The Young Trailers | Page 3

Upton, two years younger than himself,
slim and tall, dark-blue eyes looking from under broad brows, and

dark-brown curls, lying thick and close upon a shapely head.
"Are you not afraid?" she asked.
"Afraid of what?" replied Henry Ware, disdainfully.
"Of the forests over there in Kentucky. They say that the savages often
come to kill."
"We are too strong. I do not fear them."
He spoke without any vainglory, but in the utmost confidence. She
glanced covertly at him. He seemed to her strong and full of resource.
But she would not show her admiration.
They passed from the mountain slope into a country which now sank
away in low, rolling hills like the waves of the sea and in which
everything grew very beautiful. Henry had never seen such trees in the
East. The beech, the elm, the hickory and the maple reached gigantic
proportions, and wherever the shade was not too dense the grass rose
heavy and rank. Now and then they passed thickets of canebrake, and
once, at the side of a stream, they came to a salt "lick." It was here that
a fountain spouted from the base of a hill, and, running only a few feet,
emptied into a creek. But its waters were densely impregnated with salt,
and all around its banks the soft soil was trodden with hundreds of
footsteps.
"The wild beasts made these," said the guide to Henry. "They come
here at night: elk, deer, buffalo, wolves, and all the others, big and little,
to get the salt. They drink the water and they lick up the salt too from
the ground."
A fierce desire laid hold of the boy at these words. He had a small rifle
of his own, which however he was not permitted to carry often. But he
wanted to take it and lie beside the pool at night when the game came
down to drink. The dark would have no terrors for him, nor would he
need companionship. He knew what to do, he could stay in the bush
noiseless and motionless for hours, and he would choose only the finest

of the deer and the bear. He could see himself drawing the bead, as a
great buck came down in the shadows to the fountain and he thrilled
with pleasure at the thought. Each new step into the wilderness seemed
to bring him nearer home.
Their stay beside the salt spring was short, but the next night they built
the fire higher than ever because just after dark they heard the howling
of wolves, and a strange, long scream, like the shriek of a woman,
which the men said was the cry of a panther. There was no danger, but
the cries sounded lonesome and terrifying, and it took a big fire to bring
back gayety.
Henry had not yet gone to bed, but was sitting in his favorite place
beside the guide, who was calmly smoking a pipe, and he felt the
immensity of the wilderness. He understood why the people in this
caravan clung so closely to each other. They were simply a big family,
far away from anybody else, and the woods, which curved around them
for so many hundreds of miles, held them together.
The men talked more than usual that night, but they did not tell stories;
instead they asked many questions of the guide about the country two
days' journey farther on, which, Ross said, was so good, and it was
agreed among them that they should settle there near the banks of a
little river.
"It's the best land I ever saw," said Ross, "an' as there's lots of
canebrake it won't be bad to clear up for farmin'. I trapped beaver in
them parts two years ago, an' I know."
This seemed to decide the men, and the women, too, for they had their
share in the council. The long journey was soon to end, and all looked
pleased, especially the women. The great question settled, the men
lighted their pipes and smoked a while, in silence, before the blazing
fires. Henry watched them and wished that he too was a man and could
take part in these evening talks. He was excited by the knowledge that
their journey was to end so soon, and he longed to see the valley in
which they were to build their homes. He climbed into the wagon at
last but he could not sleep. His beloved rifle, too, was lying near him,

and once he reached out his hand and touched it.
The men, by and by, went to the wagons or, wrapping themselves in
blankets, slept before the flames. Only two remained awake and on
guard. They sat on logs near the outskirts of the camp and held their
rifles in