Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 10) (1877 11 16)
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Vol. I. Ss le Number. —___—__ -_ —__-—_- BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, (EELECLLLLLLLELL yA Y AS Copyrighted in 1877, by BEADLE AND ADAMS. No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. Price, 5 Cents. No. 10. (Copyrighted 1861, by Beadle & Co,) NAT TODD; OR, The Fate of the Sioux Captive. A Sequel to “ Bill Biddon, Trapper.” BY EDWARD §S. ELLIS, AUTHOR OF “SETH JONES,” “‘ BILL BIDDON, TRAPPER.”’ CHAPTER IL IN WHICH THERE IS A CROSS AND A CROWN. ‘*Wex., here I am, at last, alone in the woods! and it’s a wonderful adventure I've started upon, too! I, Nathan Todd, of Lubec, have come to the determina- tion to make a search for Irene Merment, who, like enough, died ten years ago! No one believes she is living besides me; and what am I going to hunt her u for? As true as I live, I believe I Jove her; and if she is ever found I'll offer myself to her. ere “T flatter myself I have an extended reputation in these parts, and my acquaintance is very considera- ble; and, although it’s myself who says it, my moral character stands as high as any of the people here- abouts. I know my motives are good in remainin here. Relmond has found himself a wife, and don’t see why I can’t. And if I do, won’t that Sarah | along. | with any railroad further up, so Almina feel bad when she finds it out? I know she wanted to get me off here, so she could marry that Bill Hankins. I reckon the shoe will be on t’other foot when she sees me back in Lubec with a wife and io of children, and the hundreds of friends that shall gather around me.” Thus commented Nat Todd, as the last sound of the steamer, which bore away William Relmond and Imo- gene Merment, reached his ears. He stood in the midst of that vast forest which stretches away to the west of the Missouri river. The words recorded will ive an idea of the cause that led him to this course. uring his stay among the Indians of the North- west, he had often conversed with Imogene Merment, the captive, in ar coe to her lost sister. Although she believed that the latter was lost forever, yet the probability of her yet living was such as to strength- en Natin the determination to make a search for her on his own responsibility. The only clew to guide him was the suspicion of Imogene that the captors of her sister had proceeded westward to Oregon. From the fact that she had never seen any Indians similar in dress since that time, and from the recollection she entertained of them, she gathered this impres- sion. “Let me see,”? mused Nat, as he walked slowly “Here I am on the banks of the Yellow- stone, and oe is quite a little distance away. I might have taken that steamer, I s’pose, for some considerable ways, but I don’t s’pose it connects wouldn’t have oaerneng s0 much after all. d it ain’t certain that rene is in Oregon yet, and I wish to make inquiries of the neighbors along the = I think I might pass for a red-skin very well. at looks fine, and no doubt would impress Irene with awe, if she should see it,’ continued Nat, taking off his plumes and sur- i them; “‘ but they don’t fit my head so well, after all,as the old gray hat I bought up in Lubec. one Fourth of July, and I’m afraid I can never get along with these things. However, they must an- swer till I get better ones; and it’s time I was mov- ing.”’ "So saying, our hero replaced his ree and walk- ed slowly away in the forest. He had evidently de- cided upon the execution of some darling plan, for his face expanded into a broad smile, and his ste were lively and animated. The direction which he took was such as to lead him to the ‘Death Rock,” from which he had started the morning before. The day was one of the most beautiful of the year. The appearance of the vast mountains and prairies of the orth-west in summer far surpasses that of the more settled portions of our country. The change from the intense cold and stillness of winter to the ani- mated glory of spring is wonderful. The snow dis- appears as if ~~ es the ice-bound rivers break up with a crash like the shock of an earthquake, the naked trees commence budding and ever fi and in a few weeks the country is transformed into a teeming Paradise. The air is darkened by flocks of birds, cireling overhead, the streams are alive with the flashing trout and thousands of other fish, and the vast droves of buffaloes may be seen sporting on the ag or thundering forward in innumerable herds. ow and then immense numbers of horses may be “OLEAR THE TRACK |” HE SHOUTED, IN A SORT OF WILD HOSTASY, 4S HE SWUNG THE FLAMING MISSILE AROUND HIM,
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2 seen, careering gayly over the prairie, as free and joyous as the wind. The forest arches echo with the notes of birds and the scream of the wild animal, while m sof the beaver and otter are hard at work in the different streams. All is changed as if by enchantment, Such an gooey did the forest present as Nat | Todd. made way through it. His sense of the beautiful was limited, and the bewildering scene around he took as a matter of course. It couldn’t well be otherwise, and so he judged it best not to get excited over it. Once or twice he came in view of an antelope circling around him as if in wer: Finally, becoming too reckless, it fell a victim to his rifle. “You might ’ve knowed better than to cross Nat Todd’s path, for he is a dangerous man, and it’s nothing short of suicide to get before his rifle. Bill Biddon could have told you that. I don’t feel very sorry, as lam amazingly hungry.” As it was about noon, he halted and cut the choicest rtion from the antelope for his dinner. was Scented over a fire; he made a hearty meal from it, and in a short time he was on his journey “eo. Just as darkness was settling over the forest, he reached the ‘‘ Death Rock,” and crept into its dismal recesses. The night was cold, and he started a fire, although it was as much to cheer the loomy place as to afford him any warmth. As the blaze flamed up on the rocky floor, it lightened up many a dark nook, and threw fantastic shadows into the for- bidding rents that yawned around. Here and there a ghastly skull or bone gleamed in the firelight, and in some places the skeletons had been al- most undisturbed by ravenous beasts. As Nat lit his pipe and gazed around him, his thoughts brought more than one shudder to him. It seemed he could see the doomed Indians clustered ether on that fatal day, when the last one defended the entrance against the relentless besiegers. He could fancy the sullen, despairing gleam, as the solitary savage gazed behind him and saw his dead companions, and him- self the last remnant of his tribe; the lofty, heroical countenance of the warrior as he folded his own arms in death; the yells of baffled fury, as the be- siegers oured into the cavern and found not a vic- tim left them; and finally, the last scene of all, when the wolves swarmed into the cavern and completed the terrible work. The human bones, strewn for many feet from the Rock, showed what a wild car- nival the beasts of prey had held over their unwont- ed feast. But the night had not far advanced when this age 3 picture faded from our hero’s imagination. n hour’s comfort from his soothing pipe made him meggin § and forgetful, and he was falling off into slum- ber, when he was aroused by hearing a deep growl near him. Starting up, he saw several eyeballs glowing in the darkness at the entranée of the cave, and could detect more than one pair of jaws gleam- ing and snapping together. Without c maghs his position, he raised his rifle and sent its contents among them. There were several wees gclls, a con- fused scampering, and the next instant the passage was still as death. “Positively no admittance, under any pretense whatever,” said Nat, as he arose and passed to the mouth of the cave. ‘I’ve camped here before, and never like to be disturbed, so I'll close the door. Hello! hit you, did 1?” This exclamation was caused bs stumbling over the dead body of a wolf which had fallen in the en- trance. It was of the species termed the ‘‘ mountain wolf ’’—the largest and most dangerous kind found in the West. Nat rolled it outside, where it was seized in an instant by its unfeeling companions, and in a half hour nothing was left of the unfortunate animal except a few shiny bones, over which the others wrangled for a much longer time. Nat, with a great deal of labor, rolled a huge rock to the en- trance, effectually barring it against all except hu- man intruders, and then returned to the fire. ere, instead of wrapping himself up in his blanket and lying down at once, he seated himself as if engaged in deep thought. He remained a long time, gazing dreamily into the embers before him, until, as was his habit, he commenced talking to himself. * There’s no use of thinking about it, for it’s so acs as plain as was them wolves’ eyes awhile ago. Bill imond used to pray every night and morning, and he’s gone through all safe and got a wife in the bar- ain. That Imogene used to pray, and appeared to e always thinking about heaven and the angels— that I'll bet are just like her—and she’s got a hus- band. Bill Biddon used to swear like blazes some- times, but I know I once heard him ask the Lord to take care of him. Well, here’s me, Nat Todd, going on one of ee tramps that was ever invented, and if an iy wants taking care of it’s this same Nat Todd, and it ain’t noways likely the Lord will take any notice of me unless I ask Him to, So I'll do it. I'll pray to Him every morning and night.” This good resolution arrived at, Nat not hesi- tate to put it into execution. Kneeling on the rock he spent a time in earnest supplication, and then laid down to slumber. Several times he partly woke, as the wolves fought and tu at the rock which blocked up their way; but he not arise, as he felt secure. When the light of morning streamed into the cave, the brutes de Then he rose and made ready to continue his jour- ney. He had a portion of the antelope sufficient to make a breakfast, and enough ammunition to nish him with all the food he would be likely to for a long time to come. fur- need The weather still was pleasant; and with buoyant spirits he descended the mountain toward the e where he had first encountered Relmond, after his capture by the Indians. I wonder whether [ll find it,” he mused. “If I Beadle’s Half-Dime ‘Library. can get that and a hoss, I'll be fitted out, and won’t care for anything else.” He had seen as yet no signs of Indians, but pro- ceeded with extreme caution. During his stay among | his tribe, he had been allowed considerable freedom, as has been shown; but, now that Imogene had effected her escape, he knew a closer surveillance would be kept over him in case he should unwittingly come upon some of his captors. “TI wish I had a hoss!” he exclaimed for the twentieth time. “I’m getting tired of this everlasting tome My gracious! what’s them?”’ As if in hundred yards distant, two horses leisurely crop- ping the grass. A second glance showed, both to urnished with Indian saddles and bridles, though they were much scratched and disarranged from the ssage through the woods and undergrowth. “T thank the Lord for that,” said Nat, earnestly; ‘it’s a special providence that both are saddled, as I don’t like riding bareback, When one gets tired of por te me, the other cantakeaturn. Ah! they’re the two hosses that Relmond told me got away from him and Imogene the other night. Yes! there’s her ny, as sure as the world. I’ve often seen her with | im. I must get him/” With this, he proceeded to capture the Indian ny, which, in reality, was the one once owned by mogene. This was exceedingly difficult, as the ani- mal had already scented danger,.and stood ready to bound away in an instant. But Nat was equal to the difficulty, and at last seized the bridle and vaulted into the saddle. “Whoop!” he shouted, swingin; his head. ‘‘ Three cheers for Nat He had secured a prize indeed. His horse was a coal-black pony, high-spirited, with clean, graceful limbs, and of eee bottom. He was obedient, too, under rein, and dashed away as merrily as if he en- Joyed himself as much as his master, ‘There’s only one thing more that I need, andI must have that.” Away his horse careered, as swift as the wind— now a age up some swell in the prairie, now plunging h ong through the bushes, and then ropping into a walk as his path led through the denser wood. Nat had left the mountain which contained the ‘Death Rock,’”’ and was journeying over a well-timbered country, crossed by innumer- able streams and patches of prairie. Late in the afternoon he reached the lake of which we have spoken. Here he dismounted, and leading his horse a short distance away, secured him while he made a search for hiscanoe. He found it just as it had been left. Springing into it, he shot rapidly toward the opposite shore. It was a long pull, and it required an hour to reachit. As the canoe grated on the sand, he sprung out and hur- ried away a short distance, when he halted beside an old rotten chestnut. His manner was excited, and he breathed rapidly as he plunged his hand into a rent in the side. e feeling around in the dark- ness, his eye suddenly sparkled with exultation, and he exclaimed: “T’ve got it! whoop! I’ve got it!” He hauled out into the light his—old fur hat/ his plumes over ‘odd! CHAPTER II. NAT’S FIRST ADVENTURE. “Yus, I’ve got it! I’ve got it!’’"exclaimed our hero, in his joy. “Nobody hasn’t disturbed it. There! that’s the last of you!”’ he added, as he dashed his gaud pe: to the ground. Then, placing his own cool hat on his head, he continued? “ O-h-h-h! ain’t that nice !—Jerusalem !”’ It was no wonder at all that he uttered the last ex- clamation, for at the first turn in the walk he had commenced with his recovered prize, his eyes en countered the chief of the Me tribe he had left! The savage was scarce a dozen feet distant, and had been watching him all the time. Nat recovered his equanimity in an instant. ‘How are you, Upsarena? Glad to see you—(no Tl be hanged if I am.) Hope you're well—(no, I don’t, either.’’) Knife hunts a great while!’’ replied the chief, without noticing his words. “Well, yes, ‘twas quite a spell. Hope you haven't been anxious on my account.”’ The chief gazed steadily at him a moment, and then said: “The Long Knife will go to the lodges of Upsare- gtd ‘Wait, hold on, you; I’ve left my—my—l've left my pocketbook on the other side of the lake, and must go get it.” Before ore could make a reply, Nat reflected that he had told a falsehood; and thus violated the vow he had made the evening before. He resolved =e Be racers 2 os to iste life. 0, Upsarena, ven’t left my ketbook, but I have tied my horse on the other dae of the lak and I would not like to go to pen lodge without 2 eee he’s a horse that'll make your eyes im. nEThie Long Knife had no horse when he sought the w 3 Bags he found one ng e Indian gave our hero one of his piercing rome and the latter saw at once that he me dis- ved, e “Upsarena will go in the search?” said the chief- tain, quietly. Now this was as much dreaded by Nat, and was the first determination the chieftain had expressed, and how to rid lf of his troublesome visitor puzzled him greatly. But he was equal to the emer- gency. Fortunately, he had been so excited in his answer to his wish, he beheld, hardly a | answered: a “Come on, then, Upsarena, for it will soon be ark.” He led the way, followed by the wary chieftain, who watched him as if he expected mischief. Nat, shoving the canoe into the water, steppped in and seated himself in the forward part, although by do- ing so he used the long paddle at a considerable dis- advantage. Upsarena seated himself in the stern with folded arms, with his rifle resting on his up- gathered knee. The canoe sunk to its very gunwales, but Nat im- oe it through the water with velocity. His heart eat quicker, as he reflected upon the expedient necessary to get rid of his companion. Several times he thought of shooting him, as he sat so grimly and complacently in the stern, watching every move- ment; but he was prevented by several reasons. The first was, his soul revolted at the thought of such a murder, even though it might add to his personal safety; the second reason was, that if murderously inclined, he hadno rifle with him; and the last one | was, that even if he possessed a weapon, he was afraid to use it in the manner mentioned—all of which proved that Upsarena was in little danger of being shot at present. Now and then he glanced furtively over his shoul- der, as he neared the shore of the lake, while the grim chieftain remained as stern and immovable asa statue. Hitherto the canoe had glided as smoothly as a bird; but suddenly, when within a hundred ards of the shore, it careened, capsized, and be- ore the wily savage suspected mischief, he was in the water swimming for life. Just as the boat turned, Nat sprung to his feet and made a tremen- dous leap toward shore, striking out with all his might to reach it before his companion. His strata- em succeeded to a charm. The water, about ten eet in depth, was so clear that the smallest object was distinctly visible on the bottom. Before Upsare- na could grasp his rifle it sunk. Unwilling to lose it, he immediately dived forit. He saw it glistening on the pebbly bottom, but failed to recover it the first time, owing to the shortness of breath with which he descended. A second effort was more successful, and he rose to the surface with the cherished wea- pon in his hand. At this instant Nat emerged from the water, and made some “tall w * for his horse. He found the animal as he had left him, vaulted into the saddle and sped ein Upsarena!”’ he shouted. ‘‘ Remember “ Good-by. me to the folks up in your parts; and now and then remember Nat Todd, and the nice swim you and he took together.” But Nat’s exultation was premature; for, as the last word escaped him, and he swung his hat over his head, several rifles flamed from the forest behind him, and as many bullets whizzed through the air in close proximity to his body. ** Jerusalem! Who fired them? That’s more than J bargained for!”’ The truth was, the upsetting of the boat had been witnessed by three savages of Upsarena’s tribe who had been hunting with him. They supposed it to be purely accidental, and knowing there was no danger to either, stood and calmly watched the strug- gles of the two. When Nat emerged and hurried u e bank, however, their suspicions were arous and they dashed after him. When they came in view again, the audacious white was galloping wee shouting and swinging his hat in the manner descri ed. Their suspicions were confirmed, and the three fired, without wating for their chief. The latter soon was with them, and, brandishing his rifle over his head, furiously commanded the capture of the white man. Forgetting himself, Upsarena raised his own rifle, took aim and pulled the trigger. But the click of the lock reminded him that, for the present, his weapon was harmless. “His scalp must hang in Upsarena’s lodge at the ao the sun!”’ he shouted, bounding forward in pursuit. Nat, if he did not hear them, guessed the pier and judged it best not to dispute with the chi about the matter. “Come, my hoss, let’s see what kind of stuff you’re made of.”’ ; The pony, as if sensible of what was required, burst forward like a thunderbolt, leaving the pur- suers rapidly behind. The lake at the foot of the mountain was fringed by masses of undergrowth, together with trees of considerable size. Fresing himself from this cover, he emerged upon a rolling prairie, scores of miles in width, and open, save that at long intervals, it was interspersed with groves of timber, which bordered the streams crossing it. Fortunately it was growing dark, and he Felt that his enemies could not trouble him much longer. Nevertheless, he was not the man to remain in danger when the opportunity was afforded for es- cap = oy So he loosened the rein and let his horse . The last glimpse he cast behind him showed him e dusky figures of the savages far in the rear, on a hill, standing together as if in consultation, “T thought you'd come to your se ” he re- marked, ‘‘and not spend your breath in ng to catch what can’t be caught.” Feeling thus secure from danger, our hero drew his horse down to a walk, and made his vie leisurely forward. The night was cold and windy, There was no moon; in a short time the darkness became so heavy as to vail everything in almost impenetra- ble obscurity. After journeying an hour more, he descended a sort of valley and found himself in the midst ofa grove of cottonwoods. The sound of running water showed him what sort of a place he had come upon,
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Nat Todd. and he decided at once to camp for the night.* He cealed in the vicinity. He uttered them in a loud led his horse a short distance up-stream ani him in such a manner that the least effort made to escape could not fail to arouse the hunter. This done he led off a good quantity of the cotton- wood bark, and laying Fwithin reach, made prepar- ations for his own comfort. Under the circum- stances, it was too hazardous to risk a fire, and he was content to nestle in his blanket at the foot of a huge willow. Sleep, heavy and sweet, gradually overcame the hunter, and in a short time he was as unconscious of external things as if he had never been born, It was near midnight when he awoke. What it was that aroused him he could never tell; but he had | grown to believe there was a special Providence watching over him, and attributed it to that alone. It sometimes happens that in the midst of heavy slumber our senses are quietly but instantaneously aroused, and it was thus with our adventurer. Be- fore he hardly knew it himself, his eyes opened, as did every sense. He lay perfectly motionless and listened. The wind sighed mournfully through the tree-tops above him, and the stream rippled as sweetly as ever. Still, he did not stir, for he felt the danger that was lurking in the air around him. The next instant he was startled by the snapping of a twig, as though the foot of some one passing had broken it, and a minute after he heard voices! They spoke in the tongue of the Sioux, and he thus knew they were his pursuers. “The Long Knife has cam) here,” spoke one, as if in consultation with the others. ‘Has he not passed through the stream and fled onward?” pred another. “The trail leads to the trees and is lost. on the other side.” A few moments’ silence followed the latter remark. Then the savages recommenced their search. With feelings that may well be imagined, Nat shrunk be- neath the sheltering tree and listened. Now the cautious tread came nigher and nigher, until it seemed discovery was inevitabie. en again the sounds grew faiuter and fainter, until he began to breathe freer, when a shiver ran over him as he heard the deep breathing of one of his enemies within striking distance. How his horse escaped discovery he was at a loss to tell; but in such cases it often seems the instinct that protects the animal is equal to that reason that saves the man. It ap- pears incredible that such brutes as horses and cows can conceal themselves so as to baffle discove under the light of day. But that such is the fact is well known. ° The horse, apparently sensible of his duty, re- mained in a standing position as motionless as the tree beside him; and thus was no more likely to at- tract attention in the deep gloom than an inanimate object. Thus it was the cautious Indians fairly brushed him several times without so much as sus- pecting his existence. Another thing puzzled Nat reatly. How was it possible for them to detect his rail in the darkness? Sight surely could avail noth- ing in such an emergency. : ‘The all-fired imps have come on their hands and knees all the way, smelling of the trail,” he muttered, to himself. p The true cause was soon evident, however. Even while speaking, he saw a small point of light glide silently forward and disappear on the opposide side of the stream. In a second, it flitted to view again, and then was quickly extinguished. Almost imme- diately, a noise, as if some one were stepping in the water, was heard, and then followed a silence of five minutes’ duration. While wondering with a fear which was not free from superstition, Nat suddenly ducked his head, as a torch blazed to view within Shinty, Set of him. Looking carefully out, he saw the torch moving to and fro, and lighting up the gleaming, pain visage of Upsarena. The savage was in a crouching position, moving as stealthily as the panther, his eyeballs glowing like fire. “How nice I could wipe you out!’’ thought Nat, “but I forbear. It don’t look right to take a fellow so unawares. Jerusalem! don’t come any nigher!”’ The Indian was now so close that Nat feared the thumping of his heart would betray his hiding-place. The chiet held the torch over his head, his basilisk eyes scrutinizing the ground for any evidence of a trail. He moved slowly and stealthily around, some- times stopping and moving the grass with his fingers and then, raising to the upright reese he glared =» into the treas, as though he expec’ to detect the form of his foe among the branches. He must have had a small opinion of our hero’s courage to thus expose himself to his shot. Suddenly the light disappeared, and a sharp, hissing sound, as of a ser- pent about to strike, did not escape the advenfurer’s ears. The next moment the voice of Upsarena was heard. ‘The trail reaches the stream, but does not cross. He has followed the water, and is not here.” Then the tramp of the retreating savages was heard, growing fainter and fainter, until no noise remained to show that danger had lurked so fearfully near. “Well, [feel a heap better!" exclaimed Nat, ris- ing to his feet and stretching himself. ‘Them ain’t very smart Indians, after all. They’ve been follow- me all the time I’ve been asleep, and have hunt- s on pond me without coming to the point. I oug psarena wasn’t—” Standing out in relief against does of open sky, Nat saw the form of an Indian distinctly outlined. The truth was the words of U na were only an artifice to ascertain whether the hunter was con- It is not * Whenever persons rest for the night they are said to “ a and as the term is use is as appli in the West, it cable to a single person as to more. even | picketed | bac eee immediately ascended the stream, while another savage glided forward a short distance, and then halted, his ears on the alert for any suspi cious sound. The long-drawn yawn and words of Nat reached his ears, but the obscurity was too great for him to detect the precise spot where the hunter was standing. At the same time, the Indian was not aware that he was seen at rot f his enemy. For a moment both remain erfectly motionless. That time was amply sufficient for Nat to collect his thoughts. The sudden stoppage of his words showed the Indian that the hunter suspected danger, although he was by no means aware of his full knowledge. For a few seconds after the discovery, our hero was completely astounded; but it was no time to give way to his emotions. Seeing that either one or the other must die, he naturally preferred it should not be himself, and made his preparations ac- cordingly. Putting the lock of his rifle under his hunting-shirt, he so muffled the click, while cocking it, as to suppress the sound. With the Indian, the minute had been as ge with emotions as with the white man. is first thought, when startled by Nat’s words, was to signal his companions to approach; but he saw that such a course would give the hunter timely warning, and being an ambitious man, he determined to secure his scalp without aid. Nat saw the head of the Indian slowly sink, and his body gradually blend with the undergrowth. Taking as good aim as the darkness allowed, he fired. A yell of agony and fury, so horrible as to craze the hunter, followed, and the hurrying tramp of feet was heard. Hardly conscious of what he did, Nat ran a short distance and brought up against atree, which he ascended in a twinkling. Cowering among the limbs he listened. All was as silent as death. Once a faint, suppressed moan was heard, but nothing else save the sighing of the wind and the ripple of the stream distur’ the oppressive still- ness. A faint moon had now arisen, and its light illumined the prairie for a short distance. But the stream, the trees and sree 3 were like a solid mass of darkness winding across the country, and although he strained his vision to the utmost to pierce the gloom beneath, it was all in vain. With a great deal of difficulty, he succeeded in loading his rifle, and anxiously waited for further developments of dan- ger. In a half-hour, something was seen to flit like astar among the bushes below, and a second glance showed our hero that the torch was again in requisi- on. ‘**Tt’ll never do for them to bring that candle under this tree,” muttered the hunter. ‘‘They’d just as sure get a glimpse of me here. Strange! ey’ve no more fear of me than to show themselves, that way. Well! it’s time they learned a lesson, and I don’t know of a person better qualified than Nat Todd to give °em one. I wish that plaguy Indian would just hold still till I can draw bead on him.” All this time he was dodging his head around, hur- riedly pushing the muzzle of his rifle through the branches, an —— utmost to get a sight at the savage omer, the torch. Failing to do this, and the light constantly approaching his hiding-place, he at last became so excited as to entirely forget himself. “Say, you map look out for your head now—”’ Instantly the light became stationary, and the bronzed features of a savage were seen for a second, when all was darkness again—but not before the rifle of our hero flamed out in the darkness, with no effect save to desperately frighten his enemies, each scattering to cover as quick as thought. Fortunate- ly for Nat, the flash of his weapon was not seen, and his hiding-place remained as great a mystery as ever to his foes. An hour of undisturbed stillness followed. The hunter was too shrewd to be deceived by the silence of the Indians. ws rg but to lie close and keep a bright look- out. Despite the fearful circumstances in which Todd was placed, a heavy drowsiness began to steal over him. First he gave a sudden nod, yes od his head against the tree, which thoroughly awakened him. “T really believe I was going to sleep,” he gasped, “with them imps sneaking right under me. I won’t wink both eyes again to-night.” To enforce this good resolution he pinched him- self, pulled his hair, and resorted to every artifice at hand. Finally, he began speculating upon the end of his present dilemma. He must be out of it pretty soon by some means or other, or his case would be hopeless. when his situation became known, an unconditional surrender would be the only course left. A similar situation and such thoughts certainly were enough to keep any ordinary mortal awake. But sleep is as insidious an enemy as death. Do his utmost, Nat could not keep him off, and he succumb- ed at last. — “The Injin’s all right, I guess—so’s Nat Todd—all right— clever fellers—’s all right!” hus he mumbled, as he commenced nodding again. Finally he laid his head on the limb before him, closed his eyes, and resigned himself to his dreams. And the dreams came, and his sleep was ante ae sa fancied he was in a eek gm struggle wi psarena, and made an effort ve him a kick. In so doing he unseated himself and dropped to the ages His rifie falling upon him, effectually awoke him, and he instantly compre- hended his situation. He lay quietly for a mo- ment, and then felt cautiously around for his hat. Placing this on his head, he grasped his rifle and then opened his eyes and looked about. His blood froze with horror as he saw two mon- That they were plotting some new | mischief was certain, and all that he could do was to | The morning could not be far off, and | | fresh himself before proceeding strous eyes, seemingly of some dread animal, within a foot of his face! A row of white teeth gleamed still closer, and the hot breath of the monster mingled with his own. Nat closed his eyes and shud- deringly awaited his fate. He felt the breath grow warmer, and heard it drawn louder as though his foe were gathering to strike. He uttered ashort prayer, and believed that all was over. Something warm touched his cheek, as though an animal were licki it. He opened his eyes again and saw that he fallen at the feet of his horse, who was thus mani- festing his affection for his master. “Tye a good notion to shoot you for scaring me so,’ muttered Nat. ‘“‘ No, bless your old heart, you’re just the one I want to see.”’ He quickly cut the thong that bound the horse leaped in the saddle, and turning the animal’s he toward the open prairie, started him on a full run. The inevitable shout and swing of the hat accom- panied this movement, but there was no answerin, yell from the savages. They were at that momen several hundred yards up-stream, and caught a shadowy glim of a man galloping away in the darkness, as his triumphant shout reached their ears. One of their number had fallen and their intended prey had escaped. There were a few stars in the sky, which was gradu- ally lighting up with the approach of day, as he hur- ried his horse away from the grove. e air was cold and raw—the scene cheerless and dismal; but his spirits were too much hightened_by his fortunate escape to notice this peculiarity. He gave his horse free rein, gradually sheering him off to the left until he Was proceeding in a northern direction. When he left the grove he had followed the back trail, so that his last course was taken to regain the lost ground. After a time he made another turn at right-angles to the one which he was "aging in such a manner as to describe a semicircle. As the first rays of the sun appeared above the pas he reached the identical stream which had n the scene of his adventures “Gir the night, but at a point several miles above. Making his way through the grove he once more dashed out upon the open prairie, and was galloping onward toward the Rocky Mountains. CHAPTER MI. SHOWING THAT WE ARE NEVER TOO OLD TO LEARN. Tuus far Nat Todd had journeyed without follow- ing any definite course or plan. The all-absorbing object which led him westward was sufficient to make one of his temperament attempt any journey on the North American continent; but, as he said, he laid down no course to follow, in order to attain the end. Now, as he reined his horse down to a slow walk, he commenced meditating upon the proper course for him to pursue. He reflected that he had been guided up to this point by a mere whim. A suspicion of ogene ferment, that the tribe who captured her sister had proceeded to Oregon, had wn to a seeming cer- tainty, and he had suffered himself to be blind , Brae by it. For aught he knew, she might have m taken to Southern California or New Mexico, and it was as probable that she was in the possession of one of the hundred tribes of the South-west as of the North-west. Over that mighty area of country, com- prehending twenty degrees of latitude, and exceed- ingin extent all the States east of the Mississipi, roamed thousands of Indians, any tribe of which might hold the object of his journey; and the val- leys of the Columbia, Sacramento, or Colorado, or the slopes of the Cascade, Humboldt river, Sierra Nevada, or Black Hills, might be searched without giving him intelligence of the lost one’s fate. This gigantic undertaking our hero fully rea , and de- termined, if possible, to hunt no further without some clew to assist him. Scattered at great distances along the Oregon trail, and on the rivers west of the Rocky Mountain slope were forts or stations, where, at all times were con- gregated hunters and trappers from every part of the Far West. Nat doubted not but that he would be able to gain information from some of them which would guide him in his search. “Yes, that’s the elf he exclaimed, joyously. ‘“‘Tll go down to the forts and find out all about her, and then hunt her up, take her home and marry her. Then won't Alminy feel bad! Won't she!” The morning was now quite advanced, and he con- cluded it best to give his horse a good rest, and re- farther. He had noticed, for the last hour or so, a iar dull, roar- ing sound, like the distant roll of the ocean, and was led to aes he was near some river. Turning his horse to the left, he had proceeded but a mile or so, when he came upon a small river, which he knew at once to be the Big Horn. It was narrow, but deep and clear, flowing swiftly over a bed of pebbles, that could be seen glistening far out from theshore. The water, hardly from the snow of the mountains, was of icy coldness. The grass along its banks was luxuriant, and Nat turned his horse loose, knowing that he would not wander far, while he busied him- self with ames some food for himself. Singularly enough, he could not catch sight of a not even a fowl or a rabbit. of monstrous size could be seen lazily floating in the stream, but it was out of his power to secure them, and he finally made a breakfast off the numerous commotes and pomme blancs that were growing around him.* This done, . *The commote is a vegetable resembling the com- mon radish, which is often found in the river bottoms of the West. The pomme blanc isa native of the mountains, and much resembles, both in size and — our turnip, although more nourishing than the tter
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4 Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. he returned to his horse and started a fire. There were numerous trees Growing in the river bottom, and he had little apprehénsion of disturbance from Indians. The air, sweeping down from the Black Hills, was as cold and bracing as winter, and he vast- ly enjoyed the fire he had kindled. While preparing to resume his journey, he was startled y the actions of his horse. He had raised his head, his mouth still full of grass, and, with every demonstration of alarm, was pazing up the stream. His ears were thrust forward. his fore- feet planted firmly on the ground, his nostrils dilated as though he scented danger in the air. Nat bound- ed to cover at once, and concealing himself behind a tree, peered cautiously out to ascertain the cause of these actions. The alarm of the horse continued. He suddenly turned and ran a short distance, when he wheeled ‘around with a snort and faced the suspicious object again. A slight wind was blowing from that direc- tion, and Nat well knew his animal was not deceived. His heart beat faster as he reflected that a band of hostile Indians or a grizzly bear might be stealing upon him, and he silently cocked his rifle, deter- mined to fire and then run for life. While standing thus, every nerve strung to the highest point, he saw a human head, surmounted by a coon-skin cap, slowly rise from behind a clump of bushes, until the face and shoulders of a white man were visible. It remained a moment in this posi- tion, and then ee pak meena! Nat saw the features too plainly to be mistaken. They were those of one of his own kin, and of one who was conse- quently a friend. Without hesitation he called out: “Hello, you, sir! Come out and show yourself! It’s me, Nathan Todd, of Maine. Don’t be scart; I won’t hurt you.” A moment after, the Pn addressed step boldly into view and advanced toward the fire, where our hero met him. A glance showed the stranger to be a trapper from the mountains. His dress was half-savage, similar to those generally worn on the frontier—composed of moccasins, leg- ings, the hunting-shirt, and the skin cap, which was rawn down to the beetling eyebrow in front. A thick grizzly beard covered most of the face, so that little besides the gleaming eyes and the pug-nose was visible. A long, dangerous-looking rifle was held in the left hand, while the right was extended to grasp the proffered one of our hero. ““How-de-do,” exclaimed the latter. ‘‘Glad to see ou. Hope your folks are all well. Jam, and you ook as though you might be.” . ‘‘What’s your handle?’ asked the trapper, in a voice that sounded like the rumble of thunder, and which made Nat start from where he stood. ‘* What’s the matter?’ asked the stranger, as his eyes sparkled. Nothin’, only I stepped on a pin or a tack that some one left here—that is, I stepped on something. What’s my name, did you ask? Nathan Todd—Na- than Todd—Oh, heavens o’ nath! don't squeeze my rs so! What’s your name?”’ ‘Tom Langdon, trapper and Indian-fighter.”’ “So I s*pose—so I s’pose. What are you doing here, if you have no objections to tell a friend?” “Tm trappin’. This ar’ the place whar I've cir- elated for the last ten year, and it’s the fust time I’ve see’d a white in these parts. I’d jest been ‘round to tend to the traps and skin the beavers, when I cotched sight of your smoke—"* “T hain’t been smoking—I hain’t been smoking!” “ But your fire has, Isee’d the smoke, as I’s sayin’, and knowed it war a white, and a et green one at that, ’cause you wouldn’t cotch a red kindlin’ a fire right under my nose that way. They've been down in these parts once or twice since I’ve trapped and I'd never knowed it ef I hadn't smelt ’em. I see’d yer horse pitch and tear, ’cause he scented the beaver-blood I’ve got on me, But what brings you down in these parts? Not trappin’, I take it?” “No; I’m searching for a lovely maiden that was lost many long, long years ago.” ; It would be difficult to describe the expression that illumined the visage of the trapper at this reply. His monstrous beard nearly concealed it, but there was a blending of surprise and drollery in it, and he asked: “How come you to lose her? And what makes ~ think you'll find her in this region? I never owed fone was circulatin’ here.” Nat related, as briefly as possible, his own adven- tures and those of William Relmond since leavin the States, dwelling particularly upon the history o Imogene Merment and the supposed fate of her lost sister. The trapper listened, and, at its conclusion, gave vent toa silent but near pee 4 ba ‘you laughin’ at?’ asked Nat, indignantly. ou , ‘What have I done, I should like to know?’ ef — i so powerful green /"’ replied the trap- r, sti! pe laughing. Nat held a dignified silence until the mirth of his companion somewhat abated, when he inquired: “AmI ery have you for company?” “Ef yer w: yer’ till about two months more, and then turns your nose toward the States and tramps, p’raps you mought.” * epee oh knowed that I — have been ten miles er on my journey by this time.” With this, our hero turned and pe Me his horse to approach. The trapper look d quietly on, and suffered him to mount without , Good-day, sir,” said Nat, nod ing ; “1 shouldn’t wonder,” returned the trapper. Nat struck his horse into a canter, and had pro- ceeded about a hundred yards, when he heard - self hailed. “What's wanting?’ he asked, wheeling his horse around, “ Jest trot this way a minute,” said the rep en Nat slowly approached, and in a moment confront- ed the eccentric hunter, “ Got a piece of pigtail handy ?’’ asked the latter. Nat was so provoked that he knew hardly what to reply, but proffered the tebacco which he had ob- tained from the Indians. The trapper took the plug, twisting a small piece from it. en holding it out, he asked: : “That's ‘nough for a chaw, ain’t it?” “ie 80.” “Wal, you take it, then.”’ : So saying, he coolly placed the larger piece in his pocket, and turned his back upon Nat. The latter y. Hello, Nathan Toad!’ bawled the trapper, when he had proceeded even further than before. Our hero cantered on without heeding. “Hello, you, Nathan Toad!” came again, in a thundering voice. ‘* What do you want?”’ asked Nat, spitefully. ** Jest come here a minute.” Had he deemed himself fairly out of rifle-shot, no commands would have brought him back; but, not knowing what his new-found acquaintance would take into his head to do, he concluded it hardly safe to tempt him too much. ‘“‘ Well, here I am again,” he said, as he once more confronted his troublesome companion. “I haven’t any more tobacco to,spare, though.” he trapper, bending his keen gaze on him, asked: “You're lookin’ fur a gal, ain’t you?” “For a maiden—yes.”’ ““And you haven’t axed whether I didn’t know nothin’ *bout her.” Nat started, for the idea of obtaining information of the person before him had never entered his mind until he had thus been reminded of it; and he saw, moreover, that the trapper was in earnest. “My ious! I never thought of it—that’s true! ree ow any thing of her?” ‘ es,”’ ** When ?—how ?—where?—what did you say—who’s ‘ot her?—when did you see her?’ eagerly asked athan, fairly beside himself. “Jest hold on now. Let—me—see,”’ slowly re- ted the trapper, removing his cap and scratchin is head, as if to help his memory. ‘I’ve heard o a Fel somewhar’, but you may r my h’ar ef I can tell whar’ it was.” You don’t say! Can't you remember?” excited- ly asked Nat. “Think hard; you'll recollect in a minute, Ill die if I don’t find out something now.” “Nathan Toad,’ said the trapper, looking up in his face, ‘‘the minute you told me that story, I knowed some one had told me sunkthin’ like it, and I tried to think who it war. I called yer back and axed yer fur that pigtail, oe to see how you'd take it. Ef you’d been mean, I wouldn't said nothin’ to you about the gal; but you’s pretty clever like, and ‘ll try and overhaul this memory of mine. Let—me —see,’’ repeated the trapper again, fixing his eyes on the ground and thinking intently. “She’s a splendid-looking maiden,” quickly added Nat, as if to assist his recollection. ‘Jest put a stop on that meat-trap of yourn, while I cogitate awhile.”’ So saying, the trapper folded his arms over the muzzle of his rifle, and leaning his chin upon it, ap- peared to gaze far off at the clouds that were strag- ling through the western horizon. His eyes had t vacant look which showed his mind to be en- tirely occupied with itself, and totally oblivious of everything else. Nearly twenty minu were thus occupied, during which, it may well be appa the impatience of Nat could not but manifest itself.’ He whistled, coughed, sung, fidgeted in his seat, but it availed nothing to the trapper. The rock was not more motionless than he. At last he drew a long breath and resumed his upright position. “Come, let’s hear it quick,” said Nat. “Tt ain’t much, I allow, but I make no doubt it’s sunkthin’, It was two years ago, down at Brown’s Hole, that I heard it. A lot of us fellers were tellin’ stories round the fire thar’ one night, in the winter, when old Sol Jagzin, or ‘ Oregon Sol,’ as he was called, es, I’m sure it was Sol, now,) told a wonderfulstory uta white gal he’d see’d somewhar’ up in Oregon near the Blue Mountains, I think. He had tra ped two seasons near the canon of one of the rivers and was cac’latin’ stayin’ another, when one ni ht one of the most bootifulest critters, outside the States, came down on him, and told him the reds had spotted him, and war’ gwine to lift his ha’r and bor- rer his traps and peltries. He axed her some ques- tions, and l’arnt that she lived ’mong the reds— though what tribe, I don’t mind. She said she and her sister had been took by the knaves when they wa’n’t taller than a beaver. Sol offered to take her down to one of the forts and start her home-ag’in. But she said she had no home 'cept ‘mong the infins, r’ and wouldn’t go. Sol said she was powerful hand- some, dressed up like a omer, with such black eyes and ha’r, and with a little foot no er than a beaver’s claw. He coaxed her a little while, but it was no use. She didn’t pear to want to leave. She said that the reds had found one of Sol’s tra’ day afore, and they cac’lated on having times when they come down on him. She had managed to find out what they were drivin’ at, and had hunted *round till she found out where he hid himself. ‘Wal, Sol had jest time to pack up his skins and got out of the way of the imps when they did come own on his house. Howsumever, he was ht, and got off cl’ar. Sol, as I said, told me this two year ago, and it was two year afore that he had see’d the gal. He said he had gone up in them parts two—three times since, just to find out bout the gal, but never had heard or seen anything of her since, Remember, she wa'n’t a woman, but only a little girl, and may not be the one you’re arter, ‘cause I now them reds ar’ desprit on cotchin’ sich poor critters.” “Who is Oregon Sol?” asked Nat, breathlessly. “ He’s a feller that’s trapped up in Oregon nigh onto twenty years, and who’s got that name on that account.” ‘Where is he now?” : “Ugh! gone under, like enough. Hain’t seen him since I’s down to Brown’s Hole two years ago this last winter.”’ itd if living, where do you suppose I could find m a7 ““Dunno—he’s a quar dog. He’s got a home some- whar’ up in Oregon whar’ he lives alone, and ef you s’arch around thar’ for ten or fifteen year, you might run afoul of him some time.” *“ But how was it you saw him at Brown’s Hole?” ‘‘He comes down thar’ once in a while, I b’lieve. It was in the winter, as I said, that I see’d him, but I dunno whether that’s the time he takes to make the folks a visit or not. He come the —- afore and he left the next mornin’ arter he told us that story.” “Well, now, my friend, you've started me on the right track I think, and you're welcome to all the tobacto I've got. Now I’m bound to tind that maid- en if she’s to be found. What plan would you advise me to follow to do this?” “It’s a dub’ous hunt, Mr. Toad, and yer’s as thinks it'll be a long hunt and no game—a long trappin’- season without a beaver or otter. But, ef you’re bound to put the thing through, why strike a bee- line for Brown’s Hole, and jine some of the ee gh as goes to Oregon. Find out whether Oregon Sol is livin’, and hunt him up ef you can, though I don’t b’li’ve he’d have you with him, Ef he ain’t gone un- der, you'll hear of him down at the ‘ Hole,’ though it’s likely you'll have to wait, as the boys ar’ up on the beaver runs.” ‘How long will it take me to reach the place?” ** Four—five days will take you thar’ ef you don’t stop to make many calls on the reds ‘long the way.” “T’ve got to cross the Rocky Mountains, of course. Iknow where Brown’s Hole is, and I think I can easily find it,” “Foller up this Big Horn to the mountains, and you'll find a pass that'll take you through.” “Whoop! hurrah!” shouted Nat, swinging his hat over his head and dashing away, withou using to bid his friend good-by. e trapper watched him a moment, and then muttered: ““Tt’ll be a long hunt, I’m afeard.” In a short time the joyous Nat Todd was hid from view by the intervening trees and undergrowth, CHAPTER IV. SHOWING THAT IT IS NOT ALWAYS BEST TO BE ALONE, Arter leaying the trapper, Nat rode at a brisk gallop in a westerly course, and soon emerged from the river-bottom into the open prairie again. Far ahead loomed the peaks of the Rocky Mountains. Viewed in the clear summer air, their summits seemed tinged with a faint blue, and resembled an irregular pile of clouds resting in the horizon. Away to the northward, as far as the vision could reach, the mighty cliffs alone met the eye; and sweepin around in a western direction, so as to inclose the ad- venturer in a semicircle, rolled the Black Hills, one of the grandest spurs of the whole Rocky Mountain chain. On the loftiest hights, the pure snow blend- ed almost perfectly with the clear sky beyond. Now and then a blast of wind swept down from the moun- tains, bringing its arctic climate with it. When a scene similar to this is gradually ap- ere by the traveler, he experiences its sublimi- in all its fullness. The roar of Niagara impresses the senses with a feeling of terror so great as to overcome all other emotions. But the solemn still- ness that surrounds these mountains is so impressive as to be almost audible, like the faint roar of the ocean; and the soul seems filled with a responsive emotion. Nat neared the mountains on a brisker canter; but, for a time, seemed to make no pro at all, for distance is as deceptive upon the prairie as upon the water. During the afternoon he entered a pass several miles breadth, opening before him like a tunnel. He was satisfied, however, that it was not the famous ‘“ South Pass,” at the head-waters of the Platte, through which the Oregon trail leads. On either hand the gigantic walls towered above him, piercing the very clouds. Rocks, jagged and mas- sive, were piled up thousands of feet above him, and the stunted cedars, a few scrub-oaks and bri- ers, were the only sign of vegetable life. Our hero gazed above and around him, feeling as though ing through the gate of another world. a fhousand feet above, seated on a projecting rock, he saw something move which resembled a large squirrel, but which a second look showed to be a ly bear. Further on he detected another, but ey were so distant he had no fear of them. Viewed from the cliffs, Nat and his horse would have seemed but a mere speck moving through the eonge below. “I declare, this beats call on the President whe this is the place where the Moun a he mused. “TI must n back, and tell him acific railroad should Won’t them grizzlies see a locomotive thun- hear it give one of its old U:
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rate at which he was going, to get through the pass, Toward the latter part the way was rougher, and he met with more obstructions. ‘* Well, here I am at last,’’ he exclaimed, as he found himself once more upon the open. prairie. “There are no more mountains to cross this side of the fort, I believe. I'll fetch up there in a day or two, see that Oregon Sol, find out where Irene is, hunt her up, take her down to the States, marry her of course— Blazes! what’s that?” A full-grown panther stood within a dozen feet of hum. Passing a small cluster of trees, the animal bounded in front of his rearing horse with that won- dering stare which a brute gives at the first sight of a white man, Nat restrained his horse from flee- ing, and hardly knowing what he did, tried to ride down the saathany but his noble horse refused obedi- ence. After a while our hero bethought himself of his rifle, and without stopping to take aim, fired at the brute. The aimless ball did no harm, and the frightened beast scampered away at a rapid pace.* “'That’s the luckiest move you ever made,’’ shout- ed Nat, after the retreating animal. “If I had time I’d follow you up, and teach you better than to stand before such a dangerous fle as the one Na- than Todd possesses.” Darkness now began to settle over the prairie. Nat concluded it best to seek a spotforcamp. Af- ter a careful search he decided upon a spot in a val- ley-like depression, where the remains of a camp- fire were visible. First picketing his horse, he lay down within a short distance, copending upon the animal’s sagacity to arouse him in case of danger. The beast had already given such evidence as to make it certain that no foe, however wary, could ap- proach without eee his alarm. Invoking, as usual, the protection of Heaven, Nat closed his eyes in slumber. He had precaution enough, however, to collect a large quantity of wood, so that in case he should need a fire during the night, he would not be at a loss to obtain it. ‘ Just before closing his eyes, he was startled by hearing among the mountains a long, peculiar cry— a sort of lengthened, tremulous howl of most dismal tone. Although he had heard not like it before, he jpdged it to proceed from the led mountain- wolf. He listened a while, and hearing no repeti- tion, closed his eyes, little drearaing that the trail of his horse was the occasion of the ominous sound, A half-hour later, he was brought to his feet by a most appalling cry. There was something so un- earthly, so horrible about it, that for a time, he was completely unnerved. It was that sound which his horse had given in the agony of extreme fear; and not even the wild yells of the mountain-wolves, that followed it, were so fearful. : : Nat found his horse rearing and tugging at his rope, his eyes fixed and glowing, and his b quiv- ering with fear. He approached his beast, and, after a time, succeeded in partly pacifying him. He then looked around to ascertain the cause of alarm. Nothing was visible, although the moon enabled him to see quite a distance. About twenty feet away he noticed a stump, around which he deemed it best to start his fire, as he believed the fright of his horse was occasioned by some animal lur in the vicin- ity. yg he gathered an of fuel and tossed it toward the stump. His surprise was un- bounded when he saw what he had supposed to be a stump rise to its feet, with a threate: growl, and spring back several yards, where it resolutely con- fronted him. Heavens!” exclaimed Nat, with a start. ‘ Who rags you were a sneaking wolf? I took you for an old stump. How do you like that?” He did not miss his aim this time. The wolf doubled up like a steel-trap, utte’ a dying howl, that was answered by a hundred throats from the mountain. Admonished by this fearful warning. Nat soon had a brisk fire burning, and enough wood iled beside it to keep it going until morning. He hen led his horse up to it, so as to be out of reach of any animal, and loading his rifle waited for his visi- ors. The place which he had chosen for his camping- ground was, as said, a sort of hollow or depression which so concealed his fire as to prevent i seen until one was directly upon it. The death-how of the wolf near him was still echoed by others, and it was easy to tell by the sounds that they were sig- naling to each other, and were ra idly centering around the spot which contained their dead com- panion. Ina moment, Nat saw through the smoke a pair of glowing eyes fixed upon him, and a length- ened whine, terminating in a sharp yelp, brought a score of others almost instantly to their side. Matters were certainly beginning to look serious, but Nat, knowing the dread which every animal has of fire, felt that if watchful and vigilant, there was no personal danger. His only fear was that the ter- ror of his horse would become so great as to make him uncontrollable, and he would burst across the prairie and be forever lost to him. The wolves continued to increase in number until it seemed that several hundred were gathered on the banks above. The first intruder, whose death was the penalty of his temerity, was seized by the foremost of the others and devoured in a twink- ting. This sorved only to increase their thirst for blood and they became doubly venturesome. Although Nat held his horse so close to the fire as to scorch them both, a huge wolf made several leaps, and oe his jaws so close that his animal sprung in- to the flame to escape him. He instantly lea: out * The panther found among the Black Hills is an animal totally dissimilar from the one of the East. The former is of a smaller size, scrawny and cow- ardly, and rarely can be induced to face the hunter, even when wounded, 5 Nat Todd. again, and it was with the greatest difficulty he could be restrained. The wolf, encouraged by his success, endeavored to get at the horse's heels so as to ham- string him. Lying down on his face, he crawled within a foot or two and then made a spring; but the horse