The American family Robinson

by D. W. Belisle

"You are not all treacherous, even now," said the trapper, "and whether the tribe is to which these belong is for the future to determine. One thing is certain, we must keep out of their hands if possible, and to do this, we had better ride on as fast as we can, and place as great a distance between us and them as we can before dark; for, if they interfere with us, it will be undertaken after we are encamped for the night."

Much to their relief, they were not molested, although they were kept in constant excitement by seeing the Indians hanging on their trail, keeping at a proper distance from them, halting when they halted, and travelling when they travelled. This continued for several days, and then the Indians entirely disappeared, greatly to the relief of our wanderers.

For the last few days they had been travelling first in one direction and then in another—alas! they knew not whither, perfectly bewildered. They seemed to be disheartened in pursuing a regular course, and went where their judgments dictated for the hour, perhaps retracing their steps the next. One afternoon they came to a high, rolling part of the forest, which terminated at the foot of a range of hills rearing their heads in mural peaks, and on ascending them, they found that they overlooked a beautiful plain below, in the centre of which a vast lake stretched away over many miles, and lay nestled in that wilderness like a gem in a setting of emerald. This lake was studded with numerous islands which were heavily timbered, and formed a beautiful scene. Taking a circuitous route so as to reach the lake in safety, they encamped on its banks as the last rays of the setting sun were reflected in golden gushes from its placid bosom and nestling isles. As they gazed on the enchanting scene before them, it seemed as if nature had reserved all her beauties for this chosen spot, denying to the vast desert they had traversed fertility enough to make it inhabitable.

On the opposite side of the lake arose precipitous ridges, varying in height from five hundred to a thousand feet, covered with the balsam-pine, whose dark stately green, formed a magnificent contrast with the graceful foliage of the aspen, which bordered the lake. A curious phenomenon here attracted their attention. Beneath the transparent waters of the lake were distinctly visible, trees of enormous proportions, standing erect, with the leaves and branches entire, looking as though they had grown there, or been sunken in their watery bed. Making themselves a raft of dry wood, they explored every part of the lake, and found beneath them in the water the same forest-like appearance, and they concluded that the lake had once been unobstructed, and that there had been an immense land-slide which had precipitated itself from the ridge over which they had entered the valley into the lake; part of the wood drifting on the surface, had formed itself into the little isles, while the rest had become submerged, and still rested at a great depth beneath the waters that closed placidly over its topmost branches.

Innumerable fowl filled the branches of the trees in these isles, while countless numbers of them were sporting in the water, undisturbed by the intrusion of our wanderers. Evidently they had never seen man before, and had yet to learn he would prey on their numbers to sustain life. Here they also found the salmon trout, grown to great size, so large that one was enough for a supper for the whole party. There were also great quantities of tender grass which, growing undisturbed in a constant shade, was as tender, and which the horses cropped with as much avidity, as the grasses of early spring, although now the mid-summer, with scorching sun, was upon them.

Not a trace of a native was visible, and the whole valley, nestled among the high ridges on every side, had probably never before echoed to the voice of civilized man, or the soil pressed by his foot, for ages on ages—at least, by any race now known. Perhaps, too, thousands of years ago a race knew of its existence, when the world was young, if that time ever was. For the world is always young to the young, but when old age comes on, it becomes hoary to his heart also. The heart of every man is his world. When it is young, joyous, and happy, the world is seen through the emotions that hold his soul in rosy meshes, and it is thus tinged to his sight with youth, love, hope, and a joy that fills the heart with a fulness and ecstasy of happiness that leaves nothing further to be desired. Let the rosy meshes fall, and hoary age, or the long list of hours of a misspent life, hold up another scene, in which despair contends with the waning hours, and sombre clouds obscure the future! Then the world is always old, always sad, hard, and cold; and man learns too late that the beauty and gracefulness of age can be only with the heart that is still young, though it has seen long years—and that, to enjoy life to the latest hour, the heart must still be kept green.

As enchanting as this valley was, they dared not spend a day in it longer than was necessary, and with reluctance they left it to launch forth, they knew not where. Crossing over the ridge, they came to a high table land, broad, and over which a fresh pure air constantly circulated. This was lightly timbered, and they feared another desert was before them. They were, however, relieved from this fear by coming to a high range of hills, which, on crossing, they found a succession of ridges, the first ridge having hid the summits of the others; as they crossed one after another, they became more and more entangled among them, and continued for two days wandering among shady dells, and over rocky, craggy precipices, until they sat down at night exhausted, with their flesh torn by the thorns and stones over which they had made their way. For the last two days, they had been unable to ride, the ground being so broken that they found it quite as much as their beasts were able to do, to make their way along unburthened, and now they were lame, their hoofs being much bruised, and the flesh around the hoofs swollen. Selecting a narrow defile, the best spot for a camp they could find, they turned their horses loose to graze, having no fear they would run away, and then turned to provide for their own wants.

This was soon over, and then they lay down to rest. When the morning broke, their horses had disappeared, and on examining the trail where they went, they discovered they had been led away in Indian file, having been stolen by savages. Here, now, was new trouble for them; for, without doubt, the Indians would hang around, and attack them, perhaps, the first moment it suited them, or that they could be sure of success.

"There was but a small party of them last night that stole the horses; I am sure of that, and they will return with augmented numbers very soon, or I shall be deceived," said the trapper.

"We can fight as well as they," said the chief; "so let them beware."