There was no such thing as catching Dick unprepared. No doubt he had before now considered just what should be done in such an emergency.
Even while the excited Roger was speaking, Dick had acted. Of course the only thing that could be done in order to give the descending bear a fright was to fire a shot into his hindquarters at close range. No bear could stand that, Dick felt certain. The only thing that gave the boy cause for concern was that the animal might have pushed into the opening so far that, in his alarm, he would lose his grip above, and come down upon them, crushing both under his weight.
The report of Dick’s rifle sounded like a peal of thunder. There was a tremendous clawing noise above, and, for a brief interval, Dick’s heart was in his throat.
Then the clawing ceased inside the hollow tree, and, at the same time, Roger’s voice rang out.
“He’s climbed out in a bigger hurry than he came in, Dick! You gave him a pain that time. He must think hornets have built a nest in his old den, and you won’t get that smart bear coming back here in a hurry again. There, I heard him strike the ground! Perhaps you hit him harder than you meant to, Dick, and we might get him for the larder, if we wanted!”
“Not much chance of that when I had only his hindquarters to shoot into,” the other declared; “but, all the same, he’s skipped out, and taken to the woods. What’s a little rain to a furry coat like his, after sleeping all winter? But one thing is sure, Roger, the rain is slackening up.”
“Yes,” added the other, “and the wind, too; for it doesn’t howl as it did. But, let me tell you, I’m glad that thunder doesn’t growl so much now. When that loud crash came I got a bad scare, because I thought how lightning likes to pick out a big oak like this, and splinter it from top to bottom.”
“You wouldn’t have known what hurt you, if it had struck this tree; and there’s a little satisfaction in that, Roger. But, when I get my gun loaded, I mean to climb up, and take an observation.”
“How lucky that we’ve got that rope to help out,” remarked Roger; “for the inside of this old tree feels as smooth as anything, because the bear has clawed his way up and down so many times. We would have had a hard job getting up, only for that.”
“Oh! there are ways, if you only bother thinking them out,” observed the other boy. “With two of us down here, one could climb on the shoulders of the other and, after he got out, help his comrade with his hands. Oh! you’re off, are you? I wondered if you would wait, and let me go first for a change. But, now that you’re half-way up, keep right on, and tell me how things look to you. Be careful how you poke your head out, because, after all, the bear might be waiting for us.”
Roger had little difficulty in reaching the opening. He was so nimble that he could climb any tree like a monkey; but, remembering the warning of his cousin, he tried to take an observation before thrusting his head out.
“All clear, here, Dick!” he called, joyfully; “you gave him a scare, let me tell you—chances are he’s running yet. And better still, the clouds have broken across the river, for, would you believe it, the sun’s peeping out! Better come up, as the rain’s stopped now.”
That was good news for the boy in the hollow tree, and he lost no time in following his companion. Presently both were perched upon the wet limbs, looking around.
“You wounded the bear, Dick, for, see, here are blood marks on the bark,” cried Roger, pointing as he spoke.
“Which I am sorry for,” was the reply, “because I never like to hurt an animal unless I want him for food. And we couldn’t think of trying to follow the trail of the bear at this late hour. Mother might be worried if we didn’t come home by dark, after such a sudden storm. So let’s head back to the boat, and, if the waves have gone down enough, we’ll push out for the other bank.”
“Whew! did you ever see such big bear tracks, Dick?” exclaimed Roger, as he bent down to examine the imprints. “The chances are, now, we’ll never set eyes on anything to beat that in all our lives again;” but, when the boy made that statement, and believed what he was saying, too, he could not possibly foresee the time when he and his cousin would look upon the distant Rocky Mountains, just then almost unknown to white men, and view that greatest of all bears, the terrible grizzly of the foothills. Yet that experience was before them, and nearer than any one could dream.
“Come on, we had better be in a hurry, Roger,” the other called out; “because already it is getting pretty close to sunset, and with so many clouds overhead, darkness is apt to come along soon afterwards. And you know it isn’t safe upon the big river after night sets in.”
They were quickly at the little cove where the dugout had been left, and, much to their satisfaction, they found everything all right.
“I’m glad that bear didn’t get a scent of our fish while he was hurrying home,” Dick remarked.
“That’s so,” the other boy added, “because we happen to know how hungry they are for fish, lots of times. Didn’t we see one scoop a fish out with his paw, once, as he squatted on a log that ran down into the water? But are we going to risk it out there on the river just yet, Dick?”
“It looks pretty rough, I declare; but the waves are going down every minute, so we had better wait a while. Given half an hour, and we ought to be able to cross. The longer we can hold off, the easier our passage will be.”
“I suppose it’s no use throwing out a line again?” mused Roger, whose passion for fishing could never be wholly satisfied.
“Not after such a heavy rain, and with the river rising as it is, Roger. You know enough about fish to remember that they never bite after a rain that washes all sorts of feed into the river, and muddies the water so. Here, we can sit down on this rock, and talk a little.”
“Yes, and Dick, I know that you have something on your mind that’s been worrying you all day. More than once I’ve come near asking what ailed you, and then I held my tongue for fear I might offend. And at our house I notice that father and mother seem worried, too, for they often stop talking when I come in, and look confused, as if they didn’t want me to know what was wrong. Now, if you know, tell me. We’re pretty well grown, and ought to take some of the burdens on our shoulders, it seems to me.”
