EXCURSION ON THE PRAIRIE.—THE PARTY FALL IN WITH A VETERAN HUNTER.

We must now return to Reginald and his trusty follower; Baptiste, whom we left at St. Louis, where they were busily employed in disposing of Colonel Brandon’s share of the peltries brought in by the trapping party, which he had partly furnished the preceding year. They did not find much difficulty in effecting an advantageous sale to two of the other partners in the expedition,—active, enterprising men, who, from their connection with the Mackinaw Fur Company, were sure of reselling at considerable profit.

As soon as these affairs were settled, Reginald, who had been joined by Perrot, Bearskin, and the remaining crew of the canoe, resolved to defer no longer his proposed journey into the Osage country. He left all the arrangements to Baptiste and Bearskin, under whose superintendence the preparations advanced so rapidly, that at the end of a week they were satisfactorily completed.

It had been determined to leave the canoe at St. Louis, and to perform the journey by land; for this purpose a strong saddle–horse was purchased for each of the party, together with six pack–horses, and as many mules, for the transfer of the ammunition, baggage, and presents for their Indian allies. Four additional Canadian “coureurs des bois” were engaged to take charge of the packs; so that, when they started for the Western Prairies, the party mustered twelve in number, whose rank and designation were as follow:—

Reginald Brandon; Baptiste, his lieutenant; Bearskin, who, in the absence of the two former, was to take the command; M. Perrot, Mike Smith, with three other border–hunters, and the four Canadians, completed the party.

Baptiste had taken care to place among the packages an abundance of mirrors, cutlery, and other articles most highly prized by the savages. He had also selected the horses with the greatest care, and two spare ones were taken, in case of accidents by the way. When all was ready, even the taciturn Bearskin admitted that he had never seen a party so well fitted out, in every respect, for an Indian expedition.

It was a lovely morning when they left St. Louis, and entered upon the broad track which led through the deep Missourian forest, with occasional openings of prairie towards a trading–post lately opened on the Osage, a river which runs from S. W. to N. E. and falls into the Missouri. Of all the party, none were in such exuberant spirits as Perrot, who, mounted on an active, spirited, little Mestang horse[22], capering beside the bulky figure of Mike Smith, addressed to him various pleasantries in broken English, which the other, if he understood them, did not deign to notice.

It was now near the close of May, and both the prairie and the woodland scenery were clad in the beautiful and varied colours of early summer; the grassy road along which they wound their easy way was soft and elastic to the horses’ hoofs; and as they travelled farther from the settlements scattered near St. Louis, the frequent tracks of deer which they observed tempted Reginald to halt his party, and encamp for the night, while he and Baptiste sallied forth to provide for them a venison supper.

After a short hunting ramble they returned, bearing with them the saddle of a fine buck. A huge fire was lighted; the camp–kettles and other cooking utensils were in immediate request, and the travellers sat down to enjoy their first supper in the Missourian wilderness.

Monsieur Perrot was now quite in his element, and became at once an universal favourite, for never had any of the party tasted coffee or flour–cakes so good, or venison steaks of so delicate a flavour. His good–humour was as inexhaustible as his inventive culinary talent; and they were almost disposed to believe in his boasting assurance, that so long as there was a buffalo–hide or an old mocassin left among them, they should never want a good meal.

Having supped and smoked a comfortable pipe, they proceeded to bivouac for the night. By the advice of Baptiste, Reginald had determined to accustom his party, from the first, to those precautionary habits which might soon become so essential to their safety; a regular rotation of sentry duty was established, the horses were carefully secured, and every man lay down with his knife in his belt, and his loaded rifle at his side: the packs were all carefully piled, so as to form a low breastwork, from behind which they might fire in case of sudden attack; and when these dispositions were completed, those who were not on the watch wrapped themselves in their blankets or buffalo skins, and, with their feet towards the fire, slept as comfortably as on a bed of down.

For two days they continued their march in a north–west direction, meeting with no incident worthy of record; the hunters found abundance of game of every description, and Monsieur Perrot’s skill was daily exercised upon prairie–hens, turkeys, and deer. On the third day, as they were wending their way leisurely down a wooded valley, the sharp crack of a rifle was heard at no great distance. Reginald, desiring to ascertain whether Indians or White men were hunting in the neighbourhood, halted his party, and went forward, accompanied by Baptiste, to endeavour, unperceived, to approach the person whose shot they had heard. A smooth grassy glade facilitated their project, and a slight column of smoke curling up from an adjoining thicket served to guide them towards the spot. Ere they had advanced far, the parting of the brushwood showed them that the object of their search was approaching the place where they stood, and they had barely time to conceal themselves in a bush of sumach, when the unknown hunter emerged from the thicket, dragging after him a fine deer. He was a powerful man of middling height, not very unlike Baptiste in dress and appearance, but even more embrowned and weather–beaten than the trusty guide; he seemed to be about fifty years of age, and the hair on his temples was scant and grey; his countenance was strikingly expressive of boldness and resolution, and his eye seemed as clear and bright as that of a man in the early prime of life. Leaning his rifle against an adjoining tree, he proceeded to handle and feel his quarry, to ascertain the proportions of fat and meat; the examination seemed not unsatisfactory, for when it was concluded he wiped the perspiration from his brow, and with a complacent smile muttered half aloud, “Ah, ‘t ain’t every day as a man can find a saddle like that in old Kentuck now—what with their dogs, and girdlins, and clearins, and hog–feedings, and the other devilments of the settlements, the deer’s all driven out of the country, or if it ain’t driven out, they run all the fat off, so that it’s only fit to feed one of your tradin’ town–bred fellows, who wouldn’t know a prime buck from a Lancaster sheep!”

