The Young Trailers | Page 2

fancy had already gone before. He wanted to see deer and
bears and buffaloes, trees bigger than any that grew in Maryland, and
mountains and mighty rivers. But they left the settlements behind at last,
and came to the unbroken forest. Here he found his hopes fulfilled.
They were on the first slopes of the mountains that divide Virginia
from Kentucky, and the bold, wild nature of the country pleased him.
He had never seen mountains before, and he felt the dignity and
grandeur of the peaks.
Sometimes he went on ahead with Tom Ross, the guide, his chosen
friend, and then he considered himself, in very truth, a man, or soon to
become one, because he was now exploring the unknown, leading the
way for a caravan--and there could be no more important duty. At such
moments he listened to the talk of the guide who taught the lesson that
in the wilderness it was always important to see and to listen, a thing
however that Henry already knew instinctively. He learned the usual
sounds of the woods, and if there was any new noise he would see what
made it. He studied, too, the habits of the beasts and birds. As for
fishing, he found that easy. He could cut a rod with his clasp knife, tie a
string to the end of it and a bent pin to the end of a string, and with this
rude tackle he could soon catch in the mountain creeks as many fish as
he wanted.
Henry liked the nights in the mountains; in which he did not differ from
his fellow-travelers. Then the work of the day was done; the wagons
were drawn up in a half circle, the horses and the oxen were resting or
grazing under the trees, and, as they needed fires for warmth as well as
cooking, they built them high and long, giving room for all in front of
the red coals if they wished. The forest was full of fallen brushwood, as
dry as tinder, and Henry helped gather it. It pleased him to see the
flames rise far up, and to hear them crackle as they ate into the heart of
the boughs. He liked to see their long red shadows fall across the leaves
and grass, peopling the dark forest with fierce wild animals; he would
feel all the cosier within the scarlet rim of the firelight. Then the men

would tell stories, particularly Ross, the guide, who had wandered
much and far in Kentucky. He said that it was a beautiful land. He
spoke of the noble forests of beech and oak and hickory and maple, the
dense canebrake, the many rivers, and the great Ohio that received
them all--the Beautiful River, the Indians called it--and the game, with
which forests and open alike swarmed, the deer, the elk, the bear, the
panther and the buffalo. Now and then, when the smaller children were
asleep in the wagons and the larger ones were nodding before the fires,
the men would sink their voices and speak of a subject which made
them all look very grave indeed. It sounded like Indians, and the men
more than once glanced at their rifles and powderhorns.
But the boy, when he heard them, did not feel afraid. He knew that
savages of the most dangerous kind often came into the forests of
Kentucky, whither they were going, but he thrilled rather than shivered
at the thought. Already he seemed to have the knowledge that he would
be a match for them at any game they wished to play.
Henry usually slept very soundly, as became a boy who was on his feet
nearly all day, and who did his share of the work; but two or three
times he awoke far in the night, and, raising himself up in the wagon,
peeped out between the canvas cover and the wooden body. He saw a
very black night in which the trees looked as thin and ghostly as
shadows, and smoldering fires, beside which two men rifle on shoulder,
always watched. Often he had a wish to watch with them, but he said
nothing, knowing that the others would hold him too young for the
task.
But to-day he felt only joy and curiosity. They were now on the crest of
the last mountain ridge and before them lay the great valley of
Kentucky; their future home. The long journey was over. The men took
off their hats and caps and raised a cheer, the women joined through
sympathy and the children shouted, too, because their fathers and
mothers did so, Henry's voice rising with the loudest.
A slip of a girl beside Henry raised an applauding treble and he smiled
protectingly at her. It was Lucy