CHAPTER XXII.

Charlie's adventures with savages and bears

Trapping
life

It is one thing to chase a horse; it is another thing

to catch it. Little consideration and less sagacity

are required to convince us of the truth of that fact.

The reader may perhaps venture to think this rather

a trifling fact. We are not so sure of that. In this

world of fancies, to have

any

fact incontestably proved

and established is a comfort, and whatever is a source

of comfort to mankind is worthy of notice. Surely our

reader won't deny that! Perhaps he will, so we can

only console ourself with the remark that there are

people in this world who would deny

anything

--who

would deny that there was a nose on their face if you

said there was!

Well, to return to the point, which was the chase of

a horse in the abstract; from which we will rapidly

diverge to the chase of Dick Varley's horse in particular.

This noble charger, having been ridden by savages until

all his old fire and blood and mettle were worked up

to a red heat, no sooner discovered that he was pursued

than he gave a snort of defiance, which he accompanied

with a frantic shake of his mane and a fling

of contempt in addition to a magnificent wave of

his tail. Then he thundered up the valley at a pace

which would speedily have left Joe Blunt and Henri

out of sight behind if--ay! that's the word,

! What

a word that

is! what a world of

if's

we live in!

There never was anything that wouldn't have been

something else

something hadn't intervened to prevent

it! Yes, we repeat Charlie would have left his

two friends miles and miles behind in what is called

"no time,"

he had not run straight into a gorge

which was surrounded by inaccessible precipices, and

out of which there was no exit except by the entrance,

which was immediately barred by Henri, while Joe

advanced to catch the run-away.

For two hours at least did Joe Blunt essay to catch

Charlie, and during that space of time he utterly failed

The horse seemed to have made up his mind for what

is vulgarly termed "a lark."

"It won't do, Henri," said Joe, advancing towards

his companion, and wiping his forehead with the cuff

of his leathern coat; "I can't catch him. The wind's

a'most blowed out o' me body."

"Dat am vexatiable," replied Henri, in a tone of

commiseration. "S'pose I wos make try?"

"In that case I s'pose ye would fail. But go ahead,

an' do what ye can. I'll hold yer horse."

So Henri began by a rush and a flourish of legs and

arms that nearly frightened the horse out of his wits.

For half-an-hour he went through all the complications

of running and twisting of which he was capable, without

success, when Joe Blunt suddenly uttered a stentorian

yell that rooted him to the spot on which he

stood.

To account for this, we must explain that in the

heights of the Rocky Mountains vast accumulations of

snow take place among the crevices and gorges during

winter. Such of these masses as form on steep slopes

are loosened by occasional thaws, and are precipitated

in the form of avalanches into the valleys below, carrying

trees and stones along with them in their thundering

descent. In the gloomy gorge where Dick's

horse had taken refuge the precipices were so steep that

many avalanches had occurred, as was evident from the

mounds of heaped snow that lay at the foot of most of

them. Neither stones nor trees were carried down here,

however, for the cliffs were nearly perpendicular, and

the snow slipping over their edges had fallen on the

grass below. Such an avalanche was now about to take

place, and it was this that caused Joe to utter his cry

of alarm and warning.

Henri and the horse were directly under the cliff over

which it was about to be hurled, the latter close to the

wall of rock, the other at some distance away from it.

Joe cried again, "Back, Henri! back

vite

!" when

the mass

flowed over

and fell with a roar like prolonged

thunder. Henri sprang back in time to save his life,

though he was knocked down and almost stunned; but

poor Charlie was completely buried under the avalanche,

which now presented the appearance of a

hill

of snow.

The instant Henri recovered sufficiently, Joe and he

mounted their horses and galloped back to the camp as

fast as possible.

Meanwhile, another spectator stepped forward upon

the scene they had left, and surveyed the snow hill

with a critical eye. This was no less than a grizzly

bear, which had, unobserved, been a spectator, and which

immediately proceeded to dig into the mound, with the

purpose, no doubt, of disentombing the carcass of the

horse for purposes of his own.

While he was thus actively engaged the two hunters

reached the camp, where they found that Pierre and his

party had just arrived. The men sent out in search of

them had scarcely advanced a mile when they found

them trudging back to the camp in a very disconsolate

manner. But all their sorrows were put to flight on

hearing of the curious way in which the horses had

been returned to them with interest.

