The manner in which the friendship between the red boy and the white was inst.i.tuted and kept up was somewhat peculiar and almost incomprehensible, for neither spoke the language of the other except to a very slight extent. Leaping Buck"s father had, indeed, picked up a pretty fair smattering of English during his frequent expeditions into the gold-fields, which, at the period we write of, were being rapidly developed. Paul Bevan, too, during occasional hunting expeditions among the red men, had acquired a considerable knowledge of the dialect spoken in that part of the country, but Leaping Buck had not visited the diggings with his father, so that his knowledge of English was confined to the smattering which he had picked up from Paul and his father. In like manner Tolly Trevor"s acquaintance with the native tongue consisted of the little that had been imparted to him by his friend Paul Bevan.
Mahoghany Drake, on the contrary, spoke Indian fluently, and it must be understood that in the discourses which he delivered to the two boys he mixed up English and Indian in an amazing compound which served to render him intelligible to both, but which, for the reader"s sake, we feel constrained to give in the trapper"s ordinary English.
"It was in a place just like this," said Drake, stopping with his two little friends on reaching a height, and turning round to survey the scene behind him, "that a queer splinter of a man who was fond o"
callin" himself an ornithologist shot a grizzly b"ar wi" a mere popgun that was only fit for a squawkin" babby"s plaything."
"Oh! do sit down, Mahoghany," cried little Trevor, in a voice of entreaty; "I"m so fond of hearin" about grizzlies, an" I"d give all the world to meet one myself, so would Buckie here, wouldn"t you?"
The Indian boy, whose name Tolly had thus modified, tried to a.s.sent to this proposal by bending his little head in a stately manner, in imitation of his dignified father.
"Well, I don"t mind if I do," replied the trapper, with a twinkle of his eyes.
Mahoghany Drake was blessed with that rare gift, the power to invest with interest almost any subject, no matter how trivial or commonplace, on which he chose to speak. Whether it was the charm of a musical voice, or the serious tone and manner of an earnest man, we cannot tell, but certain it is, that whenever or wherever he began to talk, men stopped to listen, and were held enchained until he had finished.
On the present occasion the trapper seated himself on a green bank that lay close to the edge of a steep precipice, and laid his rifle across his knees, while the boys sat down one on each side of him.
The view from the elevated spot on which they sat was most exquisite, embracing the entire length of the valley at the other end of which the Indian village lay, its inhabitants reduced to mere specks and its wigwams to little cones, by distance. Owing also to the height of the spot, the view of surrounding mountains was extended, so that range upon range was seen in softened perspective, while a variety of lakelets, with their connecting watercourses, which were hidden by foliage in the lower grounds, were now opened up to view. Glowing sunshine glittered on the waters and bathed the hills and valleys, deepening the near shadows and intensifying the purple and blue of those more distant.
"It often makes me wonder," said the trapper, in a reflective tone, as if speaking rather to himself than to his companions, "why the Almighty has made the world so beautiful an" parfect an" allowed mankind to grow so awful bad."
The boys did not venture to reply, but as Drake sat gazing in dreamy silence at the far-off hills, little Trevor, who recalled some of his conversations with the Rose of Oregon, ventured to say, "P"r"aps we"ll find out some day, though we don"t understand it just now."
"True, lad, true," returned Drake. "It would be well for us if we always looked at it in that light, instead o" findin" fault wi" things as they are, for it stands to reason that the Maker of all can fall into no mistakes."
"But what about the ornithologist?" said Tolly, who had no desire that the conversation should drift into abstruse subjects.
"Ay, ay, lad, I"m comin" to him," replied the trapper, with the humorous twinkle that seemed to hover always about the corners of his eyes, ready for instant development. "Well, you must know, this was the way of it-- and it do make me larf yet when I think o" the face o" that spider-legged critter goin" at the rate of twenty miles an hour or thereabouts wi" that most awful-lookin" grizzly b"ar peltin" after him.--Hist! Look there, Tolly. A chance for your popgun."
The trapper pointed as he spoke to a flock of wild duck that was coming straight towards the spot on which they sat. The "popgun" to which he referred was one of the smooth-bore flint-lock single-barrelled fowling-pieces which traders were in the habit of supplying to the natives at that time, and which Unaco had lent to the boy for the day, with his powder-horn and ornamented shot-pouch.
For the three hunters to drop behind the bank on which they had been sitting was the work of a moment.
Young though he was, Tolly had already become a fair and ready shot. He selected the largest bird in the flock, covered it with a deadly aim, and pulled the trigger. But the click of the lock was not followed by an explosion as the birds whirred swiftly on.
"Ah! my boy," observed the trapper, taking the gun quietly from the boy"s hand and proceeding to chip the edge of the flint, "you should never go a-huntin" without seein" that your flint is properly fixed."
"But I did see to it," replied Tolly, in a disappointed tone, "and it struck fire splendidly when I tried it before startin"."
"True, boy, but the thing is worn too short, an" though its edge is pretty well, you didn"t screw it firm enough, so it got drove back a bit and the hammer-head, as well as the flint, strikes the steel, d"ye see?
There now, prime it again, an" be sure ye wipe the pan before puttin" in the powder. It"s not worth while to be disap"inted about so small a matter. You"ll git plenty more chances. See, there"s another flock comin". Don"t hurry, lad. If ye want to be a good hunter always keep cool, an" take time. Better lose a chance than hurry. A chance lost you see, is only a chance lost, but blazin" in a hurry is a bad lesson that ye"ve got to unlarn."
The trapper"s advice was cut short by the report of Tolly"s gun, and next moment a fat duck, striking the ground in front of them, rolled fluttering to their feet.
