Those who have read the earlier volumes in this series of pioneer books can easily understand that if the two lads, Dick and Roger, resembled their fathers as much as people said, they were a pair of resolute young fellows when, at about the age of fifteen, we make their acquaintance.
Dick was steady-going, though he could be as quick as a flash should the necessity require. He was more apt to deliberate, and do the right thing, than his younger cousin, Roger, who had inherited his father’s, Sandy Armstrong’s, impetuous nature, and was inclined to be a little reckless.
Both were good-hearted, manly boys, and blessings to their parents. They had early in life learned many of the secrets of woodcraft as known to those hardy, early pioneers, and could read the signs of the trail as well as most old trappers, accustomed to spending their lives in the wilderness, where danger lurked back of every falling leaf, with hostile Indians, and revengeful French trappers, hovering around.
The English were numerous at the St. Louis settlement, and had, moreover, taken such good measures to fortify the post that no successful foray was ever engineered by the allied tribes of the West looking to its reduction. And as a certain wampum belt, presented to the Armstrong boys by the great sachem, Pontiac, for valuable services which they had rendered to him,[3] still seemed to possess a potent power over the Sacs, Pottawatomies, Foxes, and other tribes of Indians, the little settlement above St. Louis, on the Missouri, had never once been molested by the redskins, though other places had been attacked from year to year.
It was at this time, with spring only lately passed, that we find the cousins out upon the Missouri, enjoying their favorite occupation, and having such great sport that Roger could hardly be convinced that they should give up the fishing if they hoped to cross the wide river, and reach home, before the threatening storm broke.
It had promised rain nearly all day, which had been a rather hot, muggy one; but, as it seemed to be the finest fishing day they had enjoyed all season, both boys had taken chances in coming out. There were times when the stock of provisions ran rather low at home, since the crops were only getting their early summer growth, and fresh fish would always be acceptable among the Armstrongs.
Roger had so much trouble with his latest capture that Dick brought his to the boat before his cousin could. Perhaps this was because he went about his task with deliberation; while the other lad, in his eagerness, allowed the heavy fish to drag the line out several times, on account of not being prepared for his sudden rushes.
This fact is only mentioned in a casual way to let the reader understand thus early in the story what the different natures of our two heroes were; for doubtless there will occur many instances when these leading characteristics must stand out most prominently.
“That makes two of the five, Dick!” gasped Roger, as he managed to unhook his capture, and, after once more baiting his stout hook, cast it far out into the rolling stream for a fresh trial.
“Yes,” replied the other, who had already allowed his own line to run out to its full limit; “and, if they keep on taking hold as they have been doing, we’ll soon have the other three in the dugout. But you never can tell with fish. They stop biting all of a sudden, and nothing you can do will tempt them to start in again.”