Escape from Indians--A discovery--Alone in the desert. Dick Varley had spent so much of his boyhoodin sporting about among the waters of the riversand lakes near which he had been reared, and especiallyduring the last two years had spent so much of hisleisure time in rolling and diving with his dog Crusoein the lake of the Mustang Valley, that he had becomealmost as expert in the water as a South Sea islander;so that when he found himself whirling down the rapidriver, as already described, he was more impressed witha feeling of gratitude to God for his escape from theIndians than anxiety about getting ashore.
He was not altogether blind or indifferent to thedanger into which he might be hurled if the channel ofthe river should be found lower down to be broken withrocks, or should a waterfall unexpectedly appear. Afterfloating down a sufficient distance to render pursuitout of the question, he struck into the bank opposite tothat from which he had plunged, and clambering upto the greensward above, stripped off the greater partof his clothing and hung it on the branches of a bush todry. Then he sat down on the trunk of a fallen treeto consider what course he had best pursue in his presentcircumstances.
These circumstances were by no means calculated toinspire him with hope or comfort. He was in themidst of an unknown wilderness, hundreds of milesfrom any white man's settlement; surrounded bysavages; without food or blanket; his companionsgone, he knew not whither--perhaps taken and killedby the Indians; his horse dead; and his dog, the mosttrusty and loving of all his friends, lost to him, probably,for ever! A more veteran heart might havequailed in the midst of such accumulated evils; butDick Varley possessed a strong, young, and buoyantconstitution, which, united with a hopefulness of dispositionthat almost nothing could overcome, enabled himvery quickly to cast aside the gloomy view of his caseand turn to its brighter aspects.
He still grasped his good rifle, that was some comfort;and as his eye fell upon it, he turned with anxiety toexamine into the condition of his powder-horn and thefew things that he had been fortunate enough to carryaway with him about his person.
The horn in which western hunters carry their powderis usually that of an ox. It is closed up at the largeend with a piece of hard wood fitted tightly into it, andthe small end is closed with a wooden peg or stopper.
It is therefore completely water-tight, and may be forhours immersed without the powder getting wet, unlessthe stopper should chance to be knocked out. Dickfound, to his great satisfaction, that the stopper wasfast and the powder perfectly dry. Moreover, he had by good fortunefilledit full two days before from thepackage that contained the general stock of ammunition,so that there were only two or three charges out of it.
His percussion caps, however, were completely destroyed;and even though they had not been, it would have matteredlittle, for he did not possess more than half-a-dozen.
But this was not so great a misfortune as at first itmight seem, for he had the spare flint locks and the littlescrew-driver necessary for fixing and unfixing themstowed away in his shot pouch.
To examine his supply of bullets was his next care,and slowly he counted them out, one by one, to thenumber of thirty. This was a pretty fair supply, andwith careful economy would last him many days. Havingrelieved his mind on these all-important points,he carefully examined every pouch and corner of hisdress to ascertain the exact amount and value of hiswealth.
Besides the leather leggings, moccasins, deerskin hunting-shirt,cap, and belt which composed his costume, hehad a short heavy hunting-knife, a piece of tinder, alittle tin pannikin, which he had been in the habit ofcarrying at his belt, and a large cake of maple sugar.
This last is a species of sugar which is procured by theIndians from the maple-tree. Several cakes of it hadbeen carried off from the Pawnee village, and Dickusually carried one in the breast of his coat. Besidesthese things, he found that the little Bible, for whichhis mother had made a small inside breast-pocket, wassafe. Dick's heart smote him when he took it out andundid the clasp, for he had not looked at it until thatday. It was firmly bound with a brass clasp, so that,although the binding and the edges of the leaves weresoaked, the inside was quite dry. On opening the bookto see if it had been damaged, a small paper fell out.
Picking it up quickly, he unfolded it, and read, in hismother's handwriting: "Call upon me in the time oftrouble; and I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorifyme. My son, give me thine heart."Dick's eyes filled with tears while the sound, as itwere, of his mother's voice thus reached him unexpectedlyin that lonely wilderness. Like too many whosehearts are young and gay, Dick had regarded religion, ifnot as a gloomy, at least as not a cheerful thing. Buthe felt the comfort of these words at that moment, andhe resolved seriously to peruse his mother's parting giftin time to come.
The sun was hot, and a warm breeze gently shookthe leaves, so that Dick's garments were soon dry. Afew minutes served to change the locks of his rifle, drawthe wet charges, dry out the barrels, and re-load. Thenthrowing it across his shoulder, he entered the wood andwalked lightly away. And well he might, poor fellow,for at that moment he felt light enough in person if notin heart. His worldly goods were not such as to oppresshim; but the little note had turned his thoughts towardshome, and he felt comforted.
Traversing the belt of woodland that marked thecourse of the river, Dick soon emerged on the wideprairie beyond, and here he paused in some uncertaintyas to how he should proceed.
He was too good a backwoodsman, albeit so young, tofeel perplexed as to the points of the compass. Heknew pretty well what hour it was, so that the sunshowed him the general bearings of the country, and heknew that when night came he could correct his courseby the pole star. Dick's knowledge of astronomy waslimited; he knew only one star by name, but that onewas an inestimable treasure of knowledge. His perplexitywas owing to his uncertainty as to the directionin which his companions and their pursuers had gone;for he had made up his mind to follow their trail ifpossible, and render all the succour his single armmight afford. To desert them, and make for the settlement,he held, would be a faithless and cowardlyact.
While they were together Joe Blunt had often talkedto him about the route he meant to pursue to the RockyMountains, so that, if they had escaped the Indians, hethought there might be some chance of finding them atlast. But, to set against this, there was the probabilitythat they had been taken and carried away in a totallydifferent direction; or they might have taken to theriver, as he had done, and gone farther down withouthis observing them. Then, again, if they had escaped,they would be sure to return and search the countryround for him, so that if he left the spot he might missthem.
"Oh for my dear pup Crusoe!" he exclaimed aloudin this di............