After this brief soliloquy, the veteran sportsman tucked up the sleeve of his hunting–shirt, and proceeded to skin and cut up his quarry, with a skill and despatch that showed him to be a perfect master of his craft. Reginald and Baptiste had remained silent observers of his proceedings, but the former inferred from the pleased twinkle of the guide’s grey eyes, and the comic working of the muscles of his mouth, that the solitary hunter was no stranger to him: touching Baptiste lightly, he whispered, “I see that we have come across an acquaintance of yours in this remote place.”

“That we have Master Reginald,” said the guide; “and you’d have known him too, if you’d spent some of the years in Kentuck as you passed at those colleges in the old country; but we’ll just step out and hail him, for though he ain’t particular fond of company, he’s not the man to turn his back on a friend to whom he has once given his hand.”

So saying he rose from his hiding–place, and coming out on the open glade, before Reginald could inquire the stranger’s name, the guide said aloud, “A prime buck, colonel; I see your hand’s as steady as ever!”

At the first sound of a voice addressing him in his own language, a shade of displeasure came across the hunter’s countenance; but as he recognised the speaker it disappeared instantly, and he replied, “Ha! Baptiste, my old friend, is that you? What chase are you on here?”

So saying, he grasped the horney hand of the guide with a heartiness which proved that the latter was really welcome.

“Why, colonel, I’m out on a kind o’ mixed hunt this turn with this young gentleman, whose father, Colonel Brandon, you’ve known many a day. Master Reginald, I’m sure you’ll be glad to be acquainted with Colonel Boone, howbeit you little expected to find him in this part of the airth.”

At the mention of the stranger’s name, Reginald’s hand was raised unconsciously to his cap, which he doffed respectfully as he said, “I am indeed glad to meet the celebrated Daniel Boone, whose name is as familiar to every western hunter as that of Washington or Franklin in our cities.”

“My young friend,” said the colonel, laughing good–humouredly, “I am heartily glad to see your father’s son, but you must not bring the ways of the city into the woods, by flattering a rough old bear–hunter with fine words.”

“Nay,” said Reginald, “there is no flattery, for Baptiste here has spoken of you to me a hundred times, and has told me as often, that a better hunter or a better man does not breathe. You seem to have known him some time, and must therefore be able to judge whether he is of a flattering sort or not.”

“Why, it wasn’t much his trade, I allow,” replied the colonel, “in old times, when he and I hunted bear for three weeks together in the big laurel thicket at Kentucky Forks. I believe, Baptiste, that axe at your belt is the very one with which you killed the old she, who wasn’t pleased because we shot down two of her cubs; she hadn’t manners enough to give us time to load again: and when you split her skull handsomely, she was playing a mighty unpleasant game with the stock of my rifle. Ah, that was a reasonable quiet country in those days,” continued the colonel: “we had no trouble, but a lively bit of a skrimmage, now and then, with the Indians, until the Browns, and Frasers, and Micklehams, and heaven knows how many more, came to settle in it; and what with their infernal ploughs, and fences, and mills, the huntin’ was clean spoilt. I stayed as long as I could, for I’d a kind o’ likin’ to it; but at last I couldn’t go ten mile any way without comin’ to some clearin’ or log–hut; so says I to myself, ‘colonel, the sooner you clear out o’ this, the better you’ll be pleased.’”

“Well, colonel,” said the guide, “I heard you had moved away from the Forks, and had gone further down west, but they never told me you had crossed the big river.”

“I only came here last fall,” replied the colonel; “for I found, in Kentucky, that as fast as I moved, the settlers and squatters followed; so I thought I’d dodge ‘em once for all, and make for a country where the deer and I could live comfortably together.”

“As we have thus accidentally fallen in with you,” said Reginald, “I hope you will take a hunter’s meal with us before we part; our men and baggage are not a mile from this spot, and Colonel Boone’s company will be a pleasure to us all.”

The invitation was accepted as frankly as it was given.

Baptiste shouldered the colonel’s venison, and in a short time the three rejoined Reginald’s party. Daniel Boone’s name alone was sufficient in the west to ensure him a hearty welcome. Perrot’s talents were put into immediate requisition, and ere long the game and poultry of the prairie were roasting before a capital fire, while the indefatigable Frenchman prepared the additional and unusual luxuries of hot maize–cakes and coffee.

