The Backwoodsman; Or, Life on the Indian Frontier — John Shaqi
The Backwoodsman; Or, Life on the Indian Frontier
General
The Backwoodsman; Or, Life on the Indian Frontier
Hunting -- West (U.S.); Indians of North America -- West (U.S.); West (U.S.) -- Description and travel
It was a rather cool night, so that from time to time I made up my fire
with the dry wood of old mimosas, the only tree that finds nourishment
on these stony heights. Many of these grew round my fire, which when it
flared up, displayed the beautiful pink flowers with which these trees
are literally covered, so that the delicate pendulous leaves can scarce
be distinguished. Rarely did a sound disturb the surrounding silence;
now and then the yelp of a white wolf reached my ear through the cold
damp fog from the valley below me, or the hoot of an owl was repeated by
the echoes among the rocks.
Day awoke me from a refreshing sleep as the sun was gilding the summits
of the mountains that emerged from the sea of fog at my feet, round
which the large eagles were circling. Greatly invigorated, I bade adieu
to my pleasant resting-place, and led Czar over the rocks to the nearest
valley, which soon received us under its shady trees. I traversed the
valley for about two hours in a northern direction, following the course
of a clear stream which ran through, with a thousand windings, like a
mighty snake, and was framed in on both sides by thick bushes and old
overgrown trees.
About mid-day, as I was following one of these windings, I suddenly
found myself a few paces from a camp of Cato Indians, and a general
"ugh" reached my ear, as the men, about thirty in number, sprang up, and
we gazed at each other in surprise, watching for a signal of peace or
war. My presence of mind did not desert me; and knowing that these
savages, when they have their wives and children with them, prefer a
peaceful understanding, I waved a good morning to them with a pleasant
smile, and rode, holding my rifle and watching every movement of the
men, to the next bend in the river, while the savages looked after me
with open mouth, as if petrified. When I had got round a curve and was
protected by the bushes, my first idea was to give Czar the spur and
gallop away, but this would only have been a challenge to the Indians to
pursue me; hence I made him amble, as well as he could manage it in the
tall grass, and hastened to get out of this unpleasant company. It was
highly probable that the savages would follow me, if only to get hold of
my fine horse; hence I was obliged to calculate my next steps. I had but
the choice of two ways--either to throw out the savages by riding in
the water and on stony ground, where they could not follow my trail, and
then concealing myself at some easily defended spot--or else to ride
quickly away from them so far that they could not follow me on their
wretched horses. The former was difficult and dubious, as the Indian's
eye surpasses the nose of the best pointer, and hence I chose the other,
trusting to my horse's speed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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