NEW CHARACTERS.
We now visit a beautiful gold-sanded strand on the right banks of the Missouri, about fifty miles from the new settlement in Moose Deer Valley, and about equidistant from the strong fort already established by the fur company.
This strand, which was only reached by a narrow defile between two perpendicular mountains, was exactly opposite an island of which it was impossible to make out the dimensions, which, however, were very considerable.
Lights shone like will-o'-the-wisps in a fog; the island, which was thickly wooded, communicated with the mainland by means of a dangerous ford, full of holes and whirlpools. It was too dangerous to be adventured in by any but those who knew it. The island, moreover, was guarded by two eminences overlooking the ford, and which commanded the approach against any enemy if well defended. On the other side the island was inaccessible.
This island was the refuge, the fortress of the terrible outlaws of the Missouri, with whom we have made acquaintance.
Originally it had been selected by the Government as an outpost, but the partisans had first taken it and made it impregnable.
As the outlaws rarely interfered with citizens of the United States, generally very poor in those regions, the Government, well aware of its impotence to dislodge the pirates, pretended to look upon them as irregular troops doing service.
But the outlaws knew that if the authorities only had the chance they would be exterminated.
But that part of America was little peopled, and few except trappers and wanderers knew anything of its capacities. The outlaws, therefore, to a certain extent, were pretty certain of impunity for all their actions for the time.
A hundred horsemen were camped on the strand of which we have spoken; their horses were picketed near their fodder, around the campfires numerous groups were talking or sleeping, while on every hand walked sentinels.
In a hut composed of whittled boughs and mud, a man sat on a buffalo's head, consulting papers from a large pocketbook. Another man stood respectfully by him, awaiting his orders. The first man was Captain Tom Mitchell, the other was Camotte.
A sentinel kept guard in front of the cabin.
It was about four o'clock in the morning. The stars were beginning to pale in the sky, the sky was covered by fleecy white clouds. Day was at hand; a fog rose from the river, and covered the camp as with a funeral pall. It was cold.
"I say," cried Tom, "I am frozen. Are you asleep, Camotte?"
"No, my lord."
"Then shove some wood on the fire, it's nearly out."
Camotte threw on some dry wood, which flared up.
"Something like," said Mitchell; "and now let us talk, Camotte. By the way, I may as well ask you, are you very tired?"
"I am never too tired to serve you, Excellency," said the other.
"I knew you would say that," cried Mitchell; "true, I saved your life twice, but we have been quits long ago."
"And yet I want to ask a favour."
"Anything, except leave me," replied Tom Mitchell.
"Never; it is something else. It is simply this; don't, your lordship, give me such another mission. Whatever you may think, my master," cried Camotte, warmly, "it is not pleasant to play the part of a traitor and scoundrel."
"I think you did it very cleverly," laughed Tom; "there, you are an old fool. Whom else could I trust? Having settled that very important fact, any news on the island?"
"Evening Dew frets. You should send her home—all the more that it makes some people talk," he added.
"Who has dared?" said Tom Mitchell, frowning.
"Stewart. But don't worry; I settled him by blowing his brains out, and no one else has since made an observation."
"All right. What about the river?"
"Five men went down in a canoe yesterday. It was the squatter of the valley, his two sons, and black servants."
"Where on earth could he be going to?" mused Tom.
"Well, we can find out by stopping him on his return."
"I'll see about it. Anything else?"
"Hum! You have had Major Ardenwood's letter asking an interview today? Oh, yes! There are some Frenchmen at the fort, at all events, one of them. Still I am aware that three strangers will accompany the major."
"Whom did you send out to inquire?"
"Tête de Plume. I could not send Versenca; in the first place, because he was drunk; secondly, because I don't like him."
Then, after a pause, Tom whispered to Camotte, who listened with deep and almost religious attention.
"And now," said Tom, "that you understand me, away."
Camotte went out. The worthy Mexican was the devoted friend, the alter ego, and moreover the lieutenant of Tom Mitchell, who wholly confided in him. Despite of events we have described before, Camotte was worthy of his trust.
The chief of the outlaws quietly made some alterations in his toilette, which was a little out of order from his long journey. He had just come off a distant expedition. The booty had been at once transferred to the island.