seemed to understand his intention, and, quick as was the movement of the wolf, he encountered the heels of the animal with such force as to split his head open and scatter his brains to the wind. The wolf, while yet quivering in the throes of death, was ounced upon by his companions as usual, and torn imb from cmb! Nat was. struck with admiration at the exploit of his horse, and determined to attempt the same Hing himself. He waited until another huge fellow hac ventured rather close, when he souaer forward, and ave a furious kick, closing the animal’s jaws like the spring of a steel-trap. But before he could with- draw his foot it was seized by several with such pow- er as to bring him upon his back, and he felt that he was being drawn away from the fire by the infuri- ated beasts! ““Murder! let go, can’t you?’’ he shouted, clutch- ing madly about him, and still retaining the halter of his horse. In his frantic movement he seized a firebrand and hurled it blazing among the swarming bodies. His foot was freed instantly, and the wolves retreated several yards, but immediately returned. Before they reached him, he was on his feet again, and too close to the fire for them to reach him. “ Confound it! I wish I’d gone home with Bill Rel- mond, instead of coming out here like a fool to hunt up that squaw!” exclaimed Nat. ‘I might better have stayed home, anyway.” It now occurred to him to attempt an expedient which he remembered hearing the trapper, Biddon, mention as having been used by himself in a similar cease. Raising his rifle at random, he fired into the group. It was almost impossible to miss killing one, and a sharp yell showed that he had not failed. The slain wolf followed the fate of the others, and was devoured with as much gusto as though he had been Nat Todd himself. As soon as the latter could re- load, he discharged his gun again. This time the bullet plowed its way through the haunch of one wolf, and buried itself in the head of another. The latter, not noticing his own hurt, sprung upon the fallen one, Before this one was oy devoured. several scented the blood of the wounded one, and although he was as active and powerful as the rest, he was borne down to the earth by a score of raven- ous ones, and quickly dispatched. Nat fired over twenty shots in the herd, and more than that number fell victims; and still it seemed to have no effect save to whet the appetite of the oth- thers. Several more were slain, when the hunter no- ticed his ammunition was getting low. Prudence compelled him, therefore, to desist from his work of slaughter. With much care he reloaded his rifle, de- termined to use it again only as a last resort. But the fury and courage of the wolves had so increased that he saw some other expedient must be resorted to, or his life would not be his own in a half-hour. He threw several firebrands among them. This scat- tered them for a moment; but it could not be con- tinued, for the good reason that it must deprive him of his fire, and thus make his case oy gs rs gr As an additional means of defense he ed an- other fire, and finally had four in full blast, so that he was inclosed in a circle of flame. This served every purpose, and no matter how great the hunger or temerity of the wolves, not one durst venture over the magic ese aer Nat congratulated him- self upon having foiled the insatiate brutes at last. But it was not long before this emotion of relief gare way to that of sickly terror. He saw that his uel could not —_ last till morning. A couple of hours more at most, it must die out. In despair, he looked up to the heavens, and saw by the constel- lations that it was hardly midnight. ‘ Several times he revolved a desperate scheme in his mind, it was to mount his horse and start off on a fullrun. It seemed the only hope left, and yet a second thought told him it would be certain destruc- tion. Impeded with his — the horse must finally succumb and fall a victim. The lank, cadav- erous wolves were capable of worrying any animal of the prairie to death; and the most terrific speed to which the horror of death could urge his ani- mal would preserve him but an hour or so, No; he dismissed this plan, satisfied that it could avail him nothing. Hour after hour gradually wore away, and the fire slumbered low. With feelings which none can imagine, our hero threw the last stick upon the fire. Up to this time the yells and clamor of the wolves had been deafening; but Nat, all at once, noticed that they had ceased, and the silence of death reign- ed over the scene. Some great fear had fallen upon them, and they now dashed away in a tumultuous drove, leaving the hunter alone with his horse. Be a ea pets danger, if possible, threatens!’ he | exclaim _Scarcely had he spoken, when he caught the out- lines of a colossal form above him, and saw instantly that a grizzly bear was approaching. His horse caught —— of the brute at the same moment, and, with a wild yell broke from him and dashed across the prairie, his mane streaming in the wind. The bear instantly followed, on a loping, tumbling gait, = Nat’s heart thrilled as he saw he was entirely alone. ‘Now's my time!” he exclaimed, catching a brand and running up the enbankment. He caught sight of a cluster of trees, several hundred yards ahead, and waving the brand above his head, made a des- ree dash for the refuge. He had gone one-half he distance, when he was surround eS a dozen wolves, who had been frightened from the pursuit of the horse by the appearance of the bear. ‘Clear the track!” he shouted, in a sort of wild ecstasy, as he swung the flaming missile around him. The wolves fairly touched him, but the brand was all-potent. He reached the tree without a scratch. Here he was nonplused for a moment. In one hand he held his rifle, and in the other the protect- ing torch, which his rapid run had fanned into a roaring blaze. It was impossible to climb the tree without dropping both. The hunter decided in a moment. aising a-loud shout, and waving his brand over his head, he sprung toward the wolves, scattering them like chaff. When they were a few rods distant, he flung the dreaded flame directly among them, and leaping back to the tree, Gropped his gun and made a bound upward, catching a b and sustaining himself by one hand, Over this he threw his feet, but fate was against him; the limb broke and he came to the ground. Nothing discon- certed, he made another leap, and catching again, brought his body up among the limbs. But so close were the wolves, and so narrow the escape the last time, that he found himself lightened of a large part of his hunting-shirt, it being in the teeth of the greedy cannibals below. ‘* Now how] as long as you want to!”’ shouted Nat, as he clambered up the tree and perched himself in the mvt “Tl bet I won’t fall asleep to-night, and you'll wait a while before you breakfast with me.’* CHAPTER Y. WHICH IS MOSTLY HISTORICAL, Never did shipwrecked mariner hail the sight of morning with greater joy and thankfulness than did Nat Todd the first glimpse of day in the east. As the sun appeared above the horizon, the wolves, one by one, slunk away, until none remained. Seei the coast clear, Nat ventured to descend, He foun his rifle fully fifty feet away from the tree, where it had been clawed and disfigured by the ravenous ani- mals. It had suffered no material injury, however, and he was glad enough to recover it as it was. From the situation of the sun he was able to tell what direction to take to reach the fort, and without losing time he started off on foot. He traveled on until noon, when he’ shot a bird, which furnished him with a hearty dinner. He was never at loss for a fire, as his flint furnished the means; and the weather was so cool this day, that he could not resist the pleasure of enjoying it for awhile. Unconsciously to himself he fell into a dee slumber, and did not awaken until dark. Start] at his indiscretion, he sprung on, resolved to travel the most of the night to make up for lost ground, The prairie continued mostly of the ro kind; and, aided by the faint light of the moon and stars, he made considerable progress. Several streams were crossed, and finally a sort of grove, of perhaps a balf mile in extent, was entered. A _ cold, chilling ' fear crept over our hero as the dark shades encom- pa im; and it was in no way lessened when he eard the footsteps of some animal behind him. In fact, we doubt whether there is a more uncomfort- able sensation a person can experience, than the con- sciousness that some one or ee his footsteps in the dark. The a step, fol- lowed by a treacherous silence—the imaginary aj proach of a foe, and the.expected blow, make the suspense harder to bear than the r itself. At intervals, the rustle of the leaves sounded closer and closer, until he was so wrought — by fear that he could stand it no longer. Cocking his vil . he d aside, and concealing himself behind a tree, wai the approach of his foe. Closer and closer sounded the footsteps, until all at once, not a wild animal ora human foe—but his horse walked in front of him. “Thank heaven!’ exclaimed Nat, fervently. ‘‘ This is a most fortunate thing that could have hap- pened.” The horse seemed as much delighted as his mas- ter, and when he once more felt him on his back, he seemed unable to restrain himself. ‘Now you may go till you’re eae a said Nat, as he emerged into the open prairie. e horse, with a neigh of delight, htened his limbs and sped away like a swallow. His rider ceased wondering at his escape from the wolves and bear when he saw with what speed he was carried. With now and then an occasional halt for rest and refreshment, the journey was continued until noon of the next day, when he crossed a large stream of cold, spar! water, and several hours later he discerned in the distance the plain of Brown’s Hole. He struck his horse into a canter at sight of it, and movin through the bluffs, crossed two smaller streams tha’ tumbled down from the stratified cliffs on his right. After passing a few rods further, the whole area burst upon his sight. A man dressed like a hunter stood in front of the fort, amusing himself with the antics of acouple of dogs. He caught sight of our hero, and turned tow: him. Nat found himself the re- cipient of a hearty welcome, and felt that he had stumbled upon something like home in the wilder- “ Brown’s Hole” is one the most remarkable of forts on the Pacific slope. It was once termed “ Fort David Crockett,” but it is now more gener- | hess. *To avoid giving a false impression, we may state that the wolf of the West will never attack oe poser unless the latter has the smell of fresh blood about him. They will follow a traveler for miles, kee up their dismal howling, but he is perfectly long as there is no fresh wound upon : eso him, or meat in his possession. But afew drops of blood will draw the wolves from miles distant to the trail. In the incident above given, the fury of these animals was caused by a small wound in the horse's foot which had left its mark in several places. .
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ally known by the former name. It stands on the Sheetskadee or Prairie Cock river, and is more than a mile and a half above the sea-level.* The plain upon which it is situated is about six miles across, and is walled in completely by a chain of mountains rising fifteen hundred feet above. The Sheetskadee enters the north-west side, and sweeping round in a beautiful curve in front of the fort, makes its way through the mountain-cliffs full a thousand feet in hight, where it moves over with a solemn calmness that is indescribable. : : Not the least remarkable peculiarity of this plain, is its climate. Forming a plateau, as it does, over eight thousand feet in hight, one would suppose an eternal winter would hold reign. On the contrary, the rich mountain grasses, with numerous copses of willow and cottonwood, are growing the entire year; and when the blasts of winter whirl the snow in blinding drifts over the mountain-peaks and in the country around, the horses of the hunters may be seen calm ogee the herbage on the banks of the Sheetskadee, and the hunters themselves in the — of enjoyment, e fort, some years since, was a hollow square of log-cabins, with the roofs and floors constructed of mud. Around the outside were numerous Indian lodges, where the families of the white trappers re- mained while the latter were absent among the mountains or beaver-runs, Many of the Shoshone or Snake tribe are found at the fort. They appear in the est numbers during the winter months, when they bring i uantities of the meat of the mountain-sheep and other animals, which they fur- nish to the travelers and traders in exchange for beads, trinkets, ammunition, etc. A storehouse also stands outside, where the trappers barter their furs, and the Indians their horses, for hatchets, knives, fishhooks, lead and whisky. The Shoshones are the nearest assimilated to the whites, and during the winter months the whole tribe, numbering considerably over a_ thousand, pitch their lodges on the plain around the fort; while scores of trappers and hunters congregate within the fort, or among their Indian squaws, and a scene of enjoyment, such as is rarely witnessed, takes place. There are gatherings among the Indian lodges where both races congregate, while mocca- sins, buffalo-robes and “‘leggins’’ are sewn with deer-sinews. The wild song of the dusky warriors is heard; and there is a and music, and love- making, and marriage—all that go to make up life, where, for the time being, the participants give way to social pleasure. And many is the thrilling legend related by some hun‘er, who, perhaps, has hunted for years on snow-shoes in Prince Rupert’s Land, or penetrated to the Frozen Sea for seals and walruses; many is the escape narrated by the trapper, who has stealthil secured his peltries on the shores of the far-off Columbia, or among the wildest fastnesses of the Rocky Mountains, in spite of the treacherous Blackfeet or Flatheads. Nat arrived at the most unfortunate time at the fort. It being in early summer, the only white men were the store-keeper and three or four hunters who chanced to be in the neighborhood for a few days. “Tf you seek any of the hunters, you will have to wait till autumn. e men are off ‘hunting, some of them hundreds of miles distant. They’l! be in, per- haps, in the course of several months, before start- ing off for the beaver-runs.”’ information was Ddge by the trader, after our hero had explained his object in appearing in that part of the world at such a time. re Do you know any thing of a fellow called Oregon “Old Sol Jagzin, you mean? Ah—yes, No manex- cept Kit op is so well known this side of the ippi.”’ ee Where is he now?” “That’s a question I can not answer, and I doubt os 5a any one else can except the individual him- ge , “‘ How long since le has been here?” “Let me see: he hasn’t been in these parts this _— The om ae bag hinray before owl oo was only a day or two, just long eno spose of his poterios and lay in a supply © tobacco and ammunition, when he was off again.” ““What do you suppose the reason to be? Have yyou no idea that he has collapsed—been killed, I amean?”’ “T hardl papocec that, and yet it may be true after all. 1 is a most experienced Indian-fighter and hunter, and after going through such a course of training as he has, it isn’t likely he’d go under at this time of life; but then a trapper’s life is a hob- mob with Death, and though the latter must win at last, he does it sometimes sooner than is expected. o_o” added the trader, “I have little fear for “What reason then do = give for his absence?” **One reason is this: he traps somewhere up in Oregon, no one knows where, for he always goes alone. Since we Americans have got hold of Ore- gon, the e ts have commenced coming in ere, during the last few years. This has made the beavers scarcer, and Sol, like enough, did not secure sufficient furs to make him think it worth while to come down at the usual time. So he thought he would lie over for a season. “Did you ever hear him say anything of the love- ly girl that I have been speaking about?” “Now that you have referred to it, it occurs to me that I have—but only once, and that was the time of which Tom Langdon ke. I distinctly remember his relating the incident just as you say it was told you. It excited my curiosity somewhat, and I made * This stream is now marked on maps as Green river. os several inquiries of Sol, as well as of others who have been in Oregon. else could give any additional information.” ‘**Do you suppose this fg # gal to be living?” “T can only conjecture, w self. I should not despair of finding her alive and well until I received indubitable evidence that she was dead.” “T don’t suppose any one besides this Sol could give me any information which I seek.” ‘*No; itis hardly probable. You see, it might be termed an accident by which he obtained his knowl- edge, and I doubt very much whether he could tell any more than I have.” ; Nat was somewhat discouraged, but not entirely disheartened by what the trader told him. His first impulse was to start for ee at once; but second thought told him that such a course could avail nothing. He believed he had obtained a clew to what he sought; and that patience and perseverance LO where he was attacked was just above the canon of but neither he nor any one | a stream which debouched into Lewis river. Nat, who possessed a thorough knowledge of the geogra- | phy of the country, traced out the very stream on a ich you can do your- | | that he learned that Oregon | map in the possession of the trader, and gained such an idea of the country as to make him confi- dent of his ability to reach it alone; but he counted | much on the assistance of the old terrible-looking | trapper. It was, then, with the sorest_ disappointment, t i Sol was not go- ing to return again to Oregon. He had obtained information from a friendly Cayuse of a region literally swarming with beaver and otter, to which the two were going in company. He would not dis- | close its location, save to say it was in an entirely | were only needed to follow it up to a successful ter- | mination. It was now early summer, and he con- cluded to remain at the fort until the arrival of Sol Jagzin, or until it was known that he would not make his appearance. The time passed heavily to the ardent fellow. Day after day dragged by, and week after week, until several months were passed. Still there were no signs of the hunter’s return. Several trappers made their appearance at intervals, and remaining a day or two, took their departure. Once or twice large bodies of the Shoshones visited the store-house, and, bartering with the trader, rode away again. Toward the middle of summer, a distinguished Russian traveler. accompanied by an American, remained several days at Brown’s Hole. Nat made their acquaint- ance at once, and the time passed pleasantly during their stay. The three had several unting and fish- ing expeditions together, and our hero was thrown into ecstasies when the American informed him that he was a friend of Relmond, and had met him in St. Louis on his return from the Yellowstone. Relmond and Imogene, having a faint hope that the traveler would chance to come across Nat, had dispatched their best wishes for his safety. Relmond, as before mentioned, had determined not to let Imogene know the true cause of Nat’s erratic expedition, for fear that it might awaken hopes which could only occa- sion the keener disappointment. After the departure of his two friends, Nat found time hung more heavily than ever on his hands. He accom J spent days in rambling over the mountains hunting the different game that so abounded. He wondered why the hunters should go to great dis- tances to seek their prey when there was such abun- dance at their doors. But no signs of beaver and otter were seen in Leer ay to the fort. The summer departed. Cold, blustering autumn made its appearance. The trader informed Nat that the trappers might be looked for every day. Indeed, the same week severalcame in, But no one brought tidings of ‘‘ Oregon Sol.” A fortnight after this, when the Shoshones pitched their lodges around the fort, and over thirty trappers and hunters were on the ground, Nat received notice that a great party would be held that evening, which, of course, it was expected he would attend. No re- of any being offered. At the appointed time they all assembled in the lodge, which had been prepared expressly for the purpose. The oily lights disclosed a singular and characteristic seene. There were old and weather- beaten hunters, shaggy and scarred, lithe, graceful warriors, and maidens of all shades, trom the dusk hue of the autumn-leaf to the pure Caucasian. All ages, from the mere youth to the man of three-score and ten were seen. Wives, husbands, brothers, sis- ters and lovers mingled together. ere were a couple of “ professors’’ on the violin, so that abun- dant music was furnished. All went into the sport as if they relished it. Some danced as finely as if made of Damascus steel; some bounced square up and down; others shoved themselves around with a slow, solemn motion: while some shot hither and thither, like balls of india-rubber. Late in the night Nat found himsel (/e/e-a-tete with a beautiful half-breed. While engaged in an earnest talk, she suddenly exclaimed: ‘* Yonder is old Solomon, I declare!”’ Nat saw, at the opposite end of the room, a short, stumpy-looking fellow, clad in the garb of a trapper. and around whom were congregated a number 0; both sexes. A moment later, the trader touched Nat on the shoulder and whispered: “That's Oregon Sol. He is in an unusual good- humor to-night. I spoke of you to him, and he says he will see Fate in the morning. Be frank and to the point, and I think you will have no difficulty in gain- ing. all the information you wish.” t was near morning before the party broke up, In spite of the exciting expectation which Nat felt re- a to Oregon Sol, it must be confessed he slept soundly until near the middle of the forenoon. soon as he awoke, he repaired to the warehouse to see the trader, He found not only him, but Oregon Sol, who had just disposed of his furs, and secured his winter stock of ammunition and stores. The trader introduced the two at once. We will not de- tail the tedious conversation to which Nat was com- son ge to submit before he obtained his information, ut give the substance of what we have learned. The old trapper was whimsical and eccentric, and it required the combined skill of the trader and Nat, before he divulged what little he knew. He stated, substantially, what Langdon had already given, pointing out only in addition the precise location of the place in the Blue Mountains at which he was visited by the “lovely maiden,” and stating that the Indians belonged to the Cayuse tribe. e place | enter a desert, where the | food by aid of his gun would be light indeed. A few fusal could be expected, and there was little danger | different direction, and hundreds of miles from the Blue Mountains. Nat used every inducement at his command to get the trapper to change his intention or at least to postpone it until another season; but it availed nothing. As a class, no men are more stubborn than those western, half-civilized rangers; and the adventurer finally saw that if he made his contemplated journey to Oregon, it would have to be made without any companion or guide. CHAPTER VI. A HAUL IS MADE CONTAINING A MYSTERIOUS LETTER, WHEN & person comes to an unexpected resolution, his first impulse is pretty sure to be to carry it out at onee; and undue haste is equally sure to characterize his movements. A half-hour subsequent to the explanation record- ed in the last chapter, Nat Todd, well mounted and armed, was riding at a brisk canter toward the north. Brown’s Hole and its taggenr sa 5 population already were invisible behind the mighty cliffs that walled it in from the outer world. The trader at first opposed his erratic course, but was compelled to admit at last that it was the only one left to him. None of the trappers present in the fort were going to the same section, and, as there were none who would consent to Jose a season for the purpose of aiding in what could be of little profit or interest to themselves, it will be seen that the course of Nat was perhaps the best under the circumstances. He determined to follow the Oregon trail to Fort Hall, about two hundred miles distant on Lewis river. Having thoroughly posted himself, during his stay at Brown’s Hole, on the difficulties of the jour- ney, he py ete ee no trouble, except it might be from the Blackfeet, whose war-parties often hov- ered around this highway For something over a dozen miles he kept up the Ma f of the Sheetska- dee, one of the most beautiful rivers in the far West. The water of this river was clear as air, of | uniform breadth, and in no place over three feet in depth. The mountains rose on either side to the hight of a thousand feet above the level of the stream. He camped at night on the bank of this river, and at an a, hour resumed his journey, Nat had taken the precaution to furnish him. self with a goodly quantity of meat before start, ing, as the trader informed him that he was about to robabilities of obtaining miles from his camping-place, he reached a point in the mountains through which the river wore its way | in such a manner as to make a canon, and, for the | distance of five miles, he was compelled to clamber over frightful precipices, along brinks of yawning caverns, and over paths not more than a foot in | width, where there was nothing save the naked face of the rock to cling to, where a single misstep would be instant destruction. But his Indian horse was as = and sure-footed as the trained mules of the ndes. The day passed without affording him a glimpse of a single human being. The only signs of animal life, besides himself and his horse, were a few croaking ravens and magpies that circled overhead and gave their dismal welcome to this desolate region. His camping-place afforded a view of the Anahuac Range, which stretched away in the direction of the Great Salt Lake. He expected to encounter no white persons unless it might be one or two trappers, as the season was one in which few, if any, emi- grants braved the perils of the mountains. The next morning he continued his journey in a northern di- rection, over a sort of rolling plain of coarse, sandy gravel, upon which no sign of vegetation, save the forbidding wild wormwood, was observed. One or two miserable-looking prairie-wolves were espied in the course of the afternoon. They slunk ery 4 the river-bottoms, giving vent, now and then, to a howl which echoed like a wail of death from cliff to cliff, Asif to increase the gloom of this desert, a flock of famished ravens followed him for a long distance, chanting their discordant notes and darkening the air with their funereal wings. On the afternoen of the fourth day, the adventurer struck Ham’s Fork, a tributary of the Sheetskadee. At this season, the river was quite shallow, but dur- ing the spring it is over two hundred feet in depth. is journey was a long and often tedious one; but there were many natural curiosities encountered, which sometimes served to interest him for a time, Among these were the remarkable Steamboat and prings, the Three Buttes, and the Valley of OMe und from th e underwent much suffering from the scarcit of food, and upon several oceasions his horse becams so weakened as to be unable to carry him. Had he been aware of the formidable journey he had under- taken, his enthusiasm would have failed to him through. But on the tenth day he ascended a high ridge, which afforded him a view of the great southern branch of the Columbia. Far t» the north- | ward, in the land of the Shoshone, could be seen the