“Well spoken, Roger, and shake hands with me on that!” exclaimed the older lad, while his sober face lighted up with a mingling of regard for his cousin, and delight over hearing these words spring from his heart. “Yes, you are right, we are old enough to be taken into the councils of our parents; and my father has thought the same, for he told me the nature of the gloom that seems to be hanging over the whole little Armstrong settlement of late.”
“And will you tell me, Dick?” demanded the other, eagerly, while a look akin to resolution flashed over his handsome face. Roger was his father in his younger years over again; a real “chip of the old block,” gentle-hearted, brave, and with only the fault of recklessness to mar his good record.
Sandy Armstrong in early life had taken as his model that sterling young borderer known in the history of the “dark and bloody ground,” Kentucky, as Daniel Boone’s most beloved helper, Simon Kenton; and, as their natures were very much alike, the reason for his admiration had always been very evident.
“Yes,” Dick went on to say, bravely, “because my father said he thought both of us should know; not that he had any idea we could do anything to help; but, if the blow fell, we might be better prepared to stand it.”
“Blow fell!” repeated the other, in sheer astonishment, while his ruddy face lost a little of its color; “why, what can you mean, Dick? Are the Indians going on the warpath; or has that precious wampum belt been lost again, as father told me once happened when he was a boy?”[4]
“No, it is nothing like that, Roger,” replied the other. “It concerns the title to the property our parents bought years ago, and which has been our home all of our lives, up to now.”
“Why, you surprise me, Dick! They bought it, I have heard, from the French traders who owned the section across the river, the pick of the land above the St. Louis settlement.”
“Yes, that is a fact, Roger; but it seems that there is some sort of defect in the title, and an old French trader, François Lascelles by name, with his grown son, Alexis, has threatened to turn us out of our homes by the first of next year, unless we make a new settlement with him, and purchase the ground for a second time. It seems, however, that there is just one way by which the land may be saved.”
“Oh! I am glad to hear that; and if there is anything that I can do, only tell me, and see how quickly I will do it. But it would nearly kill my mother to lose the farm now, because she loves the place so much. Now, tell me what that one thing is.”
“Listen. It seems that there is a man whose signature to certain papers is necessary in order to keep this rascal of a Frenchman from seizing the property by the first of next year. His name is Jasper Williams, and he is a hunter and scout very much like Daniel Boone, the friend of our parents. Both your father and mine have been to great trouble trying to locate this man, and, Roger, think of the bitter disappointment that overwhelmed them upon discovering a few days ago that he is far away in the unknown West, but expects to join the Lewis and Clark exploration party that started out many weeks ago, bound to cross prairies and mountains, and rivers and lakes if necessary, until they finally set eyes on the Pacific Ocean, which we know lies hundreds, perhaps thousands, of miles away from the Mississippi.”
Roger shook his head, as if overwhelmed with sadness.
“Why, they may not be back again for two years, even if they escape the thousand and one perils they must encounter from wild beasts, hostile Sioux and Blackfeet Indians, snow pitfalls in the mountains, starvation on the deserts, and all sorts of other things. Oh! Dick, what a cruel thing this is. And it could all be changed, you say, if only that one man’s signature might be obtained to a certain paper?”
“Yes, so father tells me. And, Roger, do you know what I have been thinking of all this day, while we sat, and fished, and watched the coming of the storm?”
His impulsive cousin glanced up at him quickly, an eager glow in his eyes and a set look on his young face.
“Dick, were you thinking that we might start out, and try to overtake that expedition which President Jefferson has sent to see what our new territory between the river and the ocean is like? (Note 2.) Tell me, would such an idea ever enter the head of so cautious a fellow as Dick Armstrong when it might seem to be only fit for a madcap like myself?”
“Ah! yes! but, Roger, think what the signing of that paper would mean to all those we love! Remember that, unless something is done, we may lose our homes before another spring, and our parents must start all over again. And, if you stop and think, did not our fathers once make almost as dangerous a journey into the unknown country of the Iroquois Indians, at the time our Aunt Kate, their sister, was stolen by a young chief?”
“Yes, yes, every word you say is true, Dick; but the daring of it all staggers me. Do not think for a second that I will hold back, if only we can gain the consent of our parents to making the trial. Think of starting out into that wonderful unknown wilderness, where white men have never until now placed a foot, following in the track of Captain Lewis and Captain Clark, with their little band of soldiers and scouts, not more than forty souls, all told. Oh! let us get back across the river right away, Dick, because I want to beg my father to let me go; and get grandfather to back us up, for he says we are chips of the old blocks, and able to hold our own anywhere.”
“Well, the wind has fallen enough, I think, for us to make the trial; so jump into the dugout, and we’ll paddle for the other shore, Roger.”
There was still danger in crossing the broad river in so small a boat as the clumsy dugout; so that the two lads had to be constantly on their guard against being caught broadside on, when the waves and wind united to beat against their craft.
Fortunately their voyage was almost in the teeth of the elements, and they were not compelled to expose the side of the boat.
