The Pioneer Boys of the Columbia; or, In the Wilderness of the Great Northwest — John Shaqi
The Pioneer Boys of the Columbia; or, In the Wilderness of the Great NorthwestRathborne, St. George
General
The Pioneer Boys of the Columbia; or, In the Wilderness of the Great Northwest
Rathborne, St. George
Columbia River -- Juvenile fiction; Frontier and pioneer life -- Juvenile fiction
"Meaning the river, I suppose," remarked Dick, calmly. "Yes, I expected
that it would take us some little time to get there, because there was
a big bend just at the place we left the water, on sighting that hill
which we climbed to look around for game."
"Dick, I believe I see something that flickers ahead of us!" exclaimed
Roger just then.
"It must be the light of the fires, which as usual have been built
below the river-bank, so that their glow may not betray the camp to
hostile eyes. Yes, just as you say, Roger, we are getting there, and
will be in on time."
"Oh! as to that, Dick," said the other with a laugh, "even if supper is
started they will be sure to switch off and give this fresh buffalo
meat the first showing. But, for one, I shall be glad to rest. After
all that prancing around my tree every muscle in my legs cries out in
pain, I do believe."
They were not long in arriving at the camp, and, when the campers found
what the packages that the horses carried contained, they greeted the
newcomers with cheery words of welcome and of thanks.
It was a lively scene, with the boats drawn up on the sandy beach under
the river-bank; the horses picketed out to graze; the tents that had
been erected to serve as sleeping quarters for the company; and the
blazing fires about which the cooks were starting to cook the evening
meal. For a background to the picture there was the ever-murmuring
river, and the boys, many a time, wished they were able to send a
loving message down those hundreds of miles to the little settlement of
St. Louis, where their loved ones dwelt.
They knew that a monumental task still lay before them, since the
terrible, rocky mountains, of which they had heard vague stories from
the Indians, had to be scaled, as well as trackless wastes of desert
land crossed, before they could hope to feast their eyes on the blue
sea which was their goal.
Still, the whole summer lay before them, and they had already
surmounted so many obstacles that nothing seemed to daunt those bold
spirits. Each day's journey they counted another link in the chain,
and, having virtually burned their bridges behind them, it became a
necessity that they succeed.
The supper was finally cooked, and those who were not on duty as guards
settled down to enjoy what had been prepared. As usual Dick and Roger
found places close together, for they were chums in everything, and
liked to chat while eating.
"This pays me for all my trouble with that old bull," remarked Roger as
he munched away. "Sweeter meat I never tasted, if I do say it myself."
"Oh! I agree with you there," Dick told him. "But I find myself
wondering why Captain Lewis keeps looking over this way so often. And
then, too, it strikes me he is unusually solemn to-night. What do you
say, Roger?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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