BUSH SKETCHES.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 703, 24 August 1870, Page 3

BUSH SKETCHES.

4. (From the Australasian.) [A melancholy interest attaches to the following sketch as it was handed in to the editor of The Australasian by the writer, Mr A. L. Gordon, two days before he committed suicide. He stated that he had given the story very much as he received it under the circumstances described from the chief actors in it.] We were sitting, Thurstan, M'Pherson, and myself, in the overseer's hut that evening, when Norman came to the door to make some inquiries about the disposition of horseflesh for the morning, and was asked to come in and talk over some matters connected with the muster at " The Neck." The conversation, which was at first chiefly of a horsey character, diverged into another channel somewhat in this wise. Norman.— lf it wasn't for old Selim's back, he could carry your weight better and longer than anything you've got, M'Pherson. M'Pherson. — There's a good deal of the Arab in his breed; he's an Abdallah, you know, and his mother, you remember, was Brown's favourite hack, Zellika, or some such name. Norman. — Zuleika, man; the name is taken from the " The Bride of Abydos." M'Pherson. — Ay; one of Moore's things, ain't it, or Burns ? Norman. — No, Byron's ; the man that wrote " Parisina," that Fletcher used to read. M'Pherson. — I know. Yes, it wasn't bad stuff, some of it. Thurstan. — " Parisina's" great rot; so are all the Oriental pieces of Byron's. Norman. — Don't you like " Mazeppa," Ned. Thurstan. — " Mazeppa's" a spirited tale in verse; not a poem, though there are a few snatches of poetry in it, perhaps; besides, " Mazeppa's" not an Oriental story. Norman. — I hope you're not going to run down Byron. Thurstan. — Not I. Byron will survive the English language, as Homer survived the Greek. Norman. — Greek exists still. Thurstan. — Well, you can't say that it lives ; Greek is a dead language. M'Pherson. — If you fellows are going to talk poetry and quote Greek, there'll be no more rational talk to-night. Thurstan. — Well, we'll talk bullock if you like. How did that strawberry stag with • cock horns turn dut I sold you ? I've a mate of his for sale now. M'Pherson. — Oh, bother bullocks ; there was a question I wanted to ask you, but you've put it out of my head. What was it? Thurstan. — I can't give you your dream and the interpretation thereof. MTherson. — I had an argument with Lorrimer; he was saying that the Sydney horses would do longer and faster work off grass than any others in the world. Thurstan. — I never saw any real Arabs, but I should give these the preference from what I've heard. I've ridden a spotted mustang in the American prairies 180 miles in 22 hours, and he was not much the worse for it; in fact, he was as well as ever in a week. M'Pherson. — Tell us all about it Ned. Thurstan. — There's really nothing to tell. I was in a hurry. One of my mates was sick. Three of us were camped at the " Condor," at the furthest spur of the Rocky Mountains. We had no medicine, and our stores had run out. I rode to Swayne's settlement, got what I wanted, and returned on a fresh horse at the close of the fourth day. The Jaguar would have carried me hack quicker. Norman.— That's the horse you rode when the plains caught fire, isn't it ? Thurstan. — The same. I told you of that

