Edward Ellis - Bill Biddon, Trapper - or, Life in the Northwest

“I expect to ask it a dozen times more.”

“Then I’ll just answer at once for all, so I won’t be troubled agin with talkin’. No! there’s the answer.”

“I don’t know but what you are right, Nat. We must have come a long distance, utterly unconscious of it, in our eagerness to get that plaguey antelope, and it is useless to hope to reach camp again before morning.”

“That’s my opinion, exactly. That camp, I opine, is a good dozen miles off yet.”

“Then we may have a chance of reaching it still before morning, as this bright moon favors us.”

The moon, full and clear, had arisen an hour before, and its light illumined the prairie for a great distance around. Far away, on every hand, we could discern the blue outline of the horizon, while the prairie seemed to roll up against it like the dark boundaries of a mighty ocean. Everything was as silent and motionless as though we were treading a region of death.

Mile after mile, we trudged on, beguiling the time by conversation. The ground was dry and hard, and the vegetation scarce and stunted. The day had been quite warm, and there was a delicious coolness about the evening air that made it pleasant to walk an hour or so; but as more than double that time had expired since we commenced, it had long been exceedingly wearisome to us.

“I wonder whether those fellows will go a foot out of the way to pick us up,” muttered Nat, half to himself.

“I don’t believe they will. They told us they wouldn’t and they value their time too highly to waste it for a couple who are of no account to them, especially since we can fall in with other trains.”

“I reckon they’re of some account to us, being they have got both our horses and considerable of our traveling apparatus.”

“That is too true, Nat. In fact, since we have been walking here, I have persuaded myself that those fellows would, just as likely as not, turn something out of the way to get rid of us.”

“Somehow or other, I’ve felt just the same for a week.”

“Then, if we value our property, we mustn’t let them slip.”

“No; I’ll be shot, if we must!” exclaimed Nat, half angrily, striking at once into a more rapid walk. “If they run off with my mare, I’ll – I’ll – ” and again he strode faster over the prairie.

Long – long, we journeyed in silence. Nat’s apprehensions had been aroused, and he was willing to walk the whole night to come up with those in whose honesty he had so little faith. Now and then he would mutter incoherently to himself and shoot ahead, keeping me almost on a run to maintain my place beside him. Suddenly he halted, and turned upon me with an expression I shall never forget. I could see his eyes expanded to twice their usual size, and his whole face aglow beneath his monstrous hat, as he asked in a cold whisper:

“Wonder if there’s Injins about to-night.”

I laughed outright.

“Why, Nat, you ain’t afraid, are you?”

“Who said I was afraid? I just asked a question.”

“What possessed you to ask such a question?”

“Don’t know; just come into my mind. Do you s’pose there are any Injins roving round the country to-night?”

“I am sure I cannot tell, but I think it extremely probable. Are you fearful that there are some upon our trail?”

“There might be! No; I was thinking if we should come across any of them, they might be able to tell us whether any of them chaps think we’re lost, and have run off with my mare.”

“Should we meet a lot of those savages, no doubt they would tell us something else besides that.”

“I expect so,” and he wheeled around and strode ahead again. It was now getting near midnight, and I was completely worn out. It was out of the question to reach the camp that night, and we might as well submit to our fate at once, so I spoke rather decidedly.

“I’m tired of this.”

Nat turned and looked at me a second, and then answered:

“So am I. We’ve to camp out to-night, and there’s no use in waiting till morning afore we do it. Ain’t it lucky you brought your blanket with you? It would go hard to do without that to-night.”

“I brought it with me by merest chance, not thinking I should need it. It was indeed fortunate; and now let us prepare to use it.”

There was not much choice on the hard but warm earth. My blanket was ample and sufficient for us both. After some search, a small depression was selected, and in this I spread my heavy blanket. We then stretched ourselves upon it, pulled the ends over us, being sure to inclose our rifles in its folds, and resigned ourselves to sleep. In that lone hour, I forgot not that there was one arm upon which I could rely, and One only who could watch over me until morning, and to that protection I appealed.

Ere the sun was fairly above the horizon, we were up and upon our way. Knowing the company would not be in motion for several hours, we hoped to reach them before they breakfasted, and have a laugh over our night’s adventure. Nat led the way, and took long, rapid strides over the ground, seemingly oblivious of the existence of any one else. I kept beside him, now and then venturing a remark, but receiving no answer or intimation that I was heard.

Suddenly, my friend came to a dead halt, dropped the butt of his rifle to the earth with a ringing clamp, and wheeled upon me with one of those indescribable looks. I had seen these before, so that I knew something unusual was agitating him.

“What’s the trouble now?”

“It’s no use; we’ll never see that company agin.”

“What makes you think thus?”

“I know so. I had a dream last night that my mare was gone for ever and ever, and I know she is. Don’t you remember that fur agent told us they’d change the direction they’s traveling some time yesterday? They hadn’t done it when we left them, and they done it as soon as we got out of sight, I warrant.”

I now remembered hearing our guide remark, as also did the fur agent with us, that the trail we were following made an abrupt bend some miles ahead. We were traveling northeast at that time, and the contemplated change was nearly due southwest. This fact had entirely escaped our minds, until it now occurred to Nat, and we had, consequently, been proceeding in a wrong direction. By referring to the sun, we found we had gone far too much to the east in order to intercept the train, which was now in all probability many leagues to the southwest.

This was a discovery which was overwhelming. We had then been journeying in a direction which had brought us not a foot nearer the company than if we had remained motionless; and it was certain that the party was irrecoverably lost.

“This is a pleasant discovery, Nat.”

“Very.”

“I see no hope for your mare. She is probably a good day’s journey distant, and we do not know what direction to take to reach her.”

“That’s it,” replied Nat, ill-humoredly; “if I knowed sure what way to tramp to find her, I wouldn’t stop till I’d laid my hands on her for a certainty; but this trudging along, and just as like as not going away from her all the time, isn’t the thing.”

“I see no course left then, but to proceed south, in the hope of falling in with some emigrant train, or in striking the Oregon trail, north, and getting into California ahead of them.”

“The Oregon trail will have to be our destination, then. If these fellows find they’ve got the start of us, they won’t give us a chance to come up again, and we might as well try to catch the whirlwind as to follow them. No; we must try the ready for them when they come. How far is the trail off?”

“It can’t be more than a day’s journey; the trail follows the Platte through Nebraska, and I’m pretty sure we can reach it by nightfall, if we proceed pretty steadily and rapidly.”