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THE RED RIVER HALF-BREED
A TALE OF THE WILD NORTHWEST
BY
GUSTAVE AIMARD
AUTHOR OF "PRAIRIE FLOWER," "THE TREASURE OF PEARLS,""PIRATES OF THE PRAIRIES," &c., &c.
LONDON
JOHN and ROBERT MAXWELL
MILTON HOUSE, SHOE LANE, FLEET STREET
AND
35, ST. BRIDE STREET LUDGATE CIRCUS
(From the Collected Novels--1860-1885)
(Translation by Henry Llewellyn Williams - edited by: Percy B. St John.)
CONTENTS
I. THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT II. THE FALSE PILOT III. THE MOUNTAINEER'S SNUG CABIN IV. THE MAN WHO RAN RIGHT INTO TROUBLE V. THE LONE MAN'S STORY VI. IN HOSTILE HANDS VII. CHEROKEE BILL RECRUITING VIII. THE GOLD GRABBERS IX. THE RED RIVER HALF-BREEDS X. THE STORM KING XI. THE IRRESISTIBLE BAIT XII. UNDER THE MARK XIII. THE BEAUTIFUL PRISONER'S FRIEND XIV. THE COMPACT XV. AN INGENIOUS INTRODUCTION XVI. THE THORN OF ROSES XVII. HOW "FRENCH PAUL" GOT HURT XVIII. ROSARIO BEGINS TO HOPE XIX. THE NEST OF TRAITORS XX. THE UNDERMINER XXI. THE BEST WAY TO LEARN IS TO LOOK AND LISTEN XXII. THE LATE VISITOR TO THE LADIES XXIII. A FOREST LETTER XXIV. THE YAGER'S "TREATY TALK" WITH OUR HERO XXV. WE HEAR FROM CHEROKEE BILL XXVI. THE ALL-POWERFUL EMBLEM XXVII. THE MOUNTAIN MAN IS REINFORCED XXVIII. DRAWING TO A HEAD XXIX. ON THE EVE OF THE ATTACK XXX. THE HALF-BREED DIES GAME XXXI. THE WOMEN'S CAMP
CHAPTER I.
THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.
We stand on the loftiest peak of the Big Wind River Mountains, thathighest and longest chain of the Northern Rockies, a chaos of granitefifteen thousand feet towards the firmament from the sea.
Around us the lesser pinnacles hold up heads as fantastic in shape asan Indian's plumed for battle, and, below a little, diamonds of icedeck the snowy ermine of the colossal giant's robe.
Far beneath, the mosses are grown upon by sparse grasses, and theyby scrub evergreens, gradually displaced in the descent to the warmalcoved valleys by taller and taller pines, spruce, larch, and cedar.But the ancient ocean wash here shows lines alone of the constant westand southwest winds, which never bring a seed or grain into this calmfrigidity.
In the placid afternoon, the beats are audible of the wings of the kingof the air, that proud eagle which Milton chose as the finest emblemof the American people who, in their vigorous youth, had lit theireyes in the unclouded sunbeams; and the song of the Arctic bluebird,startled by the unwonted squeaking of the dry ice powder intermixedwith ground fossils and granite, as horses in the uneven line of a newand breakneck trail crunch antediluvian shells to atoms as they followa daring man up the heights along chasms of ten thousand feet, from thewestern acclivity to the actual summit divide, not two yards wide.
It was November, a time when the almost impossible crossing was alonein the power of man, since in the thaws of summer the ravines are chokefull of resistless water, and, later, the snowstorms are overwhelming.
The guide of the little train stood on the monstrous pedestal, firmand unblenching as a statue, and contemplated with an impassioned butunflinching eye the sublime spectacle four hundred miles in diameter.Like the jags of a necklace, the peaks of the sierra protruded, andlike gems glittered the pure lakes of the mountain tops, those thatfeed to both hands the western and eastern rivers: towards the Pole,the Athabasca's Devil's Punchbowl, and the Two-world Pond under oureyes, into which the salmon trout leap from the Orient, and flash downinto the Missouri for the Mexican Gulf!
Like steps of an immense staircase, the Plains of the Missouri,Cheyenne, and Laramie extended, monotonous, drying up the mountainflow in insatiate rocks and sands, and heaving up stone barriers tothe prairie ocean. Like a thin thread of water gleams the rails ofthe Pacific Railroad, twenty thousand miles of metal over which thedolefully hooting steam engine capers to connect the Iron and CoalStates with those of Gold and Corn.
But the presumptuous pigmy soon ceases to be impressed with thegrandeur and the magnificence, and lets an admiring glance dwell onthe shining face of the never-freezing Lake of the Yellowstone Valley,and seems to feel no such awe as an Indian would have at viewing theinimitable hues and fanciful wreaths of smoke which overhung themysterious Firehole Basin--the Geyser land of the scientific, the hauntof the red man's demons and gods.
"Huh-la!" he cries to the horses and mules, and up they come in hisdauntless footsteps, and, the loads telling on them in the rarity ofthe air, gladly snicker as they take the downward path at last, spiteof the peril.
Sunset impends, and the adventurer still urges the train till the lastarrival appears, goaded by a second pioneer, who seems of Indian blood.
The two men silently exchange a grasp of the hand, as if their taskwere nearly accomplished, and plunge into the darkness, commencing toclimb the steeps as they commence what appears a mad descent. The stonyspires and domes glow like orange shaded lamps at a Chinese festivalalong the chain for hundreds of miles, and, after one moment ofmezzotint, so scant is the twilight here, the stars of the Great Bearstand out sparkling so near and so detached in the dark blue ether,that the sound of the auroral lights dancing seems the crackle of theorbs' own axles.
Surely it is worth while to follow two men so daring as to surmount thegreatest obstacle of Nature, and who carry themselves as if they, andnot the grizzly bear and eagle, were monarchs of this weird domain.