Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 6) (1877 11 02)
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|i | 120) em: vee ' Ss le Number. Vol. I. Bill Biddon, Trapper; LIFE IN THE NORTH-WEST, BY EDWARD 8, ELLIS, CHAPTER L. OUT LATE AT NIGHT. ‘How is it, Nat? Any light yet?” ** Not the least sign of one, and it’s my opinion it will be a long time before we see another.” “What! you haven't given up all hopes of reaching the camp? I don’t relish the idea of camping out to- night?’ “Nor I; but I’m thinking that will come sooner or later.” “Well, there are several hours yet, in which we must plod onward,’’I added, trudging wearily behind my companion. Before going further, I may as well in- troduce my friend and myself. My com- anion answered to the name of Nathan Moda, and was a nativeof Maine. He was a tall, lank individual, with attenu- ated limbs and an awkward ap ance generally. He was m r but muscu- lar, and when roused to the heat of pas- sion, as quick and powerful as the - ther. is gait was ungainly, and he seemingly was capable of anything but speed; but on one or two occasions since leaving the States, he had shown a fleet- ness of foot truly wonderful, He was a good, open-hearted fellow, and one who, when driven to the wall, would be a dan- gerous enemy. Once or twice, how- ever, he had shown the white feather, and his natural timidity would often evince itself. As a consequence, Nat was not, perhaps, the safest com on in the hour of danger; but, for that, there was no one in our whose presence I would have preferred upon the night in which I introduce him to notice. There was no imminent peril threatening, and Nat was a capital com- panion, who could while away the hours, if he chose, with his inexhaustible store of anecdote and humor. I knew he en- tertained a warm affection for me, and would brave almost any r rather than be ted of his only deficiency. A single intimation would decide course in a moment. Nat wore a si dress—half savage and half civilized. The pants and shoes be —_ a Se a whe = lightened world: but a capacious hun ing-shirt incased his body, secured around the waist by a heavy band, and much the same as are worn y the hunt- ers and natives of the far West at the resent day. The most striking of his dress, however, was the hat. This he had brought with him from Maine and it really seemed indestructible, I was of a gray color, and ha lost its band, had acquired the shape of a cone, When it rested on his head, the ed reached the shoulders behind, and the eyebrows in front, and the pointed peak rose far off above the crown. Nathan Todd's face was full of shrewd- He had a but ju by a lon, of owy m 1e. sandy, and harmonized well wit rest of his countenance. There was BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, RO On A ‘i! tt! i i a a | Copyrighted in 1877, by BEADLE AND ADAMs. No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. ever a contraction of the eyebrows—a sort of un- spoken question—so often seen in persons from Hh os east,”’ which indicates a prying, curious dis- position. As for myself, my name is William Relmond, and I hail from one of the Middle States. Rosey after the announcement of the discovery of gold in Cali- fornia, I was seized with the lunacy that was carry- ing its thousands to the Pacific coast. I was well | | / ’ situated in life at home, but that was not considered, | I must fish up a fabulous fortune also, At the age of twenty, then, without a settled purpose in life, I determined to make a journey to the El Dorado of the New World. I was not influenced solely by the love of gain, but the love of adventure urged me ir- resistibly on. I had heard wonderful stories of the boundless prairies, of their wandering hordes of Indians, their millions of buffaloes and horses, and the vast, billowy ocean of verdure and sunshine, and the Far West seemed the paradise of the world to me, Provided with an ample outfit I proceeded by the usual route to Independence, Missouri, where I made Hh THE TRAPPER’S HOME, } ’ / } inquiries of the trains constantly leaving that point for on i and California, I there stumbled upon Nat Todd, wy, Dreeens companion. He had just ar- rived from distant home, where he had lefta widowed mother and a disconsolate sweetheart. But he said he was going to return, in just two years from the day he left, with a “ rousing heap ” of money, and intended to buy “Squire Hunt's farm,” take Alminy down there, and live the rest of his life. His frankness and humor impressed me favorably; and after a short conversation, we grasped hands, and swore to remain by each other till our adven- —_ were terminated by death or a happy denoue- ment, We engaged places in a train which left the next day. This company numbered nigh two hundred persons, and was composed of all kinds of charac- ters, except females. There were French voyageurs, en, and an agent of one of the western fur companies, The maior ty of the rest were from the plow or workshop. ey had secured the services of an experienced — and were well equipped for the journey before them. The overland route, at this time, was so alive with passing emigrants, that few depredations were committed by the Indians. The savages sometimes hung around companies, but as there were always other whites in sight, they rarely ventured upon any greater crime than pilfering. Nothing worthy of note occurred upon the journey for a length of time. e experienced the usual mis- haps and trials of emigrants, but noth- ing more startling. We sometimes lost a part of our baggage and provisions in phen the rivers, and were greatly discomforted by the terrific storms which often raged in those regions, Then, again, we traveled mile after mile, and hour after hour, upon the dry, mo- notonous, glistening, rolling prairie, so wearied and tired of the scene that we hardy exchanged a syllable for hours at a stretch At last, the plains of Kansas were reached. On the day in which I intro- duce my friend and myself to notice, we had descried a solitary antelope at a great distance upon the prairie, and set out to bring itdown. We left our horses hind, hoping to reach the animal b stratagem, I approached near enoug to wound it, when it made off with the eed of the wind. Expecting to see it ive out each moment, we followed mile after mile, until gathering darkness warned us that night was at hand, when we in alarm. The caravan was nowhere in sight, and, we doubted not, had disappeared hours before. We left the train about noon, and had been warned that they would not halt or wait for us, and should we lose them they would take no pains to hunt us up, But we heeded not this, as we expected to keep po genes aif in view, and have e an coo. or our supper. I have shown how widel as mistaken. We were com the night shut down ervey , without bringing us any hope of spending it with our friends; and at a late hour we were still Ye over the prairie. “No 5s yet, Nat?” I asked, for the twentieth time. “Well, I should think you had asked that question about often enough, to be suit answer.” ask it a dozen times TL answer it once for all, s0 I won't be troubled ag’in with talk- . Wo! there’s the answer.” I don’t know but what you are right, Nat, We must have come a long dis- tance, utterly unconscious of it, in our eagerness to get that antelope, and it’s
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\ Don’t you remember that fur 2 Beadle’s Half-Dime io _ ———-- -_— — —. —* = wie to hope to reach the camp again before morn- ng.’ f That’s my opinion, exactly. That camp, I opine, is a good dozen miles off yet. “Then we may have a chance of reaching it still before morning, as this bright moon favors us.” The moon, full and clear, had arisen an hour be- fore, and its light illuminated the prairie for a t distance. Far away, on every hand, we coul cern the blue outline of the horizon, while the prairie seemed to roll up against it like the dark boundaries of a mighty ocean. Every thing was as silent and — as though we were treading a region of th. ‘*T wonder whether those fellows will go a foot = Ag way to pick us up?”’ muttered Nat, half to imself. “T don’t believe they will, They told us they wouldn’t, and they value their time too highly to waste it for a couple who are of no account to them, ~especially since we can fall in with other trains.” ‘I reckon they’re of some account to us, being Soy, have got our horses and our traveling appara- us.”? “That is true, Nat. In fact, since we have been | walking here, I have persuaded myself that those fellows would, just as likely as not, turn out of the | way to get rid of us."’ “Somehow or other, for a week.” “Then, if we value our property, we mustn’t let them slip.” “No; Ill be shot, if we must!” exclaimed Nat, ae angrily, striking at once into a more rapid walk. “Tf they run off with my mare, ’‘ll—l’'U—”’ and again he strode faster over the prairie. Long—long, we journeyed in silence. Nat’s appre- hension had been aroused, and he was willing to walk the whole night to come up with those in whose honesty he had so little faith. Now and then he would mutter incoberently to himself and shoot ahead pry faa me almost on a run to maintain my place ‘beside him. Suddenly he halted, and turned upon me with an expression I shall never forget. I could see his eyes expanded to twice the usual size, and his whole face aglow beneath his monstrous hat, as he asked, in a cold whisper: “Do you s’pose there are any Injins roving round the country to-night?” “Tam sure I cannot tell, but I think it extremely probable. Are you fearful that there are some upon our trail?” “There might be! Iwas thinking if we should come across any of them, they might be able to tell us whether any of them chaps think we’re lost, and have run off with my mare.” “Should we meet a lot of those savages, no doubt they would tell us something else besides that.” **T expect so,’’ and he wheeled around and strode ahead again. It was now gotting near midnight, and I was completely worn out. It was out of the ques- tion to reach the camp that night, and we might as well submit to our fate at once, so I spoke rather decidedly, ““T’'m tired of this.” Nat turned and looked at me a second, and then answered: “SoamI. We've to camp out, and there's no use in waiting till morning. Ain't it lucky you brought your blanket with you? It would go hard to do with- out that to-night.” “T brought it with me by the merest chance, not thinking I should need it. It was indeed fortunate; and now let us prepare to use it.” There was not much choice on the hard but warm I’ve thought just the same not be in motion for several ee hoped to reach them before they breakfasted, ani our adventure. Nat led the way, and took long, rapid strides over the ground, seemingly oblivious of my existence. I kept beside him, now and then venturing a remark, but receiving no intimation that I was heard. Suddenly, my friend came toa dead halt, dropping the butt of his rifle to the earth with a ringing clamp, and wheeled upon me with one of those inde- scribable looks. I knew something unusual was agi- tating him. “What's the trouble now?” *Tt’s no use; we'll never see that company ag’in.”’ ““ What makes you speak thus?"’ “Tknow so. I had a dream last _— that my mare was gone forever and ever, and I know she is. ent told us they’d el e the direction they’s trave some time yes- terday? They hadn’t done it when we left them, and oneit as soon as we got out of sight, I warrant.” I now mbered h our de remark, as also did the fur agent with us, that the trail made an abru nd several miles ahead. We were traveling north-east at that time, and the contemplated change was nearly due south-west. This fact had entirely es- caped our minds, until it now occurred to Nat, and we had consequently been proceeding in a ——— direction. By refer to the sun, we found we me far too much to the east in order to intercept e train, which was now in all probability many 1 es to the south-west. was a discovery which was er mng. We had then been journeying in a direction whic had brought us not a foot nearer the company than if we had remained otehhin Sra re it was certain that the party was irrecoverably dis- | 2 _— is a pleasant discovery, Nat!” ‘ e ” “IT see no hope for yourmare. She is probably a good day’s journey distant, and we do not know what direction to take to reach her.” “That’s it,’ replied Nat, ill-humoredly; “if I knowed sure what way to tramp, I wouldn't stop till I'd laid my hands on her for a certainty; but this trudging along, and just as like as not going away from her all the time, isn’t the thing.” ““Tsee no course left, then, but to proceed south, in hope of falling in with some emigrant train, or in striking the Oregon trail, north, and getting into California ahead of them.” “The Oregon trail then. If these fellows find they’ve got the start of us, they won’t give us a chance to come up again, and we might as well try to catch a whirlwind as to follow them. No, we must try the Oregon trail, and get into California first. How far is the trail off?” ‘“*Tt can’t be more than a day’s journey; the trail follows the Platte through Nebraska, and I’m — sure we can reach it by nightfall, if we proceed pre ty steadily and rapidly.” The day was clear and pleasant, and the sky de- void of the least signs of threatening storm. There were two or three white clouds straggling off in the western horizon, but the sky was of a deep clear blue. We now proceeded, in a northward course, intending to strike the Platte at the nearest point. South, east, and west the small, waving hills of the prairie stretched, unrelieved by the slightest object, except in the west the far-off outline of some mount- ain-peak was just visible, resembling a slight pointed cloud against the blue sky. This disappeared at noon, and we were again like wanderers upon the illimitable sea. A short time after, Nat's keen vision detected a number of black, moving specks to the westward. “An emigrant train, perhaps,” I suggested. “They're Pawnee Tnjins as sure as the world, and we'd better give them a wide berth.” “Pawnee Indians! How do you know that? You never have been in this section before?” “That's true, but you don’t s’pose I started out here without first l'arning something ’bout the coun- try and folks, do you? itd you do, you're mistaken. Just let me know in what part of the country we are, and I'll let you know what Be you will see, that is, if we are going to see any. t’s keep to the east; I don’t want them Pawnees in he coal 1 The Pawnee Indians are reported friendly to the whites.’ “Exactly; but have they been reported honest ? If they should come upon us and take a fancy to our rifles, what is there to prevent them from taki them? And,”’ added Nat, with a shrewd shake o the head, “I’ve not faith enough in their good inten- tions to want ’em in sight at this time.” Not unwillingly I turned my face more to the north-east, and soon saw them oe from view. Some time toward the middle of the afternoon we descried a solitary buffalo ahead. After considerable difficulty we approached nigh enough to bring him down. He was quite poor, and his flesh was stron and tough; but we were glad enough to get it, suc as it was. He was thrown on his face, with his knees bent under him, a keen knife run along the spine with just sufficient force to penetrate the skin, which was then pulled down each side. This done, we cut the choice portions out. Nat reserved the buffalo- | skin for his blanket, and the rest was thrown away. Just at dark we reached a stream of considerable size, which I afterward learned was the Republican Fork of Nebraska, The point at which we struck it was about where it leaves the territory of Kansas and enters Nebraska. Although no considerable stream, we concluded not to cross it before wegen 5 and we made arrangements for passing the t upon its banks. A goodly quantity of drift-wood lay scattered along its shore. As the river was quite low, we gathered several armfuls, and had a fire soon started. The slain buffalo gave us a good supper. Seated around our fire, half-hidden in the river bot- tom, with the dark, glistening stream wt hae 3 silent- ly by, and smoking our pipes, we naturally fell into an easy conversation. “We can’t be far from the ‘ trail,’ can we?’’ asked Nat. “Further than I ted,” I answered. ‘The Republican Fork, which I am convinced is the stream out there, is over fifty miles from the Platte.” “Fudge! I don't eve I can head off them fel- lows after all, and my old mare and overcoat will go to thunder.” he They will go somewhere where you will never see them Res “TI know I’m bound to lose ’em, and I sha’n’t think any more about them.” That’s the best plan, Nat. They are no great ‘I sh’d like to know whether that greaser or fur agent ag them, though,” interrupted my friend, earnestly, After this he fell into a fit of musing, and we re- mained silent for some time. When the fire burned low, I rose and replenished it. Nat looked we ro the oe blaze, carrying ashes and cinders hig! in the air. ““ Wonder if some Injins won’t see that?” 2 A gr not. We are so low down the bank that I think it can be visible for no considerable distance upon the prairie, and the bend in the river fortunate- ly saves us from view up or down-stream, The 01 int from which it would attract attention is y across from us.” “ And it looks suspicious enough there,” repeated Nat, in a whisper, removing his pipe, and gazing across the river. It did indeed look forbidding. Our fire was nearly Library. es on a level with the water, which rolled darkly and noisily at our very feet; and when the crackling blaze arose higher than usual, the low face of the opposite shore was struck by the light. At such times I could not help reflecting what favorable chances were afforded any one who might be lurkin opposite. I involuntarily shrunk from the fire, anc felt relieved when the shore blended with the dark- ness. It now began to grow quite late, the fire had smol- dered low, when Nat, removing his cap, turned upon me with: ad do you think of our journey to Califor- nia I was at a loss to comprehend his meaning, and looked at him for an explanation. I mean to ask whether ao feel in such a hurry to get to the mines as you did when we were in Inde- pendence?” Now, to confess the truth, the experience of the last week or two, and eepecially of the last two days, had done much toward dampening the ardor. which T once thought could never leave me; and I believe had I possessed moral courage enough, I should have seized the first opportunity to return to a home where I poss 1 enough to satisfy any sensible per- son’s ambition. Still I hesitated to commit myself. “Teannot say that I am; but what induced you oOo “I’m sick of this business,” interrupted Nat, length- ening his legs with a.spiteful jerk, and looking dis- gustingly into the fire. “What has come over you?’’ I asked,’‘amused at his manner. ‘Well, there’s that mare—”’ ‘*But you promised not to think of her.” “How can I help it, I should like to know? She’s gone sure, and there’s that overcoat, that cost me four dollars and a half in Lubec; and Alminy made a big pocket in it vod an snes for me to fill full of gold chunks; and I should like to know how Iam going to do it, when a — has got it.” “Tam afraid that that would not be the only diffi- culty you would be likely to experience, Nat, in get- ting it filled.” *“And my jack-knife was in the coat-pocket, I de- clare!’ exclaimed he, suddenly starting up and pinching alternately one pocket and then another. F Yes, sir, that’s gone, too; that’s worse than all the rest,”’ he added, despairingly, falling upon his elbow, and gazing abstractedly into the fire. “That’s a trifling loss, surely, as you have your hunting-knife.” “T’'ve a good notion to get up and go back now,” he added, not heeding my remark. “I’m sick of this business. It’s bad enough to lose the mare, but when the knife is gone I can’t stand it.” I knew this was but a momentary despondency with my friend, and for the sake of whiling away the time before sleep, I was inclined to humor it. “But what will you do for that gold that you was going to buy Deacon Hunt's farm with for your Alminy?” “Let her go without it,’ he answered, fly, without removing his gaze from the fire. ’ She can get along without it. believe she only coaxed me © go off to Californy to get me out of the way, so that mean Bill Hawkins ay oe take my place. he does come any such game, he'll catch it when I get I laughed Comey but silently, as I witnessed his appearance, at these remarks. It was so earnest and feeling that it was impossible to resist its ludi- crousness. “Nat,” said I, after a moment's thought, in which 3 & mind had taken an altogether different channel, “Tam free to own that I have little faith in our suc- cess in California, I propose that we seek our for- tune elsewhere. The fact that gold exists in Cali- fornia is now known all over the world, and we know there is not the remotest corner of her territory which is not sw with hundreds who leave no means untried to amass their fortunes.” “But where else can we go?” “Tf gold exists in one spot on the Pacific coast, it ht to suppose it exists in many others.” “‘ Have you thought of any place?” “Tt seems to me that in yA meng among the ue of the Rocky Mountains, there must precious “But why hasn’t it been found?” metal.” “Oregon is Gees settled and no suspicion has led them to search for it.” “Well, let us dream upon it.” A few more fagots were moet = the fire, and then we lay down for the night’s rest. My companion had lain but a minute, when he sud- de sprung to his feet, and exclaimed: “ffurrah for Oregon!”’ “Be careful,’ I admonished; ‘your indiscretion a -~4 fatal. ~n ge wall os darkness —— the river ooks gloomy an reatening enough to me.” “It Goes—hello! I’m shot—no, I ain't neither.” That instant the report of a rifle burst from the other bank, and a bullet whizzed within an inch of my companion’s face. ‘Heavens! are we attacked?” I ejaculated, start- ing back from the fire. I believe so,” replied N eo me, We listened silently and fearfully, but heard no more, The fire smoldered to embers, the river grew darker, and the night, moonless and cold, settled upon us. But-no sleep visited sf eyelids that night, the gray dawn of morning I listened but heard no more. , CHAPTER I. ht owe es D. aa th As the x) rning rspre. rairi felt an oubahs sense of relief. Not : oat
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Bill Biddon, Trapper. 3 of sleep had visited me that night, although Nat’s extreme fear toward midnight gave way to his drow- siness, and he slept long and heavily. **Come, wake up, Nat!’’ said I, shaking him as soon as I saw that day was at hand. ‘*How? What's the matter?” said he, rubbing his eyes, and gaping confusedly about him. “Day is at hand, and we must be on our way to Oregon.”’ He hastily rose, and we commenced our aged preparations. I ran up the river-bank, and swept the prairie to the south of us to satisfy myself that no wandering Indians were in sight. The whole plain was visible, and with a feeling akin to joy, I reported the fact to Nat. He, however, was not satisfied with my survey, as he had more than once before detected ob- ioe that had escaped my-vision, and he ascended a 1igh roll in the bank, some distance up, and took a long, careful, scrutinizing sweep of the whole hori- zon. Feeling satisfied that he would be no more re- warded for his pains than I was, I started the fire and commenced cooking some of our buffalo. I had been engaged in this for a minute or so, when I heard Nat call, in a hoarse, anxious half-whisper: “Come here, quick!” I hurried to his side to ascertain the cause of his agitation. “Why, just look ponies if that ain’t enough to agitate one, then I don’t know what is.” te pointed across the river, out upon the prairie; and following the direction of his finger, I saw, not more than a mile or two away, a single horseman proceeding leisurely from us. “Who can that be?’ I asked, half to myself, still watching the receding figure. ‘* Why, he’s the one that sent the bullet across the water after us, and I’m thinking it’s lucky for him he’s going another way. If I should get my hands on him, he would remember the time.” _ And Nat extended his arms energetically, and shook in head spitefully by way of emphasizing his remark. I continued gazing after the unknown person, At first I supposed it was an Indian, but at that distance, and with his back toward us, it was almost impos- sible to judge accurately. A moment’s thought con- vinced me that it was a white man. I could make out the hunting-cap of the trapper, and was soon satisfied he belonged to that class. His horse was walking leisurely along, and he seemed totally un- aware of the proximity of strangers, But who could it be? Was it he who had fired the well-nigh fatal shot? And what meant his actions in thus willfully leaving us? These and similar ques- tions I asked myself, without taking my eyes from him. When his figure had grown to be but a speck in the distance, I turned to Nat. ‘““We may see him again; but, if I don’t know him I know one thing, ['m wonderfully hungry just now.” We partook of a hearty breakfast, and then, with- out much trouble, we forded the Republican Fork. Here we made a careful search of the shore, and ascertained enough to settle beyond a doubt the identity of the horseman with the would-be assassin. His pe could be seen, and the place where he had slept upon the ground, together with scraps of meat. By examining the tracks of his horse, we discovered that both hind feet were shod; this de- cided the question of his bet a white man; but, although it cleared up one doubt, left us in a greater one. He could not have avoided the knowledge that we were of the same blood, and what demoniacal wish could lead him to seek the life of two harmless wanderers? Be he who he might, it was with no Christian feelings toward him that we took the trail of his horse and pursued it. Our course, after the first five miles, swerved con- siderably to the north-west. From the actions of the stranger, it was evident he understood the character of the country, and we judged the shortest way of reaching the Oregon trail would be by following The footprints o animal were distinctly and we had no difficulty in keeping them. At noon we forded a stream, and shortly after another, both considerably less than the Republican Fork. On the northern bank of the latter were the still glowing coals of the stranger's camp-fire, and we judged he could be at no great distance. No Ss of Indians were seen, and we anticipated little trouble from them, as they were friendly at this time, and the most they would do would to rob us of some of onr trinkets or rifles. At sundown we left our guiding trail and struck off toward a small stream to camp for the night, ‘When we reached it, and decided upon the spot, Nat remarked seriously: I say, Relmond, that feller might be near enough to give us another shot afore morning, and I’m going to see whether his trail crosses the brook or not,”’ So saying, he wheeled and ran back to the where we had left it. It was still light enough to fol- low it, and bending his head down so as to keep it in view, he continued upon a rapid run. I was upon the point of warning him agaiaes thus running Esto danger, but not feeling much apprehension for his safety, I turned my back towa m. A minuite af- terward I heard his footsteps, and, looking up, saw him oN. with full speed toward me, his eyes dilated to their utmost extent, and with every ap- pearance of terror. J ‘* He’s there!” he exclaimed. ‘* Where?” I asked, catching his excitement. “‘ Just across the stream up there; I liked to have run right into him afore I knowed it. See there!” As Nat spoke, I saw the glimmering of a fire through the trees, and heard the whinny of a horse. “Didn't he see you?” “Yes, I know he did. WhenI splashed into the water like a fool, he looked up at me; I seen him pick marked, - up his rifle, and then I put, expecting each moment to feel a ball in me.” “T thought you intended laying hands on him if an aha offered,” I remarked, with a laugh. “T declare, I forgot that,’’he replied, somewhat crestfallen. After some further conversation, I decided to make the acquaintance of the rae who had occupied so much or our thoughts. Nat opposed this, and urged me to get further from him; but a meaning hint changed his views at once, and he readily acquiesced. Lanving him, I started up the stream, When I reached the point opposite the stranger's camp-fire, I coughed so as to attract his attention. I saw him hurriedly scan me, but he gave no further evidence of anxiety, and I unhesitatingly prune across the stream, and make my way toward him. Before I halted, I saw that he was a trapper. He was reclining upon the ground, before a small fire, and smoking a short black pipe. ‘“*Good-evening, my friend,” I said, cheerfully, ap- proaching within a few feet of him. He raised his eyes a moment, and then suffered them lazily to fall again, and continue their vacant stare into the fire. “ Quite a pices evening,’ I continued, seating my- sr Umph th ted his pi drising ““Umph!”’ he grunted, removing his pipe, and ri to the upright position. He looked at me a secon with a pair of glittering eyes, and then asked: “* Chaw, stranger?” “T sometimes use the weed, but not in that form,” I replied, erie a Pe to him, He wrenched off a huge mouthful with a vigorous twist of his head, and returned it without a word. This done, he sunk back to his former position. ‘*Excuse me, friend,” said I, moving rather im- patiently, and determined to force a conversation were ‘but [hope you will permit a few ques- ons?’ “Go ahead, stranger,’’ he answered, gruffly. * pl hea traveling alone in this section?” PH on I ar’, ’cept the hoss which ar’ a team.” “Follow trapping and hunting, I presume?” “What's yer handle, stranger?’ he suddenly ask- ed, as he came to the upright position, looking at me with interest, “William Relmond, from New Jersey.” ““Whar’s that place?” “Tt is one of the Middle States, quite a distance from here.” “ What ay you be doin’ in these parts?” red and my friend out yonder are on our way to regon’ ““Umph! you’re pretty green ‘uns.”’ ‘*Now I suppose you will have no objection to give me your name,” “‘My handle’s Bill Biddon, and I’m on my way to trappin’-grounds up country,” ow far distant?” ‘*A heap; somewhar’ up ’bove the Yallerstone.”’ ‘*Do you generally go upon these journeys alone?” ** Sometimes I does, and sometimes I doesn’t.”’ I ceased my Serco for a few moments, for fear of provoking him. As his route, as far as it extend- would be in our direction, I determined to keep in company if I could gain his consent, He was a splendid specimen of the man. He was rather short, but heavy an ick set, with a com- pactness of frame that showed a terrible stamens i his roth me saan ey was er cov- e a thin, straggling beard of a grizzl and eeveral ridged Sale were visible in di ereut parts of it. His brows were beetling and lowering and beneath them a couple of black eyes fairly snapt at times with electric fire. His mouth was b ‘ tie pation aight Ge called into life within his c ©) n e n an gen there was, also, in his face, the index of a heart alive to good-humor and frankness. I saw that, if approached skillfully, his heart could be reached. e was evidently the creature of odd whims and fancies, feeling as well satisfied without the society of his fellow-man as with it—one of those strange beings, a hero of a hundred perils, who was satisfied to lose his life in the mighty wilderness of the Far West, without a single one suspecting or car- ing for his fate. : yar es you ond any churn Mg may ieee and m accompanying you as far as you should prdenett in our direction?” He looked steadily at me a moment, and answered: “You kin go with me ef you wants; but I knows as how you're green, and yer needn’t_s*pose I’m goin’ to hold in fur yer. Yer’s as never does that thing.” ““Oh I shouldn’t expect you to. Of course we will make it a point not to interfere in the least with your plans and movements.” % is yer other chap? S’pose it war him what come * ey pe hing i 1 a while ago; had a notion of ’ his picter for his imperdence.” “T will go Pein him,” I answered, rising and mov- ing off. But asI stepped across the stream, I dis- cerned the top of Nat’s white be Joe above a small box-elder; and moving on, saw his eye fixed with an eager stare upon the trapper. Don’t he look savage?" he whispered, as I. came to him. “Not Hat Are you afraid of him?” ‘*No; but I wonder whether he—whether he knows anything about the mare and my knife?” ‘ “Perhaps so; come and see, He just now asked ‘or you,” “Asked for me?” repeated Nat, stepping back. ‘““ What does he want of me?” ‘Nothing in particular. I just mentioned teed name and he asked where you were. Come, I hope you ain’t afraid?” “ Afraid! I should like to see the man I’m afraid of!’ exclaimed my companion in an almost inaudible whisper, as he tremblingly followed me across the brook and to the spot where Biddon, the trapper, was lying. i iy friend, Nathan Todd, Biddon.” “How are you? Very happy to make your ac- quaintance,” and Nat nervously extended his hand. “ How're yer?” grunted Biddon, with a slight jerk of his head, and not noticing the proffered hand. “Been a most exceedingly beautiful day,’’ ventur- ed Nat, ea and nervously. Isaw the trapper was not ‘particularly ig prow x with him, and I took up the conversation. I made several unimportant inquiries, and learned in the course of them, that our friend, Bill Biddon, was about forty years of age, and had followed trapping and hunting for over twenty years. He was a native of Missouri, and Westport was the depot for his pel- tries. For the last two or three years he had made all his excursions alone. He was quite a famous trapper, and the fur company which he patronized gave hima fine outfit and paid him well for his skins, He possessed a magnificently mounted rifle, and his horse, he informed me, had few superiors among the fleetest mustangs of the South. th of these were presented him by the company mentioned. __ “Why ain’t you got horses?’ he asked, looking to- ward me, “They were both stolen from us.” “T don’t s’pose you've seen any thing of a com- pany with a mare, short-tailed, that lim a little, and an overcoat that had a knife in the pocket? asked Nat, eagerly. “Not that I knows on,” answered Biddon, with a twinkle of humor. I gave the culars of our loss, and then asked, without due thought: “Did you not camp upon the banks of the Repub- lican Fork last night?” “Yas; what'd yer want to know fur?” “Oh, nothing, nothing,”’ quickly answered Nat. I believe the trapper understood my allusion, and I hoped he would give an explanation of his act; but he made no reference to it, and after further conver- sation, we all lay down in slumber. CHAPTER ITI. THE TRAPPER’S STORY. I was aroused from my slumber, before it was yet light, by Biddon shaking me and calling in my ear: “Come, you chaps, you've got only two minutes ita wal tiveatiy individ’ thos SY t at was moving about, and I sprung to m: feet, gag i gg to te Som Bay friend's good graces, if suc hg Bed: le, by a chee acquiescence in all his reasonable wishes. Our fire was kindled, a hasty breakfast swallowed, and just as the sun made its appearance above the prairie, we moved off toward the north. Long before noon we reached the Platte, and ford- ed it at the point where Fort Grattan now stands. The Platte, during the winter months, is a bois- terous stream of great width, but in summer it is ve shallow (from which circumstance it derives its name), and at the dry season it almost ceases running, and dwindles down to an innumer- able number of stagnant Is. As it was now the summer season, we walked over without more than wetting our shoes. The Oregon trail follows the northern shore of this stream to Washington Terri- tory, or to what was Oregon at the time of which I write, Leaving the Platte, we shaped our course to- ward the noi th west, so as tostrike the southern spur of the Black Hills, From Biddon’s conversation, I found that his destination was the neighborhood of the head-waters of the Tongue or Powder river, which have their canons in the Black Hills. As he allowed his horse to proceed upon a moder- ate walk, we had no trouble in keeping him com- pany. We generally started at the first indication of morning, halting now and then to slake our thirst in the numerous streams which crossed our path, and resting an hour at noon. At sunset we struck cam upon some small stream, cooked our evening m spent an hour or two in smoking and conversation, and turned in for the night. One night we halted Sw the bank of a large stream some miles north of the Platte, which emptied into the Missouri. It was quite broad and rapid, and near the center of the channel a small, sandy island was visible. We over this while fording the stream, and I noticed that Biddon walked around it, and nem ig + several spots with more than common interest. I did not question him then, but at night when we were stretched before the fire, with our thing pipes, I ventured the inquiry. 3 “Tsee’d sights on Y oven chunk of mud one time,” said he, with a dark frown. ‘““What was it?—what was it?” asked Nat, e 7 “ Here’s as what don’t like to think of that time, rr !” he answered, seeming still unwilllng to refer ‘© it. “Why not?” I asked, king of Nat's curiosity. “Tt makes a feller’s blood bile but Neate he added, brightening up, “if you wants to hear it, er kin. me We do, by all means; please give it.” “Yas, that ar’ war a time of general wipin’ out, and this yer water that now looks as black as a wo) : mouth, run red that night! It war nigh onto ten. year ago that it happened. I was down in Westport one day in summer when a feller slapped me on the shoulder and axed me ef I wanted a job. I tole him I didn’t care much, but if he’s a mind to fork over, and it wa’n't desprit hard, and too much like work, I's hisman. He said as how thar war a lot of fellers camped out on the prairie, as war gwine to start for Cragon, and as wanted a guide; and he rin’ me spoken on as suthing extronnery, why he’d like to know ef I wouldn't go; he’d make the pay all right. I cut around the stump awhile, and at rast ‘cluded to
