In the Rocky Mountains. William Henry Giles Kingston

after once more shaking hands with us, set off to join his tribe.

      Lieutenant Broadstreet expressed his satisfaction at having come to the farm. “If you are attacked, my four men and I may be of some use to you; for I feel sure that we shall quickly drive away the Redskins, however numerous they may be,” he observed.

      He advised that all the doors and lower windows should be barricaded, in case a surprise might be attempted; and that guards should be posted, and another scout sent out to keep watch near the house, in case Bartle might have missed the enemy, or any accident have happened to him. The latter Uncle Jeff deemed very unnecessary, so great was his confidence in Bartle’s judgment and activity.

      Notice was sent to the hut directing the men to come in should they be required, but it was not considered necessary for them to sleep inside the house.

      These arrangements having been made, those not on watch retired to rest. But although Uncle Jeff took things so coolly, I suspect that he was rather more anxious than he wished it to appear. I know that I myself kept awake the greater part of the night, listening for any sounds which might indicate the approach of a foe, and ready to set out at a moment’s notice with my rifle in hand—which I had carefully loaded and placed by my bedside before I lay down. Several times I started up, fancying that I heard a distant murmur; but it was simply the roaring of the cataract coming down the cañon.

      At daybreak I jumped up, and quickly dressing, went downstairs. Soon afterwards Gideon Tuttle, who had been scouting near the house, came in, stating that he had seen no light to the southward which would indicate the camp-fires of an enemy, and that, according to his belief, none was likely to appear. In this Uncle Jeff was inclined to agree with him.

      Lieutenant Broadstreet now expressed a wish to proceed on his way; at the same time, he said that he did not like to leave us until it was certain that we were not likely to be exposed to danger.

      “Much obliged to you, friend,” said Uncle Jeff, “you are welcome to stay here as long as you please; and Bartle Won will soon be in, when we shall know all about the state of affairs.”

      It was our custom to breakfast at an early hour in the morning, as we had to be away looking after the cattle, and attending to the other duties of the farm.

      The lieutenant happened to ask me why we called the location “Roaring Water.”

      “I see only a quiet, decent stream flowing by into the valley below,” he observed.

      “Wait until we have a breeze coming down the cañon, and then you will understand why we gave the name of ‘Roaring Water’ to this place,” I answered. “As I can be spared this morning, and there is not much chance of the enemy coming, if you like to accompany me I will take you to the cataract which gives its name to this ‘quiet, decent stream,’ as you call it; then you will believe that we have not misnamed the locality.”

      We set off together. The lieutenant looked as if he would have liked to ask Clarice to accompany us; but she was busy about her household duties, and gave no response to his unspoken invitation.

      Boy-like, I took a great fancy to the young officer. He was quiet and gentlemanly, and free from all conceit.

      I took him to Cold-Water Spring, at which Clarice had met the Indian; and after swallowing a draught from it, we made our way onward over the rough rocks and fallen logs until we came in sight of what we called our cataract. It appeared directly before us, rushing, as it were, out of the side of the hill (though in reality there was a considerable stream above us, which was concealed by the summits of the intervening rocks); then downward it came in two leaps, striking a ledge about half-way, where masses of spray were sent off; and then taking a second leap, it fell into a pool; now rushing forth again foaming and roaring down a steep incline, until it reached the more level portion of the cañon.

      “That is indeed a fine cataract, and you have well named your location from it,” observed the lieutenant. “I wish I had had my sketch-book with me; I might have made a drawing of it, to carry away in remembrance of my visit here.”

      “I will send you one with great pleasure,” I answered.

      “Do you draw?” he asked, with a look of surprise, probably thinking that such an art was not likely to be possessed by a young backwoodsman.

      “I learned when I was a boy, and I have a taste that way, although I have but little time to exercise it,” I answered.

      He replied that he should be very much obliged. “Does your sister draw?—I conclude that young lady is your sister?” he said in a tone of inquiry.

      “Oh yes! Clarice draws better than I do,” I said. “But she has even less time than I have, for she is busy from morning till night; there is no time to spare for amusement of any sort. Uncle Jeff would not approve of our ‘idling our time,’ as he would call it, in that sort of way.”

      The lieutenant seemed inclined to linger at the waterfall, so that I had to hurry him away, as I wanted to be back to attend to my duties. I was anxious, also, to hear what account Bartle Won would bring in.

      But the day passed away, and Bartle did not appear. Uncle Jeff’s confidence that he could have come to no harm was not, however, shaken.

      “It may be that he has discovered the enemy, and is watching their movements; or perhaps he has been tempted to go on and on until he has found out that there is no enemy to be met with, or that they have taken the alarm and beat a retreat,” he observed.

      Still the lieutenant was unwilling to leave us, although Uncle Jeff did not press him to stay.

      “It will never do for me to hurry off with my men, and leave a party of whites in a solitary farm to be slaughtered by those Redskin savages,” he said.

      At all events, he stayed on until the day was so far spent that it would not have been worth while to have started.

      Clarice found a little leisure to sit down at the table with her needle-work, very much to the satisfaction of the lieutenant, who did his best to make himself agreeable.

      I was away down the valley driving the cattle into their pen, when I caught sight of Bartle coming along at his usual swinging pace towards the farm.

      “Well, what news?” I asked, as I came up to him.

      “Our friend Winnemak was not romancing,” he answered. “There were fully as many warriors on the war-path as he stated; but, for some reason or other, they turned about and are going south. I came upon their trail after they had broken up their last camp, and I had no difficulty in getting close enough to them to make out their numbers, and the tribes they belong to. The appearance of their camp, however, told me clearly that they are a very large body. We have to thank the chief for his warning; at the same time, we need not trouble ourselves any more on the subject.”

      “Have they done any harm on their march?” I asked.

      “As to that, I am afraid that some settlers to the south have suffered; for I saw, at night, the glare of several fires, with which the rascals must have had something to do. I only hope that the poor white men had time to escape with their lives. If I had not been in a hurry to get back, I would have followed the varmints, and picked off any stragglers I might have come across.”

      “As you, my friends, are safe for the present, I must be off to-morrow morning with my men,” said the lieutenant when I got back; “but I will report the position you are in at Fort Harwood, and should you have reason to expect an attack you can dispatch a messenger, and relief will, I am sure, be immediately sent you.”

      I do not know that Uncle Jeff cared much about this promise, so confident did he feel in his power to protect his own property—believing that his men, though few, would prove staunch. But he thanked the lieutenant, and hoped he should have the pleasure of seeing him again before long.

      During the night the sergeant was taken ill; and as he was no better in the morning, Lieutenant Broadstreet, who did not wish to go without him, was further