Having done this he drew the curtain that served as a door.
The camp no longer looked the same. The fire was out. The two eminences were guarded by sharpshooters. A detachment of twenty men guarded the entrance to the defile. The rest of the troop were ready to mount at a sign.
Tom Mitchell looked about him with an air of satisfaction. Camotte had executed all his orders faithfully.
At this moment the sun rose. It was like a theatrical scene. Light fell suddenly upon everything.
"Oh!" cried the captain as a bugle sounded in the distance from the defile, "I was just in time."
He stood erect in front of his hut, leaning on his cavalry sword, and waited with sublime tranquillity.
After some few words had passed, four strangers, one in the uniform of a major of the American army, came out from the defile, led by Camotte, who walked respectfully in front of them, and made their way in the direction of the captain.
"Good day, Captain Mitchell," said the major.
"You did me the honour to write," observed Mitchell.
"Well, I have some important business to talk about; but first allow me to present to you these two gentlemen. They are French, and consequently I cannot pronounce their names. Oh, I assure you they are worthy gentlemen."
And the fat major laughed heartily.
The captain bowed to the two Frenchmen without speaking. One was a man of about fifty, still young, and with apparently polished manners and rather haughty mien; the other, much younger, was bronzed by the sun, strong, and rather rough.
"This gentleman," continued the major, "is our own countryman, Mr. Stoneweld, of Boston city."
"I think you know me," observed the apoplectic speaker.
"Who does not know Master Stoneweld, of the house of Stoneweld, Errard, and Co., the richest shipowner in all Boston?"
The stout man smiled with an air of satisfaction.
"It seems you know one another," cried the major. "I am glad of it, because everything will go smoothly."
"How so?" cried Tom Mitchell.
"My dear captain, these gentlemen want you; they came to me for that purpose. Certainly their business must indeed be of an important character," he added, "to induce them to make such an awful journey, lasting over a month."
"It must be serious business," said the captain.
"The two French gentlemen bring letters from the Home Secretary."
"Indeed!"
"And Master Stoneweld one from General Jackson," added the major, "So now I expect you will do the best you can."
"Have no fear."
"Of course not, though I know you are rather hot at times. As for myself, I am choked with fog and hoarseness," he added.
"I am at the orders of these gentlemen," replied the captain. "I shall be happy to do all in my power for them."
"Spoken like a man," said the major in a fidgety way. "But this seems hardly the place for a serious conversation."
"I am sorry for it," replied Tom Mitchell coldly. "I was not told until the last minute, and you must take me in the rough."
"Why not go over to the island?" suggested the major. "I dare say we should be more at our ease—eh, captain?"
"I am sorry, major, but it would take too much time. Besides, I have already provided refreshments here, if you will accept."
"With the greatest of pleasure," cried the major, coughing behind his hand; "and yet these gentlemen have important matters to discuss, very important matters," he added, complacently.
"What matter, major? Breakfast first, business afterwards."
"As you will," said the major, following him into the hut.
By the orders of Camotte, during this conversation a very copious breakfast had been prepared. It was almost wholly composed of venison; but flanking the solids were a number of long-necked bottles that at once showed their Bordeaux and Burgundian origin, to say nothing of some brands of Champagne so dear to Americans.
The major was so delighted that he said "Hum!" no less than three times, and then spoke to the outlaw chief.
"Let them say what they like," he cried, "you are a man."
"I am proud to hear it," cried Tom. "Let us be seated."
The Frenchmen had hitherto said nothing. The elder now spoke. As the captain invited them to commence breakfast, he said:
"Above all, sir, allow me to observe that before commencing business you offer us bread and salt."
"You are my guests, gentlemen," said the captain, gravely; "you are under the safeguard of my honour, that is enough."
"The major has indicated that we each wish to see you alone."
"Which means?" asked the outlaw.
"That I desire, as these conversations may probably be of very long duration, to see you quite alone," he added.
"Sit down and eat," replied the outlaw. "After the repast you and your companions will follow me to the island. Once more, are you not satisfied?"
"Of course," cried the major; "if not, I go bail for you."
"Thank you, major; and now eat, drink, and be merry."