Flight of Solomon.—In Hiding.—Solomon is himself again.—Up the River.—Through the Country.—A long Drive.—An Indian Village.—An Indian Guide.—Preparing for the Expedition.
THE joy which Pat and Phil had felt over their safety was certainly not greater than that of Bart, as the lost ones were at length restored. His intense anxiety was followed by a happiness as intense, and his excited feelings resulted in a somewhat sleepless night. But in the wakeful hours of that night his mind was taken up by other things than the affairs of Phil and Pat, and his thoughts reverted to the earlier events of that day, to Loch Lomond, and to Solomon. He still wondered at Solomon’s precipitate and mysterious retreat, and obstinate staying away from the house. It looked as though Solomon did not want to go on the expedition; yet he felt in his own heart, that without Solomon the expedition would lose its chief charm. Consequently Solomon must go. But how could he overcome his objections? It would be necessary to see him at once, to drive out to Loch Lomond as early as possible the next morning.

The next morning he was up early in spite of his sleepless night, and swallowing a few hasty mouthfuls, he hurried to the barn to see about harnessing the horse. The harness was put on, the horse was already standing between the shafts, Bart was watching the preparations impatiently, standing in the doorway of the barn, when, suddenly, he felt his shoulder touched.

He turned at once.

He stood thunderstruck!

For there, close beside him, full before him, was no other than the actual real bodily presence of Solomon himself.

Bart was so amazed, that for some time he could not utter one single word.

“Solomon!” he exclaimed at last.

At this, Solomon held up both hands with a warning gesture and a face full of fearful apprehension. The look and gesture would have been in every way appropriate to some criminal hiding from the law, and fearful of discovery; but it was utterly out of place in one so virtuous and so honored as the venerable Solomon. This incongruity was felt by Bart, and only added to his amazement.

“When did you come?”

Solomon retreated behind the door, dragging Bart after him.

“Last night,” he answered.

“Last night? How?”

“I walked ebery step—I did.”

“Walked?”

“Yes, ebery step. I rund away, you know.”

“Ran away? What do you mean?”

Solomon’s eyes rolled wildly; he looked all around.

“Drefful doins out dar. Drefful place. An dar’s no noins what would hab ebber become ob me ef you didn’t hab come yesterday. I’d been a pinin an a whinin in Gypsum bondage, but couldn’t get away. She kept tight hole ob me,—mine, I tell you,—an she’ll be arter me to-day, mighty quick,—ony you keep me hid, Mas’r Bart. Don’t gib me up; don’t let her take me.”

“She? Her?” replied Bart, to whom all this was quite unintelligible. “What do you mean? What woman are you speaking of?”

“Black Betsy,” said Solomon, with a groan and another fearful roll of the eyes.

“Black Betsy? Why, what has she to do with you?” asked Bart, in wonder.

“Why, she my wife, you know.”

“Your wife? Your what? Your wife?” cried Bart. “What! Black Betsy! You married to Black Betsy! What in the world do you mean by this? When were you married? Last week?”

“Ben mar’d ober twenty year,” said Solomon, dolefully.

This was a period of remote antiquity with which Bart had no connection, and he could only listen in amazement to Solomon’s strange and startling disclosure. He had never heard of this before. He had no idea that Solomon had a wife, or that Black Betsy had a husband. But this thing required examination, and meanwhile the horse was all ready. As for the horse, he could only give orders to have him taken out, and then he was able to bestow his undivided attention upon Solomon.

“Ben mar’d mor’n twenty year,” replied Solomon, dolefully. “An you nebber see sech a strorny creetur in all your born days. Fight? Why, dat ar woman did nuffin but fight from morn to night, all de year roun. An drunk? Why, she nebber sober, night or day; an de life she led me! Beat? Why, she beat me black and blue; so I rund off to sea, and a bressed ting it was, for I ben dead an gone long ago. Den I heerd she gone off Boston way, an I come back yer, an den went to de Cadmy. Well, I got a mar’d darter out Loch Lomon way, an I come yer dis time to see her and de chil’en; an dar was Betsy. She nabbed me. She beat my life out, made me a slabe, and I done nuffin but grub about ebber since I come yar. Beat? Why, ebery day she pound me to a jelly. Clar if she didn’t! An de way she did lay dat ar big broomstick ober dis ole head. De sakes, ony to tink ob it.”

