Wild Western Scenes Part 1

Wild Western Scenes.

by John Beauchamp Jones.

PREFACE.

When a work of fiction has reached its fortieth edition, one would suppose the author might congratulate himself upon having contributed something of an imperishable character to the literature of the country. But no such pretensions are a.s.serted for this production, now in its fortieth thousand. Being the first essay of an impetuous youth in a field where giants even have not always successfully contended, it would be a rash a.s.sumption to suppose it could receive from those who confer such honors any high award of merit. It has been before the public some fifteen years, and has never been reviewed. Perhaps the forbearance of those who wield the cerebral scalpels may not be further prolonged, and the book remains amenable to the judgment they may be pleased to p.r.o.nounce.

To that portion of the public who have read with approbation so many thousands of his book, the author may speak with greater confidence.

To this cla.s.s of his friends he may make disclosures and confessions pertaining to the secret history of the "Wild Western Scenes," without the hazard of incurring their displeasure.

Like the hero of his book, the author had his vicissitudes in boyhood, and committed such indiscretions as were incident to one of his years and circ.u.mstances, but nevertheless only such as might be readily pardoned by the charitable. Like Glenn, he submitted to a voluntary exile in the wilds of Missouri. Hence the description of scenery is a true picture, and several characters in the scenes were real persons.

Many of the occurrences actually transpired in his presence, or had been enacted in the vicinity at no remote period; and the dream of the hero--his visit to the haunted island--was truly a dream of the author's.

But the worst miseries of the author were felt when his work was completed; he could get no publisher to examine it. He then purchased an interest in a weekly newspaper, in the columns of which it appeared in consecutive chapters. The subscribers were pleased with it, and desired to possess it in a volume; but still no publisher would undertake it,--the author had no reputation in the literary world. He offered it for fifty dollars, but could find no purchaser at any price. Believing the British booksellers more accommodating, a friend was employed to make a fair copy in ma.n.u.script, at a certain number of cents per hundred words. The work was sent to a British publisher, with whom it remained many months, but was returned, accompanied by a note declining to treat for it.

Undeterred by the rebuffs of two worlds, the author had his cherished production published on his own account, and was remunerated by the sale of the whole edition. After the tardy sale of several subsequent editions by houses of limited influence, the book had the good fortune, finally, to fall into the hands of the gigantic establishment whose imprint is now upon its t.i.tle-page. And now, the author is informed, it is regularly and liberally ordered by the London booksellers, and is sold with an increasing rapidity in almost every section of the Union.

Such are the hazards, the miseries, and sometimes the rewards, of authorship.

J.B.J.

Burlington, N.J., _March_, 1856.

WILD WESTERN SCENES: A NARRATIVE OF ADVENTURES.

CHAPTER I.

Glenn and Joe--Their horses--A storm--A black stump--A rough tumble--Moaning--Stars--Light--A log fire--Tents, and something to eat--Another stranger, who turns out to be well known--Joe has a snack--He studies revenge against the black stump--Boone proposes a bear hunt.

"Do you see any light yet, Joe?"

"Not the least speck that ever was created, except the lightning, and it's gone before I can turn my head to look at it."

The interrogator, Charles Glenn, reclined musingly in a two-horse wagon, the canvas covering of which served in some measure to protect him from the wind and rain. His servant, Joe Beck, was perched upon one of the horses, his shoulders screwed under the scanty folds of an oil-cloth cape, and his knees drawn nearly up to the pommel of the saddle, to avoid the thumping bushes and briers that occasionally a.s.sailed him, as the team plunged along in a stumbling pace. Their pathway, or rather their direction, for there was no beaten road, lay along the northern bank of the "Mad Missouri," some two hundred miles above the St. Louis settlement. It was at a time when there were no white men in those regions save a few trappers, traders, and emigrants, and each new sojourner found it convenient to carry with him a means of shelter, as houses of any description were but few and far between.

Our travellers had been told in the morning, when setting out from a temporary village which consisted of a few families of emigrants, with whom they had sojourned the preceding night, that they could attain the desired point by making the river their guide, should they be at a loss to distinguish the faintly-marked pathway that led in a more direct course to the place of destination. The storm coming up suddenly from the north, and showers of hail accompanying the gusts, caused the poor driver to incline his face to the left, to avoid the peltings that a.s.sailed him so frequently; and the drenched horses, similarly influenced, had unconsciously departed far from the right line of march; and now, rather than turn his front again to the pitiless blast, which could be the only means of regaining the road, Joe preferred diverging still farther, until he should find himself on the margin of the river, by which time he hoped the storm would abate.

At all events, he thought there would be more safety on the beach, which extended out a hundred paces from the water, among the small switches of cotton-wood that grew thereon, than in the midst of the tall trees of the forest, where a heavy branch was every now and then torn off by the wind, and thrown to the earth with a terrible crash.

Occasionally a deafening explosion of thunder would burst overhead; and Joe, prostrating himself on the neck of his horse, would, with his eyes closed and his teeth set, bear it out in silence. He spoke not, save to give an occasional word of command to his team, or a brief reply to a question from his master.

It was an odd spectacle to see such a vehicle trudging along at such an hour, where no carriage had ever pa.s.sed before. The two young men were odd characters; the horses were oddly matched, one being a little dumpy black pony, and the other a n.o.ble white steed; and it was an odd whim which induced Glenn to abandon his comfortable home in Philadelphia, and traverse such inclement wilds. But love can play the "_wild_" with any young man. Yet we will not spoil our narrative by introducing any of it here. Nor could it have been love that induced Joe to share his master's freaks; but rather a rare penchant for the miraculous adventures to be enjoyed in the western wilderness, and the gold which his master often showered upon him with a reckless hand.

