The Prairie (4 page)

"Ellen Wade."

The girl who has been already introduced to the reader, and who was
occupied with the others of her sex around the fires, sprang willingly
forward at this summons; and, passing the stranger with the activity of
a young antelope, she was instantly lost behind the forbidden folds of
the tent. Neither her sudden disappearance, nor any of the arrangements
we have mentioned, seemed, however, to excite the smallest surprise
among the remainder of the party. The young men, who had already
completed their tasks with the axe, were all engaged after their
lounging and listless manner; some in bestowing equitable portions
of the fodder among the different animals; others in plying the heavy
pestle of a moveable homminy-mortar
[4]
; and one or two in wheeling the
remainder of the wagons aside, and arranging them in such a manner as to
form a sort of outwork for their otherwise defenceless bivouac.

These several duties were soon performed, and, as darkness now began
to conceal the objects on the surrounding prairie, the shrill-toned
termagant, whose voice since the halt had been diligently exercised
among her idle and drowsy offspring, announced, in tones that might have
been heard at a dangerous distance, that the evening meal waited only
for the approach of those who were to consume it. Whatever may be the
other qualities of a border man, he is seldom deficient in the virtue
of hospitality. The emigrant no sooner heard the sharp call of his wife,
than he cast his eyes about him in quest of the stranger, in order to
offer him the place of distinction, in the rude entertainment to which
they were so unceremoniously summoned.

"I thank you, friend," the old man replied to the rough invitation to
take a seat nigh the smoking kettle; "you have my hearty thanks; but
I have eaten for the day, and am not one of them, who dig their graves
with their teeth. Well; as you wish it, I will take a place, for it is
long sin' I have seen people of my colour, eating their daily bread."

"You ar' an old settler, in these districts, then?" the emigrant rather
remarked than enquired, with a mouth filled nearly to overflowing with
the delicious homminy, prepared by his skilful, though repulsive
spouse. "They told us below, we should find settlers something thinnish,
hereaway, and I must say, the report was mainly true; for, unless, we
count the Canada traders on the big river, you ar' the first white face
I have met, in a good five hundred miles; that is calculating according
to your own reckoning."

"Though I have spent some years, in this quarter, I can hardly be called
a settler, seeing that I have no regular abode, and seldom pass more
than a month, at a time, on the same range."

"A hunter, I reckon?" the other continued, glancing his eyes aside, as
if to examine the equipments of his new acquaintance; "your fixen seem
none of the best, for such a calling."

"They are old, and nearly ready to be laid aside, like their master,"
said the old man, regarding his rifle, with a look in which affection
and regret were singularly blended; "and I may say they are but little
needed, too. You are mistaken, friend, in calling me a hunter; I am
nothing better than a trapper."
[5]

"If you ar' much of the one, I'm bold to say you ar' something of the
other; for the two callings, go mainly together, in these districts."

"To the shame of the man who is able to follow the first be it so said!"
returned the trapper, whom in future we shall choose to designate by
his pursuit; "for more than fifty years did I carry my rifle in the
wilderness, without so much as setting a snare for even a bird that
flies the heavens;—much less, a beast that has nothing but legs, for
its gifts."

"I see but little difference whether a man gets his peltry by the rifle
or by the trap," said the ill-looking companion of the emigrant, in his
rough manner. "The 'arth was made for our comfort; and, for that matter,
so ar' its creatur's."

"You seem to have but little plunder,
[6]
stranger, for one who is far
abroad," bluntly interrupted the emigrant, as if he had a reason for
wishing to change the conversation. "I hope you ar' better off for
skins."

"I make but little use of either," the trapper quietly replied. "At my
time of life, food and clothing be all that is needed; and I have little
occasion for what you call plunder, unless it may be, now and then, to
barter for a horn of powder, or a bar of lead."

"You ar' not, then, of these parts by natur', friend," the emigrant
continued, having in his mind the exception which the other had taken
to the very equivocal word, which he himself, according to the custom of
the country, had used for "baggage," or "effects."

"I was born on the sea-shore, though most of my life has been passed in
the woods."

The whole party now looked up at him, as men are apt to turn their eyes
on some unexpected object of general interest. One or two of the young
men repeated the words "sea-shore" and the woman tendered him one
of those civilities with which, uncouth as they were, she was little
accustomed to grace her hospitality, as if in deference to the travelled
dignity of her guest. After a long, and, seemingly, a meditating
silence, the emigrant, who had, however, seen no apparent necessity to
suspend the functions of his masticating powers, resumed the discourse.

"It is a long road, as I have heard, from the waters of the west to the
shores of the main sea?"

"It is a weary path, indeed, friend; and much have I seen, and something
have I suffered, in journeying over it."

"A man would see a good deal of hard travel in going its length!"

"Seventy and five years have I been upon the road; and there are not
half that number of leagues in the whole distance, after you leave the
Hudson, on which I have not tasted venison of my own killing. But this
is vain boasting. Of what use are former deeds, when time draws to an
end?"

"I once met a man that had boated on the river he names," observed the
eldest son, speaking in a low tone of voice, like one who distrusted his
knowledge, and deemed it prudent to assume a becoming diffidence in the
presence of a man who had seen so much: "from his tell, it must be
a considerable stream, and deep enough for a keel-boat, from top to
bottom."

"It is a wide and deep water-course, and many sightly towns are there
growing on its banks," returned the trapper; "and yet it is but a brook
to the waters of the endless river."

"I call nothing a stream that a man can travel round," exclaimed the
ill-looking associate of the emigrant: "a real river must be crossed;
not headed, like a bear in a county hunt."
[7]

"Have you been far towards the sun-down, friend?" interrupted the
emigrant, as if he desired to keep his rough companion as much as
possible out of the discourse. "I find it is a wide tract of clearing,
this, into which I have fallen."