From all of which Bart learned that Black Betsy was the wife of Solomon; that her character, according to his showing, was by no means that gentle, and affectionate, and motherly one which he had supposed it to he; that her life was disorderly, and her conduct outrageous; that she was in the habit of getting drunk; that Solomon had to run away from her years ago, and become an exile and a wanderer; that it was only his yearning after his daughter that had drawn him back; that, on meeting his daughter, he had found himself, to his horror, once more in the presence of his merciless wife, who had at once seized him, appropriated him, beaten him, and reduced him to a state of abject slavery. From this slavery he had just escaped. He now appeared before Bart in the attitude of a fugitive slave, dreading discovery and capture, imploring Bart’s sympathy and assistance, and eager, above all things, to fly far away, and follow the fortunes of the boys on a new expedition; once more to join the ranks of the B. O. W. C.; once more to officiate as Grand Panjandrum; once more to furnish forth the banquet; once more to sail under the orders of Captain Corbet.

Solomon’s position was a truly painful one, and excited Bart’s profoundest sympathy; but there were other things in his position which were not altogether painful. In the first place, he was delighted to find that, whatever the reason might be, Solomon’s eagerness to set forth upon the expedition was equal to his own, if not greater. In the second place, Solomon wished to remain in hiding, and implored Bart to conceal him and keep his secret. So Bart found himself suddenly called on to become the benefactor and protector of a cherished friend, and also the depositary of a tremendous secret, which he had to guard like his heart’s blood. It was a secret which must be communicated to none, not even to Phil and Pat, not to his father or mother, in fact, not to any living soul. Fortunately, the servant had not seen Solomon, for that wary old party had discovered himself to Bart so cautiously, and had drawn him back into the barn to talk to him so carefully, that he had not been seen.

So Bart undertook the task. He found a safe place for Solomon behind the hay, and at regular intervals through the day he brought him food and drink. These regular intervals occurred so frequently, that Bart spent the greater part of that day in vibrating like a pendulum between the house and barn. Had Solomon remained in this hiding-place for any length of time, it is certain that Bart’s assiduous attentions and air of mystery would have led to a discovery; but as it happened, the concealment was not needed for any longer time.

All that day, while Bart had been thus performing the part of a faithful friend, he had also been forwarding to the utmost the preparations for the coming journey. These preparations consisted chiefly in fishing-tackle of various kinds. One day was quite sufficient for this, and so, on the day after, the whole party left. Their departure took place at sunrise. Solomon had left before them, and had gone in the early morning twilight to the steamer in which they were to embark, where he had concealed himself behind a row of flour barrels. At seven o’clock the boat started. The boys walked forward, and there, to the utter amazement of Phil and Pat, the first object that met their eyes was Solomon. They had only heard Bart’s account of his unsuccessful visit, and had given him up. But now he appeared, radiant, joyous, ecstatic; and though a large, white smouch was over his right cheek, caused by his lying down with his face pressed against a flour barrel, yet that white spot did not at all detract from the exultant and triumphant expression that overspread his face. His little black beads of eyes twinkled with delight; his legs went hopping up from the deck in all directions; and he would certainly then and there have indulged in a real, original, genuine, plantation break-down, had not rheumatiz gently reminded him that there were limits to the exercise of his muscular powers.

The route which they took to the Bay de Chaleur was apparently a roundabout one; but in reality it was the shortest way to get to their destination. First they went up the river St. John, and after a time they intended to turn off into the country.

As they sailed up that beautiful river, they gazed with admiration upon the varying scenes that opened upon them every moment. With that river and its features Bart was quite familiar; but the others had never seen it before, and were never tired of looking out upon the surrounding valley. First of all they found themselves in a narrow gorge shut in by precipices. Emerging from this, they entered a broad expanse of water looking like an extensive lake. Traversing this, the river narrowed again, and the sheet of water ran on before their eyes in a straight line for many miles, with high hills, some wooded, some cultivated on either side. Passing on, they left this behind; and now the course of the river was a winding one, leading them on amidst varied scenery of high hills and fertile valleys. Beyond this, again, the high hills departed, and a broad extent of meadow land, dotted with groves and orchards and white farm-houses, and covered over with luxuriant vegetation, spread away on every side as far as the eye could reach. Here the scene was not so varied as it had been at first, but it was rich and glorious, showing to them a favored land, a land flowing with milk and honey. This rich and fertile land continued till the steamer stopped at Fredericton.

Here they passed the night, and hired a carriage to take them to the River Miramichi, a place which lay on the way between Fredericton and the Bay de Chaleur.

On the following morning they crossed the ferry, and after a short drive they reached another river, a branch of the St. John, which rejoices in the name of the Nashwaak. The river was small, but they thought it one of the most beautiful that they had ever seen. High hills covered with forests arose on every side, now coming up close and shutting in the waters, again receding and leaving rich meadow lands, through which the river flowed with many a winding.

