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Updated: May 10, 2025
John Colter, of the nine Kentuckians, thought that this was a good chance for him. The two free-trappers had been in here for two years had set out right on the heels of the exploring party; they had caught many beaver and were doing well. They turned back, for fifty miles, with the company. On the way down John Colter arranged to become their partner.
Commowooll and the Clatsops departed early this morning. At meridian Colter returned and repoted that his comrade hunter Willard had continued his hunt from point Adams towards the salt makers; and that they had killed only those two deer which the Indians brought yesterday.
At every turn he was there to importune her to run off with him, to frighten her with the menace of the Isbels, to beg her to give herself to him. It came to pass that the only relief she had was when she ate with the men or barred the cabin door at night. Not much relief, however, was there in the shut and barred door. With one thrust of his powerful arm Colter could have caved it in.
I had to go back to climb down off the Rim, an' I rode fast down the canyon. He's somewhere along that west wall, hidin' in the brush, hard hit if I know anythin' aboot the color of blood." "Wal! ... that beats me holler, too," ejaculated Colter. "Jim, what's to be done?" inquired Springer, eagerly. "If we're sharp we can corral that half-breed. He's the last of the Isbels." "More, pard.
"He's playin' cairds with Jackson an' Colter. Shore's playin' bad, too, an' it's gone to his haid." "Gamblin'?" queried Ellen. "Mah child, when'd Kurnel Jorth ever play for fun?" said Daggs, with a lazy laugh. "There's a stack of gold on the table. Reckon yo' uncle Jackson will win it. Colter's shore out of luck." Daggs stepped inside. He was graceful and slow. His long' spurs clinked.
He had recently made one of those vast internal voyages so characteristic of this fearless class of men, and of the immense regions over which they hold their lonely wanderings; having come from the head waters of the Missouri to St. Louis in a small canoe. This distance of three thousand miles he had accomplished in thirty days. Colter kept with the party all the morning.
Logs and brush had floated down the river, and lodged across the island. This driftwood had formed a great raft. Colter dived under this raft. He swam to a place where he could push his head up to get air, and still be hidden by the brush. The Indians were already yelling on the bank of the river. A moment later they were swimming toward the island.
Ellen Jorth would be with them. Jean had seen her. It had been his shot that killed Colter's horse. And he had withheld further fire because Colter had dragged the girl behind him, protecting his body with hers. Sooner or later Jean would come upon their camp. She would be there.
"Short an' sweet!" ejaculated Springer, and he removed his black sombrero to poke a dirty forefinger through a buffet hole in the crown. "Thet's how close I come to cashin'. I was lyin' behind a log, listenin' an' watchin', an' when I stuck my head up a little zam! Somebody made my bonnet leak." "Where's Queen?" asked Colter. "He was with me fust off," replied Somers.
An hour later Ellen found strength to go to the fire and partake of the food and drink her body sorely needed. Colter and the men waited on her solicitously, and in silence, now and then stealing furtive glances at her from under the shadow of their black sombreros. The dark night settled down like a blanket. There were no stars.
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