Little Rifle; or, The Young Fur Hunters — A Reader’s Guide

ON THE UPPER COLUMBIA.

Along the shores of one of the branches of the Upper Columbia, a lad was making his way with a care and stealth that showed he was on the alert for danger, let it come in whatsoever form it chose.

A casual glance at the boy would have led one to pronounce him about fifteen or sixteen years of age. He was prepossessing and handsome to a remarkable degree. The cheeks glowed with the hue of health, the rose-tint being as fine as that of the sea-shell; the features were almost classical in their regularity; the teeth small and clear as pearls, the eyes large and lustrous, and the hair dark and wavy, but cut quite short. The hands and feet were small and shapely, and a certain careless grace of movement, shown even in his cautious gait, proved that “Little Rifle,” as the lad was called, possessed a rare activity, and an extraordinary command of his bodily powers.

His dress was thoroughly backwoods in every respect, consisting of the buck-skin leggings rather gaudily fringed and ornamented, the moccasins embroidered with beads, the skirt descending to the knees, and clasped at the waist by a broad belt, into which was thrust a knife, the horn handle only being visible. Within the bosom of the skirt, and out of sight, was a small revolver, intended only to be used when necessity compelled it. A string passing over one and under the other shoulder, sustained a powder-flask and bullet-pouch; but there was no game-bag visible, for the reason that the game the hunters bring down in that latitude can not be carried very conveniently, especially when the hunter is a boy in his teens.

In the left hand Little Rifle carried a beaver-trap, while a small, silver-mounted rifle rested upon his right shoulder, and was held in place by his other hand.

The day was drawing to a close, and there was a mellowed subdued quiet resting upon wood and stream that made the hour and the place one of the most attractive imaginable. The branch of the Columbia, at this point, flowed quite swiftly but with a steady, unruffled sweep, that was in perfect keeping with silence and solitude. The banks on either hand were varied by rock, wood and prairie, the country itself being of the most romantic nature.

Looking off to the east and south, the eye caught a glimpse of distant mountain peaks, standing out white and clear against the blue horizon, like a snowy conical cloud, and the intervening stretch of country was broken by hills, ravines, gorges, wood, stream, rocks and prairie, in an interminable jungle, making a country that was the chosen roaming-ground of the fiercest wild animals, the most valuable game, and the wild Indian, and the equally wild hunter and trapper.

Turning the eye to the westward, it was greeted with a vision of magnificence and grandeur. In this clear, brilliant air, which makes the climate of Oregon rival that of Italy, there was a sharp, clear distinctness to the Cascade Range, fifty miles away, that would have made any one believe that the distance was scarcely a quarter. Some of the loftiest peaks shone white against the sky, but as they towered aloft, their immense slopes could be seen to be covered with verdure, that was tinged with a misty blue, when viewed through the half a hundred miles of atmosphere.

Little Rifle was moving up the left bank of the stream, with his face turned toward the Cascade Range, except when he darted his quick, wide-awake glances in the direction of the river’s bank on his right hand, varied now and then by an equally inquisitive look at the wood and rocks in front and on his left.

“Uncle Ruff told me yesterday that there were plenty signs of beaver further up the stream,” mused the lad, as he walked along, “and I know that they have been thinned out down below, so that I haven’t had a bite in this trap for three days. I’ll set it a mile or two further up, where it will pay to make it a visit early in the morning.” And he held up the trap and turned it around before his eyes, as if it were a new thing altogether. It resembled the ordinary “steel-trap,” except that it was considerably larger.

The ease with which the lad carried the cumbersome load, attested the strength which this manner of living had given him. Like all little chaps, he was given to conversing with himself, when walking alone, and to-day he seemed in quite a chatty vein.