At midday they stopped at a pretty little inn by the road-side, and beguiled the time during which they had to wait for dinner by trying their hands at trouting. Bart and Phil caught two small trout apiece; Pat hooked one; while Solomon actually landed a salmon—an event which created intense excitement in the whole party.

In the evening they reached another place, where they stopped for the night. The next day they resumed their journey, and in the afternoon arrived at the village of Chatham, which is situated on the banks of the River Miramichi.

And now the boys made a discovery, which, strangely enough, had not suggested itself before. It was the simple fact that they had started altogether too soon. This was the third of August, but the Rawdons and Tom would not meet them until the fifteenth. There was therefore nearly a fortnight’s time on their hands. No thought of regret, however, arose in the minds of any of them; but the fact that they had so much time to spare, at once set them all to work to contrive some way of enjoying themselves. Various suggestions were made. One was, that they should visit the different, settlements in all the country around; another, that they should go straight to Shippegan, get a schooner or a fishing-boat, and explore the Bay de Chaleur. Both of these plans, however, were rejected, in favor of the superior attractions of a third plan.

This was, to plunge into the woods, wander about, fish, explore, and rough it generally. They could take a little stock of provisions with them, but trust chiefly to the fish which they might catch. They could build camps, and sleep in them, and cook their fish themselves by their own fires. Bart spoke to the landlord about the feasibility of this plan, and that worthy approved of it highly, but told them that they would have to take some Indian guide with them.

Had the guide been English, Irish, Scotch, or American, the boys would probably have felt some objections; but being an Indian, the idea had overpowering fascinations for them. There was a dash of romance about an Indian guide that lent additional attractions to the proposed excursion.

The landlord informed them that there was an Indian settlement opposite, and that if they went over there they might find a guide, and make a bargain with him.

All this was settled on the evening of the day in which they had arrived, and early on the following morning they crossed the river on a visit to the Indian settlement, in search of a guide.

The Indian settlement was not a very extensive one. It consisted of about a dozen wigwams. These camps are constructed of poles set together in a conical shape, and covered over with birch bark, a substance that with them is made to serve a wonderful number of purposes. On entering the settlement, a number of dogs came up and smelt them very deliberately. They saw a number of children, who, at their approach, darted inside the nearest camp. Old squaws were busy cooking. One or two Indians were engaged in making baskets. The whole scene had a peaceful, primitive, and romantic character. It was clean, too; for though an Indian camp has no architectural pretensions, yet it rarely gives forth those overpowering odors which are encountered on approaching many of the houses of the more civilized races.

An Indian advanced to meet the boys.

“Good day, brother,” said Bart; for in this country it is the fashion to address an Indian by this fraternal title.

“Good day, broder,” said the Indian, in a friendly way.

He was rather old, fearfully wrinkled, and his long, coarse hair reached to his shoulders. As Bart looked at him, it struck him that this man would be a most desirable guide; his age made him trustworthy, while, at the same time, his sturdy frame and sinewy limbs showed that he possessed all the powers of endurance that might be desired.

With these thoughts Bart made known to him the object of his visit. As he spoke, the other Indians listened with much interest, and addressed remarks to one another, accompanied with glances at the boys, which seemed to afford them great amusement; for smiles came over their grave faces, and some of the younger squaws giggled, and numbers of little heads were poked out through the doors of several wigwams, and numbers of little sparkling black wild eyes were fixed upon the visitors to the camp.

The Indian whom they had accosted thought for some time over Bart’s question, and then addressed some remarks to the others. Some conversation followed, which, of course, was not intelligible to the boys, since it was carried on in the language of these Indians. At length the one whom Bart was talking with informed him that he would be willing to go himself as guide.

“Me go; me go; takum you troom wood. Me good guide, fus rate; go often. My name Sam.”

At this Bart was overjoyed.

“You wantum shoot?” asked the Indian.

“No,” said Bart, with a feeling of intense regret, “only to fish.”

“Berry well, fishum; all same. Me show all aboutum. When you go?”

Bart said that he wanted to set out that very day, if he could.

“Me all ready,” said Sam. “Go now, or to-morrow; all same.”

Upon this Bart said that they would go back to get their things, and return by noon, when they might all set out together.

They now went back and gathered together the things that they considered necessary. The Indian went over with them. After further conversation with Sam, Bart thought that it would be better to drive for about twenty miles, and then take to the woods. That would save them a long and useless tramp, and bring them at once to the very scene of action.

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