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oe Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. go. I went out onto the perarie, and see’d the com- pany. They were men, women and children, ’ i- ally the last ones. Isee’d they wanted gcod watchin’ and I kinder hinted they'd find trouble before they'd reached Oregon. “There weren't many folks trampin’ these parts then, and them as did go, had to make up thar minds to see fight and ha’r-ra’sin’. B’ars and vers, they did! The reds war the same then all over, arter you got clear of the States, and no feller’s ha’r war his own till he’d lost it. “We started the next day, and struck the Platte afore night. There war but twenty good men, an’ I made half of ‘em stand watch that night jist to git their hands in. Im course they didn’t see nothin’, *cept one straddlin’ chap, like this feller yer that is called Nat. He said as how he see’d wonders, he did, and thar war a hundred reds crawlin’ round the camp all night. “We went purty slow, as it weren’t best to hurry the teams; but we hadn't been two days on the way afore the fools got into the all-firedest scrabble I ever see’d. I don’t know what it come "bout, but it war so big, they split company, and part of ’em crossed over and camped on t’other side of the Platte. I tole *em they’d see stars purty soon, if they didn’t splice again, but they’s too r’arin’ to do it, and I said if they’s a mind fo be sich fools, they mought be fur all me, and I’d let ’em go on alone. Howsumever, the smallest party hung on fur me not to leave ’em, and I ‘cluded to stay with ’em as I knowed purty well sa need me all the time. “The biggest company as had crossed the Platte, — on by it, and so the others said they’d leave it and cut across fur Oregon. I tole ’em this war the best way, and so we left °em. Them I war with war a —_ the smallest, and had but three or four men and five or six women and children. What made things look wuss I see d ‘signs’ when we parted, and I know’d purty well the reds smelt what war goin’ on, And ‘bout a dozen times in the afternoon I could see ‘em off on the perarie, stealin’ ‘long, and cag, x through cover. I knowed that the imps were fol- lerin’ us, seein’ the other war a heap more powerful nor us. “Things got so. dubersome afore night, I said to the men ef they’d take the advice of a feller as knowed what he war ‘bout, they’d turn round and never stop till Sa we ee the others; for ef they didn't, they’d cotch it at night; war ‘bout them as thick as flies. They said how ef I’s ‘/raid I mought go back, but as for them they’ go through fire and blazes ‘fore they would. I felt riled ‘nough at this to leave ’em, and I would ef it hadu’t been fur them poor women; they looked so sorrerful I made up my mind to stick to em fur thar sake. “We reached the stream just as it war growin’ dark, and the reds had got so sassy, that five or six of ’em stood a little ways off and watched us. This scart the women and men, and they axed me what war to be done? The women cried and wanted to coax the Injins up to give ’em sunkthin’ to get thar good hele but they war cross and sulky, and didn’t say much. ‘After some talk and a heap of cryin’, we ’cluded to camp on that piece of sand in the riyer.. The teams war drew over and we follered. Tho water war some deeper nor now, and it took us a Jong time to land; but we got over at last. As soon as we war clean over, I commenced fixing up things for the reds. We didn’t build no fire, but put the teams to- ether near the middle, and the women inside ’em. re was four men without me, and I set ’eu round the place to watch fur sign. 1 made ‘em all squat flat down on the mud close to the water, and told *em to blaze away at anything they see’d, ef it war a beaver or otter, and gave ’em pertickler orders not to wink both eyes ata time. I see’d they’s skeerish, and there weren’t no danger of thar snoozin’ on watch. sartin the reds would come some “ap Ry ie pcb RO Ride wen e upper oO e » an laid in the mud m to watch fur’em. I knowed too, they wouldn’t be "bout "fore purty late, so I took a short nap as I laid in the mud. When I woke up the moon war up in the sk and the river had riz so my pegs war in the water. flopped out, but didn’t see nothin’ yet. I sneaked down round by t’other fellers, and found ’em all wide awake; and they said, too, as how they hadn't seen nothin’ ’cept the river war gettin’ higher, which the kinder thought the Injins mought’ve done. Jist as war goin’ back I h some of the purtiost singin’ in the world. Fust, I thought it war an , ef it hadn’t been so nice; then I ’cluded it must be an Ba listened, and found it came from the wagons. I crept up and see’d two little girls all ‘lone clus by the wag- ons, and a-singin’ sunkthin’. Shoot me! ef it didn’t pond _ merge anon to see mp oe sekten i inin’ down through the clow out on ’em, They sot with their Rtg Ro each other and war bare-headed, and ef I hadn’t knowed ’em I'd swore they were angels sure. I axed what a war singin’ for, and they said the Injins war goin’ to come after ’em that night, and they war singin’ to their mother in heaven to keep ‘em away. Shoot me! when one of ‘em throwed her little white arms round my neck and kissed my ugly meat-trap, I couldn't stand it. I went up to my place ag’in and laid down in the mud. “Tt was pote colder, and the wind comin’ up, drew the white clouds ‘fore the moon, makin’ it black. But when it come out ag’in I see’d sunkthin’ comin’ down the river that looked like alog. I dug down deeper in the mud, and set my peepers on it, fur I knowed thar war sunkthin’ else thar, too, It come right on and struck the mud a little way from me. I didn’t stir ‘cept to kinder loose my e. The Jog stuck a minute, and then swung round and went “T's prett; of thar tri down the river. “f knowed the boys would see it, andI didn’t leave my place. Thinkin’ as how this war only sent down to see what we'd do, I war lookin’ fur other things, when I heard a noisein the water, and shoot me, ef a sneakin’ red didn’t come up out of the water, and commenced crawlin’ toward whar the gals war singin’, (Jist put a little fodder on the de I sprung up and threw on some fagots, and then seated myself and anxiously awaited the rest of his story. He put away his pipe, filled his mouth with sapeers and, after several annoying delays, re- sumed: “Thar weren’t no time to lose. I crept ‘long be- hind him, mighty sly, and afore he knowed it, come down spank onto him. I didn’t make no noise nor he either. I jist grabbed his gullet and finished him with my knife. I then crawled back ag’in, and, shoot me, ef I didn’t see forty logs comin’ down onus; the river war full of ’em. ‘I jumped up and hollered to the other fellers to look out. They come up aside me and stood but it weren’t no use. ‘Fore we knowed it I see'd over forty of ’em ‘lo’ de us. We blazed into ’em and went to usin’ our knives, but I knowed it would- n’tdo. They set up a yell and pitched fur the wag- ons, while "bout a dozen went at us. The fust thing I knowed the whole four boys were down and thar ha’r raised and the women screechin’ murder. It mug by me with that little gal as was singin’, and cotched a dead red’s gun and let drive at him; but the gun weren’t loaded, and so the devil run off with her. “* The oxes war bellerin’, the horses snortin’, and the tomahawks stoppin’ the women’s screams; the red-skins war howlin’ and yellin’ like all mad, and as I had got some big cuts and knocks, I ’cluded it best to move quarters. So I made a jump for thestream, took a long dive, and swum for the shore. I come up *bout whar you’re setting, and I made a heap of tracks ‘fore daylight come.’ ade did you never hear any thing of the chil- n bl “T never see’d em agin; but I come ’cross a cha at Fort Laramie when I went down ag’in, what sai he’d seen a gal ’mong some of the red-skins, Me in these h goby and I’ve thought £3 aps it mought be one of ’em, and ag’in it moughtn’t.’ “Did you say that all happened out there?’’ asked Nat, jerking his thumb toward the island mentioned, “T peekon I did.” a “But there’s a lot of Injins there now!” exclaimed e. * As like as not,” returned Biddon, with a sly look me. “I’m goin’ to sleep then,” and rolling himself u in his. buffalo blanket, all but his feet disap from view. ‘It’s "bout time to snooze, I think,’ remarked the trapper, in a lower tone, turning toward me. “T think so, but I sup there need be no appre- hension of molestation from Indians, need there?” Biddon looked at me a moment; then one side of his mouth expanded into a broad grin, and he quietly remarked: “Times are different from what they used to war.” ‘ Biddon,” said I, after a moment's silence, ‘* be- fore we saw you we camped upon one side of a stream while you were upon the other. Now, Ido not suppose you would ully harm a stranger; but since I have met you, I havea great desire know why you fired that shot at Nat. A quiet smile illumined the trapper’s swarthy vis- age; and, after waiting a moment, he answered: ‘Phe way on it war this: I see’d you and Nat oars, there, and I s’pected you war gwine to tramp these parts. I watched you awhile, and was gwine to sing out to you to come over. Then said I, Biddon, you dog, ain’t there a chance to give them a powerful scare?’ First. I drawed bead on you, but when that Nat jumped up, I let fly at him, and he kerflummuxed splendid. Howsumever, it’s time to snooze, and I’m in for it,”’ With this, we wrapped our blankets around us, and in a few moments were asleep. On a clear summer gba we sallied out upon the broad, open prairie again. The trapper now struck in a direction nearly due north-w toward the Black Hills. The face of the country began to change materially, Vast groves of timber met the eye, and the soil became rich and productive. At noon we encountered the most immense drove of buffaloes that I ever witnessed. They were to the at west of and proceeding in a southern direction, cropping the clean as they went. Far away. as far as the vision could reach, nothing but a sea 0 black moving bodies could be distinguished. The ‘whole western horizon, from the extreme north-west to the south-west, was occupied solely by them, and nothing else met the eye. ey were not under way, and yet the whole mass was moving slow anwant The head buffaloes would seize a mou of grass, and then move on a few feet and another. Those behind did the same, and the whole number Yaa Uggs in this manner. This constant ange of position gave an appearance, as viewed from my standing-point, similar to the long heaving of the sea after a violent storm. It was truly a mag- nificent spectacle. We approached within a short distance. The were scattered upon the outside, and with a little trouble the ee managed to insinuate himself among them. His object was to drive off a cow which had a couple of half-grown calves by her side, but the took the alarm, and rushed off into the drove. then prepared to b down one apiece, I sel an enormous bull, and sighted for his head. I ap- proached nigh enough to make my aim sure, and fired. The animal raised his head, his mouth full of grass, and glaring at me a moment, gave a snort of alarm and plunged headlong intothe drove. At the same instant I heard Nat’s rifle beside