During the repast, Reginald learnt from Colonel Boone that various parties of Indians had been lately hunting in the neighbourhood. He described most of them as friendly, and willing to trade in meat or skins for powder and lead; he believed them to belong to the Konsas, a tribe once powerful, and resident on the river called by that name, falling into the Missouri, about a hundred miles to the north–west of the place where our party were now seated; but the tribe had been of late reduced by the ravages of the small–pox, and by the incursions of the Pawnees, a nation more numerous and warlike, whose villages were situated a hundred miles higher up the same river.[23]

The colonel described the neighbourhood as abounding in elk, deer, bear, and turkeys: but he said that the beaver and the buffalo were already scarce, the great demand for their skins having caused them to be hunted quite out of the region bordering on the settlements. After spending a couple of hours agreeably with our party, the veteran sportsman shouldered his trusty rifle, and wishing our hero a successful hunt and shaking his old comrade Baptiste cordially by the hand, walked off leisurely in a northerly direction, towards his present abode; which was not, he said, so far distant but that he should easily reach it before sundown.

As the last glimpse of his retiring figure was lost in the shades of the forest, the guide uttered one of those grunts which he sometimes unconsciously indulged. Reginald knew that on these occasions there was something on his mind: and guessing that it referred to their departed guest, he said,—

“Well, Baptiste, I am really glad to have seen Daniel Boone; and I can truly say I am not disappointed; he seems to be just the sort of man that I expected to see.”

“He is a sort,” said the guide, “that we don’t see every day, Master Reginald. Perhaps he ain’t much of a talker; and he don’t use to quarrel unless there’s a reason for ‘t; but if he’s once aggravated, or if his friend’s in a scrape, he’s rather apt to be dangerous.”

“I doubt it not,” said Reginald; “there is a quiet look of resolution about him; and, in a difficulty, I would rather have one such man with me than two or three of your violent, noisy brawlers.”

As he said this his eye inadvertently rested upon the huge figure of Mike Smith, who was seated at a little distance, lazily smoking his pipe, and leaning against a log of fallen timber. The guide observed the direction of Reginald’s eye, and guessed what was passing in his mind. A grave smile stole for a moment over his features; but he made no reply, and in a few minutes, the marching orders being issued, the party resumed their journey.

On the following day they reached a point where the track branched off in two directions; the broader, and more beaten, to the N. W.; the other towards the S. W. The guide informed them that the former led along by the few scattered settlements that were already made on the southern side of the Missouri, towards the ferry and trading–post near the mouth of the Konsas river; while the smaller, and less beaten track, led towards the branch of Osage river, on which the united party of Delawares and Osages, whom they sought, were encamped.

Having followed this track for fifty miles, they came to a spot well known among hunters by the name of the Elk Flats, where the branch of the Osage, called Grand River, is fordable. Here they crossed without accident or difficulty, except that M. Perrot’s horse missed his footing, and slipped into a deeper part of the stream. The horse swam lustily, and soon reached the opposite bank; but the Frenchman had cast himself off, and now grasped with both hands an old limb of a tree that was imbedded near the middle of the river; he could just touch the ground with his feet; but, being a bad swimmer, he was afraid to let go his hold, for fear of being again swept away by the current, while his rueful countenance, and his cries for assistance, provoked the mirth of all the party.

After enjoying his valet’s alarm for a few minutes, Reginald, who had already crossed, entered the river again with Nekimi, and approaching Perrot, desired him to grasp the mane firmly in his hand, and leave the rest to the animal’s sagacity, which instruction being obeyed, he was safely brought ashore, and in a short time was laughing louder than the rest at his own fright, and at the ludicrous predicament from which he had been extricated.

The packages were all conveyed across without accident, and the party found themselves encamped in what was then considered a part of the Osage country. Here they were obliged to use greater vigilance in the protection of their camp and of their horses during the night, as they had not yet smoked the pipe with the chiefs, and were liable to an attack from a party of warriors or horse–stealers.

The night passed, however, without any disturbance; and on the following day at noon they reached a spot which Baptiste recognised as a former camping–place of the Osages, and which he knew to be not distant from their present village. Here his attention was suddenly drawn to an adjoining maple, on the bark of which sundry marks were rudely cut, and in a fork of the tree were three arrows, and as many separate bunches of horsehair. He examined all these carefully, and replaced them exactly as he found them; after which he informed Reginald that three braves of the Osages had gone forward during the past night on a war–excursion towards the Konsas, and all these marks were left to inform their followers of their purpose, and the exact path which they intended to pursue. He also advised Reginald to halt his party here, while he went on himself with one of the men to the village, it being contrary to the customs of Indian etiquette for a great man to come among them unannounced.

Reginald adopted his counsel, and the sturdy guide, accompanied by one of the coureurs des bois, set out upon his mission, the result of which will appear in the following chapter.