once. He was a long . low horse, something the shape of your Doctor, but more massive; and much stronger. Talk about your stock horses ; you should hare seen him walk round! a buffalo bull. I never crossed his equal. 1 Poor Jaguar, I shan't easily forget the last time he carried me. Norman — Do give us that story, Ned, there's a good fellow. M'Pherson.— Ay, it will liven us up a bit, and you too, Ned. Thurs 'an laughed, a short dry laugh, and said, after a short pause: — You think it will enliven you up, do you ? Well, there's no accounting for tastes. Now don't blame me. You've asked for it, and you shall have it. I've been dreaming about it these two nights running, and I've a notion that I shall dream of it again to night if I keep it to myself ; otherwise, I never have spoken of that occurrence, and I never intended to either. About twenty years ago, I was the youngest of a party of five. We were returning from a sporting excursion, and we stopped at Henderson's hunting grounds, a station on the bend of the Little Fish River ju3t above the big rapids. The two Hendersons were living on apparently friendly terms with a number of Indians, a branch of the Seminole tribe. I had got hurt in a buffalo hunt, and while recovering I got a touch of a kind of ! prairie fever, which pulled mc down a great deal, so I was glad of a rest, as indeed we all were. James Henderson, the younger brother, was an old comrade of mine ; a terribly wild fellow he had been, but he was quieter then. Both he and his brother John were as hospitable as Bedouin chiefs, and I was well nursed, and soon rallied. My companions amused themselves for a fortnight and more shooting and fishing, and sometimes mixing with the Indians, though Ramsay, the head of our party, was always rather suspicions of these. The chief was a very old man, and not a bad fellow for an Indian; at all events, he seemed really attached to the Hendersons, but he had an amiable weakness for fire water, whish plays the deuce with a white man, as we know, but cuts an Indian down like grass. He had a nephew, called Little Bear, who was likely to be elected chief in event of the old man's death. This latter was no favourite with any of us, except John Henderson ; there was something repulsive in his manner, though he was the smoothesttongued rascal I ever met with. Ramsay said one evening to John: " John, you ought to make tracks out of this. I wouldn't wait for the old chief to die, if I were you. Take my word for it, that Little Bear is a sneaking, treacherous skunk, and unless I'm much mistaken, he's got some grudge against you, for all he seems so fair." The elder Henderson replied carelessly, " I suppose James has put that idea in your head; he and the Bear did have a scrimmage once, and it was James' fault, but that's all forgotten, I fancy. As for the old chief, he won't die for this many a day, he's too tough. 1 ' Now both the Hendersons had Indian wives, to whom they were, I believe, espoused in Indian fashion; but John had also a child by a former wife, an English woman, who had died in one of the Southern States. She, the daughter, was quite a young girl, of perhaps ten or eleven, and one of the prettiest and nicest children I ever saw. She was a great favourite of Ramsay's; in fact, we all liked her. Ramsay said: "Look, you, John, you ought not to let that child grow up among the savages. I've got an aunt at Boston who would be glad to take charge of her." Henderson replied, " I can't spare Polly ; and she's clever enough. She does all my writing for me now. What more do you want her to learn ? I don't intend to make a lady of her." Ramsay answered, *■ Please yourself ;" but he tried again to persuade the other next day. Our party were now preparing to make tracks across the prairie to the stockade at Pipestone Quarry, where Ogilvie and Balfour and a lot more friends of ours were then living. Henderson persuaded us to postpone our departure as long as he could, but at last it was settled that we were to start next day. I had been out that afternoon with Connolly and Burton, and in a thick part of the wood we had come suddenly upon Cora (as we called her), John Henderson's Indian wife, and Little Bear. They were talking earnestly, and seemed quite startled when we surprised them, but recovered themselves immediately. I should have attached little import to this occurrence by itself, if it had not been coupled with other matters which roused the suspicions of Hamsay, and even of James Henderson. Little Bear had a few days before borrowed from John all the powder and lead that the latter could spare, with a promise of speedy repayment, for a number of the tribe who were going up the river on a shooting expedition. He had also set some of the squaws to work fire- digging a piece of trenchwork opposite the white men's dwelling-house, supposed to be an aqueduct from the river to some cultivated land of the Indians, for the purpose of obtaining a supply of water for irrigation and such like, for Little Bear had mixed a good deal with the whites, and pretended to understand more about farming than most of us did. Still I don't think any, of us suspected any immediate treachery.* That night we were sitting round the suppertable, when the elder Henderson said, " Ramsay, I've been thinking over what you've said about Polly, and she shan't grow up a wild Indian. I can't spare her just now, and you won't wait, but you'll stay some months at the Pipestone Quarry. Tell you what I'll do. If you'll leave Ned Thuratan here with us for a week, or ten days at the outside, I'll ride with him to Balfour's, . and we'll take the child with us. Indeed, if I can see my way to get out of this place, I don't know whether I won't clear out of it altogether and take a trip to New York. What do you say ? You know Ned will be the better for a little more rest." So after some talk it was settled that I was to stay behind with the Hendersons for a week or two, and then follow my companions. For my own, part, I was contented either way. Next morning I

rode with Ramsay and the other three for about eight or ten miles, and when we parted, and I turned to. come-back, they gave me a bag of bullets and nearly all their powder, knowing that ammunition was bo scarce at the huuting grounds. When I got back I found that the old Indian chief had died quite suddenly, and that both the Hendersons had gone to the funeral ceremonies. These I didn't care to attend, so I went fishing with Polly. Nothing more of consequence occurred that day, but in the evening, the two Indian women being absent, though the men had returned, a dispute arose between the brothers, and they had rather high words, James stating openly that he had no faith in the Little Bear, while John took that worthy's part, and accused the other of prejudice and injustice towards the Indian. Next day I was out on horseback in the morning, and returning about noon I found James alone in the house collecting all the firearms. He said, " Ned, don't let your horse go ; put him in the stable, and give him a bite. I'll tell you why presently." I did as he suggested, and when I rejoined him he remarked, " I don't like the look of things at all ; one of the women has taken our canoe away, and we are almost defenceless. I found out that there is to be a meeting of the elders of the tribe to hold counsel to-day, and John has not been invited. He never suspects anything, and never will till it's too late. I believe that Little Bear has been stirring up the Indians against us for some time. Of course he could do little real harm while the old chief lived ; now he can do almost as he likes. I struck him once, and he never forgave me ; more than that, he hates us whites ; but he's such a treacherous varmint that you can't see through him at first. We shall have to clear out of this, I'm thinking, and lucky if we do it with a whole skin. What ammunition have you got ?" I produced my store, which proved much larger than he expected, and we loaded every rifle, carbine, and pistol on the place, and put them in tho store-room capped and ready for use. James added, "If Polly was safe out of this I wouldn't care ; we can take our chance if the worst comes. We'll keep your horse inside all night. I don't think they'll do anything till the rest of the tribe return, and they are not expected till to-morrow. John Henderson came home j rather late, and was rather surprised, and even concerned, when James told him that a council had been held without his knowledge. The younger brother added, ■■ Take warning, John, for once, and send the young cne away to-night. If you won't go, let Thurstan take her on his horse. There'll be a scrimmage to-morrow as like as not. That meeting to-day was something to do with us." Henderson looked rather anxiously at the child, who was pouring out coffee at the time, and said, " I would if I thought"— when who should walk in but Little Bear. The doors were always left open, and the Indians could come and go as they liked, and indeed their wigwams had been always open to us in the same way. The young Indian evidently wanted to confer with the elder Henderson, and we left the two alone, and went to smoke our pipes outside, it being a beautiful warm moonlight night. In a little while the pair joined us, and after some brief salutations the Bear took his departure. Then John coolly informed us that the Indians had held a meeting that day to discuss some means for propitiating their white brother, having heard some rumour of his departure from among them, and that it had even been proposed to elect him chief in conjunction with Little Bear, who expressed himself most anxious to share the honours with him. He continued, " You'll find you've been wrong, James. The yeung chief will be a truer ally to us than tho oldxHie was." |"To be continued.]