The Great Sioux Trail: A Story of Mountain and Plain. Altsheler Joseph Alexander

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      "What is it, Jim?" asked Will.

      "I'm looking for tracks."

      "What tracks? You said we wouldn't find any Sioux in here."

      "Not the footprints of the Sioux."

      "It's not in the range of the Crows, Blackfeet or Assiniboines. Surely you don't expect them."

      "I don't expect Crows, Blackfeet or Assiniboines."

      "Then what do you expect?"

      "Wild animals."

      "Why bother about wild animals? Armed as we are we've nothing to fear from them."

      "Nothing to fear, but a lot to hope. I think we're likely to stay here quite a spell, and we'll need 'em in our business. Remember that for the present, Will, we're wild men, and we'll have to live as wild men have lived since the world began. We want their meat and their skins."

      "The meat I understand, because I'd like to bite into a juicy piece of it now, but we're not fur hunters."

      "No, but we need the skins of big animals, and we need 'em right away. This weather can't last forever. We're bound to have a storm sometime soon. We must first make a wickiup. It's quite simple. The Sioux always do it. A Sioux warrior never sleeps in the open if he can help it, and as they've lived this sort of life for more hundreds of years than anybody knows they ought to know something about it."

      "But I don't see that cloud you told me several days ago to watch for."

      "It will come. It's bound to come. Now here's the lake ahead of us. Isn't it a beauty? I told you we'd find a lot of these fine little lakes all along the slopes of the ridges, but this seems to be the gem of them all. See how the water breaks into waves and looks like melted silver! And the banks sloping and firm, covered with thick green turf, run right down to the water's edge, like a gentleman's park."

      "It's all that you claim for it," said Will, making a wide, sweeping gesture, "and, bright new lake, I christen thee Lake Boyd!"

      "The lake accepts the name," said the hunter with a pleased smile, and then he added, also making a wide, sweeping gesture:

      "Green and sheltered valley, I christen thee Clarke Valley."

      "I, too, accept the compliment," said Will.

      "The far side of the valley is much the steeper," said the hunter, "and I think it would be a good idea for us to build the wickiup over there. It would be sheltered thoroughly on one side at least by the lofty cliffs."

      "Going back a moment to the search you were making a little while ago, have you noticed the footprints of any wild animals?"

      "Aye, Will, my lad, so I have. I've seen tracks of elk, buffalo and bear, and of many smaller beasts."

      "Then, that burden off your mind, we might as well locate the site of our house."

      "Correct. I think I see it now in an open space under the shelter of the cliff."

      They had ridden across the valley, and both marked a slight elevation under the shadow of the cliff, a glen forty or fifty yards across, protected by thick forest both to east and west, and by thin forest on the south, from which point they were approaching.

      "It's the building site that's been reserved for us five hundred years, maybe," said the hunter. "The mountain and the trees will shelter us from most of the big winds, and if any of the trees should blow down their falling bodies would not reach us here in the center of the open space. There is grass everywhere for the horses, and water, both lake and running, for all of us."

      They unsaddled the riding horses, took the packs off the others and turned them loose. All four neighed gratefully, and set to work on the grass.

      "They've done a tremendous lot of mountain climbing, and they've carried heavy burdens," said Boyd, "and they're entitled to a long rest, long enough to heal up their sore feet and fill out their sides again. Now, Will, you'll make a great hunter some day, but suppose, for the present, you guard the packs while I look for an elk and maybe a bear. Two of them would furnish more meat than we could use in a long time, but we need their skins."

      "I'm content to wait," said Will, who was saddle-tired.

      He sat down on the thick, soft grass by the side of the packs, and his physical system, keyed up so long, suffered a collapse, complete but not unpleasant. Every nerve relaxed and he sank back against his pack, content to be idle as long as Boyd was away. But while his body was weak then, his mind was content. Clarke Valley, which had been named after him, was surely wonderful. It was green and fresh everywhere and Boyd Lake was molten silver. Not far away the cataract showed white against the mountainside, and its roar came in a pleasant murmur to his ears.

      He heard a distant shot, but it did not disturb him. He knew it was Boyd, shooting something, probably the elk he wished. After a while he heard another report, and he put that down as the bear. His surmise was correct in both instances.

      Boyd, with his help, skinned both the bear and the elk, and they hung great quantities of the flesh of both in the trees to dry. Boyd carefully scraped the skins with his hunting knife, and they, too, were hung out to dry. While they were hanging there Will also shot a bear, and his hairy covering was added to the others.

      A few days later Boyd built the wickiup, called by the Sioux tipiowinja. Taking one of the sharp axes he quickly cut a number of slender, green poles, the larger ends of which he sharpened well and thrust deep into the ground, until he had made with them a complete circle. The smaller ends were bent toward a common center and fastened tightly with withes of skin. The space between was thatched with brush, and the whole was covered with the skins of elk and bear, which Boyd stitched together closely and firmly. Then they cut out a small doorway, which they could enter by stooping. The floor was of poles, made smooth and soft with a covering of dead leaves.

      It was rude and primitive, but Will saw at once that in need it would protect both their stores and themselves.

      "I learned that from the Sioux long ago," said Boyd, not without some admiration of his handiwork. "It's close and hot, and after we've put the stores in we'll have to tuck ourselves away in the last space left. But it will feel mighty good in a storm."

      The second night after the wickiup was finished his words came true. A great storm gathered in the southwest, the first that Will had seen in the high mountains, and it was a tremendous and terrifying manifestation of nature.

      The mountains fairly shook with the explosions of thunder, and the play of lightning was dazzling on the ridges. When thunder and lightning subsided somewhat, the hunter and the lad crept into the wickiup and listened to the roaring of the rain as it came. Will, curled against the side upon his pack, heard the fierce wind moaning as if the gods themselves were in pain, and the rain beating in gust after gust. The stout poles bent a little before both wind and rain, but their elasticity merely added to their power of resistance, as the wickiup, so simple in its structure and yet so serviceable, stood fast, and Boyd had put on its skin covering so well that not a single drop of water entered.

      In civilization he might have found the wickiup too close to be supportable, but in that raging wilderness, raging then at least, it was snug beyond compare. He had a thought or two for the horses, but he knew they would find shelter in the forest. Boyd, who was curled on the other side of the wickiup, was already asleep, but the lad's sense of safety and shelter was so great that he lay awake, and listened to the shrieking of the elements, separated from him only by СКАЧАТЬ