"You may travel weeks, and you will see it the same. I often think the
Lord has placed this barren belt of prairie behind the States, to
warn men to what their folly may yet bring the land! Ay, weeks, if not
months, may you journey in these open fields, in which there is neither
dwelling nor habitation for man or beast. Even the savage animals travel
miles on miles to seek their dens; and yet the wind seldom blows from
the east, but I conceit the sound of axes, and the crash of falling
trees, are in my ears."

As the old man spoke with the seriousness and dignity that age seldom
fails to communicate even to less striking sentiments, his auditors were
deeply attentive, and as silent as the grave. Indeed, the trapper
was left to renew the dialogue himself, which he soon did by asking
a question, in the indirect manner so much in use by the border
inhabitants.

"You found it no easy matter to ford the water-courses, and to make your
way so deep into the prairies, friend, with teams of horses and herds of
horned beasts?"

"I kept the left bank of the main river," the emigrant replied, "until I
found the stream leading too much to the north, when we rafted ourselves
across without any great suffering. The women lost a fleece or two
from the next year's shearing, and the girls have one cow less to their
dairy. Since then, we have done bravely, by bridging a creek every day
or two."

"It is likely you will continue west, until you come to land more
suitable for a settlement?"

"Until I see reason to stop, or to turn ag'in," the emigrant bluntly
answered, rising at the same time, and cutting short the dialogue by the
suddenness of the movement. His example was followed by the trapper, as
well as the rest of the party; and then, without much deference to
the presence of their guest, the travellers proceeded to make their
dispositions to pass the night. Several little bowers, or rather huts,
had already been formed of the tops of trees, blankets of coarse country
manufacture, and the skins of buffaloes, united without much reference
to any other object than temporary comfort. Into these covers the
children, with their mother, soon drew themselves, and where, it is more
than possible, they were all speedily lost in the oblivion of sleep.
Before the men, however, could seek their rest, they had sundry little
duties to perform; such as completing their works of defence, carefully
concealing the fires, replenishing the fodder of their cattle, and
setting the watch that was to protect the party, in the approaching
hours of night.

The former was effected by dragging the trunks of a few trees into
the intervals left by the wagons, and along the open space between the
vehicles and the thicket, on which, in military language, the encampment
would be said to have rested; thus forming a sort of chevaux-de-frise
on three sides of the position. Within these narrow limits (with the
exception of what the tent contained), both man and beast were now
collected; the latter being far too happy in resting their weary
limbs, to give any undue annoyance to their scarcely more intelligent
associates. Two of the young men took their rifles; and, first renewing
the priming, and examining the flints with the utmost care, they
proceeded, the one to the extreme right, and the other to the left, of
the encampment, where they posted themselves within the shadows of the
thicket; but in such positions as enabled each to overlook a portion of
the prairie.

The trapper loitered about the place, declining to share the straw
of the emigrant, until the whole arrangement was completed; and then,
without the ceremony of an adieu, he slowly retired from the spot.

It was now in the first watch of the night; and the pale, quivering, and
deceptive light, from a new moon, was playing over the endless waves of
the prairie, tipping the swells with gleams of brightness, and leaving
the interval land in deep shadow. Accustomed to scenes of solitude like
the present, the old man, as he left the encampment, proceeded alone
into the waste, like a bold vessel leaving its haven to enter on the
trackless field of the ocean. He appeared to move for some time without
object, or, indeed, without any apparent consciousness, whither his
limbs were carrying him. At length, on reaching the rise of one of the
undulations, he came to a stand; and, for the first time since leaving
the band, who had caused such a flood of reflections and recollections
to crowd upon his mind, the old man became aware of his present
situation. Throwing one end of his rifle to the earth, he stood leaning
on the other, again lost in deep contemplation for several minutes,
during which time his hound came and crouched at his feet. A deep,
menacing growl, from the faithful animal, first aroused him from his
musing.

"What now, dog?" he said, looking down at his companion, as if he
addressed a being of an intelligence equal to his own, and speaking in
a voice of great affection. "What is it, pup? ha! Hector; what is it
nosing, now? It won't do, dog; it won't do; the very fa'ns play in open
view of us, without minding so worn out curs, as you and I. Instinct
is their gift, Hector and, they have found out how little we are to be
feared, they have!"

The dog stretched his head upward, and responded to the words of his
master by a long and plaintive whine, which he even continued after he
had again buried his head in the grass, as if he held an intelligent
communication with one who so well knew how to interpret dumb discourse.

"This is a manifest warning, Hector!" the trapper continued, dropping
his voice, to the tones of caution and looking warily about him. "What
is it, pup; speak plainer, dog; what is it?"

The hound had, however, already laid his nose to the earth, and was
silent; appearing to slumber. But the keen quick glances of his master,
soon caught a glimpse of a distant figure, which seemed, through the
deceptive light, floating along the very elevation on which he had
placed himself. Presently its proportions became more distinct, and then
an airy, female form appeared to hesitate, as if considering whether it
would be prudent to advance. Though the eyes of the dog were now to be
seen glancing in the rays of the moon, opening and shutting lazily, he
gave no further signs of displeasure.

"Come nigher; we are friends," said the trapper, associating himself
with his companion by long use, and, probably, through the strength of
the secret tie that connected them together; "we are your friends; none
will harm you."

Encouraged by the mild tones of his voice, and perhaps led on by the
earnestness of her purpose, the female approached, until she stood at
his side; when the old man perceived his visitor to be the young woman,
with whom the reader, has already become acquainted by the name of
"Ellen Wade."

"I had thought you were gone," she said, looking timidly and anxiously
around. "They said you were gone; and that we should never see you
again. I did not think it was you!"