"Not badly done, Tolly," said the trapper, with a nod, as he reseated himself on the bank, while Leaping Buck picked up the bird, which was by that time dead, and the young sportsman recharged his gun; "just a leetle too hurried. If you had taken only half a second more time to put the gun to your shoulder, you"d have brought the bird to the ground dead; and you boys can"t larn too soon that you should never give needless pain to critters that you"ve got to kill. You must shoot, of course, or you"d starve; but always make sure of killin" at once, an"
the only way to do that is to keep cool an" take time. You see, it ain"t the aim you take that matters so much, as the coolness an"
steadiness with which ye put the gun to your shoulder. If you only do that steadily an" without hurry, the gun is sure to p"int straight for"ard an" the aim"ll look arter itself. Nevertheless, it was smartly done, lad, for it"s a difficult shot when a wild duck comes straight for your head like a cannon-ball."
"But what about the ornithologist;" said Tolly, who, albeit well pleased at the trapper"s complimentary remarks, did not quite relish his criticism.
"Yes, yes; I"m comin" to that. Well, as I was sayin", it makes me larf yet, when I thinks on it. How he did run, to be sure! Greased lightnin" could scarce have kep" up wi" him."
"But where was he a-runnin" to, an" why?" asked little Trevor, impatiently.
"Now, you leetle boy," said Drake, with a look of grave remonstrance, "don"t you go an" git impatient. Patience is one o" the backwoods vartues, without which you"ll never git on at all. If you don"t cultivate patience you may as well go an" live in the settlements or the big cities--where it don"t much matter what a man is--but it"ll be no use to stop in the wilderness. There"s Leapin" Buck, now, a-sittin" as quiet as a Redskin warrior on guard! Take a lesson from him, lad, an"
restrain yourself. Well, as I was goin" to say, I was out settin" my traps somewheres about the head-waters o" the Yellowstone river at the time when I fell in wi" the critter. I couldn"t rightly make out what he was, for, though I"ve seed mostly all sorts o" men in my day, I"d never met in wi" one o" this sort before. It wasn"t his bodily shape that puzzled me, though that was queer enough, but his occupation that staggered me. He was a long, thin, spider-shaped article that seemed to have run to seed--all stalk with a frowsy top, for his hair was long an"
dry an" fly-about. I"m six-futt one myself, but my step was a mere joke to his stride! He seemed split up to the neck, like a pair o" human compa.s.ses, an" his clo"s fitted so tight that he might have pa.s.sed for a livin" skeleton!
"Well, it was close upon sundown, an" I was joggin" along to my tent in the bush when I came to an openin" where I saw the critter down on one knee an" his gun up takin" aim at somethin". I stopped to let him have his shot, for I count it a mortal sin to spoil a man"s sport, an" I looked hard to see what it was he was goin" to let drive at, but never a thing could I see, far or near, except a small bit of a bird about the size of a big bee, sittin" on a branch not far from his nose an" c.o.c.kin"
its eye at him as much as to say, `Well, you air a queer "un!"
`Surely," thought I, `he ain"t a-goin" to blaze at _that_!" But I"d scarce thought it when he did blaze at it an" down it came flop on its back, as dead as mutton!
"`Well, stranger," says I, goin" for"ard, `you do seem to be hard up for victuals when you"d shoot a small thing like that!" `Not at all, my good man," says he--an" the critter had a kindly smile an" a sensible face enough--`you must know that I am shootin" birds for scientific purposes. I am an ornithologist."
"`Oh!" say I, for I didn"t rightly know what else to say to that.
"`Yes," says he; `an" see here."
"Wi" that he opens a bag he had on his back an" showed me a lot o"
birds, big an" small, that he"d been shootin"; an" then he pulls out a small book, in which he"d been makin" picturs of "em--an" r"ally I was raither took wi" that for the critter had got "em down there almost as good as natur". They actooally looked as if they was alive!
"`Shut the book, sir," says I, `or they"ll all escape!"
"It was only a small joke I meant, but the critter took it for a big "un an" larfed at it till he made me half ashamed.
"`D"ye know any of these birds?" he axed, arter we"d looked at a lot of "em.
"`Know "em?" says I; `I should think I does! Why, I"ve lived among "em ever since I was a babby!"
"`Indeed!" says he, an" he got quite excited, `how interestin"! An" do you know anythin" about their habits?"
"`If you mean by that their ways o" goin" on," says I, `there"s hardly a thing about "em that I don"t know, except what they _think_, an"
sometimes I"ve a sort o" notion I could make a pretty fair guess at that too."
"`Will you come to my camp and spend the night with me?" he asked, gettin" more an" more excited.
"`No, stranger, I won"t," says I; `but if you"ll come to mine I"ll feed you an" make you heartily welcome," for somehow I"d took quite a fancy to the critter.
"`I"ll go," says he, an" he went an" we had such a night of it! He didn"t let me have a wink o" sleep till pretty nigh daylight the next mornin", an" axed me more questions about birds an" beasts an" fishes than I was iver axed before in the whole course o" my life--an" it warn"t yesterday I was born. I began to feel quite like a settlement boy at school. An" he set it all down, too, as fast as I could speak, in the queerest hand-writin" you ever did see. At last I couldn"t stand it no longer.
"`Mister Ornithologist" says I.
"`Well," says he.
"`There"s a pecooliar beast in them parts," says I, `"as has got some pretty stiff an" settled habits."
"`Is there?" says he, wakin" up again quite fresh, though he had been growin" sleepy.
"`Yes," says I, `an" it"s a obstinate sort o" brute that won"t change its habits for n.o.body. One o" these habits is that it turns in of a night quite reg"lar an" has a good snooze before goin" to work next day.
Its name is Mahoghany Drake, an" that"s me, so I"ll bid you good-night, stranger."