Dick always sat in the stern, as he was considered the captain and pilot, being better able to judge of what was proper to do in emergencies than Roger, since there was always a chance of the latter becoming confused, as he himself very frankly admitted.
On this occasion Roger was wild with impatience to get home. What his cousin had just told him had excited him more than anything he had ever heard; and the wonderful prospect that opened to them, if they could obtain the consent of their parents to follow after the President’s expedition in search of the distant Pacific, known only to Balboa’s party long, long before, thrilled him.
No doubt it affected his paddling to some extent, for Dick noticed that he dipped deeper, and made more vigorous strokes, than he could ever remember Roger doing. In fact, he was put to his best efforts to counteract the “swing” that these furious efforts on the part of the head paddler gave the boat.
Once even Dick’s best work could not prevent the dugout from turning partly, so as to expose a side to the wind, and they came very near capsizing.
“Careful, Roger! Not so much ginger in your stroke! We’ll get there in good time, if only you keep up a steady gait. There are no Indians after us, and the supper horn has not blown yet, that I have heard!” Thus Dick chided his impetuous cousin.
After that the other lad, as though himself realizing the folly of allowing his excitement to have such sway over his actions, managed to moderate his speed and they had no more trouble.
Besides, the nearer the boat drew to land, the more shelter they obtained from the fact that the shore was covered with trees, which broke the force of the wind, so that presently they were in comparatively calm waters.
They ran their boat upon a shelving beach, where it was usually kept when the stage of water permitted. The painter was secured to a stake that had been driven into the ground, after which the two boys climbed the bank, and headed for home.
“After you’ve had a talk with your parents, when supper is done, get them to come over to grandfather’s cabin for a grand powwow,” said Dick, as he and Roger were about to separate.
“That’s a good idea,” replied the other; “and, if ever I wished for anything in all my life, it’s that they may say ‘yes.’ I’ll never be happy unless they do, because it would be a glorious thing if we could find that man, Jasper Williams, and get his signature to the paper that will save our homes.”
Dick was a boy of few words. He seldom gave expression to his feelings after the more boisterous manner of his cousin, but the hearty grip which he gave Roger’s hand at parting was more expressive than words, and the other boy knew that his own sentiments were echoed in the heart of his companion.
There were three log cabins not far from each other in the clearing. The middle one of these belonged to Grandfather David Armstrong, the original settler of the place, while, on either side, his two sons, at the time of their marriages, had built homes of a similar type.
They had secured a grant of land that embraced many rich acres, and which, when the settlement of St. Louis grew in size, would become more and more valuable. Knowing this fact, then, it can be seen how the prospect of having their land taken away by a defect in the title affected the Armstrongs, young and old.
Dick strode straight to his own cabin home. He was carrying with him as many of the fish as he could well manage, and expected to send his younger brother, Sam, back to the boat to get the balance of what they had caught.
The night was just settling down, though it would not be dark for some time yet, as the long days had come in with the month of June, which was now not far from its close.
In the west the glow of the sunset still lingered and once again did Dick Armstrong stop for a brief interval to stare at the touches of gold and crimson that flecked the heavens. No doubt the lad was vaguely wondering whether he and his cousin would be allowed to start forth to pierce that unknown wilderness lying under that mysterious sky; and, if so, what wonderful sights might they not set eyes on during the weeks and months of their absence, while trying to find Jasper Williams!
Some such strange thoughts must have been passing through his mind, for he gave vent to a long-drawn sigh as he once more started for the cabin, from the small windows of which shone a cheery light.
Even as he drew near, the door opened, and the form of a woman was outlined as she stood there, evidently looking out into the gloaming. It was Dick’s mother, anxious, as any good mother would be, concerning her boy, who might have been upon the wild and riotous Missouri at the time that summer squall first broke.
“Is that you, Dick?” she called out eagerly, seeing a figure approaching.
“Yes, mother,” came the reply; “we had to wait till the waves went down some, before trying to cross; because, you see, the old dugout is a clumsy thing in a heavy sea. But we came over without shipping much water, and with plenty of fish. I’ll leave them in the shed here, and wash up before I come in.”
But, before doing so, Dick, who knew how anxious his mother must have been during the gale, went up and kissed her.
A short time later he entered the house. The interior of the cabin was like all of its kind. To the boys of the present generation it would doubtless have seemed a very poor makeshift for a home, since so many of the comforts to which they are accustomed were lacking; but in the eyes of Dick Armstrong it meant everything; and with father, mother, and his brother, Sam, present, he could wish for nothing more.
The fire burned brightly on the wide hearth, where the simple supper was cooking. From the heavy rafters overhead hung strings of herbs, and onions, and such things as the good housewife of those days deemed necessary for the welfare of her household. There was also a ham, home-cured; and some strips of dried venison, buffalo meat and even portions of a young bear that Dick had shot during the preceding fall.
White dimity curtains at the windows gave the room a homelike air. The younger boy was oiling several traps that he meant to store away until, with the coming of the crisp frosty air, the next season for taking pelts would have arrived. The father, who has been known in earlier stories concerning this pioneer family as Bob Armstrong, was engaged in reading a newspaper from the Far East that had come to old David, and was such a rarity that it was passed from hand to hand, until decrepit from age and much handling.
