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Updated: May 25, 2025
It's only half as big as it wus onct, an' another flood will take away this sand-bar, these few birches an' Milly's grave." The old frontiersman's story affected all his listeners. The elder minister bowed his head and prayed that no such fate might overtake his nieces. The young minister looked again, as he had many times that day, at Nell's winsome face.
His frontiersman's clothes, stained with blackened blood, hung limp over his wasted body. At Virginia's bidding the Colonel ran downstairs for a bucket of fresh water, and she washed the caked dust from his face and hands. It was Mr. Brinsmade who got the surgeon to dress the man's wound, and to prescribe some of the broth from Virginia's basket.
Under the influence of his new feelings it seemed to him that life was so small a thing, on which folks of civilization set much too high a value. The ready appeal to the gun, which seemed to be one of the first principles of the frontiersman's life, was already beginning to lose its repugnance for him.
With open-mouthed admiration the boy watched the frontiersman's long free stride a movement that struck the floor with the springiness of a cat, very different from the flat-footed jar of pedestrians on paved streets. "I won't!" he called after him. "I'd rather see't than a dozen ball-games! I'll look for you, Mister!"
As he came near Harold gave an exclamation: "It is Jack Pearson!" "It are Jack Pearson," the hunter said, "but for the moment I can't recollect ye, though yer face seems known. Why!" he exclaimed in changed tones, "it's that boy Harold growed into a man." "It is," Harold replied, grasping the frontiersman's hand.
William F. Cody, "Buffalo Bill," is one of the famous plainsmen, of later days, however, than Carson, Bridger, John Smith, Maxwell, and others whom I have mentioned. The mantle of Kit Carson, perhaps, fits more perfectly the shoulders of Cody than those of any other of the great frontiersman's successors, and he has had some experiences that surpassed anything which fell to their lot.
Overhead, flocks of wild ducks in irregular geometric patterns sailed north at double the speed of express trains. With their mellow "Honk honk," sweetest sound of all to a frontiersman's ears, harbingers of Spring indeed, far above the level of the ducks, amid the very clouds themselves, the geese, in regular triangles, winged their way toward the snow-lands.
It need scarcely be explained these are the old frontiersman's sentiments, not the writer's; but on investigation I found his statement of facts as to what transformed little Wandering Spirit into a blood-thirsty monster was absolutely true.
Then, as Stover gave a long sigh and opened his eyes, he blew out the light. "Don't make a light ag'in," were the frontiersman's first words. "It may cost us our lives. We will keep still and lay low," and then he became partly unconscious again.
And Seth turned to the driving plate and sounded a preliminary whistle. It is nearly midday, and the Indians round the blazing woods on the southern spur of the Black Hills are in full retreat. Another desperate battle, such as crowd the unwritten history of the United States, has been fought and won. The history of the frontiersman's life would fill a record which any soldier might envy.
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