The Huge Hunter; Or, the Steam Man of the Prairies
Copyright© 2024 by Edward S. Ellis
Chapter 5: On the Yellowstone
BALDY BICKNELL was a hunter and trapper who, at the time we bring him to the notice of the reader, had spent something over ten years among the mountains and prairies of the West.
He was a brave, skillful hunter, who had been engaged in many desperate affrays with the red-skins, and who, in addition to the loss of the hair upon the crown of his head, bore many other mementos on his person of the wild and dangerous life that he had led.
Like most of his class, he was a restless being, constantly flitting back and forth between the frontier towns and the western wilds. He never went further east than St. Louis, while his wanderings, on more than one occasion, had led him beyond the Rocky Mountains.
One autumn he reached the Yellowstone, near the head of navigation, just as a small trading propeller was descending the stream. As much from the novelty of the thing, as anything else, he rode on board, with his horse, with the intention of completing his journey east by water.
On board the steamer he first met Ethan Hopkins and Mickey McSquizzle, who had spent ten years in California, in a vain hunt for gold, and were now returning to their homes, thoroughly disgusted with the country, its inhabitants and mineral resources.
Baldy was attracted to them by their peculiarities of manner; but it is not probable that anything further would have resulted from this accidental meeting, but for a most startling and unforeseen occurrence.
While still in the upper waters of the Yellowstone, the steamer exploded her boiler, making a complete wreck of the boat and its contents. The hunter, with the others, was thrown into the water, but was so bruised and injured that he found it impossible to swim, and he would assuredly have been drowned but for the timely assistance of his two acquaintances.
Neither the Yankee nor Irishman were hurt in the least, and both falling near the trapper, they instantly perceived his helplessness and came to his rescue. Both were excellent swimmers, and had no difficulty in saving him.
‘Do ye rist aisy!’ said Mickey, as he saw the hunter’s face contorted with pain, as he vainly struggled in the water, ‘and it’s ourselves that ‘ll take the good care of yees jist.’
‘Stop yer confounded floundering,’ admonished Hopkins; ‘it won’t do no good, and there ain’t no necessity for it.’
One of them took the arm upon one side, and the other the same upon the opposite side, and struck out for the shore. The poor trapper realized his dire extremity, and remained motionless while they towed him along.
‘Aisy jist-aiey now!’ admonished Mickey: ‘ye’re in a bad fix; but by the blessin’ of Heaven we’ll do the fair thing wid yees. We understand the science of swimmin’, and—’
At that moment some drowning wretch caught the foot of the Irishman, and he was instantly drawn under water, out of sight.
Neither Hopkins nor Baldy lost presence of mind in this fearful moment, but continued their progress toward shore, as though nothing of the kind had happened.
As for the Irishman, his situation for the time was exceedingly critical. The man who had clutched his foot did so with the grasp of a drowning man; in their struggle both went to the bottom of the river together. Here, by a furious effort, Mickey shook him free, and coming to the surface, struck out again for the suffering hunter.
‘It is sorry I am that I was compelled to leave yees behind,’ he muttered, glancing over his shoulder in search of the poor fellow from whom he had just freed himself; ‘but yees are past helpin’, and so it’s maeself that must attend to the poor gentleman ahead.’
Striking powerfully out, he soon came beside his friends again and took the drooping arm of Baldy Bicknell.
‘Be yees sufferin’ to a great extent?’ inquired the kind-hearted Irishman, looking at the white face of the silent hunter.
‘Got a purty good whack over the back,’ he replied, between his compressed lips, as he forced back all expression of pain.
‘‘Ye’ll be aisier when we fotch ye to the land, as me uncle obsarved whin he hauled the big fish ashore that was thrashing his line to pieces jist.’
‘Twon’t take you long to git over it,’ added Hopkins, anxious to give his grain of consolation; ‘you look, now, like quite a healthy young man.’
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