Bill Biddon, Trapper; or, Life in the NorthwestEllis, Edward Sylvester
General
Bill Biddon, Trapper; or, Life in the Northwest
Ellis, Edward Sylvester
Hunting -- West (U.S.) -- Fiction; Indians of North America -- Fiction; Trappers -- Fiction; Western stories
And it came at last. First, the sun grew hotter and blazed more
fiercely; the snow became damp and cloggy, and the dripping of water
could be heard through the day and night. Snow-shoe traveling was now
nearly impossible, as long as the thaw continued. Huge streams of
melted snow poured into the rivers all along the banks, and the ice
became weaker and weaker each moment, till, at last, with a terrific
crashing and thundering, the whole mass started, and, a week after,
the clear, blue running water only was seen. The thaw continued, until
at last all the snow had disappeared, and with feelings of
indescribable joy, we once more saw the face of the earth. Vegetation
now commenced with surprising growth, and, in an almost incredible
short space of time, bright, radiant, glorious spring held indisputed
reign. Indians were departing and arriving every day with loads of
fish, wild fowl, and game, and the village was a scene of unbridled
feasting for many a day.
One forenoon, a savage, who had been absent a day or two, announced
that a herd of buffaloes were quietly browsing a few miles to the
southward. This produced violent commotion throughout the village, and
preparations were at once made for the grand hunt. Some twenty or
thirty splendid Indian ponies were mounted by as many warriors, and,
to my inexpressible delight, Jim informed me that I should accompany
them. A small, high-spirited animal was given me as my charger. He was
of a dark color, and his dappled haunches glistened in the sun like
polished ebony.
About noon we sallied forth from the village, and struck a southward
direction, restraining our animals to a walk, in order to preserve
their wind for the severe test at hand. While riding along by the
side of Jim, the thought of escape--which had not been absent from me
for the last six months--came with double force. I was now mounted
upon a fleet, long-winded animal, who could hold his own with any
horse bestrode by the Indians, and what was to prevent my escape? In
the bewilderment and excitement of the chase, I might wander miles
away, and be gone many hours, without exciting suspicion. My captors,
I suppose, had no thoughts of my attempting a flight, as I had
permitted so many opportunities to pass, and I felt there would be no
suspicious eyes watching my motions. The prairie stretched hundreds of
miles to the southward, and it seemed my animal longed to bound away
upon it. At any rate, I felt the time had come, and resolved that I
should never return to the Indian village a captive.
An hour or so after, we came in sight of the drove, cropping the new
grass of the prairie. So numerous were they, that, as we looked over
them, it was impossible to see their extent. Far away, until they
touched the horizon, the ocean of dark, swarming bodies could be seen.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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