The Great Sioux Trail: A Story of Mountain and PlainAltsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
General
The Great Sioux Trail: A Story of Mountain and Plain
Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
Dakota Indians -- Fiction; West (U.S.) -- Fiction
"Didn't I tell you?" said Boyd, with delight. "Look at him now, taking
up his duties as a man. That horse can do everything but talk, and for
that reason, while he does many wise things, he never says a foolish
one. Doesn't he fill you chock full of confidence, Will?"
"He certainly does, Jim. I know he'll be a much better sentinel than I
could make of myself. I'll go to sleep, sure that we'll be well
protected."
Although the hunter found sleep soon, Will, who did not need it so
badly, lay awake long and he was interested in watching Selim, who was
justifying his master's praise. The horse, for all the world like a
vigilant sentinel, walked back and forth, and whenever his head was
turned toward the little camp the lad saw the great eyes shining.
"Good Selim!" he said to himself. "Good and watchful Selim!"
In all the immensity and loneliness of the wilderness he felt himself
drawn to the animals, at least to those that were not beasts of prey. It
was true not only of Selim but of the other horses that they could do
everything but talk, and they were the best friends of Boyd and himself.
His trust in the sentinel now absolute, he followed Boyd into peaceful
oblivion, and he did not come out of it until dawn.
CHAPTER II
THE NARROW ESCAPE
When he awoke a sun of great brilliancy was shining, and over him arched
the high skies of the great west. The air was thin and cool, easy to
breathe and uplifting, and in the bracing morning he did not feel the
loneliness and immensity of the wilderness. Boyd had already built a
little fire among the bushes, and was warming some strips of dried beef
over the flames.
"Here's your breakfast, Will," he said. "Beef, a few crackers, and
water. Coffee would taste mighty good, but we can't afford to be taking
it every morning, or we'd soon use up all we have. This is one of the
mornings we skip it."
"I can stand it if you can," said Will cheerfully, "and it seems to me
we ought to be saving our other stores, too. You'll have to kill a deer
or a buffalo soon, Jim."
"Not until we leave the valley. Now fall on, and when we finish the beef
we'll take another look at that map of yours."
They ate quickly and when they were done Will produced from an inside
pocket of his waistcoat, where he always carried it, the map which was
his most precious possession. It was on parchment, with all the lines
very distinct, and the two bent over it and studied it, as they had done
so often before.
It showed the Mississippi, flowing almost due south from Minnesota, and
the Missouri, which was in reality the upper Mississippi, thrusting its
mighty arm far out into the unknown wilderness of the Northwest. It
showed its formation by the meeting of the Jefferson, the Madison and
the Gallatin, but these three rivers themselves were indicated by vague
and faint traces. Extensive dark spaces meant high mountains.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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