Part 22 (2/2)
The figures composing it were but two--a very tall man, and a very short one. Both were dressed in round-about jackets and trousers. One, the shorter, had a little dark cap upon his head; while the height of the taller man was increased full ten inches, by what appeared to be a black silk or beaver hat. The cut of their respective costumes was nearly the same; but the colour was entirely different--the tall personage being all over of a bottle-green tint, while his shorter companion shone more conspicuously in sky-blue. Notwithstanding their vivid colours, neither costume had anything Indian about it: nor was it like any other sort of ”rig” that one might expect to encounter upon the prairies. What fas.h.i.+on it was, did not occur to me at the moment; for the sun, glancing upon the object-gla.s.s of the telescope, hindered me from having a fair view. Moreover, my attention was less directed to the dress of the men, than to their movements. The backs of both were towards us; and they were going forward in the same direction as ourselves. The tall man was in the lead, carrying what appeared to be two guns--one over his left shoulder, and another in his right hand. He was advancing in slow irregular strides, his thin body slightly stooped forward, and his long neck craned out in front of him as if trying to look over the ridge, whose crest he was just approaching. The short man was some half-dozen paces in the rear; and moving in a fas.h.i.+on altogether different. His body was bent against the hill at an angle of less than forty-five degrees with the horizon; and his short stout legs were playing in rapid steps, as if keeping time to a treadmill! He appeared to be pus.h.i.+ng something before him; but what it was, I could not guess: since it was completely covered by the disc of his body spread broadly against the hill. It was not till he had reached the summit, and made a slight turn along the ridge, that I saw what this object was. The exclamation of ludicrous surprise, that escaped my companion, told me that he had also made it out. ”Good gosh, capt'n!” cried he, ”look yander! Consarn my skin! ef 't ain't a _wheelberra_!” A wheelbarrow it certainly was: for the two men were now traversing along the top of the ridge, and their bodies from head to foot, were conspicuously outlined against the sky.
There was no mistaking the character of the object in the hands of the shorter individual--a barrow beyond the shadow of a doubt--trundle and trams, box, body, and spoke-wheel complete!
The sight of this homely object, in the midst of the savage prairies, was as ludicrous as unexpected; and we might have hailed it with roars of laughter, had prudence permitted such an indecorous exhibition. As it was, my companion _chuckled_ so loudly, that I was compelled to caution him. Whether my caution came too late, and that the laughter was heard, we could not tell; but at that moment the tall pedestrian looked back, and we saw that he had discovered us. Making a rapid sign to his companion, he bounded off like a startled deer; and, after a plunge or two, disappeared behind the ridge--followed in full run by the man with the wheelbarrow! One might have supposed that the fright would have led to the abandonment of the barrow. But no: it was taken along-- hurried out of our sight in an instant--and in the next, both man and machine disappeared as suddenly as if some trap had admitted them into the bowels of the earth! The singular fas.h.i.+on of their flight--the long strides taken by the gander-like leader, and the scrambling attempt at escape made by the barrow-man--produced a most comic effect. I was no longer able to restrain myself, but joined my companion in loud and repeated peals of laughter.
In this merry mood, and without any apprehension of danger, we advanced towards the spot where the odd figures had been seen. Some broken ground delayed us; and as half a mile of it had to be pa.s.sed over, we were a considerable time in reaching the summit of the hill. On arriving there, and looking over the swell, behind which they had disappeared, neither tall nor short man was to be seen. A timbered valley lay beyond: into this they had evidently escaped. The track of the wheelbarrow, where it had pressed down the gra.s.s, alone indicated their recent presence upon the spot--as it did also the direction they had taken. Their retreating from us was easily accounted for: they could have seen only the tops of our heads, and had no doubt taken us for Indians!
CHAPTER FORTY TWO.
A FOOT OF THIRTEEN INCHES.
The presence of the wheelbarrow explained a point that had been puzzling us for some days. We had fallen upon its track more than once, and supposed it to have been made by the wheel of a cart; but in no instance being able to find the corresponding one, had given it up as a hopeless enigma. The only explanation we had succeeded in offering ourselves was: that some light cart had accompanied the caravan--the load of which, being badly balanced, had thrown the weight upon one wheel, allowing the other to pa.s.s over the ground without making an impression.
As it was only on dry gra.s.s we had traced it, this explanation had sufficed--though far from being satisfactory. Neither my companion nor myself ever thought of a wheelbarrow. Who would, in such a place?
”In the name o' Old Nick, who kin they be?” asked Wingrove, as we halted on the ridge, where the fugitives had been last seen. ”I'm not without my suspicions,” I replied, just then thinking of a peculiarity that had but slightly occupied my attention--the cut and colour of their dresses.
”If I am not mistaken, the two shy birds that have fled from us are a brace of uncle Sam's eagles.”
”Sojers?”
”In all probability, and 'old sojers' at that.”
”But what 'ud sojers be a doin' out hyar?”
”Travelling to California, like ourselves.”
”Desarters, may be?”
”Just what I suspect. No doubt the pair have slipped off from some of the frontier posts; and having no opportunity to provide themselves with a better means of transport, have brought the wheelbarrow with them. It is ludicrous enough, but by no means improbable. There are some queer customers in the service of Uncle Sam.”
”I think there be--ha, ha, ha! What shed we do, capt'n? Hedn't we better catch up to 'em?”
”That, comrade, may be easier said than done. If they're deserters--and they must be, if they're soldiers at all--they'll take precious good care not to let any one come near them, if they can help it. The escort that accompanies the train will account for their not being along with it. If they've caught a glimpse of my b.u.t.tons, they'll be _cached_ by this time.”
”They only seed our heads. I reck'n they tuk us for Injuns?”
”In that case, they'll hide from us all the same--only a little more cunningly.”
”Consarn their sojer skins! Ef they war as cunnin' as a kupple o'
possums, they can't a hide the track o' the berra; an' so long's they keep in the timber, I kalklate I kin lift thar trail. I reck'n I ain't quite forgot how: though I am bamfoozled a bit by these hyar parairies-- consarn them! Ah! them woods, capt'n! it diz one good to look at 'em!”
The eyes of the young hunter sparkled with enthusiasm as he spoke. It was a real forest that was before us--a large tract covered with gigantic cotton-wood trees, and the only thing deserving the name of forest we had seen for many days. As my companion stood gazing upon it, I could trace upon his countenance a joyous expression, that rarely appeared there. The sight of the ”Big Timbers” recalled to him the forests of his own Tennessee--with happy memories of other times. They were not unmingled with shadows of regret: as I could tell by the change that came stealing over his features.
”We must try to overtake them,” said I, without answering to the ebullition. ”It is important for us to come up with them. Even if they be deserters, they are white men; and all whites are friends here. They muster two guns; and if these fellows are what I take them to be, they know how to handle them. We must follow them: there's no time to be lost.”
”Ye're right thar, capt'n! The night's a comin' down fast. It's a'ready gettin' dark; an' I'm afeerd it'll be tough trackin' under the timber. If we're to catch up wi' them the night, we hain't a minnit to spare.”
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