CHAPTER VI.
SAMUEL DICKSON HUNTS A MOOSE DEER
The traveller who for the first time reaches the Rocky Mountains is amazed at the pile of hills above hills, called by the early discoverer the Sierra of the River of the Wind, that immense reservoir whence flows so many great streams, some flowing into the Atlantic, others into the Pacific.
We now transport our readers to a fork formed by a rather extensive stream, flowing from the Mountains of the Wind, just before it joins the Missouri, in the centre of a vast and delicious valley.
This charming spot, enchanting in its aspect, was covered by scattered thickets, young trees, fat pasturages, and watered by many rills, which fell in all directions in silver cascades from the mountains, and finally lost themselves in the Missouri.
This unknown Eden, buried in the mountains, had been discovered by a hardy explorer, and already the hand of man was at work destroying its savage grandeur. In a word, the squatters were at work.
Squatters are generally men of restless habits, greedy of exertions, no matter what they may be, impatient of control, and sworn enemies of the peaceful and regular life of the great centres of population. Gifted with the courage of a lion, of a will – or, rather, obstinacy – which nothing can conquer, these men of indomitable energy, in whose hearts ferment the most violent passions, are the true pioneers of the desert and the vanguard of civilisation in the New World.
Accustomed to place themselves above the law, as soon as the tide of civilisation always rising reaches them, they abandon without regret all they possess – houses and land – and snatching up their hatchets, bury themselves gaily still further in the desert, until they find another suitable site, on which they squat.
There is no one to contest their claim. At all events, to do so would be a rather imprudent enterprise, for they at once appeal to their rifle, and make that the legal arbitrator.
Joshua Dickson was a true specimen of a squatter; his whole life had been one long pilgrimage across the States of the Union. Weary of rambling within the purlieus of civilisation, where he always felt uneasy, one day, as we have already recorded, he came to a final resolution, and, abandoning all that he possessed, he started with his family and servants in search of a land where none before had ever set their foot.
We cannot relate all the incidents of his journey without guide or map. They would fill a volume. We come to the point. One night they had fixed their camp near a very narrow and wooded gorge. It appearing to be rather a difficult spot to travel in the dark, and there being no hurry, they had halted by a small stream, in the midst of a green prairie, which offered admirable pasturage for their beasts and horses.
Before daybreak, while his companions still slept, Samuel Dickson rose, took his rifle, and advanced in the direction of the defile, with the double object of examining the locality and of shooting, if possible, two or three head of game for the morning repast, provisions being rare in camp, so much so that the night before they had gone to bed almost without supper.
Harry Dickson, who acted as sentry, alone saw him go out, but as his uncle did not speak, he did not venture to make any observation.
Samuel Dickson went away with his rifle on his shoulder, whistling "Yankee Doodle," and shortly after disappeared in the tall grass without his nephew being able to make out in what direction he had gone.
Seen by the light of morn the defile was not so choked up by trees and bushes as it had seemed in the dusk of the evening; the entrance only was marked by a curtain of young trees, which would easily succumb to a few blows of a hatchet.
The American pushed forward, cutting a passage with his bowie knife, resolved to reach the extremity of the defile, in order to examine it thoroughly and report to his brother.
Suddenly a moose deer bounded across his path.
"There is a demon who does not suffer from rheumatism. How he runs! But remember, my friend, that's your breakfast."
With which words he took to his heels, and, catching sight of the deer, followed him up through the dense undergrowth, without being able to get a shot at him. This went on for about twenty minutes, during which, his rifle at full cock, he never looked to the right or left. Suddenly the moose deer stood still, as if he sniffed another enemy in the direction in which he was going.
The American lost no time, but took steady aim for a second or two and fired.
The stricken deer bounded into the air, and then once more took to its heels.
But the hunter was determined not to lose him. Unhappily, however, in his eagerness, he did not look before him, and just as he thought the deer began to droop, while he increased his speed his foot slipped and he went head over heels, falling a height of about fifteen feet, to alight upon a kind of pavement of hard flint stones.
The fall was so heavy that the American not only was bruised all over, but fainted.
A feeling of coolness suddenly came over him, and caused him to open his eyes.
