Wild Adventures in Wild Places Part 13

DUGALD CONTINUES HIS STORY--A FEARFUL STORM--ATTACKED BY WOLVES--LOST IN THE FOREST--INDIANS--THE SURRENDER--THE ESCAPE--THE MINE OF GOLD.

"But it wasn't always plain sailing with us either on these expeditions," said Dugald, continuing the narrative of his adventures; "sometimes storms would arise, ay, and such storms too! One I shall never forget; our horses were picketed down stream, but on high ground; so as soon as the blue sky got overcast, and while yet the thunder was muttering ominously in the distance, we made up our minds to get down towards them as speedily as possible, not knowing how they would fare.

"Well was it for us we had lashed our frail canoes together, for there was one portion of the great river which it was dangerous to descend, even in fine weather, so rapid was the current. When we reached this place the storm was at its very worst, and we found ourselves suddenly whirling along in the midst of a raging cataract, a boiling surging cataract. The thunder seemed rending the forest, and the very rocks around us; the rain was terrible, and I had never seen such lightning before; forked and sheet I had been used to, but here great b.a.l.l.s of fire fell from heaven, splitting, and hissing as they reached the waves.

It was indeed a fearful storm. When we reached camp at long last, we expected to find that our horses had broken loose in the extremity of their terror, but we were greatly mistaken; here they were safe enough, and although there was evidence in the state of the ground that they had been at first alarmed, they were quiet now; ay, even cowed in their joy to see us, they fawned upon us almost as a dog would have done.

"But this forest life of ours was not so very pleasant when summer ended, and winter began to give token of his speedy approach. However, we determined to make the best of it. We built ourselves a hut of logs, and a rude stable for our horses, then we had to lay aside for a time our guns and fishing-rods, and instead of hunting, take to farming, and make hay while yet the sun shone. As long as the horses could be turned out lariated, they could find provisions for themselves, but when the snow fell, as fall it did ere long, we had to find fodder for them indoors.

"We did not forget our own larder, you may be sure, and right thankful were we that we had not forgotten to take with us a traveller's cooking stove, with a store of oil by way of fuel. Not that we expected an Arctic winter by any means. Our guide, a st.u.r.dy bearded man of some fifty summers, had trapped in these wilds for more than twenty years, and could remember many a winter pa.s.sing without the gra.s.s being even once covered with snow. But travellers should always be provided against even probabilities, and as it turned out it was well we were.

We enjoyed Christmas in our rude log hut almost if not quite as well as if at home, and it would have done your heart good to have heard the merry songs we sang, or to have listened to the strange stories of our guide. No traveller's tales were these, they were painted from the life and natural. The wolves used to come howling round our doors now of nights. A fall of snow, that came on about the beginning of the new year, seemed to make the creatures hungry. They came after the bones that were thrown out, at least that was how they pretended to account for their visit, but we knew well they would not hesitate a moment to attack the horses if they could only find a chance.

"There were trees all round our humble abode, and wearisome enough it was sometimes to awake on stormy nights and listen to the wild wind roaring through their branches, mingling with the awesome cry of the forest wolves. On just such a night Jack and I once started from our beds, and sat up and listened. There was the dread of some impending danger lying like a lump of lead at my heart, and Jack afterwards confessed that he too was awakened by the same kind of feeling. Almost in the same breath we called aloud to our guide. There was no answer, but a rush of cold wind that swept through the cabin told us that the door was open. We sprang at once from our couches and hurried on some clothing, then seizing our pistols we sallied out; just as a cry for help fell upon our ear, a cry that was drowned the next moment in the horrid 'hubbering' sound that wolves make while worrying a victim.

'Come on, Jack,' I cried; 'they are killing poor Walter.'

"Jack and I were both in the melee next moment. The merciful moon shone out, and we could see our guide on his feet covered with blood, but defending himself bravely with a brawny fist and a broken lantern. Not far off was our burly camp-dog engaged with three of the hungry-eyed monsters. Jack and I soon turned the odds to deadly game, but Walter was badly wounded, and it took weeks to get him well. It seems he had taken his lantern and gone out to see if the horses were secure, when he was at once attacked by the wolves. Winter brought us visitors from the far north, the grizzly bear and his cousin the cinnamon bear. They used to hide in the darkest and deepest nooks of the forest by day, or in rocky dens by the mountain sides, and come prowling out by night, oftentimes making the woods shake with their terrible roaring.

