lookin' fur him, shoot me ef thar is."

"I do not think he has been slain, only captured by some lurking enemy, from whom he may escape."

"No, _sir_; I tell you he's gone, and I reckon as how we'd better be gone too."

"Perhaps you are right, Biddon, although I shall be loth to leave the vicinity when I am not satisfied of his fate."

"I'm satisfied, an' you oughter be. Leastways, _I'm_ goin' to-morrow, an' you kin stay and play with these Blackfeet as long as you like.

I've been up to see the horses, and fixed things so as to start as soon as daylight. Any 'jections?"

"None at all."

"Then 'tis settled, and let's snooze."

But it was by no means settled. As I lay that night ruminating upon the strange scenes through which I had so recently pa.s.sed, the pledge that I had made with Nat came back to me. I had promised to remain by him as long as there was hope; and to desert him now, would be a violation of that vow, and a base and unworthy act upon my part. For us both to leave him would probably seal his fate, if alive. It was by no means certain that if lost, he was irrecoverably gone, and I resolved that if the trapper should depart on the morrow I would remain.

In making this resolution, perhaps it was not the desire alone to benefit my companion that prompted it, although I aver that that alone would have been sufficient. Unconsciously, almost, I found my thoughts wandering from Nat to the fair being who had been the cause of all this trouble. At most, I could only speculate and conjecture with regard to her, and the same speculations and conjectures I had made before. Undoubtedly she was a captive among a tribe of Indians, over whom she wielded a great influence; and that she was the same maid referred to by Biddon, seemed certain to me. I had mentioned this thought to him, in the hope of persuading him to remain. He started somewhat at the unsuspected suggestion, and, after a few moments'

thought, admitted the probability of such being the case. To my surprise I found I had completely defeated my own plans.

"I kinder thought then, that little thing war suthin' more nor human, an' ef it's her, you see, I'm purty sure now. No use talkin', I shan't stay here longer than time 'nough to start. It might be that gal, and then agin it moughn't. Shoot me ef it moughn't."

I said no more, for I saw it would be useless. When he had once determined upon a matter there was no changing him. He was satisfied that "spirits invisible" had encompa.s.sed him, and there was but one way of escaping them.

He was now reposing quietly beside me, utterly oblivious to external things; and as the night was far advanced, I sank upon my knees, and besought the great Disposer of events to guide me aright in the undertaking which I was about to commence, and to watch over my unfortunate companion, now doubtless in captivity; to protect the kind-hearted trapper, and to soon clear away the mystery which had enveloped us like a cloud. Then I lay down and slept.

I awoke, hearing a slight rustling noise beside me, and, upon looking around, caught a glimpse of Biddon as he departed. It was very early, and he doubtless was after the horses, in order to leave at once the place which had such terrors for him. In the course of a half hour he returned.

"The horses are waitin'," said he.

I arose and pa.s.sed out. The three animals stood outside, a short distance away, each saddled and prepared for travel.

"Come, work lively, and fetch them skins out," said Biddon, commencing himself. I made no reply, but a.s.sisted him until everything was in readiness, for starting.

"Jump on, and shoot me ef we won't soon be clar of this outlandish place."

"Biddon, I am not going with you," I said, mildly.

"_What?_" he asked, looking wonderingly at one, as if doubting my senses.

"I intend to remain here."

"Ogh! jump on, an' shut up yer meat-trap; it's time we started."

"I said I was going to remain here."

"Do you mean it, Ja.r.s.ey?" he queried, bending such a fierce look upon me.

"Most certainly I do."

"Then, all Bill Biddon's got to say is, you're a fool."

I colored slightly at this, but made no reply.

"What yer going to stay fur? Get shot and lose yer ha'r, I s'pose, jist to please the reds."

"I am sorry, friend Biddon, that you feel thus. When Nathan Todd and I left the States for this country, we pledged eternal friendship to each other, and I am sure I should never feel at ease if I should leave him in this dire extremity. I am by no means satisfied that I can afford him no a.s.sistance, although he is a captive. He has no claims upon you, and I should not expect you to remain, but, as I said, I am determined not to leave this place until I have obtained satisfactory intelligence of him."

The trapper remained silent a few moments after this. He then spoke:

"I s'pose you mean right, Ja.r.s.ey, but you're awful simple. Yer's as what hopes you'll find the other chap right side up and squar with his ha'r on, but I don't 'spect _your_ ha'r 'll be yer's to-night.

Howsumever you're bound to stay, I see, so yer's good luck. I'd like to stay with you, but I ain't backward to own Bill Biddon knocks under _this_ time."

He reached his hard, h.o.r.n.y hand, and I took it.

"Good-by, Bill, I hope we shall meet again. We have not been long acquainted, but I trust long enough to be friends."

"And you'll remember as how ole Bill Biddon didn't mean what he said just now."

"Certainly, certainly, I know you did not."

"Wal, good-by it is, then."

A half-hour after and I was alone in the great wilderness of the Northwest.

After parting with Biddon, I remained stationary a long time, meditating upon the strange resolve that I had acted upon. If looked at with the common-sense view that the honest trapper gave it, I was sensible it was nothing less than a piece of recklessness upon my part, which only could be excused by the motives that actuated me. I felt some regret certainly at parting with Biddon, for that honest, manly heart which throbbed within his ma.s.sive breast had drawn me toward him, and I knew he had come to regard me in a far different light than he did at first. However, I was hopeful, and could not persuade myself that I was never to see him again.

Toward night the sky gave evidence of an approaching storm. A strong wind arose, and a melancholy, desolate moaning, like the precursor of winter, could be heard at intervals in the forest. Darkness came on earlier than usual, and, as I pa.s.sed into the trapper's home, the storm burst upon me. No one who has not witnessed a storm in the wilderness, can appreciate its awful grandeur. As I cowered within the heart of the old forest king, its power was subdued to my ears; but enough reached them to give me an idea of the terrific spectacle without. The huge sides of the tree surrounding me rumbled and groaned as though it were yielding to the hurricane; the wind blew with such fury that at times it sounded as though wailing screams were rending the air above me; and the sharp splintering of the trees riven by the lightning, rivaled the crash of the thunderbolt itself.

As the morning approached, the storm gradually died away, and as I stepped forth the sun was shining in unclouded splendor.

Slinging my rifle over my shoulder, I wandered aimlessly forward, following the course of the stream for several hours. Finally, becoming considerably wearied, I seated myself upon a fallen tree, to gain a little rest; but my mind was in such a state of excitement that the desire to press forward was irresistible, and I arose again.

As I stood upon the spot, I happened to look across the stream upon the prairie. The river at this point was flowing east and west, so that I looked to the southward; and as I did so I saw Biddon in the distance, riding leisurely away. He was miles distant, so that I could not hope to make my voice reach him; and as the prairie in many parts was submerged, it was out of the question to pursue with the hope of overtaking him. So I contented myself with watching him until he disappeared. He appeared precisely the same as when Nat and I first caught sight of him; and it struck me as a rather curious coincidence that my first and last glimpse of him were similar. Shortly after, he was a mere quivering speck on the horizon, and soon disappeared altogether.