He looked wildly around him, and saw a young man of about seven-and-twenty, in the costume of a trapper, his handsome face bent over him with a look of deep solicitude, while he bathed his face with a handkerchief soaked with water.
"Are you better, Mr. Samuel?" said the other.
"Hem!" cried the American; "Am I mad?"
"Not in the least, Master Samuel, at least, that I am aware of," was the reply.
"But what has happened?" cried the other, with an awful grimace.
"A very simple thing: you shot a deer, and in your eagerness to catch him you did not notice that you were on the summit of an eminence, and so rolled over, to the detriment of your bones."
"A very simple thing!" groaned the other; "You speak very complacently, Master George. Is anything broken?"
"Nothing. I examined you carefully – nothing but bruises, of that I am sure."
"Cursed deer! If I only had secured it. But the brute escaped me after all."
"No, my friend. You are too good a shot to miss your aim. There lies your game, quite dead."
"Thank goodness! That is lucky. But oh! Oh! I feel as if I had received a severe beating. Help me up."
"But had you not better rest a while?"
"Go to the deuce. I am not a whining sniggler, like my niece," he began; "by the way," he added, "that puts me in mind! Young man – "
"Allow me to help you up – take my arm. I am strong; so lean as heavily as you like. There, you are all right. Your rifle will serve you as a staff."
Thanks to the assistance of the young man, the American contrived to stand on his legs, making horrible grimaces and groaning all the time.
"I wish my brother had been anywhere, with his mad notion of emigration," he said, grumbling; "but that is not the immediate question. Will you answer me?"
"I am quite ready. You cannot carry the deer – shall I hang it up in safety until you send for it?"
"Will you answer me?" cried Samuel, ferociously.
"You have not yet asked me any question," said the young man, gently.
The American looked at him with considerable anger in his glance; then his muscles relaxing, he burst out laughing.
"Forgive me, George," he said, offering his hand. "I am an old fool. I am trying to get up a quarrel with you, instead of thanking you for your kindness. In truth, I believe you have saved my life."
"You exaggerate, Mr. Samuel," replied the other.
"Between you and me, I don't think so. What would have become of me, fainting in the desert?"
"Chance brought me here."
"Oh, yes! Chance has very broad shoulders," answered the American: "I suppose it brought you out here."
The young man held down his head and blushed.
"Well, well, I won't tease you, George," cried Samuel; "you are a noble and generous fellow, and I loved your father."
"As you do his son," responded the other.
"I suppose it is so. But this being understood, let us talk like two old friends."
"I am at your command."
"Always the same eternal chorus. Now I do not want to dive into your secrets, but without going beyond the limits of politeness, allow me to ask you one simple question," said Samuel.
"Ask; and if it be in my power, I will answer truthfully," replied the other.
"Hem! You are confoundedly close. First let us sit down. I am all aches and pains."
The young man gently led him to a soft mound of turf, helped him to be seated, and followed his example.
"Now I am good for an hour. Let us chat."
"I am your most obedient servant to command."
"How is it, Mr. George Clinton," began the old man, with a sly look, "that three months ago I left you at Boston at the head of a large house of business, and that I now find you dressed like a runner of the woods, hundreds of miles from the nearest settlement, just ready to save my life."
"If my journey served me no other purpose, I am thankful – still I own there is another motive."
"I am glad to hear you say so. May I ask its nature?"
"Well, Master Samuel," began Clinton, "I am young, vigorous, and passionately fond of field sports; I am a good shot, and very much inclined for a free and independent life. Many times while at Boston chance brought me in contact with persons who have accomplished wonderful journeys into the almost unknown interior of our vast continent, and who brought back astounding accounts of what they saw; my curiosity was aroused, and I felt within myself a strong desire to attempt one of these expeditions in search of the unknown."
"Or the ideal," smiled the American.
"If you like it. As long as my father was alive I kept my ideas to myself, but as soon as my actions were quite free my old ideas were revived. An opportunity presented itself which I eagerly embraced. Confiding my house of business to a trustworthy partner, I started."
"You had a definite object, I suppose?"
"No; I went wherever chance or my feelings urged me," the other answered.
"My young friend," said Dickson, laughing, "chance plays too great a part in all this. You will excuse me if I don't believe a word of your story."
"You are not generous, sir."
