Part 21 (1/2)

As we were anxious to get into a more fertile region before nightfall, we did not remain longer than was necessary. The shades of evening came on far sooner than would have been the case in the plain. The cliffs rose on every hand, towering as high, or even higher, than at the entrance of the gorge. Unwilling to encamp in a place where we could get neither fire nor water, Mr Tidey and I volunteered to push on ahead, hoping that we might find a pleasanter spot for camping than in the narrow defile, even though we might not succeed in altogether emerging from the pa.s.s. We hurried on as long as a ray of light penetrated into the gorge, but at length it became so dark that we could scarcely see a yard before us. Were we to proceed further we might knock our heads against a rock or fall into some yawning chasm.

”Stop, Mike!” said my companion, ”better to suffer present evil, than to rush into greater we know not of. We must return to our friends, if we don't break our heads in the meantime, and advise them forthwith to come to a halt.”

So pitchy was the darkness, that we could not see the rocks on either hand, and we were afraid, should we stumble or turn round by any chance, that we might be going away from, instead of nearing our friends. In vain we looked up to catch sight of a star by which we might have guided ourselves, but not a single one could we see.

”It won't do to halt here,” observed the Dominie; ”depend upon it, the captain has come to a stand-still long ago.”

Every now and then we stopped and shouted as we groped our way forward, but no answer came, and at last I began to picture to myself all sorts of accidents which might have happened to my family. Perhaps their footsteps had been dogged by the Indians, or a rock had fallen and crushed them, or the horses, suffering from want of water, had sunk down exhausted.

When I mentioned my apprehensions to Mr Tidey, he laughed at me, and tried to dispel them. ”The thing is, Mike, we came over the road in daylight, and we are now going back in the dark, and whereas we were walking four miles an hour, we are now progressing at a quarter that speed.”

Still, I was not convinced, and dreaded that at any instant we might come upon the dead bodies of our friends.

Again and again I shouted out. How my heart bounded when I at length heard my father's cheery voice replying to our hail. Turning an angle of the pa.s.s I saw the light of a fire, by the side of which I could distinguish the carts, the white tent, and the figures of our friends.

Guided by the blaze, we soon reached the little encampment. My father and Uncle Denis were as glad to get us back as we were to return, though we had no satisfactory intelligence to communicate. Dio had found some bushes, from which the fuel for our fire had been procured and what was of of equal consequence, a small pool of water, to which our thirsty cattle had been led to drink.

”Had we pushed on we should have missed it, so that we must not grumble at being detained in the pa.s.s,” observed my father.

”Provided no storm comes on until we are clear of it,” remarked Uncle Denis; ”however, we will not antic.i.p.ate evils.”

So soundly did I sleep, after the fatigues of the evening, that Uncle Denis had to give me a pretty rough shake, and then looking up, I saw that it was daylight overhead, though it was still almost dark in the depths of the pa.s.s.

We lost no time, as soon as breakfast was over, in moving on, hoping that before long we should emerge into the open country. For hours we trudged on, ascending but slightly, and the horses had no difficulty in dragging up the carts, when suddenly the bright glare of daylight appeared before us and we found ourselves looking down on a broad valley bathed in sunlight, but with another range of mountains beyond. The sides sloped gradually towards a sparkling stream which flowed at the bottom, clothed with rich vegetation. Was this valley to be our home, or were we to cross the second range, into a still more fertile region?

”This is just the sort of spot we have been looking for, and I hope my father will stop here!” I exclaimed to Mr Tidey, with whom I was walking.

”Very good possibly, but where are we to find a market for our produce?

Unless there is a pa.s.s through the second range, no emigrant trains are likely to come this way, and I do not think your father or any other sensible man would wish to exclude himself from the rest of the world, though undoubtedly we might manage to exist if big-horns, and deer, and buffalo are to be found in the neighbourhood.”

When my father came up, he stopped and surveyed the valley.

”Its beauty consists in its contrast to the dark gorge we have pa.s.sed through,” he remarked; ”see those black rocks cropping up in all directions through the gra.s.s: the soil is of but little depth, and we could nowhere find an acre of arable land.”

Uncle Denis agreed with him, but observed that it would be as well to camp in the valley, for the sake of giving the horses a good feed, while we searched a pa.s.sage either through or over the next range.

I should occupy too much s.p.a.ce, were I minutely to describe the next few days' journey, the steeps we climbed up, the descents we made, now keeping along the edge of a roaring torrent, now ascending by the brink of precipices, over which there appeared a great risk of the carts and horses falling to the bottom.

Still we worked our onward way, my father being confident that we should encounter no insuperable obstacles. We had climbed to a height early in the day, from which, through his gla.s.s, he had obtained a view over the region we had to pa.s.s. Though wild and rugged in the extreme, it was of no great elevation.

”If we cannot get through in one direction, we may in another,” he remarked.

Twice we had to return for some distance the way we had come, but perseverance conquered all difficulties, and at length we gained a ridge, far away beyond which we saw stretching a magnificent country, a stream flowing down from the mountains, a wide extent of prairie, a s.h.i.+ning lake, and an extensive forest, with trees of giant growth. We had only to descend to take possession of any spot on which we might fix for our future residence. The stream and lake would afford us fish, herds of deer browsed on the rich gra.s.s, and far away we caught sight of some buffaloes, while numerous ”big-horns” were seen bounding amid the crags on either side.

Another day was spent before we were fairly in the valley, but my father and Uncle Denis agreed that we were well repaid for the toil we had gone through. They selected a spot for our habitation on the side of a hill, sloping gradually up from the stream, where we might be out of the reach of its swelling waters and yet make use of it for irrigating the land.

We at once pitched my mother's tent, and set to work to cut down timber for a log hut for ourselves. As soon as this was done, I and two of the men were despatched by my father to fetch more of our stores, or to bring on the waggons, should we find a more practicable road than the one by which we had come. I felt duly proud of the important charge committed to me, and set off in high spirits.

By keeping more to the left than we had done, I was fortunate enough to discover a road over which I felt sure that the waggons could make their way, and once more, after three days' journey, we entered the valley which had at first so enchanted me. It now wore a very different aspect to my eyes. The sky was cloudy, and we had come from so far superior a region that I was very thankful we had not selected it for our location.

As we pa.s.sed through the gorge, the light of the sun being shut out from us, my spirits sank, and I began to dread lest our camp might have been attacked, and we should find it in the same condition as that from which we had rescued Lily. I forgot how confident my father was that it would be safe, and that I ought not to be doubtful of his judgment.