Scarcely had Dick Varley, however, congratulated

himself on the recovery of his gallant steed, when he

was thrown into despair by the sudden arrival of Joe

with the tidings of the catastrophe we have just related.

Of course there was a general rush to the rescue.

Only a few men were ordered to remain to guard the

camp, while the remainder mounted their horses and

galloped towards the gorge where Charlie had been entombed.

On arriving, they found that Bruin had

worked with such laudable zeal that nothing but the

tip of his tail was seen sticking out of the hole which

he had dug. The hunters could not refrain from

laughing as they sprang to the ground, and standing in

a semicircle in front of the hole, prepared to fire. But

Crusoe resolved to have the honour of leading the

assault. He seized fast hold of Bruin's flank, and

caused his teeth to meet therein. Caleb backed out

at once and turned round, but before he could recover

from his surprise a dozen bullets pierced his heart and

brain.

"Now, lads," cried Cameron, setting to work with a

large wooden shovel, "work like niggers. If there's

any life left in the horse, it'll soon be smothered out

unless we set him free."

The men needed no urging, however. They worked

as if their lives depended on their exertions. Dick

Varley, in particular, laboured like a young Hercules,

and Henri hurled masses of snow about in a most surprising

manner. Crusoe, too, entered heartily into the

spirit of the work, and, scraping with his forepaws,

sent such a continuous shower of snow behind him that

he was speedily lost to view in a hole of his own excavating.

In the course of half-an-hour a cavern was

dug in the mound almost close up to the cliff, and the

men were beginning to look about for the crushed body

of Dick's steed, when an exclamation from Henri attracted

their attention.

"Ha! mes ami, here am be one hole."

The truth of this could not be doubted, for the

eccentric trapper had thrust his shovel through the

wall of snow into what appeared to be a cavern beyond,

and immediately followed up his remark by thrusting

in his head and shoulders. He drew them out in a few

seconds, with a look of intense amazement.

"Voilà! Joe Blunt. Look in dere, and you shall see

fat you vill behold."

"Why, it's the horse, I do b'lieve!" cried Joe. "Go

ahead, lads!"

So saying, he resumed his shovelling vigorously, and

in a few minutes the hole was opened up sufficiently to

enable a man to enter. Dick sprang in, and there stood

Charlie close beside the cliff, looking as sedate and,

unconcerned as if all that had been going on had no

reference to him whatever.

The cause of his safety was simple enough. The

precipice beside which he stood when the avalanche

occurred overhung its base at that point considerably,

so that when the snow descended a clear space of

several feet wide was left all along its base. Here

Charlie had remained in perfect comfort until his

friends dug him out.

Congratulating themselves not a little on having saved

the charger and bagged a grizzly bear, the trappers remounted,

and returned to the camp.

For some time after this nothing worthy of particular

note occurred. The trapping operations went on

prosperously and without interruption from the Indians,

who seemed to have left the locality altogether. During

this period, Dick, and Crusoe, and Charlie had many

excursions together, and the silver rifle full many a time

sent death to the heart of bear, and elk, and buffalo;

while, indirectly, it sent joy to the heart of man,

woman, and child in camp, in the shape of juicy steaks

and marrow-bones. Joe and Henri devoted themselves

almost exclusively to trapping beaver, in which pursuit

they were so successful that they speedily became

wealthy men, according to backwood notions of wealth.

With the beaver that they caught they purchased from

Cameron's store powder and shot enough for a long

hunting expedition, and a couple of spare horses to

carry their packs. They also purchased a large assortment

of such goods and trinkets as would prove acceptable

to Indians, and supplied themselves with new

blankets, and a few pairs of strong moccasins, of which

they stood much in need.

Thus they went on from day to day, until symptoms

of the approach of winter warned them that it was time

to return to the Mustang Valley. About this time an

event occurred which totally changed the aspect of

affairs in these remote valleys of the Rocky Mountains,

and precipitated the departure of our four friends, Dick,

Joe, Henri, and Crusoe. This was the sudden arrival of

a whole tribe of Indians. As their advent was somewhat

remarkable, we shall devote to it the commencement

of a new chapter.