"A better guide or trapper than Walter couldn't have been; he was good for forest, hill, or plain, and yet he lost himself one day not half-a-mile from our hut-door. He had gone for a short walk in the forest; and, according to his own account, his head all of a sudden got turned round, as it were. This is a kind of madness not at all uncommon in the prairie or wilderness. And now to honest Walter west seemed east, and south seemed north. He had no compa.s.s with him; and it is questionable whether he would have believed it if he had had one. It is a good thing in cases of this kind, that a man usually marches round and round in a circle. We found our guide next day lying exhausted at the foot of a pine tree, not five miles from our wigwam; or, rather, his good and trusty Newfoundland dog found him; but how the wolves had spared him was to us a mystery. He had never once stopped walking till he fell where we found him.

"The time flew by, gentlemen; winter had almost pa.s.sed, although snow still lay deep in woodland and glade, and we were fain to wear our snow-shoes when going abroad; still the winds blew more softly, and budlets began to peep out on the larch trees, which are ever the first to welcome the balmy breath of returning spring.

"One morning, greatly to our annoyance, we found the rude stable-door open, and our horses gone. But their tracks were fresh on the snow, and so we felt sure we soon should find them.

"The trail led us to the uplands, and we were not sorry for this, as by mounting an eminence or hill we would be enabled to see the country for miles on miles around us. When we did at long last reach a hill-top, a sight we saw not two miles off was quite enough to curdle the blood of such inexperienced woodsmen as we were then.

"Indians! a score and more of them, with their horses picketed, and ours among the rest. It was evident from their armour, their rifles and spears, and their dress, that they were on the war-path.

"Gentlemen, I have but little heart to look back upon what immediately followed our discovery. Some day I may tell you all our wild adventures among the backwoods savages. Suffice it for me here to say, that after days and nights of fierce fighting, our foes were driven off by fresh bands of Indians. This was a tribe our guide Walter well knew; and, on his advice, we surrendered to them. They spared our lives; but they made us prisoners, because they found us of use to them. For five long years we remained the slaves of this warlike tribe; but the dawn came after the long darkness. We escaped on three of their horses--we chose the best, you may be sure. It was on the evening of a great feast, in commemoration of a successful raid they had made into the white man's territory, returning with cattle, and, sad to say, with scalps.

"Fire-water was abundant that night, and horrible revelry and dancing.

But sleep stole over the camp at last; and then we felt our time had come. We had left them leagues on leagues ere morning light. But we took little rest till we were far, far away in the southern and western states.

"This did not quite tire Jack and me of adventure and travel. No; we just worked for a year, and then, once more accoutring ourselves, we made tracks for the mountain-forests. The gold fever had broken out, and we had caught it, only we determined to go prospecting all by our two selves. And a good thing we did. We built ourselves a house. Jack called it 'the little hut among the bushes.' Some of the bushes, gentlemen, were three hundred feet in height. We found gold, too. Fact is, we had a small mine all to ourselves. As soon as we made a pile, we used to go south, disguised as poor trappers, to sell our skins and fill our powder-flasks; but, in reality, to bank our gold.

"We've made all we want. The mine itself is sold, and well sold; and as soon as we have shown you a bit of life in the backwoods, we shan't be sorry to return to our dear auld Hielan' hills once more."

The huntsman finished speaking, and soon after our heroes turned in for the night, and the silence was unbroken--the silence of the dark primeval forest.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

MERRIE ENGLAND--A WEEK AT WILLOUGHBY PLACE--OUR HEROES PART--A PLEASANT RE-UNION, ON WHICH THE CURTAIN DROPS.

