The Rival Trappers: or, Old Pegs, The Mountaineer — Reading Companion

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Aiken, Albert W., 1846-1894 Project Gutenberg 2022 Not confirmed
Frontier and pioneer life -- Fiction; Dime novels; Trappers -- Fiction Readers of public-domain and historical texts
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Edition facts

Words 39,921
Reading time 174 min
Text sections 5

For The Rival Trappers: or, Old Pegs, The Mountaineer — Reading Companion, the stored edition analysis reports 39,921 words, 2 hr 54 min estimated reading time, and 5 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 15.9 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Frontier and pioneer life -- Fiction,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

This editorial note examines the dime novel's use of physical description to establish character, its shifts between comic and violent registers, and the pacing of its action sequences, drawing on the opening portrayal of Old Pegs and a later night attack scene.
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Editorial Edition Score 4.7/5

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  • Description quality20 pts
  • Title & short description10 pts
  • Source metadata20 pts
  • Text length15 pts
  • Chapters / structure15 pts
  • EPUB file integrity20 pts

Total of 100 points, scaled to a 2.5-5.0 range. Editions with an empty description or a missing EPUB file are not scored.

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Read the Text

Hush! Is that a footstep coming up the canon? It came nearer and nearer, and a man of strange appearance suddenly stepped into view, rounding a bend in the canon. At the first glance it seemed that he was a dwarf in stature, but as he advanced, it was plainly to be seen that this was a mistake, for those broad shoulders and herculean arms never belonged to a dwarf. In hight he would scarcely have reached five feet, but his girth of shoulder and hip was something wonderful. In short, he had the body of a giant, set upon a pair of legs so crooked and misshapen that it seemed as if he had borrowed those limbs from some one else.

He came on with a peculiar, sidelong, hitching gait, swinging out his left leg and throwing forward the shoulder upon that side in an irresistibly ludicrous way, but getting over the ground at a very fair pace.

His dress was that of the mountainman, of greasy buck-skin, yet showing the careful hand of woman in the manner in which it was made. He wore fringed leggins, moccasins of ponderous size, and a high bear-skin cap, which added considerably to his ludicrous “make-up.” His weapons were a carefully-polished rifle, a pair of splendid revolvers, a knife and a hatchet.

His face was broad, ruddy and good-natured, fringed by a russet-brown hair and beard, slightly sprinkled with gray. A single look at the high forehead, merry brown eyes and smiling mouth, about which a whimsical look would linger in spite of himself, showed that he was a merry, reckless soul, but a man of undaunted courage.

“Hyar we come and hyar we go, pegging along the canon,” he half-sung. “Thar was some mistake in my make-up, I reckon, or I’d be a different man. But who keers, ez long ez I am happy ez a buck Digger in grasshopper time? Oh, Lordy, yes.”

He stopped and cast a penetrating glance about him, at the same time dropping one leg a little, showing that it was shorter than the other by some two inches. He seemed to listen, and his leonine head was thrown to one side in an attitude of profound attention. The next moment, by a movement of wonderful rapidity, he threw himself out of sight into one of the crevices with which the ravine abounded, and dropping to the earth behind a bowlder, awaited the event.

To the casual observer there had been no break in the usual sounds in mountain and forest, but a moment more showed that the wanderer was not at fault, for the sound of hoofs could be plainly heard, coming up from the east. Nearer and nearer they came, and the rapidity of the hoof-beats showed that the horseman, whoever he might be, was coming at the top of his speed; and directly the head of a horse appeared, and a single rider came thundering down the pass, half-lying on the animal’s back, and urging him on with knife and spur, while behind him sounded other hoof-beats, showing that he was pursued.

It was a white man, and that was enough for the old hunter, who started out from his place of concealment and checked the flying steed.

“Hi, thar, stranger—what’s up?”

The rider reined in his furious horse and grasped a weapon, but, seeing that it was a white man who barred the way, dropped his hand and answered, hurriedly:

“Looks like it, old man.”

“Get down quick, then—take yer weepens, and send the hoss on. You’ve got ter lose him, or yer sculp.”

The man did not hesitate, but flung himself from the saddle and scored his knife-point sharply across the flank of the horse, which fled on lightly, being freed from its rider, and without a word the hunter led the way into the crevice which he had just left.

The horse had just made the last turn in the canon when about twenty of those Arabs of the plains, the Blackfeet, suddenly came in view, riding with loosened reins, their mustangs scrambling like cats along the bed of the canon, and the riders, bending forward like huntsmen in the chase, urging them on by word and blow. They passed like a whirlwind, and were gone; then the hunter bounded to his feet.