Bob had developed into a sturdy man. As has been stated before, he had married the daughter of another settler, whose home was in St. Louis; and made both a good husband and a kind father. Being industrious, he was by degrees developing the farm that had come to him as his share of the grant secured by David Armstrong from the French company owning a greater part of the land around the new settlement. Even now they were getting good crops, and had a barn in which these could be stored.
Taken all in all, this Armstrong settlement was the most thrifty within fifty miles; and people who saw the fields of grain, as well as the animals raised upon the several farms, said that David and his two sons deserved great credit for their persistent energy.
Evidently supper had been waiting on account of the absence of the older boy, for Mrs. Armstrong immediately began serving it, piping hot. If there was not a great variety on the board, at least one could not complain on account of the quantity.
Bob was impatient to hear an account of the fishing excursion, and while the meal went on Dick entertained them all with the story of how he and his cousin happened on the den of the bear in the big hollow oak and, seeking refuge from the storm there, had been surprised by the return of the owner, with the result that they were compelled to treat Mr. Bear rather meanly in order to induce him not to crowd in on them.
Young Sam laughed heartily as he heard the particulars; and even Bob seemed to be vastly amused. No doubt it brought many a similar scene back to his mind, connected with those days in the past when two other boys, himself and his brother Sandy, roamed the woods and valleys in search of game, and met with many surprising adventures by field and flood.
Dick purposely refrained from saying a word concerning the bold scheme which he and Roger had conceived, until after the meal was over.
Mrs. Armstrong was washing up the dishes, and Sam still busily engaged with his traps, with which he and Dick had done good work during the previous winter, when, unable to hold in any longer, Dick sprung his surprise.
“Father, there’s something I want to talk with you about,” he began; and Bob, realizing from the sober tone in which his son spoke that it could be no trifling matter, laid down the paper, and looked at the boy’s flushed face.
“Well, what is it, Dick?” he asked, uneasily; while the mother stopped her work to glance up, and even Sam laid his trap down on the floor, and listened.
“While we were sitting there on the shore, waiting for the wind to quiet down a bit, so we could take chances and cross over, Roger and I got to talking. I told him all you said to me about the shadow that has fallen on our homes here, and, father, Roger, in his impetuous way, declared that we ought to follow up the Lewis and Clark company, to find that man, Jasper Williams, and get his signature to the paper that will save our land from being taken away. And, father, as I heard Roger say that, something in me seemed to rise up and declare that such was our duty. I promised him to get you to go over to Grandfather Armstrong’s cabin after supper, where we could have a council of war, and see if something could not be done to let us two go on this mission!”
When Dick stopped speaking a silence fell upon them all. Father and mother exchanged quick glances, and there were tears in their eyes.
“Oh! Dick, my boy, we could not let you go from us in that way!”
Of course Dick had expected that his mother would say something like this; but he looked more to his father for the consent that would mean so much. The very thought was staggering to those loving hearts; but in those days boys of fifteen and sixteen were so accustomed to thinking and doing for themselves that they were fully trusted by their elders. And, besides, mothers had been brought up in the hard school of experience, thus learning early in life to look upon danger as an ever-present thing.
If his father could be brought to see the desperate undertaking in the right light, Dick knew that the victory was as good as won; for the former would be able to convince the good wife and mother that it was, after all, a reasonable conclusion, as well as the sole hope of saving their imperiled homes.
Bob Armstrong shook his head, even while his eyes grew dim as they rested on Dick’s eager face.
“God knows, your mother and I understand and appreciate the motive that prompts you to say that, my boy,” he said; “but we could not accept the sacrifice that it would mean. If there is no other way to save our farms, then they must go, and we will have to take up some new land, and start in afresh.”
“But, father, why should you feel that way?” the lad went on to say. “Can you not trust me in the woods? Have I ever failed to take every precaution, and up to now has anything serious ever happened to me?”
“No, it is not that, son,” replied Bob; “a man could not wish to have a better boy than you have always been, and I wager you know more woodcraft right now than either your Uncle Sandy or myself had in our heads at your age. But it would not be right for us to stay comfortably at home here, while our sons were meeting with all manner of perils off in that unknown country.”
Dick smiled on hearing that. He believed that, if there was no stronger argument against the venture, his case was already as good as won. And, having thought it all out, he now proceeded to knock away the props from under the structure founded by his father.
“Please look back, father, to your own boyhood days,” he said, soberly. “How many times have you sat there, and told us of how you and Uncle Sandy started out by yourselves on the trail of that young Iroquois chief who carried Aunt Kate away. Yes, you followed him clear to the Great Lakes, to the country that was teeming with enemies. And, in spite of every peril, you and my uncle, with only the help of that old trapper Pat O’Mara, since gone to the Happy Hunting Grounds, and the friendly Indian, Blue Jacket, did rescue Aunt Kate, and even saved the life of Pontiac, who afterwards gave you the magic wampum belt that has kept us from harm all these years. Father, what I am saying is all true, isn’t it?”