me, and a mo- ment after that of the trapper. This gave the alarm. Those near us uttered a series of snorts, and drop- ping their bushy heads, bowled off at a terrific rate. ‘he motion was rapidly communicated to the others, and, in a few seconds, the whole eastern side was rolling simultaneously onward, like the violent coun- ter-current of sea. The air was filled with such a vast cloud of dust that the sun’s light was darken- ed, and, for a time, it seemed as if we should suffo- cate. We remained in our places for over an hour, when the last of these prairie monsters thunde by. A strong wind carried the dust off to the west,,. and we were at last in clear air again. _ Llooked away in the direction of the herd, expect, ing to see my buffalo’s lifeless form, and was con- siderably chagrined at my disappointment, as was also Nat at his. The trapper’s prize was a dozen yards from where it had been struck. “Pears to me,” said he with a sly smile, ‘‘I heer’p —_ cogs bark, but I don’t see nothin’ of no buffa~ oes. r 7 thit mine,” Ianswered quickly; ‘Iam sure of it.’” ** Whereabouts?” “In the head, plump and square.” ‘““Whar’d you sight yourn, Greeny?” ** Just back of the horns, and I hit him too. If he hasn't dropped before this, he’ll have the headache for a week. “B’ars and beavers, you! Them bufflers didn’t mind your shots more nor a couple of hailstones., Do you see whar I picked mine?”’ asked the trapper, pu the buffalo’s foreleg forward, and disclosing the track of the bullet behind it. “Isn’t a shot in the head fatal?’” I asked in aston- ishment. “You might hit ’°em thar with a cannon ball, and they’d git up and run ag’in, and ef you’d pepper ’em all day whar you did yourn, you'd pick the bullets. out thar ha’r and they wouldn’t mind it.” This I afterward found to be true. No shot, how- ever well aimed, can reach the seat of life in the a through the head unless it enter the eye, fair ront, The zappes buffalo was thrown forward upon his. face, his 8 bent beneath him, and d after the usual fashion. He was in good condition, and we had a rich feast upon his carcass. The trapper selected a few choice portions from the inside, relished only by himself, and, cutting sev- eral huge pieces for future use, the rest was left for the wolves. We proceeded but a few miles further, and en- camped upon the banks of the Dry Fork, a small stream, a few miles south of the Black Hills. There was but a foot or two of sluggish water, and in the hot season it was often perfectly dry. Here for the first time I was made aware of the changeable char- acter of the climate in this latitude. © weather, thus far, had been remarkably fine, and at noon we found the air sometimes oppressively warm. Toward night the wind veered around to the north-west, and Sed colder. At nightfall, when we kindled our fire, ‘he air was so cutting that Nat and I were in a shiver. Had it not been for our blankets we should have suf- fered considerably, though Biddon did not call his into uisition. A number of cottonwood trees — trod Me nd, which served partly to screen us from 2. : After our evening meal, Biddon remarked: “The fire must go out, boys.” ey ? Do you apprehend danger?” I asked. “Don’t know as I do; I hain’t seen sign, but we’re gettin’ into parts summat skeerish.” “T suppose it’s about time for the Indians to come?”’ remarked Nat, interrogatively. “They’re "bout these parts. Me’n Jack Javin once got into a scrimmage yer with ’em, when we didn’t. spect it, and jist ‘cause we let our fire burn while we snoozed. I'd seen sign though, then, and I want- ed to put it out, but he wa’n’t afeard.”’ ait Let’s have ours te vy yee Fake enw springing up and scat e brands around. of ee t mind "bout thats” it'll go out soon enough.” As Nat reseated himself, Biddon continued: “You see, Jarsey, them reds kin smell a white man’s fire a good way off, and on sich a aay as this, ef they’re "bout t ey'll be bound to give him a + You needn’t be afeard, howsumever, to snooze, *cause they won't be *bout.’ It was too cold to enjoy our pipes, dled up for the night’s rest. Soon I and we all bun- heard the trap- r’s heavy brea ing, and shortly after Nat joined m in_ slumber. ut I found it impossible to sleep. The ground was so cold that my blanket could not protect me, and the cutting wind was ter- rible. I used ey means that I could devise, but it was no use, and I feared I should be compelled to either build the fire again, or to continue woking all ‘ht to prevent freezing. chose the latter expedient. It was quite dark, “de a tog geen our — ation = ae mm judged, no - m lanke ™, I started on a raph von i over the aaa. i continued a long distance, until pretty well exhaust- ed. I turned to retrace my ris My blood was warming with the exercise, and 1 bh ed forward, comeing upon sound sleep for the remainder of the continued my run for a full half-hour, and then stopped in amazement, as Isaw no signs of my com- panions, Thin I must have : the spot where they were g, I carefully walked back again, but without overing the men. -I had lost them in the darkness, and it was useless to hunt them at night. So I concluded to wait till morning, feeling
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sure that they would be at no great distance. I now commenced searching for a suitable place for rest, and at last hit upon a small depression in the prairie, where a e stone was imbedded in the earth on one side, which served to protect me from the chill- ‘ing wind. As I nestled down beside this, such a feel- ing of warmth and comfort came over me that I con- gratulated myself upon what had seemed a misfor- tune. Lying thus, just on the verge of sleep, my nerves painfully alive to the slightest sound, I suddenly felt a trembling of the ground, At first it seemed a dream; but, as I became fully awake, I started in terror and listened, I raised my head, but heard no sound, and still in the most perplexing wonder sunk down again, hoping it would shortly cease, But there was a steady, regular increase, and presently I dis- tinguished millions of faint tremblings, like the dis- tant mutterings of thunder. | Gradually these grew plainer and more distinct, and finally I could distinguish sounds like the tread of innumerable feet upon the prairie. Every second the jar of the earth became more perceptible. Sud- denly the truth flashed upon me—a herd of buffaloes was approaching. Terror for an instant held me dumb, My first re- ‘solve was to rush forth and warn Nat and Biddon; but I reflected that they must have been awakened, ere this, and that I could do nothing to ward off the ril which threatened all alike. Springing to my foot, I paused a second to collect my tumultuous thoughts. Could I reach the timber, I could ascend a tree and be beyond danger; but I knew not what direction to take, and there was no time to spare. To remain was to be trampled to death; to rush away ‘could save me but a few moments longer. God of heaven! what a death! : Louder and louder grew the thundering tread of the animals, and I s like a madman, the cold sweat pouring off me, tormented by a thousand agonizing thoughts, and expecting death each mo- ment! Nearer and nearer came the rattle of the clamping hoofs, and I stood rooted to the t! Sinking on my knees, I implored mercy of the One who could give it in this moment of dire necessity; and while on my knees the means of preservation presented itself. ‘Strange!’ I exclaimed, breathing deeply, ‘‘ that I did not think of it before.” I have said that Iwas in a sort of depression or hollow in the earth, and that a large stone was im- bedded on one side. Now a safer and more secure shelter could not have been found in thisemergency, Wrapping my blanked around me, I crept as far be- neath it as I could, and was saved! A few minutes later a dark body plunged headlong over me with the rapidity of lightning, followed in- stantly by another and another, and I knew the herd were thundering past. For a long time I lay there. beneath those thousands of feet, one of whic would have been sufficient to kill me. The incessant crack- ling of their hoofs, and rattling of their horns, sound- ed like the discharge of musketry. Once a ponder- ous body tumbled over the rock which sheltered me, and I caught sight of a dark, hehe * bellowir mass, and the next instant it regained its feet an disa It rast have been an hour that I lay here, ere the last animal lea over me. Then I looked up and saw the stars shining overhead, My joy at the sight of those glittering orbs cannot be expressed. I arose to my feet, and looked about me. It was too dark to discern objects, Y pe I could hear the pape re- treating footfalls of the herd in the distance. Sink- ing to the earth, I offered a sincere prayer of grati- tude to the Almighty for His miraculous preserva- ition of my life! CHAPTER IV. THE TRAPPING-GROUNDS. I was ——— surprised upon waking to see Nat within a few fee holding ewe hoteas by the bridle. “Which one will you choose?’’ he asked, with a broad smile. “How did — come by them?” asked I. “Ts’ it must have been about the time you left us fast night that Biddon woke me and told me to follow him, as there was a powerful chance to get acouple of horses for you and me. I asked him where you could be, and he said he s’posed you'd née further up-stream to sleep by yourself, though ehadn’tseen yougo. -Howsumever, we wasn’t wor- ried, as we thoughtyot were old enough to take care of yourself, so we started down the of the stream. We went about half a mile, when Biddon showed mea small camp-fire, burned down to a few coals wo horses picketad s fow yards away, and we seen wo horses eted a few away, an the feet of aoe le of red-skins turned toward the fire. Biddon paid as how they was a og oe of hunt- ers, sound asleep, and we might dorrow their horses, if I didn’t make’ too much noise, He told me to stand still, and keep my gun pointed at them, and the minute one stirred to shoot him, and then rush in and dispatch the other. I promised to do so, and he stole round to the hosses on his hands and knees. He had cut both the lariats and was leading them away, when one of the Indians raised Lis head and jJooked around, and as soon as he seen the hosses moving off give a grunt and jumped up and run to- ward them. I remembered it was my duty to shoo and as the Indian was running purty fast, I aim about ten feet ahead of him, supposing, of course, the villain would git there as soon as the bullet did; T'll be hanged if he wasn’t mean enough to stop an jet the bullet be wasted. My gun kicked like ¥ and the Indians, I s’ , thought a whole tribe was upon them; for setting up a great howl, they scooted off in the darkness, leaving us alone with the ani- Bill Biddon, Trapper. 