“Thar they go, the painted riptiles, like bed-bugs armed fur war! Come on, stranger; the quicker we git up these yer rocks the better.”

“I am a poor footpad,” said the stranger, with a light laugh; “but lead the way, old True Blue, and I’ll follow. That was a close shave, I tell you.”

“Clust enuff fur comfert,” replied the hunter. “This a-way.”

The opening of The Rival Trappers introduces its title character through a deliberately exaggerated physical portrait. Old Pegs is described as having “the body of a giant, set upon a pair of legs so crooked and misshapen” that they seem borrowed, and his gait is “sidelong, hitching” yet efficient. The narrator lingers on his “ludicrous ‘make-up’” before revealing his “high forehead, merry brown eyes and smiling mouth,” a sequence that builds curiosity before confirming his competence. This technique of delaying positive traits establishes a pattern: the novel often uses comic or grotesque first impressions to heighten later demonstrations of skill or courage.

Voice and Vernacular in Dialogue

The dialogue in the excerpts is marked by a distinct vernacular that varies between characters. Old Pegs’s speech is peppered with self-deprecating humor and dialectal contractions: “Hyar we come and hyar we go, pegging along the canon.” His phrasing, such as “ez long ez I am happy ez a buck Digger in grasshopper time,” blends folksy simile with a rhythmic, almost sung quality. In contrast, the later scene with Captain Dave Farrell and his men uses a more clipped, urgent tone: “I want a trailer—one who will track these dogs to their den.” The shift from Old Pegs’s whimsical monologue to the terse commands of the borderers marks a change in narrative pace, from character introduction to plot-driven action. The author uses dialect not merely for color but to signal social roles: Old Pegs’s eccentricity, the men’s frontier practicality.

Pacing and the Mechanics of Suspense

The night attack sequence demonstrates a deliberate control of pacing. The narrative slows to describe the “wavering” spots on the grass and the metallic gleam in moonlight, building tension through the guards’ uncertainty. The sentence “Dave uttered a low exclamation, and caught the guard by the arm” accelerates the rhythm, followed by the revelation: “There they come, by heaven!” The author then pauses again to enumerate the attackers—Velveteens, the flogged men, the Modoc Sioux—before the signal shot. This alternation between close observation and sudden action is a hallmark of the dime novel’s adventure style. The prose also uses short, exclamatory lines (“Hark! They are gathering for the rush now”) to mimic the breathlessness of the moment, a technique that contrasts with the more leisurely descriptive passages earlier in the book.

Recurring Physical Markers and Thematic Weight

Physical description in the excerpts carries thematic weight beyond mere characterization. Old Pegs’s deformed legs and “herculean arms” establish him as a figure of incongruity—powerful yet misshapen—which may reflect the novel’s interest in outward appearance versus inner worth. Later, the trappers are described as “a sprinkling of all nationalities” with “youthful faces” marked by “the wild life of the border.” This collective portrait emphasizes a shared hardness earned through experience. The repeated attention to weapons—Old Pegs’s “carefully-polished rifle,” the men’s revolvers and knives—serves as a shorthand for readiness and danger. Even the setting is rendered through sensory details: the “mellow radiance” of the moon, the “short prairie grass” behind which enemies crawl. These recurring elements create a consistent visual and tactile world, grounding the melodrama in concrete, physical reality.

Structural Contrasts Between Chapters

The chapter titles hint at a deliberate alternation between character-focused and action-driven segments. “Old Pegs” and “Old Pegs’ Treasure” suggest an initial emphasis on the protagonist’s eccentricity and possessions, while later titles like “A Border Battle” and “A Dreadful Ordeal” signal escalating conflict. The excerpts show this shift in practice: the first chapter’s leisurely description of Old Pegs’s appearance and self-mocking song gives way to the terse, violent language of the camp scene. The author also varies sentence length to match mood—long, compound sentences for description, short staccato ones for action. This structural awareness suggests a writer attuned to the rhythms of serial publication, where each chapter must offer a distinct hook while advancing the larger narrative.

Readers attentive to narrative voice will notice how the novel’s tone oscillates between the comic grotesque and the grimly violent, a range that reflects the dime novel’s appetite for variety. The excerpts offer only a partial view of the plot, but they reveal a consistent craft in pacing and character introduction. Pay particular attention to how the author handles transitions between scenes of dialogue and action, and how physical description is used to telegraph moral qualities.

That night attack sequence kept circling back to me—how the mountaineer's stillness before the chaos said more than any shout. I found a similar ache in Snarled Identities; Or, A Desperate Tangle — Context and Discussion, where the tangle isn't just action but the quiet confusion underneath. It made me think of how we hold our own contradictions, waiting, the way Old Pegs did.

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