It was a lovely evening towards the close of an autumn day, many months after the events related in the last chapter, that you might have seen a carriage and pair, drawn up at the gate of the down station of the quiet little village of Twintleton. There was but one person on the platform, a tall, elderly gentleman, who was pacing up and down with evident impatience. When I tell you that the proud crest of the Willoughbys was emblazoned on the panels of the carriage, you will guess that the gentleman himself was none other than Frank's father.

"She's long overdue, isn't she, porter?" he said at last.

"Only five minutes, sir," was the reply.

"Five minutes!" muttered Mr Willoughby, "why, I seem to have waited here for a whole hour."

In a first-cla.s.s compartment of this late train--still at some considerable distance--sat three gentlemen. Brown were they in complexion as the waters of a mountain burn, and just as vivacious.

"Now, Frank," said one, "I do wonder what your father will think of you when he sees you."

"We've hardened him off properly," said the other, laughing. Frank smiled, his thoughts just then wandered away down to a certain shire in Wales. He was wondering what his betrothed--what Eenie would think of him, and whether she herself would be much changed.

Half an hour afterwards all three were rattling off in the carriage, to the home of the Willoughbys. Need I say that that evening the fatted calf was killed, or that Frank was the hero there for weeks.

Heigho! but time _will_ fly. I have kept my trio well in hand through all their years of wandering in wild places, but now at last the wizard power of pen must fail, our friends must scatter. It was very pleasant for a time roaming over the lovely fields and moors, gun in hand, dogs ahead, in the bright, bracing September days. The dinners in the evening at Willoughby Place were pleasant, too, and yet after one of the best of these, all of a sudden, during a lull in the conversation--

"Father," said Frank, "I'm off to-morrow, like a bird, away down to Penmawhr Castle."

"You young dog," replied his father, laughing; "I've been expecting to hear this every day for the last week."

"Filial affection prevented me," said Frank, "from making up my mind before."

"Oh! that just reminds me," said Chisholm O'Grahame, "that I sail for Australia next week."

"And, oh!" cried Fred Freeman, "that puts me in mind. I'm off about the same time to the Russian Steppes."

"What!" exclaimed Mr Willoughby, "all bent on the same errand? Well, well, boys will be boys. But, I will miss you all sadly."

"I say, though," said Frank, "there is one thing I do look forward to, and that is, when Fred and Chisholm return--I, of course, am going no distance--we may have a grand re-union, here at old Willoughby Place."

"Yes," said his father, "If we are all spared I'm sure I'll be delighted; and there is one thing you mustn't forget, that is, if you can find them; namely, to bring with you the companions of your adventures in the backwoods."

"Oh! never fear, sir," Frank replied; "we'll ferret them out--ay, and Lyell as well."

"That will be delightful," said Mr Willoughby, rubbing his hands in joyous antic.i.p.ation of the hoped-for event.

"And," he continued enthusiastically, "up on the hill, near the ruins of the ancient home of our fathers, on the night of the re-union, I'll kindle such a bonfire as never blazed on the heights before."

One short week after this conversation took place my three heroes were--

"--Severed far and wide By mountain, stream, and sea."

And this just reminds me that my tale is wonderfully near its close, for, dear me! you know an author who has lost his heroes is just like a bird who has lost its eggs, there is not a bit of good in trying to sing any more. Besides, they have all gone in different directions, and I can't be in three places at once; and even if I could, my presence would doubtless be deemed an intrusion, for I'll warrant they are all happy enough.

But did the re-union ever take place, and did the bonfire blaze fierce on the hill-top? Both events came off, reader, I'm glad to tell you.

And here they all are with happy beaming faces, seated around the table in the banquetting hall of the home of the Willoughbys: Fred, and Frank, and Chisholm O'Grahame, each with their wives by their side. Ay, and brave Captain Lyell, too, though he has got no wife by his side--his lot is to be a rover, his home is on the deep. And here is brawny Dugald McArthur and honest John Travers, the bold hunters of the backwoods.

And here is precisely the place to drop the curtain. Let it descend then, and slowly hide the happy scene.

Yet one word. My chief reward in having written these "Wild Adventures," rests in a _thought_ and in a _hope_. The thought is, that I may have sometimes interested and amused you; the hope, that we may-- for stranger things have happened--meet again another day.