5 ~ mals. Running back, I overtook Biddon, who was riding along as if nothing had happened. He asked me to ride, and of course I jumped on, and here I am. But which hoss do you want?” “T do not see as there is much room for choice,” I replied; “‘both are splendid animals, and a most opportune blessing.” “Tf it’s all the same to you, this gentleman is mine; and handing the bridle of one to me, he yault- ed upon the other. The latter was a magnificent Indian pony, of a | bay color, probably captured when very young, and high-spirited and fiery. Both manifested considerable uneasiness, know- ing they were in the hands of strangers, and Nat’s made one or two efforts to dislodge him; but he was a good horseman and maintained his place with ap- parent ease despite the struggles, which were frantic and desperate at first. Mine was somewhat larger, of a coal-black color, with as much spirit and fire as the other, but'in a few moments we had them under perfect control. Besides these two animals, we gained two fine In- dian saddles, and were now as well mounted as we could wish. Nat remarked, that when the buffaloes thundered by he felt some apprehension for me, but the trapper expressed none, saying that I would be found right inthe morning. As soon as there was light, Nat commenced searching the bed of the stream for me, and failing in this, he climbed a tree and took a survey of the prairie on both sides. From his elevation he discovered what he believed to be my dead body; and accompanied by Biddon and the horses, hastened toward me. Upon reaching me, they understood instantly the whole matter, and it was their loud laughter that had aroused me. We were now pretty far to the north-west of Ne- braska Territory. The face of the country was ma- terially different, and I began to notice a change of temperature. The summer had just closed, and the early autumn was like the approach of winter. The Sm were cool and chilling, and the days generally mild at noon, but often keen and exhilarating. The ea was mostly of the rolling kind, but ts of imber were more Coma, and the vegetation richer and more exuberant. It was plain, too, that we were in a section where the foot of civilization had not been. The vast, undulating swell of the prairie, the mighty fields of verdure and the broad streams, bore only the marks of the red-man and wild beast. Toward noon, Nat descried a solitary antelope far ahead. It was near a grove, from which it had just wandered, and stood gazing wonderingly at our ap- roach. We rode on in silence for some time, when iddon raised his hand. ** Jes’ hold on,’’ he said, as he dismounted. He made a circuit, skirting the prekte, so as to reach the ve mentioned upon the opposite side from the antelope. I still was ata loss to understand his intention, as the animal was too distant from the timber to be brought down with a rifle-shot from that point. On the outer edge of the lope, I saw him emerge, ho ie stick over his head, to which was affixed a handkerchief or rag. He walked a short distance, and then lay down flat upon the prairie pesterny, concealed in the grass. The rag was visible flutte above him. I now watched the motions of the antelope. He stood at us, until the trapper came into view, when, with a star- tled glance at him, he wheeled and ran. In a mo- ment, however, he paused and turned quickly around. His looks were now fixed upon the fluttering i He stood motionless a moment, and then cautiously lifting his foot, made a step toward it. Thus he con- tinued to approach, step by step, with a parent fear, yet evidently impelled by an Tarovertae e curiosity, until he was scarce a hundred yards distant from the prostrate form of the trapper, Still he was mo stealthily onward, when suddenly the sharp crac of Biddon’s rifle reached us. We saw the antelope EIT to Wie Gaeuaa, the taspher prune’ to hie toot e ground. e trapper sprung ee and hastened to the fallen anirnal. “Let us ride to him,”’ said I, walking my horse on- ward. We had ridden a short distance when Nat asked: ““What’s got into Biddon? Just look at him!” I did look, and for a moment believed him crazy. He had seen us approaching, and was now making furious gesticulations. I watched him a moment, and then remarked; arte is either signaling for us to come on or to s ” mantle means us to wait, I guess, and we had better _ We reined in our horses and watched him. Appa- rently satisfied with our stopping, he stoo and commenced working at the animal. In a few mo- ments he arose, and slinging a huge piece on his shoulder, made his way into the grove. From this he emerged in due time, and made his way toward us, motioning, meanwhile, for us to remain in our P ““Why didn’t you wish us to approach?” I asked, as soon as he cage within s x yee ell He made no answer, but thro his meat upon the ground, hastily mounted his horse, Then he spoke in a deep whisper: Pays, aia you s'pose there’s over twenty red-skins among them trees? “‘ Heavens! it isn’t possible!’’ I exclaimed. ‘It’s 80; I see'd em, and thar eyes are on us this minute. They're waitin’ for us to go on, an’ they’ll give us thunder,” ‘““What’s to be done?” queried Nat. , ‘* Jes’ keep still, an’ don't kick up, or they'll see it. We've got to make aran for it, Keep to me, and when I start, let your horses went.” ** But the meat?’ I hurriedly asked. ‘ove, next. to the ante- “Can't take it. Wemay have a long run, an’ our horses won't want to carry no extra load. I didn’t see thar animals, but I guess they ain’t mounted. y. With this, Biddon wheeled his horse, and vanis’: from his place with the speed of ieee, while ours almost simultaneously shot ahead like an arrow. An instant after, I heard the faint —_ of guns, and looking back, saw a host of savage forms pour- ing hastily from the timber. ‘No need of hurrying. They are not mounted,” I called out to Nat, who was hurrying his horse to the utmost. yi ' don’t believe it,’’ he exclaimed, speeding furi- ously on. “Go it, Todd! you'll fetch up at Laramie," yelled Biddon. The latter drew his horse into a steady canter, and indulged in several loud laughs at the fugitive. Nat continued on in his mad career, but, seeing how far behind he had left us, he reined up and awaited our approach. he savages, in the mean time, were hurrying on in pursuit. I know not what led them to expect any success in this chase, for, as remarked, not one was mounted. They may have had little faith in the speed or bottom of our horses, and trusted they would be able torun us down. Biddon half turned in his seat, and looking back a moment, asked: “Do you see that red, diggin’ like all mad off on one side? The one as is trying to surround us?” I glanced back and answered in the affirmative. ‘*Do you want to see a red drop in purty style?’ I answered again in the affirmative. “Wal, jis’ keep yer per on him.” So sa: , he raised his rifle, without checking the speed of his horse, took a quick aim along its long barrel and fired. To my pat sam sag = why e Indian uttered a wild shriek, and springing high in the air, fell to the earth. ‘‘He’s done for,’ remarked the trapper, quickly. Bok og I fodder my iron, s’posen you try your I raised mine to my shoulder, and pointing it toward a suspicious savage, pulled the trigger. As eye be expected, I came about as near to him as it wi take 1 uae time f to plish “Tt wi e a lo ime for me accom that feat,”’ said I. res ‘Wal, yer goes ag’in.” And again was the fatal rifle discharged, and again did a savage bite the dust. Still the pursuers maintained their ground, seem- ingly determined to overtake us at allhazards. They were separating and scatter yd over the prairie, with the evident intention of hemming us in. At this moment we came up to ey ey Eo ‘ Why on’t you run?” he patiently. “ They'll shoot us all afore we know it.” “é He had scarcely finished his words, when the suers did fire, and with an uncomfortable eff too. The bullets were pale: heard whistling through the air beside us, and one actually cut its way through the upper part of Nat's hat, some eight or ten inches from the crown of his head. He dodged nervously, and jerking the hat off his head, held it up to view. “Just look there!’’ he exclaimed, indignantly, putting his finger through the orifice. “What of it?’ gruffly asked Biddon. “That's a pretty question to ask, I should think! I swow I won't stand any such work as this.” (ae giving his horse the rein, he shot rapidly “JT guess we mought as well,” remarked Biddon, letting his horse have free rein. The race was now decided. At such as we went, of course the pursuers were soon behind, and in an hour not one was visible, all of them being either distanced, or having voluntarily withdrawn. It is not necessary to give the of our journey to the north-west. We continued traveling onw: for six days, when we reached the where it was intended we should remain until spring. This was much further northward than Is . in fact, it was but a few miles distant from the Hud- son Bay Territory, and upon one of the remote trib- utaries of the Missouri. We had entered a climate a wooded country. We had passed over no clear rairie during the day, and were in the midst of a eep wood e trees were of nearly every conceiv- able kind—cottonwood predominating, with oak, elm, ee ering, the 34 “ . the trapper headed directly stream for a short distance, when he turned to left and descended into a valley. Here he dis- mounted. , ~ Take yer fixin's,”’ said he, ‘and turn the hosses loose. “Won't they wander away,” I asked. “ Yourn may, but mine won't. Got to take your chances. "Tain’t likely they'll be ‘sturbed, ‘cept by grizzlies and reds.” It was a broad bottom of rich grass inclosed by thick walls of undergrowth. Here we left our horses, our saddles and ve YE staid verdes season, but didn’t 'spect to come.