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Nat Todd. 7 Three Buttes looming up in the sky, while to the south-west stretched a rugged chain of mountains. But, a more cheering sight than all, there was Fort Hall, nestling down in the ye its white battle- — glowing like burnished silver in the clear sun- light. a couple of hours he drew rein in front of the fort, shouting for those inside to come forth. In- stantly an armed man made his appearance who gave him welcome. “Got any thing to eat?” asked Nat. ‘I'm terri- bly hungry. Do youthink you’ve got enough to sat- Ss ’ | | often. he guard surveyed the strange comer with a quiet | me? smile, and then replied: ; “Tf you doubt it, come in and try it. Come, come, man, on’t sit there; you're not serving your horse right.” “That is true—nor myself either,’ answered Nat, hurrying within the gate. — f The hospitality offered him was the most genuine and hearty. His horse was well taken care of, and himself feasted like a prince. Within he found quite a collection of hunters and trappers. At the conclu- | sion of his meal he arose and remarked: “Gentlemen, if there is a man in this company | wae seals arfectly satisfied, for the present, that man is Nat Ny: “Nat Todd, did you say?’ questioned the man who had welcomed him to the fort, as he arose and came toward him. “The same, sir, at your service.” “There is a letter here for Nathan Todd.” “‘A letter for me?” he repeated, catching his breath, and feeling a sudden loathing of the food he had just swallowed. “ Yes, sir; I will give it to youin a minute. In fact, I believe we have two, if I am not mistaken,” “Who has written me letters! Can't be it’s the lovely maiden I’m looking for. She hain’t learnt my address yet.” : In a moment two letters were placed in his hand. One was plump and heavy, and a glance at the su- perscription showed Nat it was from his widowed mother, A mist floated before his eyes as he trem- blingly broke the seal, and his heart fairly leaped while rusing it. Itwasa Sot pte letter, such as an affectionate mother would write to the eldest of four grown-up sons, breathing prayerfully of his fate, and containing a few words from each of the “ children,” and giving, as a part of the gossip, the fact that his Alminy had married Bill Hankins shortly after the departure of Nat for the West. Just what I expected!’ remarked Nat, aloud. “IT might have known that, when she coaxed me so hard to go to California—though I was such a fool that I thought she did it out of pure, genuine love. Never mind; wait till I take this lovely maiden home that I am going to find up among the mountains.” The letter closed with an earnest wish for Nat to come home, The farm was large enough to support all, and the fond mother could not see the necessity for even one of her children leaving the dear old home. Nat folded up his letter, resolved to spend a day in answering it, and to promise to return home the next summer. He glanced at the next envelope, but failed to rec- ognize the handwriting. The wonder with which he broke the seal was increased to literal amazement when he read it. The contents were as follows: ‘To NATHAN Topp:—Follow the trail to Burnt river, and then strike off to the north-west to the Blue Mountains, The one for whom you are looking is in the possession of the Cayuse tribe.” “ Jerusalem! who wrote that letter?’ he demand- ed, looking around him. There was no signature to it, nor anything besides his own name on the en- | velope. “Where did you get that letter?” he repeated, —— toward the friend who had welcomed him to the fort. “It was left here about two months since by aman who rode into the fort, the same as you have, on horseback, and from the same direction.” ‘“What was his name?” ‘He did not inform us.”’ ‘** What did he look like?” “There was | about his appearance that seemed unusual that I am aware of. He remained over night. In the evening he wrote that letter, and told me to hand it to you when you reached here, which he said would probably be in a month from that time.” : “Why, it beatsall! How did he know anything of me, much less of the lovely maiden for whom I am } Seek ald You do not know where he came rom?” “From the States, I suppose, although Iam not ertain,’* “Know where he was going?” “No, sir; yet I suspect it was to California.” ‘* Tell me how he was dressed—how he looked.” The man laughed outright at Nat’s eagerness. ‘Had Isuspected this anxiety upon your part, I should have certainly made this mysterious person leave his name, at least, with us. e rode upon a coal-black pony—was dressed in such a manner as to show he was from more civilized regions than are found this side of the Mississippi. His hair was long and dark, his face clean shaven, with handsome, reg- ular features.” Nat thought a. upon what his friend had just related, but could bring up no remembrance of hav- ing ever seen a person who bore the slightest resem- nce to the one just mentioned; and, since leaving the Yellowstone, he had met no horse similar to the one referred to. For a long time he thought of nothing else, and puzzled himself greatly to solve the riddle. He re-read the note a half dozen times, and made his friend repeat the description nearly as He questioned three others who had seen the man, but none could add anything to what had already been told. At last, he was compelled to give up the hope of finding out who the own could be. The whole affair wasamystery. It was destined to remain so a long time to him. The afternoon was spent in writing home. He gave a whole account of his adventures, not omitting state that he was in pursuit of a “lovely maiden,” as far superior to ee the sun was to the moon; and hinting the probability of his making his appear- ance in Lu the next season, with her as his bride. He closed with a glowing account of his health, which, under the invigorating climate of the Far West, had become rugged and settled, and urging his mother to feel no anxiety upon his eocount. The letter finished, he handed it to his friend, who prom- ised that it should be sent eastward as soon as op- portunity offered. The entire night was passed by Nat in meditating upon the future. The advice of the note he held in his hand corresponded with that of Oregon Sol, and he had no doubts that both were correct, but he felt, at that moment, that he would give all he owned in the world if it would be the means of explaining the mystery of the letter. It was inexplicable. How a man whom he had never seen, and in a region which he had never visited, could know the object which | | yell, and his horse, with a wild snort, sprung for- brought him hither, was incomprehensible. “At any rate I'll go. ‘ Follow the trail to Burnt River,’ it says, and then ‘ strike off to the Blue Moun- tains.’ That course will take me to the very spot that Oregon Sol mentioned; and then it says that the Ca; tribe hold her. The same thing was stated by both, and of course must be true. It’s a long journey, but Nat Todd has not come all this distance to turn back at this place. No, sir! The trail which he has started upon must be followed to the end.” | ward like a racer. | ages seemed to alarm the latter as much as his oat Nat remained at the fort a couple of days, in order | | to recruit himself and horse. He made the acquaint- ance of all those within it, but gained no additional | knowledge of what most concerned him. Fort Hall was built in the year 1832, by aman from Boston, for the purpose of opening trade with the Indians in the vicinity. At this time the nearest post of the Hud- son Bay Company was seven hundred miles distant, and he had little fear of competition from them. But this wealthy firm, with its vast resources, soon forced him to leave. Fort Boise was instantly es- tablished on Red River, and the British company sent out scores of their agents, who literally sur- rounded the unfortunate American, and by under- selling him in everything, in a short time compelled him to ‘ break,”’ and sell out his fort, at a great sac- rifice, to the Hudson Bay Company. The course of the latter body in this affair may strike the reader as dishonorable; but, if he will reflect. a moment, he will see that nothing was done by them which is not | practiced around us every day. It was but fair com- petition, and the American Fur Company, as well as many others, bm 3 retaliated in time. Long after Oregon fell into.the hands of the Americans, the Hudson Bay Company claimed and held ths right of trade within its territory. With a shortsightedness which is unaccountable, our Government allowed this oo and to this day the British reap the benefit of t. It was a pleasant morning in autumn when Nat Todd emerged from Fort Hall, and turned his face toward the northward. It would be tedious to the reader were we to follow our hero step by step until he reached the Blue Mountains. His journey to Fort Boise was much the same as the one from Brown’s Hole. An hour’s ride brought him to the limit of vegetation. The earth became of a red, fiery color, covered here and there with shriveled cottonwoods and shrubs, with barely sufficient grass to keep his animal from starving. He close to the cele- | brated “Three Buttes.” ese are pyramidal- shaped peaks, two thousand feet in hight. tops were covered with glittering snow; further down, small streams issue, and bands of vegetation encircle them to the base, giving, during the sum- mer months, a most beautiful exhibition of the dif- ferent zones of the earth, Eight days of constant terror from roving Indians—of nful traveli over the knife-like stones—over black barren sw —through a vast, untimbered country—sometimes fording the river beside which the trail led—some- times camping on the hard-baked earth—at others beside the soft, rippling river—at times ready to give way to despair, and turn back—at others renewed a ope—eight days of such travel as this, and one ternoon a solitary horseman, scarcely resembling Nathan Todd, drew up in front of Fort Boise. A week's = at Fort Boise sufficed to put Nat and his beast in the best of spirits and condition. He found the hospitality of its inhabitants as genuine as those of the other _— and left them with many expressions of regret. € country over which he now journeyed steadily improved in appearance. A short distance from the fort, he came upon a number of springs whose waters were much better than those of the Steam- boat Spring. At night, he encam upon the northern bank of the Malheur, a tribu of the Lewis, which put in from the western side. The next day he continued still upon the Great Trail. * The treaty of 1846, says: ‘‘The possessory rights of the Hudson Bay Com 4 ny, and of all British sub- jects who may be alre. M in occupation of the land or other property lawfully acquieed within said ter- ritory, sh ted. . Harney maintained that the right OF tals comand “oy onehauee trade on the North-west coast, expired i May 1859, and took ession of one of their fort. e members of he British company left under ; otest, and it is but a short time since that the trout was ‘satisfactorily adjusted. Their | | lengthened, that the latter began to hope | hoss, If i Far to the west, in a parallel direction with his own, he could discern the peaks of the Blue Range, stretch- ing far along the sky. At night he reached Burnt river, a stream as cold and limpid as a mountain- spring. It was at this point he was to “strike off” to the west. The night was a clear moonlight one, and he continued his journey a long time, until stopped by the wild character of the region. In the morn- ing, an hour after starting, he reached a broad belt of prairie, stretching away to the very base of the mountains. Here his horse relapsed into a deliber- ate walk, while he fell into a deep and lasting reve- rie. This musing fit might have continued a long time had it not been interrupted by the sudden whiz of something before his eyes. “Hello! what’s that?” he exclaimed, looking around him. Just ahead he saw the barb of an ar- row sticking out of the earth, and behind, scarce a furlong distant, nearly a dozen Indians running to- ward him with the speed of the wind! CHAPTER VIL. PROVING THAT IT IS NOT ALWAYS BEST TO LOOK BEFORE YOU LEAP, One glance was enough for our hero to see that discretion was the better part of valor. One loud he flaunting apparel of the sav- and he needed no urging. The Indians discharg another flight of arrows, and giving vent to their che facie om sprung with renewed speed after e ve. “Blazes! I think this is a mean trick!’ muttered Nat, glancing furtively over his shoulder. ‘I should like to know what they’ve got against me and my hoss. Never mind, they’ve got to dig gravel fast to overtake me in this race.” The speed with which the Indians ran was wonder- ful, but it could not be expected to match that of the horse. He was a noble animal, and skimmed over the aga with great velocity. The distance between the pursuers and the pursued a Erg eons e race would be shortly resigned by those who held it at such disadvantage. Already beyond reach of the strongest bow, it was with relief that he observed the savages had no fire-arms. He was in a region seldom visited by the whites, and where, from ap- pearances, the red-men were determined such a state of affairs should continue as long as possible. The trepidation with which this race of life and | death was commenced by Nat Todd, all at once be- came terror, when he saw that the prairie over which he was flying terminated a mile or two ahead. At that point the ground assumed an wneven, rocky character, which increased until it was literally com- of gorges, caverns and precipices! Through Sap it was impossible to force his animal at a fas- ter gait than a common walk. ‘By gracious! things begin to look squally! Come, you must go it while you can.” t were late in the day, Nat would have had more hope: but it was early in the forenoon, and the relentless savages had a long time in which to secure their victim. When the latter reached the end of the small — he sprung from the saddle, and, giving his orse free rein, plunged in among the rocks to eep —— naire on foot. He indulged in one fearful glance behind him, and saw his pursuers a third of a mile distant, shouting and poatiedntiog furiously, as they deemed he was as well as secured. “The more haste the less speed,” is an adage whose force was never so distinctly shown as in the present case. Nat’s only thought was a wild desire to go | ahead, and he scarcely heeded the means by which this was to be gained. He pues’ madly around rocks, pitching headlong into unseen hollows and stutntitee over bowlders, and all the time it seemed to his tormented brain that he was absolutely gain- ing no ground atall. In the midst of his flight, he une 'y found himself between two h rocks, that rose far above him and extended quite a dis- tance in front, gradually narrowing until the open- ing at the opposite end seemed hardly large enough to admit the passage of his body. He deemed it would be too great a loss of time to back and run around, and determined to take a start and make his body go through. Stepping back a foot or so, he drew in a deep breath and ran with all his might. As he felt his arms brushing the rocks, he concentrated his strength and made one desperate, frenzied leap, pag 7y to clean through. The consequence — = Sag himself immovatiy wedged in between e Wi ! “Fast, as sure as I live!’’ he gasped, endeavoring to force himself out again. Butit was of no use; the force with which he had driven himself forward was so t that no strength of his could extricate him. He kicked and t , and tried to push the rocks further apes oe it was unavailing. . “Oh! I’m lost!” he moaned. “The Indians will be here before I can free myself, and I shall lose my scalp after all. This is worse than the Iron Shroud ~— I a read about. Heavens! isthere no help ‘or me?’ He gazed up pitifully and pleadingly, as if the rocks would be moved by entreat to release their vice-like grasp. He appealed in vain, not toa heart, but to an inert soul, of rock; he was fast, apparent- ly, forever! @ was compelled, at last, to cease his exhaustive efforts and listen. He expected, nag moment, to see the forms of a dozen infuriated Indians upon him, or hear the twang of their bows as their arrows were aimed at his devoted head. But, as minute af- ter minute passed away, and he heard no signs of
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8 Beadle’s began to a ate him, and he renewed his ef- forts to extricate himself. By exhausting his breath and doubling his efforts, he suddenly found, to his inexpressible joy, that he was free and on his feet once more. | Our hero now committed a blunder for which there | was certainly no excuse. The result of his former haste should have been heeded. Inthe rocks around him there were plenty of places in which he could have concealed himself, where even the basilisk orb his presence. the happiest efforts of his life. As no one could have suspected the singular termination, its short- sightedness was none the less. He emerged cautiously from the rocks, and gazed about him. There were no signs of his pursuers; and, supposing they had been deceived, he determ- ined to continue his flight toward the mountains. He crept stealthily along a short distance, when he de- scried, a few rods ahead, and directly in his path, a huge gorge, too broad to leap, and extending, ap- parently, for miles to his right and left, While debating how this new difficulty should be gotten over, two arrows shattered their heads upon the rock beside him, and an exulting whoop showed he was discovered. He glanced back, and saw the forms of his enemies Springing from rock to rock, and dodging in every ae le way to avoid his shot. Retreat was impossible, as they were spread- ing themselves out like a fan so as to encompass him in his present position. “Do or die, and the Lord help me!” he exclaim- ed, compressing his lips and preparing for the final effort, It was a deed no sane man would have attempted or succeeded in, But terror—an absolute horror of falling into the Indians’ hands—accomplished it. Drawing in his breath, Nat made several bounds for- ward, and, as his foot reached the edge of the preci- ice, apap out with superhuman strength! Foran nstant, his crouching form was seen in mid-air, and then disa red! But he had succeeded in striking the opposite side, and, half-stunned by the concus- sion, clambered to his feet and limped away. The Indians paused in amazement at seeing the white man’s wonderful leap. As he was lost to sight, they rushed forward wr, a 3 to see his ma y far down the dreadful abyss. Reaching the edge, they caught a glimpse of him, several rods in advance, turning the corner of a projecting ledge. Their astonishment was unbounded, and they be. lieved him to be a supernatural being. Not one of po number had the temerity to aitempt the same eat. A cold sweat broke out upon him as he realized he had cleared the frightful chasm, and his feeling of ter- ror changed instantly to uncontrollable hatred of the savages, that they had forced him to such a desper- ate effort for life. He was so much bruised by the shock as to be barely able to limp behind the leago alluded to. Here he sunk down, not even ablo walk further. He peered cautiously around the cor- ner of the rock, and saw his enemies standing in full view, talking and gesticulating as though engaged in some earnest a ent. He examined the lock of his rifle, and, that it still remained unharmed, brought it to his shoulder and gree it toward the group. But the exhaustion of his system was so great as to throw his whole body into such a tremor as to make him unable to draw sight on a single one, Failing in this, he lay flat on his face, and, resting it on the rock, aimed at the center of the group and fired. “ There’s one imp rubbed out, curse him!” he mut- tered, as he saw a reeling savage caught in the arms of his companions and borne away. By the time he managed to reload, not an Indian was visible. A bomb-shell could not have scattered them more yap Now was the time for flight; but, besides being crippled, as stated, he felt an ob- stinate determination to make the Indians suffer for what they had done. To understand the events which follow, it is ne- that we should digress for a moment, and explain more particularly our hero's situation. e chasm which separated him from the In- dians was one of those immense cracks or yawns which are often seen in the Far West, that were made at some remote age by an earthquake. He had leaped it at the narrowest spot, so that it was impossible for his enemies to reach him unless they used some artificial means to cross, or should yound it. It was not likely the latter course would be taken, as it would involve too great a loss of time; and Nat, accordingly, prepared to guard against the former stratagem. For a half-hour not a sign of an Indian was seen, At the end of that time a branch fluttered for an in- stant in the air and then disappeared, He rose to his feet, and, ay toward the suspicious point, finally detected a shaven head, the body of which was concealed. it was at a point lower down than the one where they were last seen; and before he could cover it with his aim, it was withdrawn. Still watching the same point, he soon noticed a iece of rock projecting, e the leaf of a table m the opposite side. A closer scrutiny revealed the fact that it was gradually crossing the chasm. It apparently moved without human aid, but no second thought was necessary to reveal the nts at work. Nat was satisfied that before ~¥ could accomplish be arog er would be compelled to show them- selves, when he determined to lodge a bullet some- where among them. Feeling little fear from their arrows, he ascended the top of the rock, where to view their operations. His trepidation had given way to a settled calmness, and he seemed now to possess the most genuine courage. He vowed that, 1 nee directly at Nat. of an American Indian would have failed to detect | He committed a blunder, we say; and | yet, in the end, as is often the case, it proved one of | Half-Dime Library. them should go to the bottom. He sat in this position a few moments, without de- tecting any further movements of the ridge of rock, when it occurred to him that his foes might be extending operations in another direction. t was | well he took a second glance; for, as it was, it had | well-nigh been his last. dians, and the very instant he turned toward them the foremost had his arrow drawn to the head an on the rock atter turned a back-somerset, landin the | dignified, below in a manner more expeditious t while the arrow ae over him and shot away in the air with deadly velocity. Nat now saw that he was to be assailed at two ints, and all his efforts must be turned rg hese. After watching their movements a while, he found the same artifice was to be adopted by both parties. Each was to force a huge, tabular rock far enough across the gorge to allow them to leap across, There was no timber of any size in the vicinity, but the cunning of the rascals was sufficient for every- thing. Ponderous bowlders were in readiness to roll upon the end, and preserve the rocks in their places while the miscreants passed over. In spite of our hero’s most vigilant efforts, the sav- ages succeeded in pushing these partial bridges far enough to answer their purpose, without affording him a chance to pick off one of their number. By means of bushes, and by keeping themselves behind the bowlders they were rolling, a4 placed it out of his power to harm a single one. e point was now reached which was to decide the contest. All that remained was for the Indians to cross. The fatal shot of Nat had the effect of thoroughly : ala the rest, and there was not one who dared expose himself to his aim. They now endeavored, Ls every artifice in their power, to draw a shot from m, their intention being to rush across before he could have time to reload. The adventurer under- stood this, and made his resolution to reserve his fire until the last moment, not using it until he was com- pelled to, Now and then a bronzed head would rise to view and then flit out of sight again; and one or two, bolder than the rest, sprung to their feet, brandish- ing their tomahawks over their heads, and leapi about so as to distract his aim. Once a dark zt surmounted by a gaudy tuft, remained in plain sight several minutes, as if to invite a shot; but Nat was too shrewd to that any real savage would expose his skull in sucha manner. He preserved his silence with provoking coolness. At last an Indian — up and essayed to run out upon the lid of rock, but dropped quickly behind one of the bowlders. This stratagem well-nigh brought the wished-for shot from our hero. His er was —- the trigger when the savage whisked out of A moment after the same ti took place above him and was repeated at both places sev- eral times. The game at this point assumed an ex- citing character. Nat knew it was the easiest thing in the world for these red-skins to leap across, and he believed they intended to do it whether he fired or not. The only trouble with them was that each knevy it would be instant death to one of them; and these demonstrations were continued, each one hoping his friend would commit suicide for the bene- fit of race. He watched the visages of both, until he saw one assume an air of determination. This Indian had resolved to make the attempt. But he was not given the opportunity, While in the very act of starting. he gave a frenzied yell and leap in the air pierced through the breast by the bullet of Nat Todd. A loud howl rent the air, and the forms of five dusky red-skins rose in view. The foremost, without hesitation, ran out on the e of the rock and made a bound outward; but while in mid-air he gave a death-shriek, and doubling up like a ball, went spinning down the chasm. The others paused in astonishment at this second shot, while Nat hurriedly reloaded his rifle. Scarce a moment elapsed before he fired the second time among them, and his own shot was echoed by that | of*another from an unknown quarter, and two sav- ages bit the ground at the same instant. This was too much for the Indians, who really believed the Evil Spirit was upon the opposite side of the gorge, | and they scattered and fled asif he pursued them. The consternation of the sav: was no greater than the amazement of Nat Todd at such an un- looked-for assistance. Two fatal shots besides his own had been fired, and they had saved him. ‘*When I pulled trigger the first time I asked the Lord to preserve me. He has done it, and I thank him for it!’’ said he, reverently. ‘ Still some human hand has been used to do it, and he must be around; so I'll hunt him up.” This was easier said than done. He nt a long time limping around the rocks, and searchin for his unknown friend, But it was of no avail, and at last he shouted: “Hello, whoever you are! Come out and show ae <2 Nat Todd you've befriended; he wants see you!” A suppressed laugh reached his ear, Wheeling around he saw a large, powerful-looking man, dress- ed in the garb of a trapper, leaning on a long rifle, leisurely surveying him. “Heaven save me if there ain’t Bret Bropon then my name isn’t Nat odd!” ‘ {APTER VII. IN WHICH THE {ARRATIVE MAKES BUT SLIGHT PROGRESS. ‘How ar’ yer Nat?” queried Biddon, extending his huge hand to .,ard our hero. To his left were three In- | | com As quick as thought, the / / somewhat. you here ag’in. What brought you out in this par of the world?” ‘“ What brought yerself? I s’pose we’ve both got a little story to tell, and so let’s jis’ git under cover somewhar’ and have a powerful talk, No fear of the reds now,”’ added the trapper, with a chuckle, as he moved away. : It cost Nat pain to keep pace with him, and he was ‘ ‘lied, at last, to cry out for him to walk more SIlOWLY. . t’s the matter?’ queried the trapper, turn- ing toward him. ‘“ They didn't get one of them ar- rers in yer, did they?” “No; I took a pretty long jump and got bruised I wasn’t much afeared of their arrows,” “You wasn’t, eh?” asked Bill Biddon, as he picked a a faint hope that they had lost all scent of before the savages should cross the chasm, some of | “Why, well, and nearly crazy with joy at seeing | ye she one which had been discharged at Nat. | seemed impossible to force a human asn’t much afeared of ’em, eh? Do you see that reddish stuff on the p’int of this arrer-head? Wal, sir, ef that had pricked yer skin, you'd ’a’ swelled up like a grizzly, and at last bu’sted. Coz why? It’s me gp est of pizen, Shoot the imps! I know thar cks. The trapper led the way some distance further, when he halted before what seemed the face of a solid rock, He turned around, carefully scrutinizing every rock and bush visible; when, apparently satis- fied, he sed, a tow. feet further, then made a short urn and suddenly pear leavi at in the most unbounded astonis or pany **Come in, come in!” said the gruff voice of Bid- don, sounding from the cavernous recess of the rock. “Come in, come in, or one of them pizened arrers might hit you,” Yes, yes,’ repeated Nat, with an involuntary start, for, strange as it may seem, the presence of the formidable tra: — made him less ory than yhen alone. “ Yes, yes; but how is the thing to be one?”’ The face of his companion now appeared at a small opening, and he noticed, for the first time, a peculiar longitudinal aperture, through which it y. When attempted, however, it proved an easy matter. He found himself standing in a small, narrow cavern, lighted by openings at either end. Beaver and otter. skins hung around, and the apartment looked very comfortable. “Ts this your lodging-place?”’ asked Nat. “Yas, sir; this is the place where Oregon Sol has slept for a long time; but he’s give up the business in these parts, and offered me his house to rent.” ‘**Oregon Sol! Do you know him?” ‘““Wagh! Does we know each other? Me and him war’ born in the same house in Boonslick county, Missouri, on the same night, and growed up aside of each other for a dozen years, fightin’ and quarrelin’ as much as if we war’ brothers. We hadn’t either of us any brothers or sisters, and Sol’s parents (as they eall ’em) went under as soon as he learnt to go on his pegs. Purty soon mine did the same and we hee and went with a lot of trappers, and have been ocking ’round the ’arth ever since. Kit Carson was born in the same place, the year after us, but, in course, he was a liitle shaver when we left. But, shoot me, I’m talkin’ too much. Know anythi *bout Jarsey and the he was after? Did they gi off, or what's come of ’em?”’ “Tsaw them get ona steamboat on the Yellow- stone, and I suppose they are somewhere in the States, married, and enjo themselves as much as possible. That puts me in mind of the message they eft for you. e and Imogene told me, if I ever came across you, to give you their undying love and to ask you to go down in their parts ant live with em. “Jarsey kinder walked into my affections, and I should like to shake the fellar’s paw ag’in: and that little Imogene, (bless her, if Idon't think she’s a sperit yet.) I'd goa long tramp to see her give me one of er purty grins. ButI never ’xpect to see’em ag’in. I can’t bear the clearin’s, and I ‘spect Jarsey has got me in some thar books or new rs down thar’. I'd kinder like to see how Bill Bide on would look in a book, and see some thar picters of ’im, Jarsey told me he was goin’ to do it, and I s’pose the feller has. How comes it that you’re here?” * Well, you remember there were two girls who escaped that massacre at which you were present some years ago.”’ ‘ as. , “Well, you know Relmond has gone off with one of these.’ “Yas, I know it.” ** And the other has never been found.” ‘* No, I b’lieve not.”’ ** And that she may still be living.” oe ae 4 any rate, there 1s as much reason to believe she is as there was to believe Imogene was "petore she was seen.” x a5 er me . Sys ain’t so.” ell, Imogene told me, before going East, that she always believed that Irene, eae ter, and a lovely maiden, was captured by Indians, who went toward Oregon with her,” ** What of that?” ‘* Well, Oregon Sol, who was down at Brown’s Hole when I left there, told me that a year or two ago he saw a captive white girl up in these mountains. Don't you think there is some reason to believe that that captive is Irene Merment?” * Yes, sir!” " “That is the reason I am here. I am looking for er. ” “You said the other gal b’lieved the oth taken by reds as Ser tt to these parts?” one was “ She often remarked that to me,” “Wal, sir, she was right /”
