The Huge Hunter; Or, The Steam Man of the Prairies, Edward Sylvester Ellis [fun books to read for adults .txt] 📗
- Author: Edward Sylvester Ellis
Book online «The Huge Hunter; Or, The Steam Man of the Prairies, Edward Sylvester Ellis [fun books to read for adults .txt] 📗». Author Edward Sylvester Ellis
'Where are Mickey and Ethan?' he inquired, as he leaped alongside of him.
'In the cave.'
'How is it you are here?'
The trapper briefly explained that he had crept out to hunt him up; but as there seemed no imminent danger, he deemed it best to leave his companions there, as if the Indians once gained possession of the golden ravine, it would be difficult, if not impossible, to displace them.
Besides, in order to carry out the scheme which he had formed, it was necessary that two at least should remain in the cave, while the others were on the outside.
Under the direction of the trapper, the steam man slowly approached the ravine, keeping at a respectful distance, but so near that if any sudden emergency should arise, they would be able to render assistance to their friends.
The boy gave several whistles so as to inform the Irishman and Yankee of their whereabouts. A few seconds after, and while the noise of the instrument was echoing over the prairie, a fainter whistle reached their ears.
'That's the long-legged Yankee!' instantly remarked the trapper; 'he knows how to make my kind of noise.'
'What does it mean?'
'It means that all is right.'
'Where are the Indians?'
'They ain't fur off. I wish they war further, fur ef it warn't fur them, we'd had half the yaller metal out of thar by this time.'
Young Brainerd had the reputation of possessing a remarkably keen vision; but, peer as much as he might, he could detect nothing unusual. The trapper, however, affirmed that numerous forms could be seen creeping along-the edge of the prairie, and that these same forms were more nor less than so many red-skins.
'What are they trying to do?'
'Duono.'
'Hadn't we better withdraw?' inquired Johnny, showing a little nervousness.
'Not till we know they're after us,' was the quiet reply.
By and by the boy himself was able to get an occasional glimpse of the shadowy figures moving to and fro.
'I think they are going to surround us,' he added, 'and I feel as though we ought to get out while we can do so.'
The only reply to this, was by the trapper suddenly bringing his gun to his shoulder and firing. An agonizing screech, as the savage threw himself in the air, showed that the shot had not been in vain.
Rather curiously at the same moment the report of a gun in the ravine reached their ears, followed by the same death-shriek.
'They ain't sleepin' very powerful down thar,' was the pleased remark of the trapper, as he leisurely reloaded his piece, while the boy remained in that nervous state, awaiting the permission of Baldy to go spinning away over the prairie at a rate that would very quickly carry him beyond all danger.
But the trapper was in no hurry to give the ardently desired permission. He seemed to have a lingering affection for the place, which prevented his 'tearing himself away.'
The boy's timidity was not in the least diminished, when several return shots were fired, the bullets pinging all around them.
'My gracious, Baldy, let's get out of this!' he instantly pleaded,' starting the man himself.
'Go about fifty feet,' was the reply, 'but not any further.'
It may be said that the steam man fairly leaped over this space, and somewhat further, like a frightened kangaroo, and even then it would not have halted had not the trapper given peremptory orders for it to do so.
The sky was now clear and the moon, riding high and nearly full, illumined the prairie for a considerable distance, and there was no fear but that they could detect the approach of the most treacherous savage, let him come in whatever disguise he chose.
The night wore gradually away, without any particular demonstration upon the part of either the Indians or white men, although dropping shots were occasionally exchanged, without any particular result on either side.
Now and then a red-skin, creeping cautiously along, made his appearance on the edge of the ravine; but there was too much light for him to expose himself to the deadly rifle of the trapper, who took a kind of savage pleasure in sending his leaden messengers after the aborigines.
This species of sport was not without its attendant excitement and danger; for the last creature to take a shot quietly is an American Indian; and they kept popping away at the steam man and its train whenever a good opportunity offered.
Owing to the size and peculiar appearance of the steamer, he was a fair target for his enemies; and, indeed, so uncomfortably close did some of the bullets come, that the boy almost continually kept his head lowered, so as to be protected by the sides of the wagon.
Finally morning came, greatly to the relief of all our friends. As soon as it was fairly light the Irishman and Yankee were notified that a move was about to be made, by means of the steam-whistle. An answering signal coming back to them, the steam man at once advanced to the very edge of the ravine.
The trapper peering cautiously down the gulch, caught sight of several red-skins crouching near the cave, and, directing young Brainerd to discharge his piece at a certain one, the two fired nearly together. Scarce five seconds had elapsed, when both Ethan and Mickey did the same. All four, or rather three, as the boy gave his principal attention to the engine, began loading and firing as rapidly as possible.
The red-skins returned a few scattering shots; but they were taken at such disadvantage, that they immediately began a precipitate retreat down the ravine.
Ere they had withdrawn a hundred yards, Ethan and Mickey emerged from the cave, shouting and excited, firing at every red-skin they could see, the Irishman occasionally swinging his gun over his head, and daring the savages to a hand-to-hand encounter.
While the two were thus engaged, the trapper was not idle. The steam man maintained his place but a short distance behind the enemies, and his deadly rifle scarcely ever failed of its mark.
The moment an Indian was killed or helplessly wounded, his companions caught and dragged him away, there being a great fear upon the part of all that some of their number might fall into the hands of their enemies, and suffer the ineffaceable disgrace of being scalped.
