Bill Biddon, Trapper Part 23

I took a direction nearly due east toward the Black Hills. Near the middle of the day I reached the sh.o.r.e of a lake. It was a small, beautiful sheet of water, its glistening surface unruffled by a single ripple, and I stood a long time gazing upon its placid bosom. The blue outline of the opposite sh.o.r.e was faintly visible in the distance, and here and there the green face of a tiny island protruded from its surface adding greatly to the picturesqueness of the scene.

As I stood looking dreamily out upon this lake, my eyes rested upon a small speck, just discernible far toward the other side. It was too small and dark to be an island, and, furthermore, I fancied it was moving. A moment more satisfied me that it was a canoe crossing the lake nearly to the point upon which I was standing. So small and black was it, that for a long time I was tempted to believe it was nothing but a bird floating upon the surface; but the flashing of the oars in the sunshine showed its true nature, and I waited anxiously its approach.

On it came, slowly and steadily, its form gradually increasing as it approached, until I could discover the outlines of a single man propelling it over the water. A sudden hope that it might be Nat himself came over me, but as it came nigher, the dazzling plumes of a savage convinced me of my mistake. It struck me as a little singular that the Indian, solitary and alone, should approach so unhesitatingly a stranger, and I was upon the point of concealing myself; but, knowing that I must have been seen, and that such a proceeding would only awaken suspicion upon his part, I remained boldly in view.

A few minutes later and the canoe grated upon the sand a few yards from me; and, daubed in all the glittering paraphernalia of savage war-paint and plumes, no less a personage than Nat stepped ash.o.r.e and approached me!

I was upon the point of calling out to him, when I saw he did not recognize me. Since we had last been together my beard had grown considerably, and my dress was also changed to that of a semi-barbarous one. I drew my hat down to my eyes, and spoke in a changed voice.

"A pleasant day this, my friend."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "No less personage than Nat stepped ash.o.r.e."]

"Yes, it is," replied the same natural, cracked voice.

"A fine country this, too,"

"Yes, that's so; didn't expect to see you."

"And why not, my friend?"

"'Cause 'tain't often you see a white man in these parts; you're the first one I've seen."

"And how is it you are here yourself?"

"Wal, stranger, there's a long story fastened to that question--a longer one than I care about spinning at present."

"You are not a prisoner, I hope."

"It was some time last fall I got tuk, and I've been with them, of course, ever since."

"And why have you remained with them so long? It strikes me that if I had the fine opportunity you have, I should not be long waiting to bid them farewell."

"You see, when I landed down here, it was winter, and if you're any hunter, as I calculate you are, from your dress, you must know that a fellow from the States would make poor work tramping a thousand miles at such a time. So I concluded to wait till spring, and have been thinking about going for the last month or two, but, somehow or other I haven't got started; I suppose 'cause I haven't had a good start."

"What were you doing on the lake?"

"I came down this morning to fish, and seeing you on t'other side, took you to be an Injin fishin' and so I paddled across."

"You are allowed considerable liberty, it seems, after all."

"Well, I have considerable, though it hain't done me much good so fur."

"You wish to return to the States, I presume."

"I guess I do; I am about as homesick a dog as you ever laid eyes on, and there's a gal home that I want to see amazingly."

At this remark I was compelled to cough several times, to prevent bursting into a loud, boisterous laugh. I felt like dropping upon the gra.s.s and rolling over and over, and yelling like an Indian. But I restrained myself, and determined to carry the deception further.

"She most likely has given you up as dead by this time."

"I'm a little afraid she has, and that's the reason I want to go down and tell her her mistake. But I don't know as it would be any use, by gracious!" he added, in a desponding tone.

"And why not, pray?"

"Oh, there's a chap named Bill Hawkins, who thinks he's mighty smart, all the time flourishing round there. I'd just like to lay hands on him once," and Nat clinched his hands and shook his head menacingly.

Then resuming his natural manner, he added, quickly, and with a sort of desperation, "I don't care though. If Sal wants him, she can have him."

"That's it. Take things philosophically is my motto, when you are compelled to."

In making this last remark, I unwittingly dropped my voice to its natural key. Nat started and raised those large, blue innocent eyes of his, and stared wonderingly at me.

"Did my remark surprise you?" I asked, working harder than I ever did to restrain my gravity.

"It weren't what you said, but your voice sounded amazingly like a person I used to know, and I thought maybe you might be him."

"Perhaps I am."

"No; you don't look like him. He was about your size, but didn't dress like you, nor didn't have such whiskers."

"What was his name?"

"William Relmond, from New Jersey."

"William Relmond, from New Jersey," I repeated, as though trying to recall some half-forgotten remembrance.

"He used to be called 'Ja.r.s.ey' by Bill Biddon," added Nat, quickly, as if to aid my recollection.

"And do you know Bill Biddon, a trapper?" I demanded, eagerly.

"I am of the opinion that I do, being as I have hunted with him a long time."

"Ah! indeed. He is an old friend of mine. I saw him some time since, and he was then in the service of the Hudson Bay Company."

"Didn't he say anything about 'Ja.r.s.ey?'"

"I've hit it now! There's where I heard the name. Yes; he said a great deal about him, and he also mentioned a person called Nathan Todd, I think."

"I am the man, sir," responded Nat, with considerable dignity.

"You are! I recall now that he mentioned the fact of your captivity, although he was more inclined to say you were dead and gone long since."

"Bill is a pretty 'cute chap, but he's mistaken there."

"Yes; he seemed to cherish a warm friendship for you."

"You see the way of it was this: Me and Bill Relmond started from Independence last summer for California. The company we was with ran away from us, taking my knife and mare with them. So we started fur Californy on our own hook. We came across this Bill Biddon and changed our minds, or, rather, Relmond did, and concluded to go on a hunt up in these parts. Well, we did, and this is the end of that hunt. We fixed on a place down on the Yellowstone, and would have spent a good time if it hadn't been for that Relmond. He was a good fellow, but betwixt you and me (you needn't say nothing about it, you know), he was rather soft, and I had to keep a clus watch over him to prevent his getting into danger. There used to come some Injins down the stream in a canoe, and they set his head crazy. It wasn't the Injins, though, but a white gal they had. She was pretty, I allow, but he ought to have knowed better than to chase her as he did; he might have knowed what would have come of it. We used to go down and watch this canoe. One day I went a little lower down the stream than he did, and hid in some bushes beside the water to take a good look at the gal and the Injins. Pretty soon they came, and as they got along by me, by gracious if they didn't start right into the bushes after me! I was so fast in the roots and limbs that I hadn't time to git out before they got right on to me. I then up and blazed away to keep them off, but I forgot to take aim, and didn't hit them, and the first thing I knowed I didn't know anything. One of them smashed his tomahawk square at me, grabbed me by the neck, whopped me into the canoe, paddled to the other side, and made me walk all the way here. I haven't seen Relmond or Biddon since, and I should like to know what has become of them."