“Yes, yes, every word of it, my son; but, then, the conditions were different at that time,” replied the other, hastily. “Our sister had been carried off, my father was far away on the road to Virginia on important business, and there was no one else to go in search of Kate, so brother Sandy and myself had to start out.”
“Ah! yes, but you went willingly, eagerly, I know, father, just as we feel like doing now,” the boy went on.
“But the life and happiness of our only sister was at stake, Dick,” the father said, and yet in a half hesitating way, as though the argument of the boy was already beginning to have its effect.
“Well, the future happiness of three families is at stake now, father. And if in those days you and Uncle Sandy could face the perils of the wilderness, and win out, why should not Roger and I do the same now? All we would have to do would be to follow up the course of the river, week after week, until we caught the expedition; and then keep on with them until Jasper Williams joined them, as he expects to do by the time they reach the Mandan country. After that, having secured his signature to the paper, we could bring it back to you. Why, what could be easier than that? And think of all it means to us, father!”
“Yes, yes, I understand, Dick, and Heaven knows I feel like giving my consent. But it is no light matter, to be settled off-hand in a minute. I have your mother’s feelings to consider. She would be loath to see you leave us, and plunge into that unknown country that lies toward the setting sun.”
“But, father, I have heard you say many times that you often had a longing yourself to go there, and if you were not the head of a family the temptation might have been more than you could stand. Yes, and Uncle Sandy echoed your words, and looked forlorn for a whole day, as though he had to light with the desire to once more become a pioneer, and explore new countries.”
Bob Armstrong smiled, and glanced toward his wife, who shook her head, not trusting herself to speech. But Dick felt encouraged, and believed he had made great progress toward gaining the consent of both parents.
There remained one trump card to play—Grandfather Armstrong, who always sympathized with his grandsons in their ambitions, and who would be apt to look back to those days when he, as a father, trusted his own sons in every undertaking that could happen in the lives of young pioneers along the Ohio and the Mississippi.
“By now, Uncle Sandy and Roger must be over at Grandfather Armstrong’s cabin; and I promised that we would meet them there for a talk. You will not object to hearing what he has to say, father, I hope?” Dick went on.
“I can see what the result will be if Grandfather takes a hand in it,” remarked Bob, with a shrug of his shoulders; “but then, it seems to be a case of ‘old men for council; young men for war,’ and we surely ought to listen to what he has to say of the project, after he has heard both sides.”
The younger boy, Sam, who had been listening to all this amazing talk with eagerness, now broke in with:
“But I can shoot a rifle as well as Dick, and know lots about trailing, and all those things Pat O’Mara used to teach me before he died; why must I stay at home if Dick goes, father?”
“That would never do!” declared Dick, immediately. “Mother could not stand the absence of both her boys at the same time. Who would do the hunting and fishing then, while father worked the farm? Where would the meat come from, Sam? No; if I go, you must take my place, and show what you can do. Besides, while you are strong for your years, a boy of twelve could hardly expect to keep up with those who are so much older. Oh! no, it would not do at all.”
Sam was inclined to protest, but he saw his mother’s grieved face; and something there seemed to give his heart a wrench. Perhaps it was the thought of being separated from her by hundreds of miles of wilderness, never, perhaps, to see her again in this life; for, after all, Sam was only a very young boy, and he had not been tried so severely as his father and uncle in their early days.
“Oh, well, I suppose I’ll have to stay home, and take your place, Dick; but some fine day I mean to see that Golden West for myself, remember that,” he said, and, somehow, his taking it for granted that the parents’ consent was sure to be given to his brother’s daring project did more to hasten the decision than anything that had as yet occurred.
“Come,” remarked Bob, “let us all go to Grandfather Armstrong’s, and talk it over. I want to see what Sandy thinks, before I make up my mind;” but Dick knew from his father’s manner that already he had been partly won over.
So they all trooped out, and were soon entering the central cabin.
David Armstrong was now getting quite old. Thirty years had passed since he came down the Ohio on a flatboat, seeking a new home in the wilderness; and his hair was as white as the snows that came with each succeeding winter. He was not able to do much manual labor himself, but hired help to look after his extensive holdings, that already had increased ten times in value, and would be worth a fortune later on, if they could only manage to retain possession of them.
Evidently the old man and his wife had been told of the bold proposition which Dick and Roger had made, for his dimmed eyes rested fondly on his other grandson as Dick entered the big cabin.
David loved these boys even as he had his own sons. He had watched their growth into young manhood, and in every way fostered their good traits. And, knowing what they were capable of doing, if any one was able to decide whether they could be entrusted with such a dangerous mission it should be Grandfather Armstrong.
Sandy was almost as sturdy a man as his brother Bob, and his wife was a fine helpmeet for a pioneer. There was none her equal in all that region when it came to putting up sweets for the long winter season and in carrying out the numerous responsibilities that a housewife in those times had to take upon her shoulders.
But just now Phoebe Armstrong seemed dumb with the dread that had seized her, after hearing what an undertaking her only boy proposed embarking upon.
Aunt Kate, too, was there, a buxom young woman, who had helped to mother all the children of her two brothers as they came along; and now took upon herself many of the duties that were proving too arduous for her mother, not so strong as in the years long gone by. And the last member of the group was little Mary, Sandy’s daughter, a winsome child of seven, with flaxen hair, and eyes rivaling the blue skies and who, as already mentioned, had been named after Grandmother Armstrong.
