“Friend,” said the trapper, a little positively, “would the tail of a beaver make the worse dinner for calling it a mink; or could you eat of the wolf, with relish, because some bookish man had given it the name of venison?”
As these questions were put with no little earnestness and some spirit, there was every probability that a hot discussion would have succeeded between two men, of whom one was so purely practical and the other so much given to theory, had not Ishmael seen fit to terminate the dispute, by bringing into view a subject that was much more important to his own immediate interests.
“Beavers’ tails and minks’ flesh may do to talk about before a maple fire and a quiet hearth,” interrupted the squatter, without the smallest deference to the interested feelings of the disputants; “but something more than foreign words, or words of any sort, is now needed.
Tell me, trapper, where are your Siouxes skulking?”
“It would be as easy to tell you the colours of the hawk that is floating beneath yonder white cloud!
When a red-skin strikes his blow, he is not apt to wait until he is paid for the evil deed in lead.”
“Will the beggarly savages believe they have enough, when they find themselves master of all the stock?”
“Natur’ is much the same, let it be covered by what skin it may.
Do you ever find your longings after riches less when you have made a good crop, than before you were master of a kernel of corn?
If you do, you differ from what the experience of a long life tells me is the common cravings of man.”
“Speak plainly, old stranger,” said the squatter, striking the butt of his rifle heavily on the earth, his dull capacity finding no pleasure in a discourse that was conducted in so obscure allusions; “I have asked a simple question, and one I know well that you can answer.”
“You are right, you are right.
I can answer, for I have too often seen the disposition of my kind to mistake it, when evil is stirring.
When the Siouxes have gathered in the beasts, and have made sure that you are not upon their heels, they will be back nibbling like hungry wolves to take the bait they have left or it may be, they’ll show the temper of the great bears, that are found at the falls of the Long River, and strike at once with the paw, without stopping to nose their prey.”
“You have then seen the animals you mention!” exclaimed Dr. Battius, who had now been thrown out of the conversation quite as long as his impatience could well brook, and who approached the subject with his tablets ready opened, as a book of reference. “Can you tell me if what you encountered was of the species, ursus horribilis—with the ears, rounded—front, arquated—eyes—destitute of the remarkable supplemental lid—with six incisores, one false, and four perfect molares—”
“Trapper, go on, for we are engaged in reasonable discourse,” interrupted Ishmael; “you believe we shall see more of the robbers.”
“Nay—nay—I do not call them robbers, for it is the usage of their people, and what may be called the prairie law.”
“I have come five hundred miles to find a place where no man can ding the words of the law in my ears,” said Ishmael, fiercely, “and I am not in a humour to stand quietly at a bar, while a red-skin sits in judgment.
I tell you, trapper, if another Sioux is seen prowling around my camp, wherever it may be, he shall feel the contents of old Kentuck,” slapping his rifle, in a manner that could not be easily misconstrued, “though he wore the medal of Washington, himself.
I call the man a robber who takes that which is not his own.”
“The Teton, and the Pawnee, and the Konza, and men of a dozen other tribes, claim to own these naked fields.”
“Natur’ gives them the lie in their teeth.
The air, the water, and the ground, are free gifts to man, and no one has the power to portion them out in parcels.
Man must drink, and breathe, and walk,—and therefore each has a right to his share of ‘arth.
Why do not the surveyors of the States set their compasses and run their lines over our heads as well as beneath our feet?
Why do they not cover their shining sheep-skins with big words, giving to the landholder, or perhaps he should be called air holder, so many rods of heaven, with the use of such a star for a boundary-mark, and such a cloud to turn a mill?”
As the squatter uttered his wild conceit, he laughed from the very bottom of his chest, in scorn.
The deriding but frightful merriment passed from the mouth of one of his ponderous sons to that of the other, until it had made the circuit of the whole family.
“Come, trapper,” continued Ishmael, in a tone of better humour, like a man who feels that he has triumphed, “neither of us, I reckon, has ever had much to do with title-deeds, or county clerks, or blazed trees; therefore we will not waste words on fooleries.
You ar’ a man that has tarried long in this clearing, and now I ask your opinion, face to face, without fear or favour, if you had the lead in my business, what would you do?”
The old man hesitated, and seemed to give the required advice with deep reluctance.
As every eye, however, was fastened on him, and whichever way he turned his face, he encountered a look riveted on the lineaments of his own working countenance, he answered in a low, melancholy, tone—
“I have seen too much mortal blood poured out in empty quarrels, to wish ever to hear an angry rifle again.
Ten weary years have I sojourned alone on these naked plains, waiting for my hour, and not a blow have I struck ag’in an enemy more humanised than the grizzly bear.”
“Ursus horribilis,” muttered the Doctor.
The speaker paused at the sound of the other’s voice, but perceiving it was no more than a sort of mental ejaculation, he continued in the same strain—
“More humanised than the grizzly hear, or the panther of the Rocky Mountains; unless the beaver, which is a wise and knowing animal, may be so reckoned.
What would I advise?
Even the female buffaloe will fight for her young!”
“It never then shall be said, that Ishmael Bush has less kindness for his children than the bear for her cubs!”
“And yet this is but a naked spot for a dozen men to make head in, ag’in five hundred.”
“Ay, it is so,” returned the squatter, glancing his eye towards his humble camp; “but something might be done, with the wagons and the cotton-wood.”
The trapper shook his head incredulously, and pointed across the rolling plain in the direction of the west, as he answered—
“A rifle would send a bullet from these hills into your very sleeping-cabins; nay, arrows from the thicket in your rear would keep you all burrowed, like so many prairie dogs: it wouldn’t do, it wouldn’t do.
Three long miles from this spot is a place, where as I have often thought in passing across the desert, a stand might be made for days and weeks together, if there were hearts and hands ready to engage in the bloody work.”
Another low, deriding laugh passed among the young men, announcing, in a manner sufficiently intelligible, their readiness to undertake a task even more arduous.
The squatter himself eagerly seized the hint which had been so reluctantly extorted from the trapper, who by some singular process of reasoning had evidently persuaded himself that it was his duty to be strictly neutral.
A few direct and pertinent enquiries served to obtain the little additional information that was necessary, in order to make the contemplated movement, and then Ishmael, who was, on emergencies, as terrifically energetic, as he was sluggish in common, set about effecting his object without delay.
Notwithstanding the industry and zeal of all engaged, the task was one of great labour and difficulty.
The loaded vehicles were to be drawn by hand across a wide distance of plain without track or guide of any sort, except that which the trapper furnished by communicating his knowledge of the cardinal points of the compass.