"I am not generous?"
"You will not believe that a young man could give way to his adventurous instincts; and yet you, a wise man, very much older than I am, you, whose position was settled, I find you here, without being able to give the slightest explanation of your conduct."
"Well answered, George. You hit me hard, but you know I am an old fool. I am so, as sure as fate. Yes, my friend, I am mad enough for a straitjacket. But at the same time, I can see that you will not make me your confidant."
"I assure you – " began Clinton.
"What is the use of holding out any longer? You must rely on me in the end; but when you do come to me with the truth, it will be my turn."
"You are not angry with me?"
"No, my boy: keep your secrets; but remember I am your friend. Keep your own counsel then, if you will – it concerns only yourself. But remember, whenever you want me, I am ready," he answered.
"I know not how to thank you."
"What nonsense! You owe me nothing. It is I who am your debtor. But it is getting late, and I must return to the camp, where they must be getting anxious. Thanks to my rest I feel not only able to walk, but to carry the confounded deer."
"Wait, however, while I clean and skin him. It will then be easier."
"You are quite right. Be quick, as we are short of food."
"But the country is enormously rich in game, and what a beautiful spot!"
"It certainly is," replied Samuel, after which his young friend soon prepared the game so as to be easily carried.
"And now take my arm while I lead you through the defile, which is the only way out of the valley."
And so they started, Samuel walking much better than he expected, though suffering much.
"One favour," said the young man, after a time.
"What is it, my friend?" asked Samuel.
"Say not one word of our meeting."
"Since you wish it, I will be strictly silent on the subject. Like other people I know, I will invent some sort of story – it is not difficult."
The young man smiled, and shook him heartily by the hand. Then Samuel Dickson walked away in the direction of the camp, while George busied himself in the valley.
CHAPTER VII.
JOSHUA DICKSON BECOMES MASTER OF THE VALLEY
After Samuel had walked some distance he found that he had miscalculated his strength. He was very weak about the ankle, and the way being rude and his load heavy, he could scarcely get along at all. Still he would not abandon the deer, knowing as he did how short of provisions they were in the camp.
Wiping the cold perspiration off his brow, the brave American resumed his journey.
The sufferings he endured it would be impossible to describe; at length he became scarcely able to drag one foot before the other; every now and then he had to stop, as the blood rushed to his head and myriad sparkles flashed before his eyes. He seemed to have the vertigo, his mouth was parched, his chest panting, his temples throbbing, and his eyes almost starting from his head.
When he had staggered to within five hundred feet of the camp he was utterly exhausted, and fell insensible on the grass, where he remained inert and motionless for a quarter of an hour. Luckily, as he roused himself, he found a small rivulet flowing at his feet. In this he bathed his hands and face, and felt better.
But he could walk no farther; that he knew was impossible. He, however, suspected they were looking for him, and if they heard him would come to his assistance. His voice was powerless to reach them. There remained his rifle. Still seated on the ground, he loaded and fired three times in succession.
He had not long to wait before he saw his brother and nephews running towards him.
He was too weak to enter upon any explanations, but one nephew taking up the deer and the other their uncle, they at once made for the camp, where Mrs. Dickson and Diana anxiously awaited them.
When they saw the hunter they believed him dead.
Joshua had a great deal of difficulty in persuading them that he had only fainted, and was in no danger.
The Americans, especially the hunters and trappers, have great experience in wounds and bruises.
The sick man was at once carried to a covered waggon, placed upon a mattress, and stripped.
"Heavens!" cried Joshua, as he examined the numerous black bruises, "Poor Samuel has indeed had a bad fall. I wonder he was not killed outright."
"Fortunate nothing is broken," said the eldest son.
"So it is," replied the father; "and now let us do the best we can for him while your mother cooks the deer meat for breakfast. It was for us poor Sam risked his life. Get the camphorated brandy and some wool, and don't forget to tell your mother to cook the game. She is rather apt to burn venison, which does not improve its flavour. While you are about it bring the rum bottle – a little poured down his throat will do him good. Above all, be quick."
Having given these orders, Joshua bathed his brother's forehead with cold water, passed burnt feathers under his nose, and did everything which could be done under the circumstances. Still the sick man never moved.