Joe's forefathers were from the Isle of Erin, and although he had lost the brogue, he still retained some of their superst.i.tions.

The wind continued to blow, the wolves howled, the lightning flashed, and the thunder rolled. Ere long the little black pony snorted aloud and paused abruptly.

"What ails you, Pete?" said Joe from his lofty position on the steed, addressing his favourite little pet. "Get along," he continued, striking the animal gently with his whip. But Pete was as immovable and unconscious of the lash as would have been a stone. And the steed seemed likewise to be infected with the pony's stubbornness, after the wagon was brought to a pause.

"Why have you stopped, Joe?" inquired Glen.

"I don't hardly know, sir; but the stupid horses won't budge an inch farther!"

"Very well; we can remain here till morning. Take the harness off, and give them the corn in the box; we can sleep in the wagon till daylight."

"But we have no food for ourselves, sir; and I'm vastly hungry. It can't be much farther to the ferry," continued Joe, vexed at the conduct of the horses.

"Very well; do as you like; drive on, if you desire to do so," said Glenn.

"Get along, you stupid creatures!" cried Joe, applying the lash with some violence. But the horses regarded him no more than blocks would have done. Immediately in front he perceived a dark object that resembled a stump and turning the horses slightly to one side, endeavoured to urge them past it. Still they would not go, but continued to regard the object mentioned with dread, which was manifested by sundry restless pawings and unaccustomed snorts. Joe resolved to ascertain the cause of their alarm, and springing to the ground, moved cautiously in the direction of the dark obstruction, which still seemed to be a blackened stump, about his own height, and a very trifling obstacle, in his opinion, to arrest the progress of his redoubtable team. The darkness was intense, yet he managed to keep his eyes on the dim outlines of the object as he stealthily approached And he stepped as noiselessly as possible, notwithstanding he meditated an encounter with nothing more than an inanimate object. But his imagination was always on the alert, and as he often feared dangers that arose undefinable and indescribable in his mind, it was not without some trepidation that he had separated himself from the horses and groped his way toward the object that had so much terrified his pony. He paused within a few feet of the object, and waited for the next flash of lightning to scrutinize the thing more closely before putting his hand upon it. But no flash came, and he grew tired of standing. He stooped down, so as to bring the upper portion of it in a line with the sky beyond, but still he could not make it out. He ventured still nearer, and stared at it long and steadily, but to no avail: the black ma.s.s only was before him, seemingly inanimate, and of a deeper hue than the darkness around.

"I've a notion to try my whip on you," said he, thinking if it should be a human being it would doubtless make a movement. He started back with a momentary conviction that he heard a rush creak under its feet.

But as it still maintained its position, he soon concluded the noise to have been only imaginary, and venturing quite close gave it a smart blow with his whip. Instantaneously poor Joe was rolling on the earth, almost insensible, and the dark object disappeared rushing through the bushes into the woods. The noise attracted Glenn, who now approached the scene, and with no little surprise found his servant lying on his face.

"What's the matter, Joe?" demanded he.

"Oh, St. Peter! O preserve me!" exclaimed Joe.

"What has happened? Why do you lie there?"

"Oh, I'm almost killed! Didn't you see him?"

"See what? I can see nothing this dark night but the flying clouds and yonder yellow sheet of water."

"Oh, I've been struck!" said Joe, groaning piteously.

"Struck by what? Has the lightning struck you?"

"No--no! my head is all smashed up--it was a bear."

"Pshaw! get up, and either drive on, or feed the horses," said Glenn with some impatience.

"I call all the saints to witness that it was a wild bear--a great wild bear! I thought it was a stump, but just as I struck it a flash of lightning revealed to my eyes a big black bear standing on his hind feet, grinning at me, and he gave me a blow on the side of the face, which has entirely blinded my left eye, and set my ears to ringing like a thousand bells. Just feel the blood on my face."

[Ill.u.s.tration: A dark encounter]

Glenn actually felt something which might be blood, and really had thought he could distinguish the stump himself when the wagon halted; yet he did not believe that Joe had received the hurt in any other manner than by striking his face against some hard substance which he could not avoid in the darkness.

"You only fancy it was a bear, Joe; so come along back to the horses and drive on. The rain has ceased, and the stars are appearing."

Saying this, Glenn led the way to the wagon.

"I'd be willing to swear on the altar that it was a huge bear, and nothing else!" replied Joe, as he mounted and drove on, the horses now evincing no reluctance to proceed. One after another the stars came out and shone in purest brightness as the mists swept away, and ere long the whole canopy of blue was gemmed with twinkling brilliants.

The winds soon lulled, and the dense forest on the right reposed from the moaning gale which had disturbed it a short time before; and the waves that had been tossed into foaming ridges now spent their fury on the beach, each lashing the bank more gently than the last, until the power of the gliding current swept them all down the turbid stream.

Soon the s.p.a.ce between the water and the forest gradually diminished, and seemed to join at a point not far ahead. Joe observed this with some concern, being aware that to meander among the trees at such an hour was impossible. He therefore inclined toward the river, resolved to defer his re-entrance into the forest as long as possible. As he drove on he kept up a continual groaning, with his head hung to one side, as if suffering with the toothache, and occasionally reproaching Pete with some petulance, as if a portion of the blame attached to his sagacious pony.