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Nat Todd. 9 “She was right! Howdo you know that, Biddon?” ‘¢ Bill Biddon hain’t tramped the Ss for thirty ears for nothin’. Ef he can’t tell whar’ a red be- longs, even ef it is night when he sees him, then you may shoot me. When them reds came down on us that night, 1 knowed they war’ from three different tribes, and knowed one of these tribes b'longed to Oregon, and I’ve long s’picioned the gal was taken by the Oregon ones. But it allers seemed to me she war’ gone under long ago. She war’ more tender nor Jarsey’s, and didn’t seem built right to stand the weather. You say old Sol told you he’d see’d such a gal = these parts once?” ‘ Tes, ” “Wal, he told me the same thing, and that’s one reason why J’m here. Howsumever, afore going further, let’s hear the news "bout yourself, beginnin’ with the time when you give us the slip on the Yel- lowstone.”’ Nat thereupon related what the reader has prob- ably learned in another volume, and at its close, asked: ‘Now, Biddon, let me hear your history.” “T hain’t got much totell. I s’pose Jarsey told you *bout me up to the p’int whar’ I went off, with the bearer. “Yes, he related that.” “Wal, I went up to the Selkirk settlement with them fellers, and they give»me a rousin’ pile of money and trinkets for the furs I got ’em, and then very perlitely told me my name was down on thar books, and I was app’inted to go to one of thar forts called Ilycross,* "bout fifteen thousand miles further north, whar’ I was to trap for seventy-five or eighty off, intending not to spare a single one! You see I en- trapped them. You came along and helped me, for which I’m much obliged.”’ A broad smile illumined the trapper’s visage, as our hero ended his remarks. “Shoot me, Nat, you’re a qua’r beaver. I used to think you’s afeared of red-skins, and I kinder think so yit. But when a feller would expect you to own up squa’r and knock under, you’re sure to give some reason that nobody ever thought on. Howsumever, I’ve taken a like for yer, Nat, and I offers you a grip of my paw. When Bill Biddon does that he means it, and he’s your friend as long as his top-knot is on his noddle.”’ The two grasped hands, and sealed forever the friendship they had long entertained for each other. * Bill,” said Nat, “down at Fort Hall this letter was given me. haps you wrote it.” ** Let me see it.” The trapper took the letter and fumbled it awk- wardly, and examined the writing with a curiosit similar to that with which a scholar would scruti- nize some unknown hieroglyphic. Ar’ them what you ca titers?” he asked, put- ting his finger on them. “Certainly; can’t you write, Biddon?”’ “Me write!) Wagh! Them crooked things looks like mashed bugs to me, and allers did. Me and Ore- gon Sol went to school one day down in Missouri, but the teacher wasn’t there, and we hadn’t no books,‘so you see our edication was limited. I can’t see how them jiggers can speak, but I s’pose they does. Just read ’em,”’ | Since seeing you, I’ve thought per- | =e shar directed me. It is now rather late in the afternoon, | Shall we show ourselves again to-day?” ‘*T will crawl out pretty soon and take observatios. That jump of yours—which I allow was some—’pears to have lamed you a little, and I s’pose you'll want to rest your bones.” “Yes, I shouldn’t mind it. If you're going out, eye for the infernal rascals.’ agh! don’t be afeared of Bill Biddon. I was out lookin’ at the weather when I heard your rifle crack, and I knowed thar’ war’ whites ’bout, and like enough in difficulty with the reds, so I crawled around and soon see’d how things stood. In course I didn’t know *twas you, but I made up my mind to give ’em a taste of Bill Biddon, thinkin’ as how they might be pryin’ round after my traps, if I didn’t scare ’em a little." “Do you think you’ve given them such a fright that ane will not disturb you again?” *“ Wagh! wagh! Igive ‘em a powerful scare, wal I did; but I’m afeared it won't last long. They thought awhile ago they’d come across the Old Boy | himself, but after they’ve talked over the matter, in course they’ll know who it war, and I shouldn't won- der ef they’d burn us or root us out.” “What was it they did to frighten Oregon Sol away?” “He wasn’t exactly frightened away. Ef he had wanted to stay, he’d done it, sure, in spite of *em. Wal, thar’! they piled a whole lot of brush in front of him, and smoked him out. He stood it as long as he could, when he blazed among ’em, and settin’ up a yell, tore right through the whole pack, smashin’ a dozen heads, jist to leave his mark among ’em, THE TRAPPER FOLLOWED THE MOTION OF ONE OF THE HORSES FOR A MOMENT, AND THEN FIRED. ears, and they’d give me another pile of money. agh! I told ‘em, jist as perlitely, they might 'g° ts) the devil, and slingin’ my gun over my shoulder, I stepped down to Oregon and called on Sol, who told me Bout that gal, and I’ve staid hyer lookin’ round for her ever since.” : ‘‘Have you learned anything of her?” eagerly asked Nat, “Yes, summat. Them Injins as come so near wipin’ you out, I’m purty sure have got her, and I shouldn’t wonder ef that’s the reason why they’re so afeard any of the boys should come round hyer. They smoked Sol out, and he advised me not to sta; here; but P's bound to find out all "bout that gal. Do ze know how many of the reds war’ chasin’ you “About a dozen, I believe,” replied Nat. “There war’ jist eight, and one rifle would ‘av’ scattered every one. Nat winced under this rebuke of the trapper, but with a cunning shrewdness replied: “You see, the way of it was this: (here the speaker placed the forefinger of his right hand very impres- sively in the palm of his oe I hate Indians, es- pecially them that hate me, which I believe include all west of the Mississippi, and when these eight ras- cals started after me, 1 made up my mind to shoot every one, Accordingly I ran, 80 as to € them follow me, of course. 1 just stepped over that gorge, hoping they’d all try to follow and break their necks, But they wouldn't, and so I commenced picking them * Fort Isle a la Crosse, a post in the Northern De- partment. Nat did so, when the contents instantly absorbed the attention of Biddon. A long consultation was held between the two, in which the latter stated that he had been in his present retreat but a few weeks; but from “ signs,’’ he was well satisfied that the In- dians had a prisoner among them of whom they were extremely jealous. They decided to remain in their present quarters as long as they could hold them, or until definite knowledge of the lost one was obtained. The authorship of the letter was as reat a vee ane as ever. Biddon said, from what regon Sol had told him he believed there were per- sons at the different forts who knew of the ae captive, and who had conveyed their intelligence Nat either to mislead orto guide him—most probably the latter. Who that person could be, or how he learned the name of our hero, neither could divine. _‘* But Sol stated that it was near the canon of some river,’’ remarked Nat. “ Jist keep still a minute.” As the two listened, a dull roaring, like the dis- tant roll of the sea, was heard. ‘* What does that mean?’’ queried Nat. ‘*That’s your kenyon.’* ‘We are then in the vicinity to which Oregon Sol * A canon is a narrow, tunnel-like passage, pean which a river forces its way. Compressed within these walls, so close in some places as to be easily lea over, the water rushes with inconceivable ve- locity. When viewed from the top, the river often presents the appearance of one mass of foam and whirlpools, from which the mist ascends as if from a vast waterfall. The rest took after, yellin’ and screechin’ like mad and for a time thar’ war’ some fun. But Sol knows how to use his PEES, and it didn’t bother him at all to give ’em the slip. He had aoe so long hyer that beavers were gettin’ scarce, and some -skin, that he’d took a like to, told him of a great place, where I s’pose he’s gone by this time.” “But he saw this lovely maiden but once, and it was in another place.” “Yas, jist so; it was in another place he see’d her, but not fur off, and it war’ the same imps that are round hyer. They travel round like turkles with thar packs on thar backs. I met Sol down toward Fort Hall, and after hearin’ of his story I made up my mind to come hyer.” ‘But, Jerusalem! ain't you running an awful risk?” “Yer afeard ?” ““No—oh no! But then I's thinkin’—you know— that—that you run the risk.” “Don’t you see the reds see’d Sol leave, and as he was the only feller as has been in these for a long time, ‘twan’t noways likely they’d ‘spect an- other chap right off to step into his tracks, and ’tain’t likely they'd ever found it out ef I'd kept shady and let "em wipe you out.” Shortly after this Biddon went out. CHAPTER IX. IN WHICH THERE IS A HOUSEWARMING, A VISION AND A FLIGHT, Ir was dark when Biddon returned, and, after several minutes’ unimportant conversation, the two lay down to rest. In the morning Nat found himself
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unable to walk, owing to the bruises mentioned; but they were not of a dangerous character, and in a few days he was restored to his usual condition. The ore continued to engage in his vocation, more for the purpose of supplying the two with food, and for passing away time, than for anything else. In the meantime the approach of winter was rapid. The weather, in the course of a week, set in with the most intense coldness, and the streams freezing over seriously impeded the success of the trapper. He had, however, laid aside enough to su ply all neces- sary food through the winter, and, all things con- sidered, their situation was by no means unenviable. One thing was a matter of surprise to both. Nota sign of an Indian was seen, and Biddon more than once stated that he believed the tribe had gone into winter quarters insome other section. Nat proposed that they should follow them, but the trapper re- *nough to be on the look-out. I don’t s’pose you care about goin’ under jist now, ef the wipin’ out has to be done y the reds. As fur me, it don’t make no difference when the last sickness comes, ’though I should die hard ef I thought my top-knot was ever to hang in the lodge of a red-skin. ~ There ain’t no one to cry when Bill Biddon goes. He has hunted a long time Fay J the peraries and is gettin’ so well ‘long that the day can’t be fur off, and he ain't no- ways skeerish about it. Howsumever, as I's sayin’, *tain’t noways likely you’ve a hankerin’ to go under jist now and so we'll take a look ‘round.” “Have you no means at hand to escape should an attack be made?”’ ** You hear the roar of that kenyon? Wal, in under | the rocks there I’ve a canoe, and when the time marked that it might only be a stratagem to deceive | them. The Indian village was several miles away, | in a sort of valley or depression in the mountains, A | winter such as in our more temperate sections is | rarely witnessed, was approaching, and the advice of Biddon that they should “keep out of sight and make themselves comfortable,’ was perhaps the wisest that could be followed under the circumstan- The winter, as may well be supposed, was most | tedious to the two adventurers. Sometimes the snow was whirled in blinding eddies through the gorges, and, for a month, lay several feet in depth, and the walls of their cavern home were as if made of solid ice; but their abundance of furs, and the fuel with which the ingenuity of the trapper supplied them, was sufficient for all purposes. Sometimes the burly form of the latter might be seen on the margin of frozen streams, cautiously searching for beaver- signs, or setting his traps for the foxes that lurked around them, On several occasions, Nat and Biddon ventured out upon these excursions during moon- light nights, when the crusted snow sustained their weight without leaving a trail. Their footsteps echoed with a noise that, in the intense stillness, could be heard at a great distance; while, now and then, the long, dismal howl of the droves of famished wolves te the night-air with a chilling power. During he long nights, Biddon often whiled away the hours in relating reminiscences of his wonderful career, while, in turn in Lubec, including his love-affair, already familiar to the reader. Not an Indian trail, through all the long, dreary winter, was discovered by the trapper, and they remained unmolested by man or animal. Nat was often startled when he reflected upon his temerity in thus venturing into the mountains alone. He had not the remotest suspicion of ever encoun- Nat gave many of his own adventures | | fear of detection. comes—ef it ever does—when we can choose the way in which we'll step out, that'll answer.” “How, Biddon? I don’t understand you.” * We can go down the kenyon !* “Oh, thunder! that would be sure death.” ** You've hit the truth there ef you never did afore though ’tain’t exactly the truth either. You'd stand a chance of comin’ out right—*bout the same chance that a painted Crow would afore my shooter, after I'd drawed bead on him!’’ “Narrow enough chance, in heaven’s name! But, Biddon, what do you pases to do?”’ “We won’t undertake nothin’ to-night, but to-mor- row we'll spend the day in scoutin’. We'll find out ef that gal’s hyerabouts, Ef she is, we'll make a dash fur her; and ef she isn’t—why she isn’t.” A long consultation was held that evening be- tween the two friends, and their course of action de- termined upon. It was decided that the first point was to ascertain whether the one for whom they were searching was in the tribe. Despite the circum- stances pointing that way, there still was good reason to doubt this all-important fact. Were she present, however, they could hope for no success unless they should discover some means by which first to commu- nicate with her, assure her of the existence of her sister and the efforts being made to restore her to civilization, and thus awaken a natural desire to es- cape upon her own part. Could they succeed in this, there was every reason to hope for entire success, although, as the trapper intimated, the suspicion and vigilance of the Indians would be so great as to make it a work of the greatest peril. In the morning the two ventured forth, taking op- posite directions. The vegetation was so abundant toward the base of the mountains that every facility was afforded for concealment, and they had little Biddon proceeded in a westerly | direction, intending to pass around and reconnoiter } | tering Bill Biddon again, and had he been left with- | out a companion, he would either have had to perish by starvation or cold, or throw himself upon the hos- p tality of the savages, where it is not to he would have fared any better. But at last, the winter wore away, and the beauti- ful, radiant spring dawned upon them. The moun- tains echoed with the sound of a thousand rills and streams, the rivers burst their icy barriers, with a shock like the noise of thunder, and vegetation sprung forth as if by es gon So sudden was the change that, as Nat step forth from the cave one clear morning, it seemed as if he were in a land of enchantment. The time had now come for action. The warm, genial climate, unsu ed b exuberant foliage, were favorable. scouting expedition with which he had occupied him- self during the day. ‘““What have you learned?” asked Nat, as he no- ticed gyros expression upon the trapper’s face. , L have learnt a little, but s’picioned a heap.”’ | “What is it? Let me know.” “T's out around takin’ observations, as them fellers | from the settlements say, this afternoon, when I ay onto the nag ew It's down in * rere: and it’s my opine they’ve arrove, ’cause why: I’ve been along there in the winter and didn’t see a single lodge. ey’ve wintered further up the mountains rie ¢ have jist come back.” “Do you pose they know we are here?” xi Egy they ain’t sure, but they s’picion it.” ““Why do you think so?” “T have come across a dozen trails, and b’lieve they’re huntin’ fur us. Ef they happen to find one of my traps, it’ll be all they want. ey’ll be down en. us in a twinklin’.”’ ‘Do they know our hiding-place?”’ “This is the same pines used by Oregon Sol, you must mind, and it ain’t noways likely they’ll miss takin’ the first — in —— to see how things look.” “Then we'll in a hot place before we know. Seppose they do surround us, what will we do?” “Stay till we git smoked out, and then make a run for it.” ‘But can’t we get away from them?” “Wagh! that’s ‘cording to how fast your pegs move, though I think the chances are good of gittin’ your ha’r raised.” “My ious, Biddon!’’ exclaimed Nat, in conster- a ‘we must arrange things differently from ‘* Afeard?”’ asked Biddon, with a piercing look. “Of course not—certainly not. My great objec- tion, Biddon, you see, is this: if they undertake to smoke us out, it is more than likely they will smoke us to death, and I am sure there is no need of letting them do that. We won’t be able to get away from them, either, with our eyes half blinded and our clothes singed off of us!” The trapper indulged in a hearty laugh before re- I. : " Weare a trump, you is, Howsumever, it’s well | tance. > expected | the village from the outside, while Nat concluded to lie off in the woods and view matters from a dis- The latter made his way cautiously down the mountain, and entered the woods without encoun- tering any suspicious object. Here the glorious foli- age and the pleasant air were so tempting that he wandered through the forest, almost forgetting the object that brought him thither. He crossed small streams of water, which came down in cascades from the mountain, and flowed over their gon beds like liquid mountain-air, in which the fish, d ing hither and thither, resembled flashes of gold and silver. The forest-arches echoed with the songs of thou- sands of birds; the sky overhead, as blue as wg hy was flecked by a few drifting clouds; the air had | that peculiar clearness which renders it doubly ex- any in the world, the | Biddon re- | turned, one evening, to the cave, from a sort of | hilarating. Nat wandered onward, like a boy lost in enchantment, until noon, when he suddenly noticed that he had passed the Indian village by several miles. Startled by this discovery, and withal a little ashamed, he immediately turned to retrace his way. Having now no fascination to make the mind insen- sible to what the body was doing, the distance seem- ed bg great. But after a few hours of hurried walk, he caught sight of the Indian lodges, nestling down in the valley like a lot of hives, while the bees were swarming around the outside and through the adjoining forest. Nat now and then pan a sight of the warrriors, glittering in their = y dress like so many tropical birds, fiit- ing hither and thither in a manner that warned him to be cautious of his movements as he approached the vicinity of the village. While roceeding thus, he stumbled upon a _ scene hat made him recoil in astonishment. Several trees, standing close together, were interlaced and interwoven by vines in such a manner as to make a natural arbor, Pressing between these vines, he found the semblance from within more perfect than from the outside. It séemed as though art must have assisted at some time in fo such a beautiful re- treat—more especially as the interior had the ap- pearance of being fitted up for the abode of some one during the sultry noontide hours. But Nat had seen such wonderful doings of Nature in the wilds of the North-west, that it would have required a most extraordinary demonstration upon her part to have shaken his belief in her potency. The present scene was so inviting, and the air so cool, that he concluded to rest himself for a while before continuing his re- connoiterings—or, more properly, commencing them. Had he taken the precaution to examine more closely the network of vines around him, he would have dis- covered such evidences of the hand of man as to have made him careful about hesitating long enough even to view the arbor, much less to trust his body within it for an hour or two. But no such suspicion entered his mind; and, seating himself upon a curious-look- ing object, he gave himself up to the enjoyment of the scene around. As might be expected, he fell asleep! A half-hour after entering, he rolled off his seat upon the leaves without Mee | and continued his slumbers as peacefully as if in his own house at home. An hour passed thus, when he awoke, and gazed with bewil- dered look around. He recalled in a moment the circumstances by which he was surrounded, and was about to rise and pass out, when he was startled by a vision so unexpected, so cme ty, that we must digress a moment to describe it in full. At the opening by which he had entered, stood a person whom it would have required no great effort of the imagination to fancy a being just dropped from the skies. Her dress was purely Indian in character, with all the dazzling contrasts of color and costly abundance that characterizes the costume of a princess, The hair was black and flowing, and was surmounted by a wreath, in which clustered such a number of eagle-feathers of the most brilliant dyes as to give it the appearance of the plumage of one of those wondrous birds of the Orient. A shawl] of the hue of blood, spangled by all the curious de- vices that an Indian’s ingenuity could suggest, fell from the shoulders to the feet, and was open enough in front to reveal a dress of green and blue, figured and wrought after the manner which a savage sor- cerer sometimes evinces. The leggings were of the most tasteful kind, moccasins small and ornamented by beads and trinkets. As she stood, the left hand was closed over the right shoulder so as to grasp the folds of the shawl and sustain it in its place, while the right arm was raised, and the fingers were ex- tended as if in horror. The eyes were intensely black and glowing, the mouth partly open, and one foot slightly in advance of the other. The apparition of a white man seemed to have transfixed her with a species of terror, andshe remained as motionless as a statue. When this being first burst upon Nat’s vision, he started, recoiled, and then gazed at it as if fascinated. He examined the gorgeous dress, the form and the features. He noticed the dark eyes and hair, the small, slightly Roman nose, the finely-cut lips, and glowing throat; and then, as if enthralled, asked scarcely above a whisper: ‘*Are you Irene Merment?”’ No pen can describe the amazement that depicted upon the face of the girl at hearing her name pro- nounced. Looking at her questioner a moment, as if her gaze would enter his very soul, she in turn asked: ““Who are you?” “Nat Todd.” ‘** Why are you here!”’ ““T have come, fair one, for you.” Trene fixed that burning look of hers upon the ad- venturer until he felt like sinking to the earth. ‘“ What does this mean?” she asked, speaking like one in a reverie. ‘“‘Am I dreaming, or bave I heard my name pronounced by one of my own race?” ‘It is you, then?’ said Nat, “and I shall be re- warded for coming this great distance.” Then seemingly gaining his usual sanguine feel- ings he added, with a glowing countenance: ‘And your name is Irene Merment, is it?” “Tt is—and how came you to know it?” “We'll come to that by-and-by,”’ he replied. “ Bill so and myself (more espec mycelf) are here ter you.” While Nat was speaking, the fair girl gazed at him as if she doubted his sanity. Several times he no- ticed, too, that she glanced furtively around, as though she feared the approach of some one. * But,” said she, “‘ what do you wish of me?’ It liked to have slipped Nat’s mouth before he thought; but it occurred to him it was rather early in their acquaintance to make the all-important an- swer. “We want to take you from these outlandish ras. cals to the land of civilization, where you may see your friends.” ‘*Me—I have no friends but these Indians.” “Beg B tye pardon, the best friend you've got in ~e hale stands before you; and haven't you gota ster?” “T had once. If she is living, she is, like me, a pay ee I never expect to see her until I meet her in heaven.” “You're all wrong again. I’ve seen your sister Imogene; she is married to a fellow named Relmond, from down toward New Jersey. He is rather soft- like, but they’re happy for all that. Happy, most, as lexpect to be when—” He finished the sentence by a burning blush and cough. Irene turned as # ew as death, but mastered her terrible emotion, and asked: ‘Is this true? Do tell me all, ButI fear for you. If the Indians see you, you will be killed.”’ “There are various opinions about that,’’ replied our hero, confidently. ‘However, the story must be given. A number of years ago, all of your fami- ly, except yourself and sister, were murdered on the plains, by the all-fired savages. Fach of you were taken captive, and carried off by different tribes, Your sister, Imogene, was rescued from captivity by myself, assisted by Biddon, who was your guide at the time of the massacre, and who is here now— assisted by him, I say, and Relmond, who is gone East with her and married her, I heard her speak of you, and I made a solemn vow to find out your fate. The Lord directed me here, and I've found you at last. Me and Biddon have been hunting all over the mountains for you, and here, instead of finding A you have found us. Will you not return with us?” “Yes, yes; I could not live here now that I know my only earthly relative is living. I would die—TI would die.” She covered her face and are wa for a time, while Nat busied himself with surveying her wonderful dress, admi her faultless form, and conjuring up a hundred wild schemes of escap- ing with her. Soon she looked up. | ‘Are you and Biddon the two white men who have remained in the mountains this winter?” ‘“Yes; how did you know we were here?” to her emotion
