-
In other words, was going back over our track of the day
before. It was past noon when I overtook him, so that a
precious day's labour was lost.
I said little, but that little was a sentence of death.
'After to-day,' I began, 'we will travel separately.'
At first he seemed hardly to take in my meaning. I explained
it.
'As well as I can make out, before we get to the Dalles,
where we ought to find the American outposts, we have only
about 150 miles to go. This should not take more than eight
or nine days. I can do it in a week alone, but not with you.
I have come to the conclusion that with you I may not be able
to do it at all. We have still those mountains' - pointing
to the Blue Mountain range in the distance - 'to cross. They
are covered with snow, as you see. We may find them
troublesome. In any case our food will only last eight or
nine days more, even at the present rate. You shall have the
largest half of what is left, for you require more than I do.
But I cannot, and will not, sacrifice my life for your sake.
I have made up my mind to leave you.'
It must always be a terrible thing for a judge to pass the
sentence of death. But then he is fulfilling a duty, merely
carrying out a law which is not of his making. Moreover, he
has no option - the responsibility rests with the jury; last
of all, the sufferer is a criminal. Between the judge's case
and mine there was no analogy. My act was a purely selfish
one - justifiable I still think, though certainly not
magnanimous. I was quite aware of this at the time, but a
starving man is not burdened with generosity.
I dismounted, and, without unsaddling the mules, took off
their packs, now reduced to a few pounds, which was all the
wretched, raw-backed, and half-dead, animals could stagger
under; and, putting my blanket, the remains of a ham, and a
little packet of tea - some eight or ten tea-spoonfuls - on
one mule, I again prepared to mount my horse and depart.
I took, as it were, a sneaking glance at Samson. He was
sitting upon the ground, with his face between his knees,
sobbing.
At three-and-twenty the heart of a man, or of a woman - if
either has any, which, of course, may be doubtful - is apt to
play the dynamite with his or her resolves. Water-drops have
ever been formidable weapons of the latter, as we all know;
and, not being so accustomed to them then as I have become
since, the sight of the poor devil's abject woe and
destitution, the thought that illness and suffering were the
causes, the secret whisper that my act was a cowardly one,
forced me to follow the lines of least resistance, and submit
to the decrees of destiny.
One more page from my 'Ride,' and the reader will, I think,
have a fair conception of its general character. For the
last two hours the ascent of the Blue Mountains had been very
steep. We were in a thick pine forest. There was a track -
probably made by Indians. Near the summit we found a spring
of beautiful water. Here we halted for the night. It was a
snug spot. But, alas! there was nothing for the animals to
eat except pine needles. We lighted our fire against the
great up-torn roots of a fallen tree; and, though it was
freezing hard, we piled on such masses of dead boughs that
the huge blaze seemed to warm the surrounding atmosphere.
I must here give the words of my journal, for one exclamation
in it has a sort of schoolboy ring that recalls the buoyancy
of youthful spirits, the spirits indeed to which in early
life we owe our enterprise and perseverance:
'As I was dozing off, a pack of hungry wolves that had
scented us out set up the most infernal chorus ever heard.
In vain I pulled the frozen buffalo-robe over my head, and
tried to get to sleep. The demons drew nearer and nearer,
howling, snarling, fighting, moaning, and making a row in the
perfect stillness which reigned around, as if hell itself
were loose. For some time I bore it with patience. At
length, jumping up, I yelled in a voice that made the valley
ring: You devils! will you be quiet? The appeal was
immediately answered by silence; but hearing them tuning up
for a second concert, I threw some wood on the blazing fire
and once more retired to my lair. For a few minutes I lay
awake to admire a brilliant Aurora Borealis shooting out its
streams of electric light. Then, turning over on my side, I
never moved again till dawn.'
The first objects that caught my eye were the animals. They
were huddled together within a couple of yards of where we
lay. It was a horrible sight. Two out of the three mules,
and Samson's horse, had been attacked by the wolves. The
flanks of the horse were terribly torn, and the entrails of
both the mules were partially hanging out. Though all three
were still standing with their backs arched, they were
rapidly dying from loss of blood. My dear little '
Strawberry' - as we called him to match William's 'Cream' and
my mare were both intact.
A few days after this, Samson's remaining horse gave out. I
had to surrender what remained of my poor beast in order to
get my companion through. The last fifty miles of the
journey I performed on foot; sometimes carrying my rifle to
relieve the staggering little mule of a few pounds extra
weight.
