Part 31 (1/2)
But from the contemplation of these and many other interesting sights and phenomena we must pa.s.s to an event which seriously affected the future plans of the travellers.
One beautiful evening--such an evening as, from its deep quiet and unusual softness, leaves a lasting impression on the memory--the two hors.e.m.e.n found themselves slowly toiling up the steep acclivity of a mountain-ridge. Their advance was toilsome, for the way was rugged, and no track of any kind a.s.sisted them in their ascent.
”I fear the poor horses will give in,” said Ned, dismounting and looking back at his companion, who slowly followed him.
”We are near the summit,” answered Tom, ”and they shall have a long rest there.”
As he spoke, they both dismounted and advanced on foot, leading their fatigued horses by the bridles.
”Do you know,” said Tom, with a sigh, ”I feel more used up to-day than I have been since we started on this journey. I think we had better encamp and have a cup of tea; there is a little left yet, if I mistake not.”
”With all my heart, Tom; I, too, feel inclined to rest, and--”
Ned paused, for at that moment they overtopped the highest edge of the ridge, and the view that burst upon them was well fitted to put to flight every previous train of thought.
The ridge on which they stood rose several hundred feet above the level of the plain beyond, and commanded a view of unknown extent towards the far west.
The richest possible sweep of country was spread out at their feet like a huge map, bathed in a glow of yellow suns.h.i.+ne. Lakes and streams, crags and rocks, sward, and swamp, and plain--undulating and abrupt, barren and verdant--all were there, and could be embraced in a single wide-sweeping glance. It seemed, to the entranced travellers, like the very garden of Eden. Water-fowl flew about in all directions, the whistling of their wings and their wild cries being mellowed by distance into pleasant music; and, far away on the right, where a clear lake mirrored each tree on its banks, as if the image were reality, a herd of deer were seen cooling their sides and limbs in the water, while, on the extreme horizon, a line of light indicated the sh.o.r.es of the vast Pacific Ocean.
Ere the travellers could find words to express their feelings, a rock, with a piece of stick and a small rag attached to it, attracted their attention.
”We are not the first who have set their feet here, it seems,” said Ned, pointing to the signal.
”Strange!” muttered Tom Collins, as they turned towards the rock; ”that does not look like an Indian mark; yet I would have thought that white men had never stood here before, for the spot is far removed from any known diggings, and, as we know fail well, is not easily reached.”
On gaining the rock, they found that the rag was a shred of linen, without mark of any kind to tell who had placed it there.
”It must have been the freak of some Indian hunter,” said Ned, examining the rock on which the little flag-staff was raised. ”Stay--no--here are some marks cut in the stone! Look here, Tom, can you decipher this? It looks like the letter D--DB.”
”DB?” cried Tom Collins, with a degree of energy that surprised his friend. ”Let me see!”
Tom carefully removed the moss, and cleared out the letters, which were unmistakeable.
”Who can DB have been?” said Ned.
Tom looked up with a flushed countenance and a glittering eye, as he exclaimed--
”Who? Who but Daniel Boone, Cooper's great hero--Hawk-eye, of the `Last of the Mohicans'--Deer-slayer--Leather-stocking! _He_ has been here before us--ay, brave spirit! Long before other hunters had dared to venture far into the territory of the scalping, torturing, yelling red-skin, this bold heart had pushed westward, fearless and alone, until his eagle eye rested on the great Pacific. It _must_ have been he. I have followed him, Ned, in spirit, throughout all his wild career, for I knew him to be a _real_ man, and no fiction; but little did I think that I should see a spot where his manly foot had rested, or live to discover his _farthest step_ in the `far west!'”
Ned Sinton listened with interest to the words of his friend, but he did not interrupt him, for he respected the deep emotions that swelled his heart and beamed from his flas.h.i.+ng eye.
”We spoke, Ned, sometime ago, of historical a.s.sociations,” continued Tom,--”here are historical a.s.sociations worth coming all this way to call up. Here are a.s.sociations that touch _my_ heart more than all the deeds of ancient chivalry. Ah! Daniel Boone, little didst thou think when thy hawk's eye rested here, that in a few short years the land would be overrun by gold-diggers from all ends of the earth!”
”But this flag,” said Ned; ”_he_ could never have placed that here. It would have been swept away by storms years ago.”
”You are right,” said Tom, turning over the stones that supported the staff--”halloo! what have we here?”
He pulled out a roll of oiled cloth as he spoke, and, on opening it, discovered a sc.r.a.p of paper, on which were written, in pencil, the words, ”_Help us!--for G.o.d's sake help us! We are peris.h.i.+ng at the foot of the hill to the southward of this_.”
No name or date was attached to this strange paper, but the purport of it was sufficiently clear so, without wasting time in fruitless conjecture, the young men immediately sprang on their horses, and rode down the hill in the direction indicated.
The route proved more rugged and steep than that by which they had ascended, and, for a considerable distance, they wound their way between the trunks of a closely-planted cypress grove; after pa.s.sing which they emerged upon a rocky plain of small extent, at the further extremity of which a green oasis indicated the presence of a spring.