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Nat Todd. 11 “The Indians have suspected it, although they did not know where it was youremained. Oh, my friend! you are in great danger.”’ ‘““Where? What is it?” ‘The savages have watched the mountains for you | a long t.:me, and they have found, at last, where you | stay, and they are going to kill you. They will do it | if you are not careful. Oh! I saw them kill a white man once whom they found here, and they tried to get another one. They set a fire all around the cave | n which he had hid himself, and tried to make him come out that way. He set up a yell and ran right through the fire and got away from them after all. Oh! I was so glad I spent the whole night in thank- ing the blessed God for it. He was the same man I once warned of danger several years before. Do | not go back to your cave to-night, for they will kill ou,”’ “But I must find Biddon.” “Do not sleep there, then.” ; “There’s no danger of my sleeping anywhere to- night! I'll go right off and see him now—but hold on, he exclaimed, wheeling and facing Irene, ‘‘how about you're going with us?” : “T must see you again,” she replied, in a low tone, and with such an accent as to show that it had been years since she had used her native tongue. “T have it!” cried Nat, exultantly. ‘“‘I will see Biddon, and we'll camp out in the woods somewhere to-night, and I'll come around to this place to-mor- row night, and we'll start for home right off.” “Have you horses?” “Not one. Ilost mine last fall, and some of your Indians must have stolen Biddon’s.”’ ‘“T will try and get some and bring them here, and oh, may Heaven help me!’ She trembled like an aspen as she spoke, and soon added: “Go now to your friend, and I entreat you to be careful. Oh! this can not be reality!—it is—it is! God grant that I ne yet see my long-lost sister |’’ The next minute she was gone, and Nat, gazing a moment in vain to catch a glimpse of her, turned al- so and departed. Hardly five minutes had elapsed when the bushes parted within a dozen feet of where they had been standing, and the crouching form of an Indian rose to view. His face was distorted with passion, for he had witnessed the interview just re- corded; and although not a word was understood, the wily savage read their ergy! in their faces and gestures. He bent his head as if listening, and then disappeared as stealthily as he had come, In the mean time Nat made his way toward the eavern, his heart throbbing tumultuously with his newly-awakened re gel and with the numerous schemes he conjured up to escape the fury of the Savages. It was alr AS ile dusk, and, while yet some distance from their rendezvous, he heard a rustling in the bushes, and before he could divine its cause, Biddon stood beside him. “Don’t go any nearer the rocks!’’ he admonished, in a whisper. ‘Why, what’s the trouble?” “They’ve found us out at last, and it’s m opine there’ll be some fun to-night. Jist step back hyer a little further in the wo and we'll talk the thing over. Now,” asked the trapper, ‘‘what have you seen?” Nat related every particular of his interview with ne, ‘Just what I e ted,” added Biddon. “You orter knowed more than to go asleep in that place—”’ ‘* But you see I wanted to find out how the thing worked, and if I hadn’t I wouldn’t have seen the lovely maiden—”’ “T know,” interrupted Biddon, with a slight chuckle; ‘it’s happened to come out right, but you orter knowed better. I’ve been peekin’ round their village, and soon found out by the way things looked that they’s up to some deviltry, and long afore night I knowed it war our place they’d sot eyeson. AsI said afore, they'll be thar’ to-night.”’ es Eo Aa ot RT : ** We'll lay off. Foller me as still as a snake.” The trapper led the way further up the mountain until he reached a point several hundred yards from the canon of which we have before spoken, and about a furlong from the cavern which, up to this time, had been their quarters. Here they halted be- fore a cluster of buffalo-berry bushes. Both, on their hands and knees, crept a dozen feet into the densest portion, where they nestled down like a couple of rabbits. * t is this for?” asked Nat, in a whisper. You see, there’s going to be somewhat of a moon to-night, and when they don’t find us among the rocks, they’ll make a search around it fur us, fur hy *re bound to either lift our ha’r or skear us out ese y ‘: But won't they find us here?” : They won't look so far as this to-night, and if we can lay out of sight till to-morrow night, they’ll think we've left for good, and we'll have the next night to do the business for ’em.”’ at saw the meaning of the course taken by the trapper. ne latter hoped to escape the eyes of the savages by the very boldness of his ole mg He had found, during the day, that his traps had been visit- ed, and had very good reason to believe their retreat in the rocks was suspected. He knew that a search would be made through the adjoining forest and mountains; and where the savages were acquainted with every nook which could conceal a human body, there was little cause to hope they would escape their vision. They might have made a retreat of several miles in the mountains, and thus avoided them until they could venture in the vicinity of the village again; but the reckless Mie chose a e thicket in private bolder and more perilous artifice. | rent the air with e | was heard as they saw the whites had escaped which he and Nat had concealed themselves afford- ed them a perfect screen, and there was no danger of their being seen by any passer-by, unless he should enter and separate the bushes. He had chosen a point so near the canon to avail them in their last extremity should a discovery take place. They sat an hour or so poe hg: in whispers, when Nat felt the hand of Biddon placed suddenly upon his shoulder, and heard his whispered exclama- tion: “Look!” A bright, lurid glare filled that heavens over the cavern which so long been their home, and a pile of blazing brush, sending its cinders high in the air, was raging around the rock itself. “The imps ar’ at work, but they’ve missed thar scalps this time.” The Indians had waited until late at night before commencing their work. At that time they judged their victims would be asleep within the cave, totally unsuspicious of danger. heir preparations were made with the utmost secrecy. uge piles of brush were heaped around the cave until it was literally covered with it, The most daring of their number could not be induced to enter the cave in the face of the two rifles and knives they supposod to be within it. The torch was ee to the brush in a dozen dif- ferent places at e same moment; and, as the forked flames shot upward, half a hundred throats tant yells. From their hiding- lace the two whites could see the shadowy forms eaping and flinging their limbs, like demons in some hellish revel. he savages expected their victims would either remain within the cave until suffocated to death, or until they were compelled to rush out in uarter of the | their frenzy, when it was intended to tomahawk them. “B’ars and beavers! wouldn’t it do me good od to make one or two of them imps bounce a little higher?”’ remarked Biddon, pointing his rifle through the bushes and letting the gleam of the fire fall upon the barrel. “T wouldn’t try it, Biddon,”’ pleaded Nat. “I wouldn't oe. it at all; it might be dangerous—dan- gerous to the Indians, I mean.” " “That's jist what Biddon was thinking.” “Yes—I was going to say so—but I wouldn’t do it Biddon. Let them think we're in there all the time.’ “Oh! I ain’t such a fool as to fire as the case stands now.” The savages continued dancing and yelling until morning. The fire was continually replenished and kept raging; and, when da light dawned upon them, they were satisfied their victims were already dead. The pile of glowing coals was now raked away from the entrance, and three Indians bounded wit with drawn knives. Instantly after a howl of baffled aay, : e apartment was filled with smoke and the intolerable we of the burning peltries, and it was this which had been mistaken for that of human bodies, The savages, overcome by the sickening smell, darted out again and reported the whites gone, Another search was hurriedly made by others, which, of course, con- firmed this fact. A consultation was now held, and it was they had been deceived. The two men could not have eluded them after the cave was surrounded. They must have discovered the intentions upon them and fled. The Indian who had witnessed the interview between Nat and Irene had imparted it to others, who were thus convinced that aie were still egw J in the vicinity. Just what Biddon predicted too. place. The savages determined to spend the day in searching the mountains and forest, and to discover and sacrifice them, Biddon, in his concealment, read this resolve in the actions of his enemies, and assured Nat that the critical time was coming. If they could remain se- cure until dusk, he was satisfied of success. They would then s out and meet Irene at the place ap- pointed; but if discovered— ‘ “We'll make a dash for the kenyon. My canoe is there, and we'll be out of their sight in a twinklin’. We couldn’t make a run through these mountains without losin’ our ha’r.”’ So that was determined. Now and then Biddon parted the bushes with his rifle, so as to afford him a view of what wasgoingon. At such times he could see some of the Indians hunting round the rock, and he rightly judged there were others scattered through the wood. With characteristic thoughtful- ness, the happen had brought some beaver-meat with him, which the peril of their situation did not prevent from being enjoyed. The forenoon wore away without any alarming circumstance occurring. On three several occasions Biddon had detected the presence of their enemies by applying his ear to the ground and h their footsteps; but all passed away, and they had good reason to believe the crisis h one by. “TI don’t believe the fools have the_ slightest —— of our being here,” remarked Nat, exult- antly. Biddon instantly started, bent his head to the ground, and whispered: “Tt’s all up! we must make a run!” “Why? they haven't seen us.” “T heard a red-skin’s step the minute you spoke, and I know he heard you speak. He’s gone to get the others.” ** Jerusa—”” ‘ Foller me, and use your pegs!” ‘ He crawled hastily to the edge of the thicket and paused an instant. “Yonder’s the infernal imp, and he’s gettin’ *em fast. Come, Nat Lee ou go under, you'll have the pleasure of knowin’ ‘twas t nobody's fault but ep fed Keep close, don’t make no noise, and do as I do.” As he spoke he started on a rapid run, his head bent down almost to his knees. Nat followed in the same crouching manner. They had gained a dozen yards when a yell, something similar to the dreaded ** death-halloo,” rose on the air, and a score of In- dians sprung toward them. The tra = instant! rose to an upright position and aarted orward wit. the speed of the wind. Fortunately, there were none of their enemies in their way, and they reached the water several hundred yards in advance of all pursuers. The trapper bounded over the rocks into the boiling eddy in front of the canon, and disap- peared from view. While Nat stood a trembling, agonized spectator, he came out from beneath a ledge of rocks, holding the prow of a canoe, “Over with you!’’ he shouted, making his voice heard above the thundering din of the waters. Nat did not hesitate, but leaped out, going far down into the caldron. As he came up he was seized by Biddon—who had already entered the boat—and hauled in. “Hold fast or you'll be throwed out!” screamed the trapper. The next instant the boat was seized by the resist- less current as if it were an eggshell, and whirled in between the rocks. As it da forward with the swiftness of a bullet, Nat heard a voice as though uttered miles away: “The imps ‘ll lose our ha’r after all thar trouble, for they’ll never see us come out o’ this kenyon.”’ Turning, he saw the bee ac Be face glo like a spirit’s. ‘All round was a hell of foam—of ipping rocks—of deafening thunder—of dizzying spinning —of oblivion! When the Indians reached the canon not a vestige of the whites was seen. CHAPTER X, IN WHICH IT IS SHOWN THAT IT IS NOT ALWAYS A BAD THING TO “SPLIT UPON A ROCK.” THE canon was over a mile in extent. It wound toward every point of the compass through a mass composed of red sandstone and silicious estone. Overhead the walls almost touched in = ay while in others the fleetest horse could not have leaped them. The action of the waters, for untold centu- ries, bad hollowed out such a vast amount of the solid material as to give it the appearance of a tun- nel partly burst open at the top. The blinding spray that continually ascended from the turmoil of water afforded only an occasional glimpse of what was be- neath, In some Bi a the current could be seen moving with a frightful calmness, here and there a spot of deep emerald n visible, while in others the froth danced gayly forward, the particles seem- ing to repel each other with a peculiar shuddering motion. Upon the gy eg of the twain in this rag- ing canon, the Indians rushed forward and peered downward at different points, hoping to ob a limpse of their bodies tossed from rock to rock, e stern of the canoe, only, was discovered as it shot from sight. Once, a k body was seen to whirl with an awful velocity, and then it was hid from view by the mist and projecting crags. At the point where the canon issued from the mountains, and spread out into a broad, limpid stream, were stationed a score of warriors, waitin to see the fragments of the canoe or the mang) bodies of the whites. A couple of hours after, a loud shout was raised as the canoe appeared bottom upward. A savage sprung in, and, swimming until in calmer water, pulled the boat in. A minute examination followed, revealing the fact that it was split from stem to stern, and thrust through again and again by the jagged points of the rocks against which it been cast. t no sign of the rash ad- venturers was seen. The savages waited until dusk, - when, satisfied that their bodies were wedged in the walls or spinning in the vortex of some whirlpool, they withdrew not contented that their scalps were irrevocably gone, still relieved to know that a dangerous enemy was effectually extinguished. Night slowly settled over the mountain and wood. The faint moon, obscured by the clouds, threw a ghostly and uncertain light er the scene. The Indian village was quiet an miffonless. Now and then a dusky form flitted into view, and was lost again in the deep shadows. The continuous, thun- dering roar of the canon was the only sound that broke the solemn stillness that otherwise held reign. Several yards from the commencement of the can- on, a sh crag gh ae nearly across the top. It was on this that the most venturesome of Indian children often seated themselves, to the consterna- tion of the more timid ones, as it was directly over the fiercest part, and was ever dripping with the water dash ainst it. Had rea 3 made it his oy to watch t point of the r through the nig — would have noted something unusual and rming. Near ihidnight a dark, circular line, like the coil of a hoop-sngke, shot upward beside this point and drop beneath. This was repeated four times, when, for the space of ten minutes, no further move- ment could have been noticed. At theend of that time a slight tation took place, and an instant after, a human head rose to view and as quickly dis- appeared again. Scarce a minute ela ere it rose once more, and was followed by a of massive shoulders. Remaining a foot above the surface, the bushy head moved around as if on a pivot, and had it not been for the deafening roar, the following words could have been heard: “ Thar’ don’t ap to be none of the imps around ist now and ef ey don’t think we’ve gone under is time, then Bill Biddon never raised the ha’r of a red this side of the Mississipp. Wagh!”’
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Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. 12 The ge ot echt form of the trapper now heaved up from the chasm, and was instantly extended flat up- on the rocks. A minute after, a conical point rose to view, ascending higher and higher, until the peak- ed hat, the dilated eyes, and glowing face of Nat Todd were visible in the pale moonlight. **Sure they’re all gone, Biddon?”’ **'Yas—be quick and flop out.” “Tt required no second admonition for our hero to * flop out.”’ Hardly were the words uttered before his angular legs beat the air and he slid dextrously backward beside Biddon, “Now jump to t’other side and make for cover!” added the latter, springing over and shooting across toward the wood. : Nat skurried after him, experiencing that peculiar sensation that afflicts one who is momentarily ex- pecting the prick of several arrows in the rear. The shadows of the wood reached, they halted for con- sultation. “T tell you what, Biddon, I come nearer to death that time than I ever did before!” “Shoot me ef it wa’n’t as close a rub I b’l’eve as I ever had. Things looked kind o’ dub’ous when we went into that kenyon.” “How in the name of Heaven did you think to being, Leas rope with you?”’ ““Wagh! I told yer it wa’n’t sure death to go in there, “though *twas next toit. I brought that lasso with me and laid it in the boat a month ago,” “ Ugh! it makes me shudder to think of that awful ride, and our stay on that rock, and the time when I was climbing up, when I dangled of the dashing spray. S’posen’ that thong had broke! Where would I have been?”’ ** Never mind; you're right side up for the present. T’ve spent many an hour ong the upper part of that kenyon, seein’ how ‘twas built, and what chance a feller would have who was sucked init. I knowed ef he ever got twenty yards in it he’d get his last sick- ness, suve. Yes, sir. I’ve throwed in big chunks of wood, and then watched their capers.” ast ms 2, as I suppose.” “Tt was that playin’ that saved you this time. I noticed that on an average, three each chunk of wood was carried right over a big flat rock, where, if it only had turned to stone, it would have sunk and staid, being as the water was rather mild jist there. Not bein’ a stone, howsumever, it washed away. In course I ’cluded a feller what was drawed in there would stand three chances out of seven of bein’ carried on that same rock, whar, ef he was lively like, he might grab and hold on, and get breath afore F sad any furder. Now, Nat, the fool- ishest notion I ever had in my life was to take a shoot down that same kenyon, and I made u my mind to come back here some day and try it. Pha extra ex- pense was saved, as we've jist seen. Our boat was carried on that very rock, where it split in two and spilled us out. I growed heavy all at once, and stuck to the rock like a dog to a root, and held you on, When we got the use of our it wa’n’t no hard job to aed Berd places, though we had to stand in a oot of water and hold on fast with our hands, toes, and teeth. It was a ef accident that cracked the boat jist in that place. was the best rock to split “Tt wasn’t an accident, Biddon; it was the provi- dence of God—one of those that He is forever strew- ing before us.” S'pose so—but how "bout Irene?” “« Jerusalem! I forgot all about that lovely maiden!” “You'd better manage to let her know you’re Pha kickin’, for ‘tain’t likely she has any more s’picion we're blabbin’ above ground than the reds have. Wagh! that war a ride, down that kenyon, sure!” e conversation recorded will give the reader an insight into the reason, or more properly the cause that led the trapper to adopt his origi eluding the savages. It was not, by any means, that it was the only one at his command; for the most veritable tyro could have retreated a mile or two in the forest and concealed himself until the search of the Indians was completed. But it was a peculiarity —an infatuati f the eccentric Biddon to attempt the feat of entering the canon in the very face of death. His long familiarity with peril may have in- duced this extraordinary desire in a mind otherwise so well balanced and cautious—there being a species of insane ecstasy in defying the King of Terrors to his Moi face. Besides, Biddon did not lose sight of the 2 gy ad- vantage gained in case they escaped the fate their very course invited. The Indians had now no fear of them, and the way was consequently left open for the attempts they wished to make. There was one soft spot in the old mountainéer’s heart, He loved the | two orphans with a yearning, Se or ae and he had more than once intimated to Nat that, could he be satisfied both were restored to civilization and ete his desire for life would be ended. He no further object to live for—he was well ad- | vanced in years, and the last journey could be as | well taken at once. From his remarks at different times, Nat was led to suspect he had a presentiment of his dissolution. The religious fear that characterized Nat’s actions— his repeated conversations of heaven, of hell, and the reunion of friends beyond the tomb, seemed to sensibly affect the weather-beaten hunter. He dis- covered many ideas similar to those borne by the In- dian warrior—often spoke of wandering in the great hunting-grounds beyond the setting sun, There evi- ow was some buried love the remembrance of which often saddened his hours. He listened intent- ly to Nat’s words; and, during the winter spent in e cave, had often inquired, with the eager sim- plicity of a child, of heavenly truths, ur hero never failed to improve these moments, and was doubly repaid by the effect his words produced, and method of / ight in the midst | es out of seven, | the increased friendship of his formidable ally. It would have been curious, if not sometimes amusing, to notice how the trapper leaned upon him in con- versation, while Nat, when it came to action, looked | up to him as a child to a father. On the present occasion he did not hesitate to take his advice. It certainly struck our hero as singular that it had not occurred to him before to do this. As | stated, the hour was near midnight, and he had lit- tle fear of encountering any danger on the way. The distance around to the grove, where he had agreed to meet Irene, was half a mile, and he was compell- ed to make a detour to avoid the Indian village. As there was no reason why Biddon should remain in ae particular spot, the two moved forward to- gether. While within the shade of the wood, the gloom was so great as to effectually conceal them from an night-walkers in the vicinity; but there were sm | | belts of clearings to be crossed at long intervals, | where there was naturally some risk run. At such | laces, one or two long, noiseless bounds carried the | trapper over, while Nat slunk after him with nimble | steps. | e entire distance was passed without any thing occurring to excite alarm. Biddon knew the spot well enough to reach it from the directions Nat had given the day before; and before the latter suspect- ed they were anywhere near it, his companion halt- ed. Our hero was about to speak, when a hand was laid upon his shoulder. ms ! down! there’s somebody besides us in those pa 1” | They were still a number of yards from the arbor, as it might pohly so be termed, or these words would not have been added to what was already sufficient to make Nat as cautious as the prowling beast. ‘*Maybe,” he whispered, “it’s her—Irene—the lovely maiden herself. “Wait, and lay low for a while.” Both sunk noiselessly downward until they blend- ed with and seemed a part of the ground itself. Here they remained, silent and motionless, for the space of fifteen minutes, when the ears of both de- tected a slight rustle, like the footfall of a bird upon the leaves. Biddon drew his knife from his belt, clutched it firmly, while he gathered himself, ready for the fatal spring as soon as it became unavoida- able. Asupp “ugh!” was heard, and the next minute the form of an Indian glided by them, so close that either could have touched him with their hands, pea) the trained orbs of the pe $e were barely sufficient to detect the faintest outline of the savage, who trod thus nigh to his own des- truction. “The way is clear now!” whispered Biddon, a mo- ment after. “Are you sure that wasn’t Irene?” asked Nat, eagerly. va it was as blo ared-skin as e’er clinched ha’r or brained a baby in its mother’s arms.”’ “What could he be doing here this time of night?” * Don’t you ‘spicion?”’ “T have not the remotest idea.” “He war hyer, then, to see us /” How do you ‘know that?” “Ah! Nat, you’ve got a heap to l’arn yit. The red has see’d you when you had that talk with Irene, and he has been out here watching for you.” “But if he saw me, why didn’t he kill me then? He might, for I'm very sure I didn’t see anything of him, And besides, I suppose the Indian believed we were dead, having gone down that dreadful canon.” *“Depend on it, Nat, the words Bill Biddon has to say jist now are as true as gospil. That red has see’d you, and he has s’pected the truth. He didn’t want to send his arrer into yer until he war sure what on were up to, and then you can make up your mind he wouldn’t haye been long ‘bout it. He hasn’t been that sure that we'd wiped ourselves out but what he thought it wouldn’t hurt him any to keep a | watch, and he has been hyer ever since dark. How- sumever, you can make up your mind that he won’t watch any longer for us.” It is perhaps proper to state, at this point, that this savage was the one who had seen the interview be- tween our hero and heroine, and whose motives and actions were really the same as remarked by the trapper. The dingertng suspicions he entertained re- lating to the death of our two friends were now en- tirely dissipated. “But maybe Irene is here also,” ventured Nat, as the two once more moved forward, with much less caution than had characterized their movements up to this point. : “No, sir/’ replied Biddon, with marked em- hasis. si ‘*T wish she was; it would so help matters along, | particularly if she should have three splendid horses and something good to eat. “Keep quiet, Nat; there’s no use gabbin’ that way.” oT was only remarking—” Ere yet the exclamation was out of his mouth, a cold shadow brushed by him so close as to make him _ recoil and feel the wind directly in his face, “What's the matter?” asked Biddon, who noticed the broken exclamation. | “Didn't you see anything!” “No, si7, nor you either,” | % My gracious! that was a ghost then, as sure as | you live.’ “What do you mean?” asked Biddon, in a tone of vexation. “Something as cold as ice brushed by my face just as I spoke.” ‘“Wagh! some owl or bat.” “No, it wasn’t; it touched my feet, knees, and rte? 3 part of me. Wonder if it was an Indian, Bid- on?” “Ef it war you wouldn’t have time to wonder. Some bird, I tell you.” “And I tell you it wasn’t, I can tell a bird; it was nearly as tall as me, and as black as Egypt. It was nothing less than a ghost.” The trapper uttered an exclamation of displeasure; for, to own the truth, he was somewhat flustered himself. In fact, the occurrences which we have recorded in relation to the sister of our hero- ine were never fully explained to his mind. His re- marks, more than once, had shown that it wore a supernatural appearance to him; and he was now be: gph for something similar in regard to Irene. his impression was slight at present, and he strove to convince himself that Nat’s vision was at fault; but the positive assertions of the latter made him doubt and waver, and he by no means felt easy. As if to upset him more completely, Nat remarked: You know, Biddon, how queer Imogene made her eg er Sogn to us, and like as not this one is go- ing to do the same. I don’t care much if she does. As long as I’m sure the things ain’t real flesh-and- blood Indians, I know they can’t hurt me, and I ain't half as much afraid.” And just here lay the difference between our two friends, There was a tinge of superstition in our hero but probably his greatest peculiarity was that of viewing everything with a strong common sense. Thus he was taught that if in an Indian affray, he could get off without giving battle, even though vic- tory was pretty sure to crown a well-directed effort, still the chances of a broken head were infinitely less; and, consequently, it was best to retreat. For the same reason if surrounded by invisible spirits, he could surely receive no physical harm from their hands, and it was utter foolishness to feel , Biddon, possessed of the lion’s courage, shared the lion’s weakness. Their only danger was from that which could not be understood. A hurried, whispered consultation was held, which ended in both deserting the place at once. Biddon led the way deeper into the wood, proceeding so as to leave as slight a trail as possible. A half-mile was passed when they reached a deep ravine, in which they entered and halted. It was a long time since they had slept, and rolling up in their blankets, they concluded to gain what repose they could. The trapper tru to his acute sense of hearing to warn him of the approach of = When Nat awoke his companion was gone, At first he supposed him to be somewhere near him, and he lay still; but, when several hours passed without bringing him, he experienced some uneasi- ness. Noon came and went and brought no signs of the fugitive, and he was now tormented by the most intense fear for his companion. He was upon the point of setting out to search for him, when a series of yells, so wild and dreadful, were heard from the village, as to curdle his very blood. CHAPTER XI. IN WHICH THERE IS A MOVE FORWARD, A Moment after, the bushes at the top of the ra- vine parted and an Indian bounded down and ran with the speed of wind directly through the gorge, within a few feet of our hero, The latter, as soon as the intruder had passed, hurried several yards fur- ther back and ensconced himself in a mass of under- sromi, where a pair of lynx eyes would have failed 0 discover him. The yells still continued, gradually sounding loud- er and nearer, as though a body of savages were ap- roaching. A fearful suspicion that Biddon had allen into their hands chained Nat to the spot. Presently, the tramp of feet was heard, and a score of Indians hurri through the ravine. Several leaped down at the very spot the first one did, while the others entered the ravine at the point where our two friends did the night before. Several whoops were given in the go e, which echoed with an ap- palling effect through the rocky sides, Ten minutes after they had passed, an occasional yell was heard in the distance. As may be supposed, these proceedings occasioned not a little alarm and anxiety to Nat. What could be the object that led these Indians through the ravine? What meant their yells? It seemed the first must have been a flying fugitive from the others. Perhaps he had commit some crime— oie, a murder; or, he peo be a member of some hostile tribe, who had stolen into the village and had been discovered, or a prisoner who had broken his bonds and fled, No noise or confusion sovard Spe Indien gi teed mg ag! junwonted alarm, Ow an en the faint yells in the woods 7 bs the et Sn nined. serie. ot un ark durst Nat venture from his ng- place. He clambered at once out of the Boi made his way toward the arbor which has been so often referred to, The absence of Biddon occasioned him much uneasiness, and he could not rid himself of the belief that he had fallen into their enemies’ hands. Nat held a genuine iioudanty for the man, but let the matter be as it might, he felt he could do him no good. If it were within the e of human possibility to escape, the trapper would do it himself. When Nat reached the arbor it was quite dark, Admonished by what he had seen the night before, he was extremely cautious in his movements, He made his way within it, and seated himself in order to collect his shone, which, as yet, had taken no definite form. As he mused wig his experiences for the last day or two, he saw he had still a great risk to run. the Indians were firmly convinced that he was dead, it was reasonable to suppose that Irene thought the same, and before hoping to suc- ceed it was necessary to assure her of his existence