And then the grand “powwow,” as Roger called it, began, the boys stating their case, and begging hard to be allowed to carry out the plan they had set their hearts on. Both fathers also entered into the discussion, but the mothers only listened, rather white of face, but evidently willing that such an important matter should be settled by the heads of the houses.
All the while Grandfather Armstrong sat there, smoking his long pipe, and listening to what was said. And after all had been argued, fathers and boys seemed to turn toward the old man for a decision.
Removing his pipe, David Armstrong looked around at the row of eager as well as anxious faces, and, speaking slowly, delivered himself of his decision.
“I think,” he said, very solemnly, “that these brave boys should be allowed to show what they are made of, and try to save for their parents the homes we have planted here in this beautiful spot. And so, let them make the venture!”
“Have you come to tell me what they have decided, Dick?” asked Roger, on the following afternoon, when his cousin overtook him on the river bank, where he had gone to work halfheartedly on a new dugout which the boys were fashioning from an especially fine log selected by Bob himself.
“Yes, father just came in to tell me that he and Uncle Sandy had finally determined that, since we were so set upon trying to save the farms, they could not stand in the way,” replied the other, who was almost out of breath.
Roger threw his hat high in the air, and his face broke out in a smile, as he let a whoop escape him that would have done credit to some Pottawatomie brave, eager to go upon the warpath.
“That’s the best news you could have brought me, Dick!” he exclaimed. “And how you fooled me with your long face. My heart seemed to drop away down in my moccasins, because I was afraid they had said ‘no.’ But I had a heap of faith in Grandfather Armstrong, and he was with us from the beginning. When can we start, Dick? Oh, the hours will drag like lead till we are off! Not that I won’t suffer because of leaving mother and father and all the rest; but it means so much to everybody. And, Dick, do you think we will succeed? Can we overtake Captain Lewis, after he’s had so long a start? And will Jasper Williams be there to sign that paper?”
His cousin laughed at the flood of eager questions.
“One at a time, Roger,” he remarked, holding the other at arms’ length. “They will not think of letting us off under two days, because our mothers will want to get so many things ready for us to take. But what does a little delay matter, when we know that we are going to take the great trip? Think of how every boy in the settlement will envy us, and wish he could go along. But this is too serious a business to think of taking any company with us. They would not have anything at stake, and might feel like backing down when troubles came, while we do not mean to let anything hold us back.”
Roger turned, and looked toward the west. That was always the “unknown country” to the American pioneer, even when the first of them climbed the Alleghanies, and from their tops saw the sun sink behind the forests beyond. It held mysteries that the eyes of white men had as yet never rested upon. Could there be a more enticing prospect to lure adventurous lads forward than this piercing of the wilderness, day after day, moving ever onward toward the distant shore of the Pacific, of which they had heard such great stories, handed down from the lips of those who had perhaps gazed upon the western sea in the East Indies; or it might be from the narrow isthmus down where the waves of the Caribbean Sea washed the shores of the Spanish Main.
It was a beautiful day. Fleecy white clouds dotted the blue sky. Here a white-headed eagle soared round and round in great circles, sailing ever upward toward the sun. Far out upon the water a fish-hawk or osprey was hovering with winnowing wing, preparatory to darting down to clutch some unlucky fish in its talons; after which, possibly, the “lord of the air” might attack the hawk, and force a surrender of the finny prey, after the manner of all eagles, even to this day.
It was a pleasure to breathe the fresh air, and be thankful that one lived. Add to this the realization that a dream was about to come true, such as no boy had ever dared indulge before, and the feelings of Roger Armstrong can be partly understood.
No wonder his boyish face shone with happiness. True, there would be tearful partings from those he loved; but then, his heart was staunch, and he knew he could stand that. And the wonderful mission that beckoned them forward, was not that enough to pay for any trouble and suffering they might meet?
“How do you suppose they will say we ought to follow the expedition, Dick?” he finally found tongue to ask, at the same time casting a dubious look in the direction of the dugout upon which he had been working.
Seeing that look, Dick burst out laughing.
“Well, if it depended on our paddling that heavy craft hundreds and hundreds of miles up the swift current of the Missouri, making a carry every now and then, perhaps, and going ashore every night to camp, I don’t think we’d ever come up with those French Canadian voyageurs who handle the three boats Captain Lewis has with him. You remember how we followed them all one morning when they passed here, and how badly we felt after they had disappeared around the big bend above. And it seems almost too good to be true to think that we are going after them, perhaps to be in their company a long time.”
“But answer my question, please, Dick; if not by boat, then how shall we overtake the expedition, which must be a hundred or more miles away by now?”
“There is only one way, Roger. Our fathers have decided that we shall start out with horses, one each to ride, and another for a pack animal, to carry some of the things we may want on the long journey. I did not think we would need these last; but I said nothing, for it pleases our mothers to think that we may carry plenty of good things along. But between us, Roger, I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if we had to abandon our packhorses before we’ve been a week on the trail, and trust to the fleetness of our own animals’ heels to keep ourselves from being made prisoners by some of the Indian tribes whose country we have to pass through.”