"Let us try the rum," he said, as his son returned.
And as he spoke, he forced open the other's teeth with the blade of his knife, and putting the neck of the bottle to his mouth, let the liquor slip through.
Samuel smacked his lips and opened his eyes.
"That is something like. And now to work."
The two men then, dipping the wool in camphorated brandy, began to rub the bruises.
Such a remedy, so roughly employed, was very soon quite efficacious. The sick man sat up, howling furiously, and trying to escape from their clutches.
But the two men, believing in the remedy, continued, and, despite all their victim could say, despite his prayers, howls, and curses, he finally had to submit to the treatment for half an hour.
"There you are," cried Joshua; "now try and sleep."
"Go to old Nick!" roared Samuel; "I'm skinned alive."
"You are as fussy as a woman. We scarcely touched you. Tonight we shall do it again perfectly, and tomorrow you will be quite well," said Joshua.
Samuel shuddered, but said nothing; shortly after he, however, slept soundly. At night the two men came again, and, despite his lamentations, protestations, and prayers, continued to rub him as before, with all the vigour of which their hands and arms were capable.
Then Joshua told his brother to go to sleep, promising if in the morning he was not quite well to give him one more dose.
But Samuel was up first, and when they came to find him, he was dressed, singing "Yankee Doodle."
His brother was delighted, and while wishing him joy, highly eulogised his remedy, the very mention of which caused Samuel to shudder.
He was then questioned as to his adventure, which he related, leaving out all mention, however, of George Clinton. They were at breakfast, and everyone listened with avidity. The ladies especially, who were weary of their journey, heard the description of the beautiful valley with extreme delight.
"To conclude, I beg to remark," Samuel wound up by saying, "that I never saw a spot better suited for a settlement."
"We shall see," drily remarked Joshua.
Samuel knew his brother well, and was well aware how he should be treated.
"As for myself," he added, with indifference, "I don't care where or when we stop. As we have gone so far in the desert, what matters fifty leagues more or less? Let us then go ahead. Push on by all means, even as far as the Bay of Hudson."
"I don't want to go as far as that," cried Joshua; "if the valley's anything like what you say, perhaps we may stop."
"Well, perhaps it may not suit you. Everybody, you know, to their taste," continued Samuel.
"I shall judge for myself," replied Joshua.
"If we are to stop here all day," Samuel urged, quite satisfied, "I and Harry will fetch the deerskin."
"Why not go with me?" said his brother.
"I shall be delighted with your company."
"Then, by Jove, we'll all go. It will be a walk. Harry, Sam, Jack, tell Sandy to be ready for a start. Let the camp be raised. Tonight we will camp in the valley and examine it at our ease."
"You raise the camp for so small a journey?" said Mrs. Dickson.
"Does it displease you, mistress?"
"No. But it is a useless fatigue for horses and men."
"I shall do as I think proper," said the squatter, drily, as he went to hurry his men.
Samuel Dickson and the ladies smiled. They knew now they would stop in the valley.
An hour later the whole caravan took its way in the direction of the defile, preceded by a dozen of the hired men and others with hatchets, to act as pioneers.
Though he declared his health was quite restored, Samuel Dickson, instead of riding on horseback, clambered into a waggon with his sister-in-law and niece, with whom he gaily discoursed.
Every now and then the old farmer looked sideways at the countenance of his pale and thoughtful niece, smiled to himself, and rubbed his hands with intense satisfaction.
Neither mother nor daughter could make out his pantomime, but after a few trials they knew it was useless to question him, and so let him chuckle to himself.
Joshua Dickson, without allowing it to be seen, had been very much struck by what his brother had said. Instead, therefore, of riding beside the caravan as usual, he had gone on in front.
Presently, as if no longer able to resist the impulse of curiosity which was devouring him, he signed to his three sons to follow, and next minute the four men were off at a hard gallop and were soon lost in the defile.
"The fish is in the net," said Samuel Dickson, with a hearty laugh.
"Is the valley so beautiful as you say?" asked Mrs. Dickson.
"Much more so. It is simply a terrestrial paradise. If you were to hunt for months you would never find a more agreeable or advantageous position. Everything is to be found in abundance, wood, water, pasture, and above all, game."
"If Joshua would only settle."