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by some means or other. Here lay the t diffi- culty. How to succeed was more than Nat could tell, and in all probability he would never have suc- ceeded had not an unforeseen event him While still musing, he heard a dull stamp u audible, and the manner in which it was repeated made him sure that his own presence was unknown. His perplexity was relieved by hearing the faint whinny of a horse! Nat’s heart thrilled within him as he reflected that Irene might be within reach of his voice. He uttered her name in a whisper, re- peating it several times in a louder key until he was convinced that she was not there. He now made his way carefully out of the arbor, and in a few minutes discovered two horses standing side by side and se- cured to the limb of a tree. An examination showed that each was furnished with an Indian bridle and | saddle. Nat instantly vaulted into one of the lat- ter. “Surely, this must have been made for me! It fits exactly.’ : It was rather a rash proceeding in him to thus venture upon a horse of which he knew nothing. He was really a fine horseman, however, and it was only through ‘his utmost skill that he maintained his seat. The animal quieted down somewhat in a moment, though ne still felt uneasy at the strange rider upon him. ‘Now, if Irene was only here,” mused Nat, ‘we wouldn’t wait, but_be off in a minute, though I should like to see old Biddon just now.” The reverie into which he was now falling was broken by a voice, uttered in a suppressed tone of caution. ** Me-ento-en Walgeando?”* ““Yaw; nix cum arous!"’ answered Nat, vely. An exclamation of surprise followed this, and in- meuey, the question came in slightly broken Eng- “Ts that you, my friend?” “Yes, yes; it’s me, Nat Todd, Is that you, Irene? tm might glad to see you; being it’s so dark I can’t catch the first glimpse of you; but I’m just as glad.” ene you may be heard. Where is the trap- r 99 ‘Heaven save him! I haven't the least idea.”’ ** He told me he would be here.” * Told you that! Where did you see him?” “Tsaw a signal this afternoon in the woods that made me suspect that one of you, at least, was liv- ing, although no other mo could have sur- vived that terrible descent into the canon. I made my way to it and found Biddon, the man who would have saved the lives of my dear parents, had they heeded his advice in time. He told me how you two had escaped, and were only waiting for me to commence A ian A flight, He asked me to bring three horses to this place, where I would find you and him. I did a and one of the horses is gone! What can it mean?’ “Tt does look queer, but I shouldn’t wonder if Bid- don has taken one of the horses himself. It is just like him. We will wait until he comes.” “No, he told me if he was not here I must not wait a minute for him. He seemed excited about something, and made me promise to start as soon as ha came. There isdanger in our remaini Itold m what direction we would take, and he will follow us. We will start at once.” ‘Go on, Ireny, and lead the way.”’ The woman wheeled her horse’s head toward the south, and started him on a rapid walk. The under- growth and tree-branches compelled Nat to keep in the rear, for the present at least, although he had a hundred questions he burned to ask, and his heart beat so tumultuously with his great love that he felt he could not sustain it much longer. Once or twice he ventured a remark, but the snapping limbs kept his head pater incessantly, and generally ended each sentence with an impatient ejaculation. — haere to ing like a ~ through the wood, neither nor dodging, and yet avoi Vi branch or obstruction. — . ssrhbahinad An hour's riding, and they emerged into a more open count Nat’s horse lea to the side of Trene’s, and he commenced his questions: “What direction do you intend to follow, Irene? Toward the Oregon Trail?” “Yes; that is the one your friend mentioned. God alone knows where it will take us!” ““Why—why, you do not regret this step?” asked Nat, in astonishment. ’ “No, no; but oh! I am so excited to think I will ae _ my dear sister again. Does she think I ““No—gracious alive! She has never thought of you—that is, I mean she hasn’t had the least idea that you are living, or that she should ever meet you on this earth again. Won't she be glad tosee you?” Iam so afraid we shall be followed by the In- _—_ in the morning. They will kill us both, if they 6 y “Can't these horses trot any?” ‘“‘ Yes—there are none swifter in the tribe; still, I am afraid.” , “T ain’t/” exclaimed Nat; “they'll have to go over to the fighting part you will find Bill Biddon about. But, Iren: , what was all that noise in the village about. aftern oon?”’ ** A warrior from another tribe killed two children of ours, and was seen and pursued.” *This is pronounced a little differently from what itis spelled” In the Indian tongue in which it was uttered, it means, “Is that you, Walgeando?” It must be remembered that mg our hero was acquainted with several of the Indian tongues, he knew not |.‘ Of this one, n the | ground within a few feet of him. Nothing else was | | so as to avoid them. You were directly in m Nat Todd. “Did they get him?” “His pursuers have not returned. I am afraid they will not, and when they find I am gone they will be doubly enraged.” “Tt won’t do any good, for Nat Todd is around Sins ab I just thought, Ireny, I saw a ghost last ni thas BA ghost! what do you mean?”’ asked his com- panion, in astonishment. ‘* A spook—a spirit.” ‘*Where did you see it?” “Tn the arbor, from which we have started.” ‘“*Were you there last night?” “Certainly; Biddon, too. We were looking for ou.” “Tt was me you saw.” “You?” repeated Nat, amazed in turn. “Wh didn’t you speak and let us know who you were? We might have started then, and been a long ways on our journey now.”’ “JT did not know you. I, found an Indian was watching me before you came; and when I heard your voices I thought more had come, and glided -_ pa or I should os nine passed - kee he hea os = cir ou speak after I passed, and once ought i i ‘ou, but I was too frightened to venture back.” *““Why do you think you were watched?” “T saw the savage the — before. He kept his eyes upon me du the day in a manner that ex- cited my suspicion, though after he had gone last night he seemed to have given over all fear.” Our two friends had now crossed the open space over which Nat had been pursued by the savages, as mentioned in a former chapter. Striking off to the re they reached the margin of the river, beside which they continued their journey. The country was open, but of a rugged, stony character. The moon was not so full as usual, and objects could not be distinguished at a greater distance than thirty yards. Irene, who had wandered to at distances on several occasions, with her tribe, knew what di- rection to take to reach the Oregon Trail, and Nat certainly had cause to remember it. “Tf we could conceal our trail,’’ remarked Irene, “T would not feel that fear which torments me,” ** We cannot leave many signs in this flinty earth.” “Enough to guide them as well as if they saw us.” ~ Marte rooms to apes ay I said petoes we mare horses which are surely able to run as well as any 0: the tribe.” “*T know that, and yet I cannot—”’ Irene suddenly paused with a gasp of alarm. “What's the matter?’ breathlessly asked Nat. “ Something is following us /’’ replied his companion, in a hoarse whisper. Nat wheeled as quick as os gs hag his saddle and peered into the darkness behind h “Do you see anything?” asked Irene. “Yes; there is someti , but I believe it’s only a hungry wolf; I just now saw it trot backward out of ‘Thank heaven! the rustle of every bush disturbs ms 2am glad that it is nothing more than a wild m , “You are frightened too easily; you should—” “Sh! there it is again, in front of us, Look! do you see it?” A shadow crossed their path, making long, bound- ing leaps, as if cantering in sport. “He is probably hungry, and imagines if he cuts | up some fancy capers for us, we'll make him a pres- ent of something to eat.” ‘*He surely acts strange. I should think he would make some noise.”’ They conversed still, their horses walking rapidly and breaking into a canter when a level portion was reached. e supposed wolf kept pace with them, sometimes whisking so close to their horses’ heads as tostartle them, and then disappearing down the river bank. Nat regarded his actions as eccentric, and had no objection to them so long as he refrained from being 7 any of his companions to him. He could not help noticing the alarm of his fair com- panion, When the wolf appeared unusually close she started as much as her animal, and nega her aze wandering continually as if searching for the aded brute. : “What time of night do you suppose it is?’ asked Nat, in hope of diverting her thoughts. “7 wish that thing would keep away,” she replied, without heeding his question. “Are you alarmed?” - . “T do not feel at ease as long as that is wheeling around us so s' ely.” ‘*I will set you at ease in a minute, then.” Nat cocked his rifle and held it ready to fire the in- stant the In a moment he saw it advance. knowed he ed concealed weapons about him,” remarked Nat, after the first ot astonishment. It was the who wa me. He has fol- lowed us,” whispered Irene, “If IT had had the slightest idea that. wolf walked on two legs instead of four, I'd taken more pains ony my atm Shek I and done some more than just to lame him’ a bit. But, Ireny, ‘sa Gores Sar for an Indian to do, What do you make “I know not why he did it, unless he intended to wait until we stopped, and then hurry back for some of his companions and attack us,”’ 13 “My gracious! he might have shot me a dozen times, and I never knowed it until he hit me. Only think how he has been sneaking round us, and we talking all the time and not dreaming who he was! “He had nothing with him, or he would have shot am His object was to watch us. I guess he was hurt.” “Not enough to prevent his getting back, and bringing a lot of imps on our trail. Itell you, Irene, we must get over ground faster than this. I wasn’t scar’t much before this wolf affair. Ididn’t believe the dogs had any idea that Nat Todd was still above the sroune. The way that one throwed his toma- hawk at my head showed he was pretty certain I wasn’t there yet.” : Both horses struck into a canter, which gait was kept up until daylight. Only then they ceased through fear of being overtasked. Nat reined in close to the river-bank, just as the sun rose over the prairie. Their animals were magnificent ones, of wonderful speed and bottom; but the long ride had sensibly fatigued them, and it was a wise course to give them a couple of hours’ rest. Despite the ro- mantic situation in which Nat found himself—with the care of the being who had visited his dreams for over a year—the happy owner of a love so as to bring a scornful laugh when he thought of Sarah Almina in Maine happened to come to —the vic- tim of a tormenting fear of pursuit—despite all these, we repeat, the most pressing trouble was his sone e had fasted a long time, and remarked to companion that he must secure something pretty soon, or he should be tempted to eat her! ving her with the horses, he wandered down the river-bank, and was fortunate enough to bring down a fat duck that rose from the water’s edge. With this he hastened back to Irene, who, with his flint and steel, had already kindled a fire. The duck was soon picked, dressed, skewered, roasted and eaten— he, good-naturedly, compelling his fair charge to feast her utmost upon it. During the halt the horses had ce 4 their full, and were well prepared to resume their toilsome march. The two remounted and struck off toward the south, hoping to accom- plish a long distance ere nightfall. When about five miles further upon their journey, Nat’s horse trod upon a rolling stone, and stumbled. As he recovered himself he limped badly, and drop- ped into a painful walk. Nat dismounted, and upon examining it, saw with unfeigned alarm that the ankle was sprained. The horse could be of no fur- ther use to . : ‘* Let him rest a moment,” said Irene, “‘ and we will ride slowly.” Hoping he might be deceived, Nat let the horse rest a short time; but, upon starting him, the injured leg was found to be still worse. ‘It’s no use,” he said, ‘“‘the longer he stands the worse he will get. He must be let alone to himself. He will be able to get enough grass to keep him alive. He can’t do us any more good. Go ahead, Irene, and I will walk beside you.” — ; This misfortune affected his companion greatly. She urged Nat to take her own horse, even offering to dismount herself if he deemed the load too great; but, of course, this offer was declined, the excuse being that the entire strength and wind of her ani- mal would be needed for her own safety. “ But if pursued?” she asked. “* You can get away, at least.” ** And what will become of you?” “Heaven bless your sweet soul, I wouldn't mind dying for you, to show you how much I love—I think of you. But don’t be frightened, Ireny, for I tell you that trapper is about, and will turn up somewhere at the right minute.” ee horse surely is able to carry us both.” “Well, my dear, when it comes to the worst, per- haps I'll mount beside you and try the bottom he seems to possess; but as it is ll try walking a while. I declare, I shouldn't like anything better than a ten- mile tramp, just for exercise. Such a walk ought to have been en before.”’ Thus ified, Irene consented to Nat’s plan, keep- ing her horse on a walk, in the face of his utgest re- quest that he should proceed faster. He left his horse where he had f: , his tra with him. He had some hope that, if pursued, the chase would be given up as useless when it was discovered how well-moun the fugitives were. He knew, how- ever, that if the disabled horse was found, their ene- mies would press on with renewed diligence: An- other probability, upon which he based, perhaps, his ee hope, was, that the start obtained would afford them time to reach Lewis river, along whose banks there was good reason to expect emigrants at this season of the year. c We might, with justice, say that the time passed pleasantly to Nat. There was just enough exer- cise to give a zest to his conversation, he —_ be continuous stream of talk. He went over whole history of his adventures since leaving Maine, not cmitting.s grease he gave a New York publisher he stole a sly at Irene to roduced.. She a terested i glan: hat he said t not that. Th h w , but no boven : en he re- lated a long sto; pire, Sater me de pe emphati that he acme thought any thi of Cree chet wan ronts Se such a fellow as Bi Hankins. Had Irene Merment been educated in civ- ilized soctety, she could have easily read the si heart. of Nat Todd) and eomprehended situation in which he must have once stood with the that so excited his ire; but the zuileless being tide dreamt the truth. The pointed, palpable hits
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Beadle’s Half-Dime L of admiration—in fact, of love—from him, were en- tirely lost upon her. Her silence was taken for acqui- escence, and Nat grew bolder and bolder, until he found Irene starin wonderingly at him, totally at a loss to understand his meaning. Fearful then, that he had gone too far, he blushed finely, coughed loud- Wy, and stammered foolishly. It might have been that she had an inkling of what lay at the bottom of his words, but she betrayed it by no word or ac- tion. At intervals, Irene swept the entire horizon, on the alert for any suspicious sign, and it was not probable that her trained eyes would fail to detect the ap- proach of danger. The excitement of her new situa- tion, the thrilling ae the agonizing fear almost unnerved her. For a longtime she would calm down afd listen attentively to Nat’s words, and then sud- denly start and glance around her, alarmed at her re- missness of duty. At noon, when they halted for a short rest, she took a searching look, as usual, behind her, and Nat noticed that she started, and continued her gaze an extraordinary length of time. “Do you see any thing to alarm you?” he asked. “There is a buffalo or horseman in the distance, Look away yonder, where the sky seems to touch the prairie.” The slight elevation she had, aided by her power- ful vision, gave her a better view than Nat; but the latter, after following the direction of her finger, and straining his orbs, detected a small quivering speck, in relief against the blue horizon. It was like a star seen at noonday, difficult to find in the field of vision, but perfectly distinct when discovered. It was certainly approaching, as it visibly increased in size and clearness. “What do you make of it?’ she asked. “T can’t see anything but a spot.”’ “Tt’sa man riding on a full run; and, I fear, the Indian who troubled us last night.” “My fun is loaded pretty near to the muzzle,” re- marked Nat, shutting one Bi and squinting into the barrel, “ and if that wolf in Indian’s clothing, or that Indian in wolf's ee oat within hailing distance, he’ll imagine a thunderbolt smashed against his forehead and exploded. No danger of any missing this time.” “Be ready, for I cannot see how it can be avoided. He is fearless, and does not slacken the speed of his horse in the least.” “Don’t be frightened, Ireny, for I’ll fight till death for you.” He gave her a look of honest, devoted love, and for the first time Nat saw a deep tinge suffuse her face to the temples. His heart throbbed wildly, and he felt able to vanquish a whole tribe of screaming Indians. Meantime the horseman was rapidly approaching, and the gaze of our two friends was fixed upon him with the most intense anxiety. Nigher and nigher he came, until Nat cocked his rifle and held it ready for instant use. Suddenly he smiled, let the ham- mer down in, and remarked to Irene: ‘** Bill Biddon! as sure as we are alive!” CHAPTER XII. WHICH ENDS THE TALE. THE ty ed approached on a rapid canter, and, when within hailing distance, shouted: “What you waitin’ for?” “Why, you,” returned Nat. “* There's no time to stop/ the imps are on your tracks!” “Where? how do you know this?” “*T see’d ’em gittin’ ready, and I started out ahead of ’em last night. ‘ ** Will they overtake us? What will be the end of this, Biddon?” asked Nat, in a lower tone, as the trapper rode up. “There'll be some ha’r-raising done, sure.” “Jerusalem!”’ yelled our hero, springing in the air, ‘‘why don’t you get ripping mad, Biddon? I never swore in my life, but it seems it would be a re- lief tonow. What is going to become of that lovely maiden there?” “She needn't ait note a horse can’t be cotched by any four- ed animal.’ aioe this brit conversation Irene sat silent. Her agitation had eres way to a settled calmness, She was pale and bloodless, but a strong resolution seemed to sustain her soul. Biddon, as Nat uttered the last remark, glanced at her a moment, and then, leaning over his saddle, motioned for Nat to come her. mae Ses er, Todd, get on my hoss and — with that al. ri cover your trail and keep them painted imps. behind till you’re out the reach— ow?” By droppin’ a pill among ’em, and ef it comes to clus quarters, pitch in and go under in glorious — Come, Todd, you’re young and love that gal. e days for sich feelin’s has passed with Bill Biddon., Come, hop on and be off.”” “Never!”’ replied Nat, stepping back, and uttering the sentiments of his very soul. ‘“‘ You’ve saved my life more than once, Bill Biddon, and if I ever take advantage of you, may the Just One above strike me dead in my tracks!” It may seem a contradiction to our readers for us to represent Nat Todd, at the commencement of his plished career, as guilty of timidity, if not some- es cowardice, and to picture a a ame = ie CO as we have a! and in hese pages. But, in doing so, we one no violation to his true the most genuin other instances in these pages: are confident we have character. It is a question with many whether he who lacks in bravery can ever rid himself of his defi- | ciency—many affirming it to be a defect which, being inborn, will ever cling to a person. While th ere is strong reason for this view of the case, it must be remembered that the bravest haVe manifested fear at the dawn of danger. The man who turns pale at the commencement of battle is the most valiant soldier. It is the newness of danger that alarms the courageous. Could a man who is known in civilized society as a true hero be removed to the midst of a vast wilderness where he | had the wily Indian to encounter, his timidity would be mistaken for the most contemptible cowardice, and yo. in all probability, the same man would after- ward distinguish himse’ by his deeds of daring. At the first appearance of peril, Nat Todd was apt to shrink, and as long as it was not criminality to re- treat, he would do so. There was a spice of shrewd- ness in his character, and, while still a tyro in the western wilds, there is no disguising the fact of his timidity; but his long acquaintanceship with Indian life, together with his love of adventure, made him in some cases even reckless, The magnanimous con- duct of Biddon had strengthened his admiration into the sincerest friendship, and there is no sacrifice that Nat would not have willingly made for him. This was why he repelled his offer most emphatically. The trapper, after this decided refusal, dropped his head a moment as if in meditation. ‘** Are we not losing time?” gently reminded Irene. “Yes, we ar’. Nat, I’dlike to walk some. on and ride.”’ “Tshan’t do it, Biddon; so don’t say any more about it. I would as lief walk or run a dozen miles more as not. I understand what you are at, but it won't do.” “Ef you had a hoss—”’ ‘* He give out, several miles back.” “T know; I found him and feared the imps would come onto him. So I led him down to the river, put a bullet between his eyes, tied a big stone round his neck, and tumbled him into deep water, whar’ you'll have to hunt a while to find him.” “Let us go on, Biddon, for every minute seems a mile lost. hat do you propose to do?” “Thar’s no use cuttin’ round the stump; thar’s got to be a fight made. “Bout two miles further ahead thar’s a place whar’ we'll strike camp and make astand. The gal rp oe get off, while we staid to fight, but it wouldn’t do to trust her. Ef weshould go under, she’d be distracted and wouldn’t know what to do, Ef she had a rifle we’d stand a better chance. Howsumever, it’s no use talkin’; so let’s Our friends moved forward at a rapid walk, Bid- don conversing, and imparting to Irene and Nat the course he intended to pursue. He had left the latter. it will be remembered, in the ravine. In doing so, i was his intention to convey to Irene, by some means or other, his presence in the wood, and return to Nat by the time he awoke. But he was compelled to maneuver the whole forenoon around the village be- fore he succeeded, and it was only then by a most fortunate accident. Near night Irene found oppor- tunity to steal to the wood for a moment. But this movement, guarded as it was, did not escape the eage-eyes of the Indians. Such a step upon the part of Irene at any other time would have been scarcely noticed; but, after what had transpired, they sus- pected everything. Irene was stealthily followed and it was only by the most consummate skill that the trapper avoided a collision with them. Their watchfulness did not escape him, and it was for this reason he remained behind. The confusion, occa- sioned by the discovery and pursuit of the Indian scout, afforded Irene an opportunity of getting the horses mentioned to the rendezvous. Just at dusk, Biddon visited this spot, secured one of the horses, and withdrew into one of the recesses of the forest. He lingeredin the rear until nearly morning, when he saw, unmistakably, that her flight had been dis- covered and a pursuit was preparing. He started on the trail of the two fugitives at once, and by dint of hard riding, overtook them, as mentioned. “Yonder,” said Biddon, pointing ahead, ‘‘is the place whar’ the stand must be made. Yas, sir.” A half-hour’s ride brought them to the spot; and as it is necessary (in order to understand what fol- lows) for the reader to have an idea of the situation of our friends, we pause a moment to describe it. The spot chosen was on the open Lae a quarter of a mile distant from the wooded bottom of the river which they had hitherto followed. This loca- tion was selected by the trapper in order to avoid any concealment which might shelter their enemies, They could only approach over an open plain, where they would be targets for two rifles. Here our friends commenced at once to construct a fort. In- deed, from the appearance of Loge os it was not aft all improbable that the materials chey used had an- swered that purpose before. There were some twenty or thirty huge bowlders lying in an irregular circle. The best idea of their location and size can be given, by supposing a bu'te (a vast, towerin rock) to have split into over a score of pieces, wit force just sufficient to lay them twenty feet from ber center. i ee B e prodigious strength of Biddon, assisted b Nat, soon completed the circle. The rocks were roll- ed together, the chinks filled in with smaller frag- ments, so as to afford no entrance for a stray bullet or arrow. When the fort was completed, it was found that a breastwork ore apne about four feet in hight was afforded. Behind this they could kneel and with d aim. The rocks whose immense weight prevented their lifting them to the top were rolled against the base, and, viewed from the out- side, the little citadel presented no insignificant ap- pearance. The trapper’s next step was to take the two horses and lead them far out on the prairie, describing an arc of a vast circle, and then approach the river-bottom at a point below the fort, that is toward the mouth of Jist get | ibrary. SE ST A EET SENOS OE RP Ee eee the river. Here he rode one into the river, leading the other, and waded them several hundred yards down-stream, when he came ashore, and, securing them both, made his way back onarun. The object of this movement was to preserve the use of the animals to themselves. If their trail should be fol- lowed by the Indians, it would mislead them at the point of entrance into the water, and the presence of the whites would prevent any extended search being made. Biddon did not forget to fill a small eculiar canteen, which he ever carried about him’ rom the river, ; “Thar’s no tellin’ how long we'll be cooped up thar, b’ars and beavers ef there is, and the stuff can’t do no hurt,” he remarked to himself. , As he bounded over the bowlders before Irene and Nat, who were conversing rather earnestly just then, his eye flashed with the fire of youth, and his heart throbbed faster than was its wont; for he felt he was shortly to engage in one of those struggles of life and death in which he had so reveled in years agone. “ Biddon,” observed Nat, rather thoughtfully, ‘TI can not help thinking we might have improved our time better in flight. We could have made a long distance, it seems, and reached a point where these | savages would not dare to fall on us.” “Todd,” Seay Biddon, with a quiet half-smile. “when I first knowed you Lused to call you ‘ Greeny 5 and I sometimes thinks it’s yer best handle yit. Howsumever, it’s as plain as that ha’r on yer upper lip—which can’t be see’d very well—that you don’t understand the ways of red-skins yet. They’d have follered us for days, and overtaken us at a place whar we wouldn’t have had a tree, rock or lum of earth to cover us, and they would have wiped every one of us out, Them imps,” added the trap- per, speaking in a whisper, and fixing his eyes upon those of our hero, ‘‘ them imps, sir, will be in sight in less nor a half-hour!” Nat recoiled at these words, and they did not es- cape the ear of Irene, who only turned a shade paler, and compressed her thin, bloodless lips. It was now near the middle of the afternoon, and the glances of Biddon toward the west showed that he expected the appearance of danger every moment. At inter- vals he mounted the rocky wall of their fortres and shading his eyes with his hand, looked long an era ly in = ag pa er minutes us, when, while s ing upon the w. urned towked Trene: ei ee “See yer, my little duck, them peepers of - ourn can take in a igger stretch of prairie than Bill Bid- don’s; so jist come this way and take a squint off henge har’s ‘sign,’ ef I ain’t most powerful mis- He stooped and lifted Irene in his brawny arms as if she had) been an infant. He then seated ier upon his shoulder, with about as much effort as he would have raised his rifle there, and said: “ Now take a squint, sich as you kin,” “Isn’t she lovely?” remarked Nat, in an under- tone. “Just view that white face, them black eyes, gazing way off yonder, them magnificent plumes, and her black hair rising and falling in this soft win —jest see her sitting there, Nat Todd, I say, like a heavenly bird that has perched on the old_trapper’s shoulder. Is it not worth a journey to Oregon to rescue such a being as that?” ‘Let me down,” she said to Biddon. “See nothin’?’ “They are coming!’ she replied. see them.”’ “Y-a-s, s-i-r!”’ slowly repeated Biddon, as he looked again, “‘Them’s them, sure, and they're ridin’ as though they didn’t know they war hastenin’ to de- struction. See yer,” he added, removing his gaze to his two companions, “ it’s time we understood how things is going to be managed, so I'll make my speech. You see the upper part of that rock stickin’ out thar, my little duck? Wal, as you happens to have no shooter about you, and will be in the way, you may crawl in under thar, and keep snug and clus. None of thar arrers or bullets will be apt to touch your purty noddle.”’ Irene hesitated 4 moment before complying; but, as it was plainly the best course she could adopt, she obeyed. Nat and Biddon had agi ecetd ar- ranged a corner of their fortress so as to shelter her, and it answered its end admirably. They added, as an extra caution, that she should not look out or ex- pose herself until told to, and of course to all this she romised a et ces gag . “Now,” added the trapper, in & husky voice, th nearest spprosce he could: make to a whisper, “ we must ‘understand the case,’ as they say down in the settlements. Ef there’s to be any hailin’ or talkin’ I'll do it, Ef they make a dash for us, we'll blaze away together and draw knives and at them. But ou must never bark with your shooter at the same ime I does, or they'll ride in afore we ken load. I'll pick out each mark for eo and you mustn’t shoot any. ooh pan or scorch my ear ag’in.”’ “Howdo you knowI shot my gun that time?” bag on gave his usual “T didn’t know it then, “Look, you can uiet smile, and replied: ‘odd, or I’m afeard I'd ‘ve scorched you. But after I got up among them Hud- son-Bay fellers, I got to kin’ “bout it, and won- dered how I was such a fool as to think any of them its done it. Howsumever, that ain‘t hyer nor there; we're in fur a knock-down fight this time, As I said, you must never fire till I tell you; don’t show your head, and keep your peepers Peel . Them red- skins are comin’ along purty well,” he added, in a et ie ead a ey were coming along pretty well w: widens They ee a mile or ewocuieey? aa were ng scuously, their princi object be- ing to get ahead as fast as possible, Their Shanes