Even this dismal prophecy did not appear to affect the impulsive Roger. Indeed, his eyes sparkled more than ever, as though he rather enjoyed the prospect of being thrown on his own resources. It was going to be a fine opportunity to learn the value of those secrets of woodcraft which he had picked up from time to time.
From the early days of history, the prospect of adventure has appealed to all boys with red blood in their veins. Only for that eagerness, shown by the early pioneers, to pit themselves against the perils of the wilderness, how would our frontier line have been extended, year after year, until it finally broke over the mighty Rockies, and reached the western sea?
“But two whole days,” Roger muttered, “they will seem ever so long to me, Dick. I wish it could be to-morrow.”
“Oh! but there is plenty to be done, for all of us,” replied the more thoughtful lad; “I’ll see to it that you have no idle minutes on your hands from this time out. To begin with, Roger, pick up your tools, and bring them to the house. All work on this boat must be put off until our return, unless Sam chooses, with the help of Grandfather, to finish it, which I rather think will be the case.”
They turned their back upon the river, but it would be in their minds always. Indeed, they must expect to follow its erratic course over plains and through valleys, heading into the northwest continually, until in due time they might hope to overtake those who had gone before, with horses, and boats, and all manner of stores, intended to placate, it might be, the hostile and suspicious tribes that had never before set eyes on a white man.
Yes, those were busy hours with every one. Even Sam felt that he must do what little he could. The hunting could wait until after his brother had said his last good-by, and ridden away into the west—time enough for all that; but just now he wanted to see all he could of Dick, who had never seemed half so dear as when he was about to go away.
Sad hours they were for the parents of both lads, though they endeavored to conceal it. The mothers shed their tears in secret, not wishing to display any weakness. Now that the matter had been settled they were like the staunch Roman mothers of old, who could with dry eyes send their sons forth to battle, keeping all display of womanly weakness for their own rooms.
The horses that were to be taken had been selected, and every detail of saddles and bridles looked after before the first full day had gone. Bob and Sandy Armstrong saw to these things themselves. Their former experience in the forest was of great value in this emergency, for they knew just what ought to be taken by their sons, from extra flints in order to ensure fire, and for the rifles, to blankets needed on the nights when perhaps they would be exposed to chilling winds and storms, far up in a mountainous country.
By the time the next day was over, the preparations had gone on so well that the boys had gained the consent of their parents to making the start at noon of the following day, which would give them several hours’ gain on the original plan of campaign.
Charts or plans of the country there were none, for no whites had penetrated more than a hundred miles or so to the westward. It was believed that many different tribes of Indians lived along the upper Missouri, for from time to time venturesome trappers had met roving bands and picked up a certain amount of information concerning the fierce Sioux, the Blackfeet, the Mandans, and other nations that warred against each other, and seemed to hold certain sections of the country as their hunting grounds, ready to fight any trespassers, be they red or white.
Roger had gone down to the settlement of St. Louis to carry out some errand entrusted to him, and on his return it was seen that the boy looked very much excited, as though he might have heard news that concerned the mission he and his cousin had agreed to carry out.
The others were gathered at the cabin of Grandfather Armstrong, examining something which the old man had brought out, and which he wished the boys to take along with them on their trip.
So Roger came hurrying up, and his excited manner immediately drew the attention of everybody. The first thing that struck Bob Armstrong was that bad news might have been received concerning the expedition of Captain Lewis; for there had been many dismal prophecies uttered that they would fall before an overwhelming attack of hostile Indians before they had been a month on the way, or reached anywhere near the falls of the river at the place where Atchison, Kansas, now stands.
“Tell us the worst, son!” demanded Sandy, as Roger reached the group. “Is it any evil that has befallen our good friend, Captain Lewis, and his gallant command?”
“No, not that, father,” replied the boy; “but, would you believe it? that Frenchman, François Lascelles, has been in St. Louis with his son; and, learning of our mission, they have already started, bent on finding Williams before we can, and fixing it so that all our work will be useless!”
“The hound!” exclaimed Sandy Armstrong, with something of his old impetuosity.
“But, even as it is, we will outwit him,” Dick observed, with that quiet resolution that was so distinctly a part of his character. “They can only have a day or so the start of us; and it may not be so hard to get ahead of his party in the thick of the woods.”
“And if he tries any of his tricks on us,” broke in the indignant Roger, “be sure that we will not spare him. We are going to remember that he is a bad man, who plans to rob us of our homes, and steal the property our parents have built up here. Yes, it won’t be such a fine day for Monsieur Lascelles when he meets the Armstrong boys face to face; eh, Dick?”
The bad news Roger had brought from the settlement seemed to cast a shadow on the coming separation of the boys from those they loved. The mothers sighed, and had hard work to force a smile when either of the lads happened to be near. Even the fathers got together many times, and conferred as to whether one of them should not accompany the boys.
But it seemed as though fate had stepped in to prevent. Sandy had recently been ill, and had hardly recovered his strength; while Bob, only a week before, had cut himself in the foot with an axe, so that he would be hobbling around for a month yet. And, under such conditions, either one of them would prove a drag on the movements of the boys.
