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[Illustration: FIGHT WITH THE GRIZZLY BEARS. _p. 290._]




  THE
  BACKWOODSMAN;
  OR,
  =Life on the Indian Frontier.=

[Illustration]

  LONDON:
  WARD, LOOK, AND TYLER,
  WARWICK HOUSE, PATERNOSTER ROW.




  THE
  BACKWOODSMAN
  OR
  =Life on the Indian Frontier.=

  EDITED BY
  SIR C. F. LASCELLES WRAXALL, BART.

[Illustration: WL&T]

  LONDON:
  WARD, LOCK, AND TYLER,
  WARWICK HOUSE, PATERNOSTER ROW.




  LONDON:
  PRINTED BY J. OGDEN AND CO.,
  172, ST. JOHN STREET, E.C.




[Illustration]

CONTENTS.


   CHAP.                                     PAGE

      I. MY SETTLEMENT                          1

     II. THE COMANCHES                          6

    III. A FIGHT WITH THE WEICOS               12

     IV. HUNTING ADVENTURES                    19

      V. THE NATURALIST                        30

     VI. MR. KREGER'S FATE                     41

    VII. A LONELY RIDE                         53

   VIII. THE JOURNEY CONTINUED                 66

     IX. HOMEWARD BOUND                        82

      X. THE BEE HUNTER                        99

     XI. THE WILD HORSE                       114

    XII. THE PRAIRIE FIRE                     126

   XIII. THE DELAWARE INDIAN                  137

    XIV. IN THE MOUNTAINS                     151

     XV. THE WEICOS                           162

    XVI. THE BEAR HOLE                        173

   XVII. THE COMANCHE CHIEF                   185

  XVIII. THE NEW COLONISTS                    208

    XIX. A BOLD TOUR                          224

     XX. THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS                  238

    XXI. LOST IN THE MOUNTAINS                253

   XXII. BEAVER HUNTERS                       267

   XXIII. THE GRIZZLY BEARS                   282

    XXIV. ASCENT OF THE BIGHORN               300

     XXV. ON THE PRAIRIE                      326

    XXVI. THE COMANCHES                       345

   XXVII. HOME AGAIN                          363

  XXVIII. INDIAN BEAUTIES                     381

    XXIX. THE SILVER MINE                     396

     XXX. THE PURSUIT                         412

[Illustration]




[Illustration]

THE BACKWOODSMAN

CHAPTER I.

MY SETTLEMENT.


My blockhouse was built at the foot of the mountain chain of the Rio
Grande, on the precipitous banks of the River Leone. On three sides it
was surrounded by a fourteen feet stockade of split trees standing
perpendicularly. At the two front corners of the palisade were small
turrets of the same material, whence the face of the wall could be held
under fire in the event of an attack from hostile Indians. On the south
side of the river stretched out illimitable rolling prairies, while the
northern side was covered with the densest virgin forest for many miles.
To the north and west I had no civilized neighbours at all, while to the
south and east the nearest settlement was at least 250 miles distant. My
small garrison consisted of three men, who, whenever I was absent,
defended the fort, and at other times looked after the small field and
garden as well as the cattle.

As I had exclusively undertaken to provide my colony with meat, I rarely
stayed at home, except when there was some pressing field work to be
done. Each dawn saw me leave the fort with my faithful dog Trusty, and
turn my horse either toward the boundless prairie or the mountains of
the Rio Grande.

Very often hunting kept me away from home for several days, in which
case I used to bivouac in the tall grass by the side of some prattling
stream. Such oases, though not frequent, are found here and there on the
prairies of the Far West, where the dark, lofty magnolias offer the
wearied traveller refreshment beneath their thick foliage, and the
stream at their base grants a cooling draught. One of these favourite
spots of mine lay near the mountains, about ten miles from my abode. It
was almost the only water far and wide, and here formed two ponds, whose
depths I was never able to sound, although I lowered large stones
fastened to upwards of a hundred yards of lasso. The small space between
the two ponds was overshadowed by the most splendid magnolias, peca-nut
trees, yuccas, evergreen oaks, &c., and begirt by a wall of cactuses,
aloes, and other prickly plants. I often selected this place for
hunting, because it always offered a large quantity of game of every
description, and I was certain at any time of finding near this water
hundreds of wild turkeys, which constitute a great dainty in the bill of
fare of the solitary hunter.

After a very hot spring day I had sought the ponds, as it was too late
to ride home. The night was glorious; the magnolias and large-flowered
cactuses diffused their vanilla perfume over me; myriads of fireflies
continually darted over the plain, and a gallant mocking-bird poured
forth its dulcet melody into the silent night above my head. The whole
of nature seemed to be revelling in the beauty of this night, and
thousands of insects sported round my small camp fire. It was such a
night as the elves select for their gambols, and for a long time I gazed
intently at the dark blue expanse above me. But, though the crystal
springs incessantly bubbled up to the surface, the Lurleis would not
visit me, for they have not yet strayed to America.

My dog and horse also played around me for a long time, until, quite
tired, they lay down by the fire-side, and all three of us slept till
dawn, when the gobbling of the turkeys aroused us. The morning was as
lovely as the night. To the east the flat prairie bordered the horizon
like a sea; the dark sky still glistened with the splendour of all its
jewels, while the skirt of its garment was dipped in brilliant carmine;
the night fled rapidly toward the mountains, and morn pursued it clad in
his festal robes. The sun rose like a mighty ball over the prairie, and
the heavy dew bowed the heads of the tender plants, as if they were
offering their morning thanksgiving for the refreshment which had been
granted them. I too was saturated with dew, and was obliged to hang my
deerskin suit to dry at the fire; fortunately the leather had been
smoked over a wood fire, which prevents it growing hard in drying. I
freshened up the fire, boiled some coffee, roasted the breast of a
turkey, into which I had previously rubbed pepper and salt, and finished
breakfast with Trusty, while Czar, my famous white stallion, was
greedily browzing on the damp grass, and turned his head away when I
went up to him with the bridle. I hung up the rest of the turkey, as
well as another I had shot on the previous evening, and a leg of deer
meat, in the shadow of a magnolia, as I did not know whether I might not
return to the spot that evening, saddled, and we were soon under weigh
for the mountains, where I hoped to find buffalo.

I was riding slowly along a hollow in the prairie, when a rapidly
approaching sound attracted my attention. In a few minutes a very old
buffalo, covered with foam, dashed past me, and almost at the same
moment a Comanche Indian pulled up his horse on the rising ground about
fifty yards from me. As he had his bow ready to shoot the buffalo, the
savage made his declaration of war more quickly than I, and his first
arrow passed through my game bag sling, leather jacket and waistcoat to
my right breast, while two others whizzed past my ear. To pluck out the
arrow, seize a revolver, and dig the spurs into my horse, were but one
operation; and a second later saw me within twenty yards of the Redskin,
who had turned his horse round and was seeking safety in flight. After a
chase of about two miles over awfully rough ground, where the slightest
mistake might have broken my neck, the Indian's horse began to be
winded, while Czar still held his head and tail erect. I rapidly drew
nearer, in spite of the terrible blows the Redskin dealt his horse, and
when about thirty paces behind the foe, I turned slightly to the left,
in order, if I could, to avoid wounding his horse by my shot.