"A good deal depends on you."
"I have not the influence you suppose over my husband. You know his vagabond humour."
"He will remain here if you wish him to."
"I hope you are right," replied the wife, with a sigh.
"Chut! Here he comes. Attention, this is the decisive moment," whispered Samuel, as Joshua came up.
"Holloa!" he cried, "I have come from the valley."
"Did you find the deerskin I left behind?"
"Deerskin be – " was the excited answer; "I had no time to think of it. But what a delicious valley! I never saw anything so beautiful in all my life."
"It is certainly pretty fair, but not worthy of such frantic eulogy," said Samuel.
"What a man you are!" cried Joshua; "You must always disagree with me. The moment I like a thing you must depreciate it."
"Do you then mean to make some stay in the valley?" asked Mrs. Dickson, innocently enough.
"Some stay, mistress!" cried the husband; "What are you dreaming about? I mean to take the whole valley. It belongs to no one now. It shall therefore be ours – that is, mine and my brother's."
"I want very little," said Samuel.
"You shall have your right share, no more and no less. Do you think I would cheat you?"
"Far from me be such a thought."
"But, my dear," said the wife, "pray think."
"I have thought," he replied, abruptly; "and my resolution is irrevocable. So thoroughly have I made up my mind that I have come back alone, leaving the children at work."
"At work!" cried Samuel.
"Yes; they are cutting down trees and clearing the ground. This will be so much gained, as the season is far advanced, and we have not a moment to lose if we would have our settlement quite ready for the winter."
All this while the caravan was advancing, and by degrees had got halfway through the defile.
"This narrow way might easily be stopped," said Joshua.
"Very useful idea, as many redskins are about."
"But we are very numerous."
"Yes; but if we are attacked we have no neighbours to help us, and must count only on ourselves alone."
"We shall be sufficient," drily responded Joshua.
"I hope so, and yet I doubt if the Indians leave us in peaceable possession if game is as abundant as I believe."
"Bah! Who cares? If the Indians come we will give them such a reception as shall astonish them."
"Who lives longest will see the most. It is best to be prudent," responded Samuel.
The squatter, half angry at his brother's manner, gave up the conversation, and, spurring his horse, disappeared.
"Now," said Samuel, with a smile, as the other rode off, "you may be satisfied. Joshua is sufficiently annoyed at my opposition to become seriously obstinate. Nothing will make him change his mind now."
"Perhaps you went a little too far."
"Not a bit, I only stimulated him."
"But what you said about the Indians made me seriously uneasy. Are there any about?"
"I suppose so, as we are in the very centre of their territory. They may not attack us if let alone."
"But this valley may belong to them."
"Then we shall have to negotiate with the tribe to which the place belongs. We shall buy it of the redskins – a thing done every day."
"You ought to know Joshua better by this time. He will take the land, and refuse all compromises."
"I know him; but should the contingency come, we must make him listen to reason. But look, we are entering on the confines of this garden of Eden, which henceforth will be all our own," cried Samuel.
"What a magnificent country!" cried the squatter's wife.
Miss Diana, despite her sadness and habit of concentrated thought, could not restrain an exclamation of surprise at the sight of the grand spectacle before her.
"Don't be too enthusiastic," said Samuel. "Here is Joshua."
A hundred paces off Joshua had halted, his sons beside him on horseback, gun in hand. The squatter held the American flag in his right hand. As soon as all the waggons were in the valley he signed to everybody to advance.
All the serving men and women surrounded the squatter. His wife, daughter, and Samuel remained in the waggon.
The squatter, making his horse prance, waved the American flag over his head, then he planted the staff in the earth, and cried in a loud firm voice:
"I take possession of this wild territory by the right of the first occupant I proclaim myself its sole lord and master, and if anyone, white or black, dares to claim it, I will defend myself to the last gasp."
"Hurrah! Long live America!" cried all.
"My friends," continued the trapper, "we are now at home. This valley which we shall soon cultivate and bring to prosperity and civilisation, is the Valley of the Deer."
"Long live the Valley of the Deer!" cried all.
The squatter then headed the caravan, and led it to the spot he had selected for a settlement. It was twelve o'clock. At a little after two the ancient trees were falling beneath the axes of the Americans.