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could be seen rising and falling, and their gaudy dress flaunting in the wind. Nat and Biddon were crouched in under their breastwork, their rifle-muz- zles just protruding from the loop-holes, and their eyes watching every motion over the gleaming bar- rels. - . Onward galloped the Indians, without abating their speed in the least until within a furlong, when they suddenly reined up at sight of the curious looking fortress before them. eir looks and ges- tures showed their suspicions to be aroused concern- ing it. Their hands were ae men extended toward it, and their guttural wo could now and then be heard. As they stood thus, Biddon carefully noted the appearance of each. There were seven well mounted, two of whom were furnished with rifles, which weapons they rendered as conspicuous as possible. The Indian who seemed to take the lead was furnished with a flowing mantle which streamed over his horse as he careered over the rairie. Each was daubed in war-paint; and, take hem all in all, they were a savage, villainous-look- ing set, whose malignity shone in their basilisk eyes. They surveyed the rocks a few moments and then seattered in different directions over the prairie, carefully shunning to approach any closer. “Slip to t’other side,’ whispered Biddon, “and keep your shooter ready, but don’t pull the trig- ger till I tell you.” The Indians now commenced circling around the little fort, separating and wheeling till they had completely surrounded it. ‘How many do you make?" asked the trapper. “T haven't counted them,” replied Nat, “but I should suppose there are about seventy-five.” “Wagh! jist seven; ef we hadn't the gal with us, I wouldn’t like better fun than wipin’ them out. Keep docile, and I'll draw bead on *em soon.” Although the fugitives had carefully concealed themselves, the Indians were not to be deceived. Their wheelings and turnings were like the gyre tions of birds in the air, and finally a couple of ar- rows were sent inté the fort; but it bro t no re- sponse from those within. A couple of savages started at full gallop, as if to ride over the breast- work, but were careful to hold up before they reached it. , Suddenly they came together in a knot on the east- ern side, and, halting a moment, dashed away with exclaimed Nat, ‘‘they think we ain't here, and have gone on. We will get away yet.” “You're green yet, Todd. Don’t you understand thar deviltry? They've purtended that, jist to draw us out. It riles me considerable, I allow, fur ’em to take Bill Biddon to be sich a fool. I'll drop one of *em for that insult ef they don’t do nothin’ else.” All at once their enemies wheeled, and, giving an- other yell, came at full gallop toward the fugitives. ** Another trick,’”’ admonished the trapper. “‘ Keep your fire; they'll stop in a minute.” So it peer —the Indians reining up while still at a Lae tance, and re ting their maneuvers as before. This was continued for nearly an hour, when, losing patience, the war was commenced by the red-skins. Coming up within several hundred yards, they again separated and commenced riding backward and forward at different points, display- ing, while they did so, some of the finest horseman- ship in the world. They leaned over upon the side of their animals opposite the whites in such a man- ner that nothing but the point of their feet was visi- ble over the horse’s back, and in this position dis- charged their arrows and the two rifles, either under the animal’s neck or belly. As the latter turned in their circuit, their skillful riders dropped to the other side as quick as thought. “Tis an old game, but a dangerous one,” remark- ed the trapper. “I've seen the Comanches of the south use the same trick, and say what they will, it’s a nasty one. Thar’s so many of ’em at it, we must stop ’em, Yas, sir.” A perfect storm of arrows rained in upon the whites, and their situation, at most, was a perilous one. it was by no means impossible that they should be struck, protected as well as they were, “Todd!” called iddon, in a whisper. ‘“Well, what do you wish?” “Tis an old game, as I said afore, they're tryin’, and must be stopped. I war in sich a scrape at this when I was summat younger nor now. ‘Twas down in what they call Injin Territory. Me and a chap got cooped up, with the heathen firin’ thar pizened arrers at us, and never givin’ us a chance to see ’em, loppin’ over thar losses like that. Howsumever, we come ba ‘em. Thar’s two or three spots in a hoss whar this rifle of mine will send a bullet through slick and clean, and give the imp his last sickness on t’other side. "Tain’t every one as can do it, *cause they’re purty sure to strike a bone. But hyer ” The trapper followed the motions of one of the horses for a moment and then fired. The frenzied beast with a wild snort, bounded high in the air, falling backward and crushing his mortally- wound rider beneath him. “T haven't forgot the spot; Biddon remarked, th an exultant sound like the click of his in throat. ‘I haven't forgot the spot, and I'll try the same thing again.” His weapon was reloaded in an incredibly short Space of e@ and pointed through the same loop- hole. But this unexpected demonstration made the dians more cautious. They immediately retreat- ed, leaving their fallen comrade and horse doubled up together. Before they had reached a safe dis- tance the fatal rifle of the trapper sounded again as an incautious enemy exposed his back, and the lat- ter tumbled headlong from his animal. “Five left,” he laughed, as he proceeded to load Nat Todd. his gun. ‘‘Keep quiet, Todd, and you'll have a chance.” “It’s getting along toward night, Biddon; what will you do then?” ‘** Wait till sundown comes.”’ The Indians, after consulting a few minutes, rode away a half-mile, when they disappeared in the river-bottom. ‘“ What does that mean?” asked Nat. “They’re goin’ to lay off till dark and fix on some devilish trick. You can talk awhile to the gal, for thar’s no fear of thar showin’ themselves in reach of this shooter for a while. Hold on now, Biddon, you dog,” muttered the trapper to himself. “ Thar’s a splendid ha’r-raise for yer.” Dropping his gun and drawing his knife, he leaped over the breast-work, and ran out upon the prairie to thespot where the first savage had fallen. Here he stooped and scalped the dead savage, and while thus engaged, the report of a rifle was heard in the river-bottom. The Indians witnessed this deed, which they could not prevent, and fired at him. The ex- ulting trapper gave a defiant yell, and, holding the gory oa ig d aloft, made his way back to shelter on a slow walk. “Ef they hadn’t toted off t’other varmint I’d have his top-knot too,”’ he remarked, as he stepped into the fort again. Night was slowly settling over the prairie, and a few clouds were rolling up from the west. There Sot to be a faint moon, which was already in the sky. ‘IT hope ‘twill be as dark as a wolf’s mouth,” said Biddon; “‘ ef it is, we'll outwit the heathen sure, Yas, sir.”’ “Tf those clouds out yonder sail across the moon’s face, you'll have your wish, Biddon, I think.” “How does the little gal stand it?”’ he asked, look- ing down at Irene, who had withdrawn from her con- cealment, and was seated near him. “Tam not much a but I do dread fall into their hands again, I am sure they would ki me if I did,” ““Don’t be scar’t—don’t be scar’t, my little one they'll have to trample over Bill Biddon, and, I reckon, another chap, afore they reach your purty little pictur’.”’ “The truest words you ever said,’’ responded Nat, warmly. Three hours passed without any incident occurring worthy of being mentioned. By this time it was well into the night. The clouds spoken of were slowly floating before the moon, rendering the dark- ness exceedingly variable—sometimes so great as to revent our friends from distinguishing each other’s orms; at other times a partial view of the =, for twenty or thirty yards, was obtained. Biddon had occupied himself in passing stealthily around the interior of the fort, to prevent the insidious ap- proach of his enemies. A detached conversation was continued for a time in undertones, but the appre- hensions of each finally kept all silent. Before night set in, Biddon proposed making no attempt to escape until the second night; but, from some cause, chang- ed his mind. He affirmed that they must get off that ight, or their case would be cn ter hope. nce or twice, when the light favored, a dus horseman was seen carefully reconnoitering their sition; and, by placing the ear to the ground, the ootfalls of their animals could be heard. They were evidently circling around the fugitives, to prevent their making off in the darkness. This was con- tinued so steadily and so long, as to satisfy the trap- per that their enemies intended to keep them be- sieged until nature would compel them to give in; and as they would naturally expect the whites to re- main in concealment as long as possible, their watch would be closer each succeeding night, This was why Biddon came to the determination to make the attempt upon the present night. Nat, havii ¢ reccived permission to fire at any thing that offered, discharged his at a dusky object which fitted to view in the distance; but wit what effect he could not tell, cs ge Rep or tramp of feet succeeded jt. \ half © our after, the moon shone through a ri; 1 the « -uds, and revealed to the astonished gaze f our frionds a solitary horse, facing them, »~t more then fifty yards distant. He stood liko ax ..ue, ond was without a rider. When the moonlight was obscured again, his outline could be distinguished, standine as motionlcss as before. B’ldon was unable to fv’ y comprehend the mean- ing of this singular apparition, but it only served to render him doubly cautious. While still wondering he felt a touch upon his arm, and, looking around, distinguished the pale, terror-stricken face of Irene loo up in his own. “There is some one just outside the fort!” she whispered. ‘TI heard him move.” The trapper nodded, and motioned her to regain vr Pp ent. On his hands and knees he passed until his Mlarten 9 perfec upon the stre was similar to that which a pass a high fence—a sort of sidelong : — that cessed him over ae S cat. were incredibly exact, for he literally came down on the ateohane of the unsus- pecting Indian. A a short struggle @ groan and a ge pe per bounded back again into the fort with another g. scalp at his girdle. ** He’s done for,” he chuckled. “Isn't that his horse still standing yonder?” asked Nat. Biddon looked toward the point indicated, and saw ; a a 15 that the animal remained in the same motionless attitude. He paused an instant, then stepped lightly on the prairie again, and ran rapidly orwrerd the horse. he animal probably mistook him for his Indian master, for he made no resistance or motion to flee. Biddon seized his bridle and led him forward to the fort. “Todd!” he hurriedly called, “step out yer, quick!” “What's wanting?’ asked that person, bounding beside him. “The time to travel ar’ come, That Injin I jist now rubbed out is the one with that big blanket fiy- in’ over his shoulder; this ar’ his horse. Git on him throw his blanket over yer neck, take the gal behind yer, and cover her up with it, and put. ey’ll take yer fur that chap stiffened out thar, and when you get cl’ar of °em go down to the bottom whar I left ‘other hosses; you'll then have one apiece, and put like blazes; and you'll give ’em the slip.” “And you?” “Never mind me; I'll foller you soon. Irene, this way, quick!’ he maiden was by his side in an instant. She had heard his plan and understood it. Nat was given to rebel, at first, at leaving his companion in the rear, but the latter was imperative, and threatened to shoot him if he hesitated. “Hug him close,” he continued to Irene, “and let that blanket swing over yer; and, Todd, make a few circles round like, so as to blind t eyes, and when yer git cl’ar of their sight, do what you war told to.” A moment after Nat Todd was cantering over the prairie on the dead Indian’s horse, with Irene cling- ing to him. He distinguished several horsemen, rid ing ona walk, after getting out of sight of the fort, and, to deceive them, followed Biddon’s advice—imi- tating their movements, and gradually edging away from them, until, seeing the coast clear, he made a straight line to the river bottom. The whinny of Trene’s horse, as ner entered, guided their search to the two animals left there by the trapper. Irene mounted her own_animal, leaving the other for Bid- don, and she and Nat once more struck to the east- ward on a rapid gallop. The trapper listened to the receding tag of the horse which bore the two away from the fort, and did not change his position until they were be- yond hearing, and, as he well judged, succeeded perfectly with the stratagem. “Twas a good trick,” he muttered; “but ef it hadn’t been for the gal, Bill Biddon wouldn't have allowed *em to doit. It would have lost too fine a chance for a ha’r-raise. B’ars and beavers, it would!” He commenced debating his own chances of es- cape. Now that the others were safe, his greatest care was gone; but it would not have been charac- teristic of the man had he neglected hisown. A few minutes’ thought decided his course. The dead Indian was lifted in his arms and carried to the spot where his horse was first seen. Here he was stretched flat upon his back, and his limbs straightened. Biddon, deeming Nat had gone far enough to risk a discovery, gave a loud whoop and retreated within the fort. In a few moments two savages rode cautiously to- ward the spot from which the sound had emanated. They reconnoitered the dead body a moment, but finally approached. A careful examination follo revealing the alarming fact that their comrade not fallen by a bullet, but by the knife of their ene- my. To have done this of course the struggle must have occurred at this — upon the prairie, and the white man must have fled after committing the deed. They no yell, but rode in a body to the fort, and, after several feints, entered it. The whites were gone! Now ascended a yell, such as a score of demons might be supposed to give, and the baffled savages ga loped away toward the river bottom. When fair- out of sight one of the bowlders on the outside of the breastwork pitched forward, and the form of Bill Biddon rose to view. **Reds is reds; and fools is fools, and ef ever they war takin in bootiful, that ar’ time is jist about now. So Bill Biddon thinks. Wagh!” Dropping his head, he ran rapidly in the direction of the river bottom, intending to find his horse and a te De pom and ee as he had promised. is req d a longer time than he e ted; but he secured him at last, and, as he eme ona free the bottom he struck into a full run, and set up a shout of exultation. Hardly had the echoes died away, when four mounted Indians burst after him, dis- charging two rifles at the same time. Biddon an- swered the shot, and its effect was told by a fren- zied yell and a fall of one of the horsemen. “Come on, all of you!” he shouted; “ef you have shot Bill Biddon he can draw bead on you yit!” In less time than it takes us to write it, his rifle was reloaded, but before he could fire, his enemies were invisible. Reduced to three, and convinced that capture was impossible, they had withdrawn and given up the pursuit. Away flew the usps like a meteor bi across the tend e knew that he was not fol- lowed, and it was not fear that led him on. 3 “T must cotch ‘em! he muttered, putting ‘his “You must trav horse to the top of his speed hoss, ef it kills Pon.” Not a jot of the terrific rate at which he was poing was abated. Mile after mile flew under his fee hair streamed in the night wind—his face wore a Strange, unnatural look. His lips were tightly com- ressed, and at intervals he muttered brokenly to self, or shouted hoarsely to his horse. Finally, phe Nght of day appeared in the east. The trapper 00 up. “T must be purty nearup to’em. The ‘t have rode as fast an me,”’ » —
Page 16
16 The sides of the horse were steamy and frothy, his nostrils dilated, and he breathed short and quick. As the prairie was illuminated by the sun’s rays, Biddon looked carefully ahead. “They ought to be in sight; I’ve rode a long ways. B’ars and beavers! yender they ar’!”’ n a distant swell of the prairie he saw his two friends. He swung his hat over his head and shout- ed. Inamoment a faint halloo was returned. He was seen, and they were waiting for him. Onward thundered the trapper, as if riding for we A half-hour, and his panting horse was beside at’s. ‘Yer safe,” he remarked, with a deep sigh. ‘I dropped another, and they give up the chase. You can take yer time now; none of ’em will foller you more.’ ** But, Biddon; why have you ridden so fast? Your horse seems jaded to death. The Oregon trail is but a few miles th and you needn’t have hurried. We were waiting for you. What makes PAs, look so strange? You are deadly pale. Isee blood on your breast! My God! Have you been shot?” “Todd, Bill Biddon has got his last sickness at last!” replied the trapper, in a voice whose hollow depth was awful. “I wi one of ’em out, and — blazed away with both thar shooters—one of the bul- lets went clean through me!” Nat and Irene were horrified, and almost beside themselves. “Ts it a mortal wound? Can you bear up till we find os acd Oh, Biddon, you are not going to die now?” *“No—no—let me dress your wound,” plead Irene, dismounting and approaching him. The trapper mo- tioned them back, and alighted himself. “Tve got to go under less nor an hour,” he said, in the same hollow tone, as Nat assisted him to aseat. “I didn’t want to do it alone, that’s why I rode so hard to come up with you. on’t feel bad about it,’’ added Biddon, languidly opening his eyes, as he heard the suppressed sobs of both his friends. “Oh, Biddon! this is terrible. I'll never forgive myself for leaving you alone to carry on the battle,” wailed Nat, kneeling beside him. A shade of vexation crossed the trapper’s face: his brows compressed slightly as he replied: “Tt saved you and the gal, and let’s hear no more about it. It won’t do no good,” he added, as he felt them examining his wound. “It’s past doctorin’.” Irene had unslung the small canteen which he wore about his neck, and was bathing and dressing the wound to the best of her ability. A glance showed her and Nat that the man’s words were true. A bul- let had passed through his body in the neighborhood of the lungs, and life was fast ebbing out. His indom- itable determination had sustained him up to this int. He knew no earthly power could ward off is dissolution, and his only wish was to die in the resence of the two whose lives he had saved. Now hat he had reached them, his will move way and he sunk with fearful rapidity. Nat and Irene saw that the most they could do was to soothe the dying man’s moments, and no time was lost in lamentations. His hunting-shirt was opened, so as to allow the air to reach him, and the flow of blood partially boy His head was pillowed in the lap of Irene, who had removed his cap and brushed back the shaggy locks from his brow. In this position he lay. breathing heavily, and occasionally gasping, sometimes open- ing the eyes whose electric glitter was now dead- ened, and looking from Nat’s face to that of Irene, where it seemed to love to linger. Once or twice it was noticed that his lips appeared to move, and it was with gratified astonishment that Nat heard the words of prayer passing his lips. “Todd,” at length he spoke, as if waking from a dream, “you and I’ve hunted together a long time, but we’ve got to part. I’ve s*pected this all through the winter, and am not sorry for myself. You’ve t the gal at last, and ar’ fur enough to git her ugh to the States. Thar’s a belt *’round my body, jist below the hurt. Will you take it off?” Nat did as requested, and found he held in his hand a broad, thick, and exceedingly heavy belt. “That's full of gold,”’ he said, speaking at inter- vals. “I’ve been gatherin’ it up for thirty years. Some of it came from the Hudson Bay Company, though it’s little they give in that way besides trinkets. Thar’s a good lot thar; take it, use it. It never can do me good, and I’ve no one else to give it to. Will you promise?” Nat looked at Irene, and the two answered that they would. He then continued: _ me in my clothes, my shooter, knives, and everyt ie with me,” “Shall it be done here?”’ asked Nat. *““Yas; you'll have some trouble to dig the Ves but it needn’t be deep, and a few stones rolled over it will keep the wolves and varmint away,” : He ceased spanking fora while. Du the disar- rangement of his dress, Nat noticed a ribbon around his neck, concealed beneath his hunting-shirt. He examined it, not through any vulgar curiosity, and found it contained a small locket, in which was an exquisite painting of a te and beautiful girl. He was on the point of asking trapper’s will respect- this, when the latter spoke: “Thar’s a pictur’ you'll see round my neck—bury it with me. She was buried long years ago. It was her that made a meet of Bill Biddon; but the sto can't be told now. I meant to have told you, Tod but the time has. passed.”’ Another lapse of silence passed, during which the trapper’s dissolution became more and more appar- ent. His face was of unearthly whiteness, the film of death was already visible over his half-closed eyes. His lips continued moving, and after one or two attempts, he spoke aloud: “Todd, you have talked to me "bout what you call- ed religion, and Iremember how a mother used _ to pray fur me when I was young. Bill Biddon has led a quar life. He has taken many a scalp, and wiped out many a red-skin, and whether that Being will take him after all this cannot tell. ButI’ve thought about Him a good deal, and have tried to pray to him fur a good while to come. Would you hl Nat uttered a short, earnest prayer for the dying man, and he seemed much comforted. “T feel better,” he added, after he had finished. “TI think, Todd, and Irene, T'll_ see you ‘in, and Relmond, and the little angel of his wife. Don’t for- get to tell them about old Bill Biddon, and—” The noe paused as a cloud swept over his fea- tures. emotions were so singular that Nat, fear- ful the last moment had come, spoke: “ What is the matter, Biddon?” ci The Injuns ar’ comin’ /” he replied, in his husky whisper. “No—no, you are mistaken; none but your friends are around you,”’ said Nat, fearing his mind was wan- dering. The trapper knit his brows, as if with pain, and added: ‘*No, I don’t mean you. I know what I am about. I hear the red-skins, 1 say. I hear the tramp of thar animals.”’ i. Nat, thinking perhaps there might be truth in what was said, sprung to his feet and swept the horizon. The view oa the east was obstructed by a range of hills, but there were no signs of any human beings besides themselves. He repeated this to Biddon. ‘** Thear the tramp of hosses /”’ reiterated the latter. “Tt’s hard to let my top-knot fall into thar hands af- ter gettin’ this far. Todd, will you do the last favor Bill Biddon will ever ask you?”’ ‘““Yes—yes—anything you wish.” “T would die hard, as I said, ef I thought they war to get my ha’r. Jist take my knife then, Todd, and ey it yerself, and the imps will be cheated, after q"? “Oh, God! don’t ask me that, Biddon,” groaned Nat. “Tl fight over you as long as I can stand, but no power on earth could induce me to harm a hair of your head.”’ “T spose it isn’t your edication, Todd; but I don’t want my top-knot to hang in an Injin’s lodge. Can’t ou—”’ “Surely, surely, Biddon, you’re mistaken. There are no savages near us.”’ Irene touched Nat’s arm and pointed toward the river-bottom. Some eight or ten horsemen had just emerged from below them and were apr 3 - ey are not Indians—they are not Indians, Bid- don, They are friends—white people—whose horses you heard. They are here—cheer up!” “T suppose so; I knew ‘twas the tramp of animals Iheard. Git up. Irene, pray for me, like an angel as you ar’.” at arose to catch the attention of the horsemen, while Irene complied with the holy request of the trapper. When our hero looked toward his com- nion again, he saw that Bill Biddon, the hunter and pper, was dead! The horsemen were a party of hunters, who had diverged from the Oregon trail to continue their operations in this direction. Two of them had been acquainted with the trapper several years before, and mourned his death with sincere sorrow. Several hours were spent in digging a grave, broad and deep, in which to place his body. Their knives were the on instruments employed, and when the body of Biddon was carefully lowered into the earth, it was high noon. He was buried in his clothes, his faithful rifle beside him, and the locket, which contained the picture robably of some love that had exercised a potent influence over his life, still remained around his neck. The grave was wet by the tears of Nat and Irene. who mourned him as a rough but true-hearted an brave man, whose loss could never be replaced. No slab or stone marks the lonely spot in the Far West, where all that is mortal remains of the trapper. It is on the bank of the Malheur river, a few miles west of the Oregon trail; but the feet of wild animals and the lapse of time have so obliterated all traces of it, that to-day even the eye of affection would fail to recognize it, A few more words and the tale is finished. Nat and Irene accompanied the hunters down to Fort Boise, where they found another party upon the int of starting to California. As the present of iddon furnished Todd with an ample supply of money, he concluded to take the steamer from San Francisco instead of risking another tedious and — journey across the plains. This course he ollowed out. In this city, he encountered the trav- eler with whom he had passed several days at Brown’s Hole. It was he who had written the note which occa- sioned so much wonderment. His information was derived from a hunter; and, belie it to be relia- ble, he withheld his name, fearing that Nat might re it to be only a piece of pleasantry, as he : quite a reputation for his jokes on his compan- ions. The particulars of the homeward voy: need not be given. The storms and gunshine~-the tem and calms—the glorious moonlight hts and the delightful hours spent in communion with each oth- er—the gradual growth of the tender passion—the all-important question and answer—the thousands * This request of the dying trapper may seem in- credible Mo there are well-authsaticated | instances in the binary: of our frontier in which a ranger or scout has sealped his comrade, at the latter’s Pithei: 0 anil me ei ti Rae es pom co that of romantic fear, In seems the Indian himself, ee of air-castles that arose in the enchanted future—all these, and many more, the reader can imagine. Todd, when he arrived in New York, telegraphed to Relmond, who, accompanied by his wife Tamedi- ately visited him. For the first time since c ildhood, the long-lost, the long-separated sisters and orphans met. But time had only sanctified their love; and the friendship between Relmond and Todd remains eneornion to this day. Nat, in the magnanimity of his heart, forgave his old flame, Sarah Almina, now Mrs. Han , and she and her husband both helped to celebrate the wed- ding. At the present writing, Nat resides in Maine, where he and his strangely-found wife are bounte- ously supplied with all that goes to make life serene- happy n this world, and that fits them for the en- oyment of the world to come. THE END. BEADLE’S Half-Dime Library. Splendid Stories by Authors of Oelebrity, equal in quantity to a full Dire Noven, and in char- acter unsurpassed for exciting interest, originality, and the very spirit of Western, Border, Mining, Mountain, Plains, Hunters, Indian, Sporting, Trap- ping, and Sea and Land Adventure Lite. ‘Live ”’ stories, every one of them, by ‘‘ Live” Au- thors, in the popular ‘folio’ form, each Number a complete novel, at the extraordinary price of a Haur- Dime—this HALF-DIME LIBRARY distances all competitors and wili command an immense circula- tion. NOW READY; 1 Deadwood Dick. 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