And so it was finally decided that the original plan must be adhered to, unless they intended to change their minds entirely, and not allow Dick and Roger to undertake the mission.
The news had the effect of sobering Roger somewhat. He began to realize more than ever that their venture was to be no jaunt, but a serious matter, to call for the best efforts they could put forth. Not only would they be exposed to perils from wild animals, storms that must sweep over the great mountains from time to time, and constantly beset by the hostile Indians whose territory they meant to invade; but here was a new danger in the vindictive and lawless French trader, who would leave no stone unturned to balk the accomplishment of their mission.
Still, neither dreamed of turning back. They were like old Israel Putnam—once his hand was at the plow, nothing could swerve him.
Their friends in the St. Louis settlement proved most kind. Many came out to talk matters over, and some to offer good advice concerning the many difficulties they had heard of in connection with the trail leading to the setting sun. And one and all brought something from their stores that they hoped the boys might find room for among the packages to be fastened on the packhorse.
It had been decided to take only one extra horse along. Dick had been instrumental in bringing about this decision. Although he advanced other reasons, the truth of the matter was that he expected they would have to abandon any pack animal when dangers began to thicken around them, and he did not want to be the means of causing greater loss than was necessary.
Besides, they could carry all they wanted on one animal. There was a rude tent that had seen much use, cooking utensils, blankets, some extra clothing, stores intended for food, and some trinkets that Grandfather Armstrong supplied, such as beads and small looking-glasses, which his experience told him might be used to gain the good will of strange tribes of Indians, to whom such trifles would appeal strongly.
They could not have carried one-quarter of the many articles that well-meaning women friends of their mothers brought with them. This was no junketing expedition, on which they could start with a vast amount of preserves and cakes and such dainties; but a most serious business. They did not disdain to take some of the pemmican, because that might come in handy should they be passing through a dangerous section of country, where it would be risky to discharge a gun, lest by so doing the sound bring a host of enemies upon them.
Dick had listened to all the stories he could concerning the wilderness far up the great river. Then he had gone off by himself, and tried to draw an imaginary chart that would cover the ground. Upon this he had marked all known points; and around any of which there existed any doubt he always drew a circle, to indicate that proof was needed.
No doubt this chart was a crude affair, and, if seen nowadays, when every mile of the distance has been measured and mapped by geographers, it would cause a smile; but, in the absence of anything definite, it gave the boys a certain amount of confidence; and, moreover, as they went along, and certain features were proved to be grossly exaggerated, they could make changes.
And if they were fortunate enough to come back again, what pride they could take in exhibiting that altered chart, which had been built up week after week, as they pierced farther and farther into the wilderness.
The eventful day dawned bright and clear.
It seemed a friendly omen to Dick Armstrong as he went about his morning duties as though nothing out of the ordinary was about to take place, so well under control did the boy hold himself.
They gathered in the big cabin of Grandfather Armstrong for dinner, every soul of the little settlement, and at the table the old man asked that the blessings of Heaven might follow those two bold lads as they started out upon their adventure.
It would have been a cheerless meal indeed, had not Dick taken things in hand, and joked in a way quite unlike his usual self. But his father and uncle understood how full the lad’s heart was, and that he was forced to assume such levity in order not to break down.
Finally the meal ended, but to most of those who took part it was more like a funeral feast than a banquet in spite of the good things with which Grandmother Armstrong and Aunt Kate had prepared.
And now the time had come to say good-by.
The horses were ready, fresh, and apparently eager to be moving, unconscious of the fact that in all probability they would never more see the home stable.
Despite their efforts to appear gay, the hearts of the boys seemed to be in their throats, so that in the end, when it came each lad’s turn to embrace his mother a second time, turning to her last of all, neither Dick nor Roger could utter a single word.
But boyish nature is apt to soon recover from these things; and once they had shut out the familiar scene, and turned their faces toward the west, they gradually recovered their customary spirits.
At the edge of the woods they stopped their horses, and turned in the saddle to wave a farewell. Across the field there welled the hearty calls of fathers and grandfather; while the shrill voice of Sam bade them not to forget that they had promised to fetch him back some memento of the country on the upper reaches of the Missouri, which some day, if he lived to be a man, he meant to visit for himself.
“Ready, Roger?” asked Dick, in a husky tone; for he knew that the sooner his impulsive cousin were started, so that the trees might shut out all view of those loved faces, the better.
“Yes, come on, Dick!” answered the other, gulping hard.
A word to the horses, and they were off. The heavy woods immediately came between, and, even though they turned in the saddle again, nothing of their home could they see.
The boys rode at a fast pace, because it seemed to agree with their spirits, just then, and they felt that they wanted to place some distance between themselves and home, possibly lest their resolution fail them.
And in thus making their start upon such a tremendous undertaking, what strange pictures must have occupied the minds of the adventurous pair, as they surveyed that uncertain future, which might be peopled with such adventures as mortals had never before dreamed of meeting?
But, just as Dick had foreseen would be the case, in half an hour both had seemingly recovered their spirits and were looking hopefully to the future to fulfill some of the many dreams that had filled their minds ever since the subject of the long journey had been broached.