The savages were followed a long distance, until their number had diminished down to a fraction of what it was originally, and the survivors had all they could do in 'taking care of their disabled comrades.
Never was victory more complete. The Indians were thoroughly discomfited, and only too glad to get away after being so severely punished. During this singular running fight the steam man kept up a constant shrieking, which doubtless contributed in no slight degree to the rout of the red-skins. They fired continually at the fearful-looking monster, and, finding their shots produced no effect, invested the thing with a portion of the supernatural power which they had given it at first sight.
When the last glimpse of the retreating Indians was seen, the trapper turned triumphantly toward the boy.
'Warn't that purty well done, younker?'
'It was indeed.'
'They'll now stay away awhile.'
'We would have failed if we had waited any longer.'
'Why so, boy?'
'Because the last stick is burned, and the steam man couldn't be made to run a mile further without more fuel.'
CHAPTER XVII. HOMEWARD BOUND.
THE PUNISHMENT administered to the Indians who had so greatly annoyed the miners proved a very beneficial one.
Nothing more was seen of them, except one or two glimpses of the red-skin upon his black horse. He, however, maintained a respectful distance, and at the end of a day or two disappeared altogether.
These were golden moments indeed to the miners, and they improved them to the utmost. From earliest light until the darkness of night they toiled almost unceasingly. Half the time they went hungry rather than stop their work to procure that which was so much needed. When, however, the wants of nature could no longer be trifled with, Baldy took his rifle and started off on a hunt, which was sure to be brief and successful.
Sometimes he caught sight of some game in the gulch, and sometimes something in the air drew the fire of his unerring rifle, and the miners feasted and worked as only such violently laboring men can do.
Although the boy was unable to assist at the severe labor, yet he soon demonstrated his genius and usefulness. He not only constructed a dam, but made a 'rocker,' or machine, of an original style, that did the work far more expeditiously and thoroughly than it had yet been done.
While the men were getting the auriferous sand, he separated it from the particles of dirt and gravel, without any assistance from them, and without any severe labor for himself.
There was some apprehension upon the part of all that the huge trapper, whom young Brainerd had met at night, would make his appearance. Should he do so, it would be certain to precipitate a difficulty of the worst kind, as he was morose, sullen, treacherous, envious and reckless of danger.
Baldy Bicknell really feared him more than he did the Indians, and the constant watchfulness he exercised for several days showed how great was his apprehension.
Fortunately, indeed, for all concerned, the giant hunter continued his travels in a different direction, and the miners were undisturbed by him.
Two weeks passed, by the end of which time the ravine was about exhausted of its precious stuff, and the miners made their preparations for going home.
It was impossible to do anything more than conjecture the amount of wealth they had obtained, but Baldy was sure that there was enough, when sold, to buy each of them a handsome farm.
'Jerusalem! but naow ain't that good?' exclaimed the delighted Ethan Hopkins, as he mopped off his perspiring forehead. 'That 'ere encourages me to take a step that I've often contemplated.'
'What might the same be?'
'Git married: me and Seraphenia Pike hev been engaged for the last ten years, and now I'll be hanged ef I don't go home and get spliced.'
'And it's myself that'll do the same,' added Mickey, as he executed an Irish jig on the barren earth in front of their cavern home, after they had concluded to leave the place.
'Where does she reside?' inquired Ethan.
'Ballyduff, Kings County, in the Oim of the Sea; it's there that lives the lass that's to have the honor of becoming Mrs. McSquizzle, and becomin' the mither of her own children. Arrah, but isn't the same a beauty?'
'The same as my own, Michael,' ventured the Yankee, who deemed it his duty to correct this general remark of his friend.
'Arrah, now, get cut wid ye! she can't begin wid Miss Bridget Moghlaghigbogh that resides wid her mither and two pigs on the outskirts of Ballyduff, in the wee cabin that has the one room and the one windy. Warrah, warrah, now isn't she a jewel?'
'And so is Seraphenia.'
'But has she the rid hair, that makes it onnecessary for them to have the candle lit at night? and has she the same beautiful freckles, the size of a ha'penny, on the face and the nose, that has such an iligant turn up at the end, that she used to hang her bonnet on it? Arrah, now, and didn't she have the swate teeth, six of the same that were so broad that they filled her mouth, and it was none of yer gimblet holes that was her mouth, but a beautiful one, that, when she smiled went round to her ears, did the same. And her shoes! but you orter seen them.'
'Why so?'
'What was the matter with her shoes?'
'Nothing was the same. They was the shoes that the little pigs went to slaap in, afore they got so big that they couldn't git in them, and then it was her brother that used one of them same for a trunk when he emigrated to Amenity. Arrah, now, but wasn't me own Bridget a jewel?'
'Jehosephat! I should think she was!' exclaimed Hopkins, who had listened in amazement to this enumeration of the beauties of the gentle Irish lass, who had won the affections of Mickey McSquizzle. 'No doubt she had a sweet disposition.'
'Indeed she had, had she; it was that of an angel, was the same. It was niver that I staid there a night coorting the same that she didn't smash her shillaleh to smithereens over me head. Do yees obsarve that?' asked Mickey, removing his hat, and displaying a scar that extended half way across his head.
'I don't see how any one can help seeing that.'
'Well, that was the parting salute of Bridget, as I started for Ameriky. Arrah, now, but she did the same in style.'
'That was her parting memento, was it?'
'Yes; I gave her the black eye, and she did the same fur
Comments (0)