The Forest Monster; or, Lamora, the Maid of the Canon. Edward Sylvester Ellis
requires a little explanation. Old Stebbins had detected signs of Indians—indeed had indubitable evidence that they were in the neighborhood; but the signs which indicated this fact to them indicated still further that the same Indians, or Blackfeet, as they undoubtedly were, had no suspicion of the presence of white men. This, therefore, disclosed a “clear sky” so far as the trappers were directly concerned, although they were thus made aware that there was a dark, threatening cloud low down in the horizon, which might rise, and send forth its deadly lightning.
Looking to the westward, Stebbins saw a wooded ridge a hundred rods or so distant, which shut off any further view in that direction; but, about a half-mile beyond this, his keen eyes detected the smoke of a camp-fire. It was very faintly defined against the clear blue sky, but it was unmistakable, and indicated that a party of Indians were encamped there.
Why, then, did Black Tom sit so unconcernedly upon the ground, after hearing this announcement, and permit their fire to burn so vigorously, when its ascending vapor might make known to the Blackfeet what they did not even suspect?
Because night was closing around them, and ere the red-skins would be likely to detect the suspicious sign, it would be concealed in the gathering darkness—and the dense shrubbery effectually shut out the blaze from any wanderers that might venture that way.
As there was nothing at hand immediately to engage their attention, the trappers, after gathering a goodly quantity of fuel, reclined upon the ground, and leisurely smoked their pipes.
“Teddy is gone a powerful while,” remarked Tom, as he looked up and saw that it was quite dark; “he can’t be as hungry as we are.”
“He’s seed the sign—and he’s keerful—hello!”
At that instant, the report of a gun was heard, sounding nearly in the direction of the Indian encampment. The trappers listened a moment, and then Tom added, in the most indifferent manner possible:
“Wonder ef that chap’s got throwed.”
“Hope not,” returned his companion, “fur ef he is we’ll have to go to bed on an empty stomach, or scratch out, and hunt up our supper for ourselves.”
The individual who had occasioned this remark was Teddy O’Doherty, a rattling, jovial Irishman, who had got lost from an emigrant train several years before, and in wandering over the prairie fell into the hands of the trappers, with whom he had consorted ever since.
He had spent enough time among the beaver-runs of the north-west, to become quite an expert hunter; he had acquired a certain degree of caution in his movements, but there still remained a great deal of the rollicking, daredevil nature, which was born in him, and he had already been engaged in several desperate scrimmages with the red-skins, and the wonder was that he had escaped death so long.
Like a true Irishman, he dearly loved a row, and undoubtedly he frequently “pitched into” a party of Indians, out of a hankering for it, when prudence told him to keep a respectable distance between him and his foes.
On this afternoon, when riding forward over the prairie, old Stebbins indicated to him the grove where they proposed spending the night, when the Irishman instantly demanded:
“And what is it yees are a-gwine to make yer sooper upon?”
“We’ll have to hunt up something,” replied Tom; “we’re out of ven’son, and thar don’t seem to be any fish handy.”
“Do yees go ahead, and make yerselves aisy,” instantly added Teddy. “I’ll make a sarcuit around the hill yonder, jist as I used to sarcle around Bridget O’Moghlogoh’s cabin, when I went a-coortin’, to decide whether to go down the chimney or through the pig-stye in the parlor. Do yees rest aisy, I say, and I’ll bring the sooper to yees.”
And with this merry good-by, he struck his wearied pony into a gallop, and speedily disappeared over the ridge to which reference has been already made, and the trappers passed on to the grove, where we must spend a few minutes with them, before following the fortunes of the Irishman, who speedily dove, head foremost, into the most singular and astounding adventure of his life.
The hunters listened some time for a return-shot or shout to the gun, but none was heard.
“It was Teddy’s bull-dog,” said old Stebbins. “I know the sound of that critter, for I’ve fired it often ’nough.”
“Wal, thar hain’t been any answer to it, as I guess it was p’inted at some animile instead of red-skin.”
This seemed to be the conclusion of both, as they gave no further thought to the absent member of their party.
It was a mild day in late summer, before the vegetation had given any indication of the approaching cold season. The hunters had ventured thus early into the trapping-grounds for two reasons: one was to mislead the Blackfeet, who would be looking for their coming a month or two later, and the other reason will become apparent hereafter.
“To-morrow we’ll strike the trapping-grounds,” said old Stebbins, in his careless manner, as he lazily whiffed his pipe.
“It’s two months yet afore we need set our traps,” said Black Tom.
“That’ll give us plenty of time to find out all we want to,” replied his companion.
“Yas,” added the other, somewhat significantly; “we’ll l’arn whether thar’ll be any need of our ever settin’ them ag’in or not.”
“Not quite that,” said old Stebbins, with a laugh and shake of the head. “I don’t b’l’eve that.”
“I don’t know,” continued Black Tom, who seemed in the best of spirits; “it looked powerful like it when we had to dig out last spring.”
“It did, summat—”
“B’ars and beavers!” exclaimed Tom, suddenly coming to the upright position, jerking his coonskin hat from his head, and dashing it upon the ground, “don’t you remember, Steb.?”
“Remember what?” demanded his companion, not a little startled at his manner.
“It was right hyar that we see’d that!”
“See’d what?”
“Old Steb., you’re a thunderin’ fool!” replied Tom, with an expression of disgust. “I guess you’re gettin’ childish. I, s’pose, you don’t remember that—that—what shall I call it?—that we see’d near hyar?”
“How did I furget it? How did we all forget it—Teddy, too?”
There was no doubt that Stebbins recalled the creature to which reference had been made. Unquestionably brave as both of these men were, their appearance showed that they were frightened. Their bronzed and scarred faces were pale, and they looked into each other’s eyes in silence, both revolving “terrible thoughts.”
“Right out thar,” said Stebbins, speaking in a terrified whisper, and pointing toward the open prairie, over which they had just ridden; “how was it that we wa’n’t on the look out fur it?”
“Dunno, when we’ve been talkin’ ’bout it all the way. It’s too bad that it should come right hyar—jest near the very spot we’re after.”
“Mebbe it’s gone away,” added Stebbins, speaking not his belief, but his hope.
“It will be a powerful lucky thing for us, if it has.”
As frightened children huddle close together, around the evening fire, at the thought of the dreadful ghost, so these two stern-featured men, whose faces had never blanched when the howls of the myriad red-skins, who were closing around them, sounded in their ears, now instinctively sat closer together, and looked off furtively in the darkness, as if in mortal dread of some coming and appalling monster.
But this sudden exhibition of fear was mostly temporary in its manifestations. As each clutched