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6 Beadle’s HalfDime Library. back. Howsumever, I changed my mind, and yer weis. Move keerful and don’t make a bi trail.” We followed nearly a quarter of a mile directly up- stream, when he halted and looked carefully about “T don’t s’pose thar’s red "bout, but thar’s no tellin’. I didn’t see none last year, but they mought be "bout now. Jes’ hold on a minute.” The banks of the stream were fringed by a deep undergrowth upon both sides. Stepping forward to the water’s edge, the a r parted the branches, and glancing a moment within, motioned for us to ap- proach. “It’s all right,” said he, ‘‘ there hain’t been no reds pokin’ ’bout yer while I’s gone.” ‘With this he stoo and pushed a small canoe in- to the water and slip within it. ‘ We joined him, although our combined Mer en brought the frail vessel down to its very gunwales, It was made of bark after the Indian fashion, Me ht, butstrong. Biddon dipped a long Indian pad- die in the water and we moved slowly up-stream. After going a short distance, he again touched the bank, and from beneath another lot of shrubbery drew forth a number of beaver-traps, These were similar to the common trap used in all parts of the world, and set much after the same fashion, but with avery different bait, At every point where signs of the animals were visible, he dug down the bank, so as to make a certain side perpendicular. Just be- neath the surface of the water he then placed the . The next and last proceeding was to smear the bank around with a very odoriferous oil, obtain- ed from the beaver itself. This smell attracts the beavers in the vicinity, who immediately swim to the shore to learn more of it. The trap is so arranged that one is sure to place his foot directly upon it for support in ascending the bank, and the natural con- uence follows. He is caught and falls into his mor- enemy’s hands, “Ef we uon’t have a dinner on beaver-tails to- morrow, then I’m a beaver,” remarked Biddon, after he had set all his traps and headed his canoe down- stream. “A dinner on beaver-tails!’’ exclaimed Nat, in as- tonishment. ‘‘That must be a fine dinner, I swow.” “Tf you had read much of these animals, you would know that the part mentioned by Biddon is the most delicious and nourishing portion,” said I. * And when you gits a bite of it, you'll find it so, I ns 1"? recko “ Perhaps so,” replied Nat, doubtingly; “ but whar ar’ = going to take us?” * You'll find out when we get thar.” The trapper rowed the canoe quite a distance down- stream, me he sheered in to shore close to where a huge chestnut tree, larger than any I had ever be- fore seen, overhung the water. Its base was envel- oped by a mass of undergrowth, denser than com- mon, and we were obliged to stoop to the edge of the boat before —— oe — way ——_ it. a we sprung up a u up nd us, an thon nctiee’ that the pa aes was hollow, and had a deep orifice at its base. “ Foller,’’ commanded Biddon, stooping and crawl- e did so, although there was some hesitation ee my rt, and my astonishment was unbounded what P witnessed when within. At first nothin was visible but the darkness, and I stood, fearful o advancing or a ** Where are you, Biddon?” asked Nat, in a slight wavering tone. The next instant the trapper struc alight; and as its rays filled the chamber, I t, my astonishment was unbounded. We were stand- — ar an open space, at least eight feet in diameter. chestnut was but a mere shell, with its trunk but a few inches in thigkness at the most. The in- terior of this was fi up like a house. The rotten chunks upon the sides been torn down, and formed a pleasant, velvety carpet beneath the feet. All around the wails were hung numerous furs, and a pile at one side afforded a bed such as we had not enjoyed for weeks. Added to all this, there was an arrangement so as to make it perfectly easy and con- venient to kindle a fire. Nat was the first to express his unbounded astonishment, eer,” and he looked slowly about and above him, “What's that hole for?’’ he asked, pointing to a small orifice just visible far above us. , “That's for the smoke to go out.” “ But it must be likely to attract attention,” I re- marked. mense until only the opening, far above, was seen, re- sembling a faint star. The thickness of the wood, to- gether with the — number of furs, protected us so well from the cold, that there could be little need of fire in the coldest weather except for cooking pur- “This is rather odd, I allow, to you, Jarsey; but ef you had been with me down onthe Yallerstone, you'd seen suthin' as would ve made you look, you would, You may shoot me, ef you wouldn't.” pe | suppose I should, but not more than this has.” not; but don’t stand gapin’ there all day. It’s gittin’ dark, and we'll have our fodder.” The fire was patented, ee —— ro eee finely, esca; outlet. good slice of mea’ was Hacer gem we made a hearty supper upon it. After this the fire was allowed to slumber, but the light remained burning until a late hour. We lit our pipes, and chatted dreamily for a long time in our new home. The trapper, feeling in the mood, related many reminiscences of his life, including adventures both tragical and comical, and Nat gave a few of his own experiences. Ata late hour we ceased, and fell into a peaceful, dreamless slumber. | When I awoke the trapper had disappeared, Nat was stretched beside me, still asleep. In a short time the former entered as noiselessly as he had de- parted. ** What fortune?” I asked. “Good; had two fat fellers. Wake up, and we'll have a meal as is a meal.” Nat soon made a movement, and, after several yawns, became fully awake. The trapper kindled a small fire, and cooked his beaver-tails. The two made as choice and delicious a meal as I had ever eaten. Nat was convinced. The day was clear and pleasant, and Biddon ex- pressed his determination of going up the stream in order to see the signs of game. I accompanied him, but Nat chose to remain at home and sleep a few hours longer. We sauntered carelessly forth up the stream through the tangled underwood. It was a clear day in autumn; the air was keen and bracing, and the woods gloriously fine. Some of the leaves were just beginning to fall, and they made a dappled and fiery carpet for our feet, rustling with a soft, pleasant sound at every step. Now and then we could hear the shrill notes of some songster of the forest, and once or twice the faint bay of some distant animal. We had wandered some distance, when Biddon pro- oe turning back, as he had just discove he forgotten his pipe. I was too well pleased, how- ever, with the prospect to retrace my footsteps. Ac- cordingly, we parted company for a time, he remark- ing that probably he would return when he had re- gained his indispensable article. Left alone, I now wandered dreamily onward in a a reverie, hardly conscious of what I was do- ng, until I was recalled to my senses by the gran- deur of a new scene that suddenly burst upon my view. I had ascended a small rise on the bank of the stream, from which I had an extended view of the river. I stood for a moment es in the glories of the scene. Far behind could be discerned the broad bosom of the river, stretching away like a vast body of molten silver, bordered on each side by the mighty forest, until it disappeared in a sweeping curve, with- in the interminable wilderness. Above me the same winding course could be seen, pee Peron for several miles. Not a ripple distur the surface, save when a bird skimmed over it, just tipping its wings, and making a flashing circle or two, The blue sky above, unflecked by a le cloud, harmonized so well with the magnificent view, that I stood a long time, drinking in the splendor of the scene, eye was still ng upon the glistening bend of the river above, when the quietness of the scene was interrupted by a dark speck which suddenly came in view around a curve about a mile above. At first I supposed it to be some animal or log floating upon the surface; but as I looked at it, I saw to my astonishment that it was a canoe coming down- stream. Several forms were visible, yet their num- ber, at that distance, was uncertain. The bright flash of their paddles was visible in the morning sun- shine, and they maintained their place near the cen- ter of the stream. I scrutinized them, vainly, to make out their num- ber, until it occu to me that it would be best to make myself invisible. The approaching canoe might contain nothing but Indians, and it was not desirable that our presence in this section should be known to any but ourselves. I slipped behind the trunk of a tree, nearer the water, yet still upon the Son ache which entirely concealed my body m . From this point I watched the approach of the canoe with interest. Soon it came h enough to enable me to distinguish the forms within it, ere were two Indian warriors, seated, each with a paddle in his hands, but not using them, except to keep the canoe in the charinel, and in the stern, with a guiding oar, sat a young female. I sup her a squaw, belonging to the same tribe with her com- panions, and scru her as closely as ny po- dress, gayly orumented wisn sealed portsbine: ornamen Ww porcupine- quills an beads and a brilliant crimson shawl en- veloped her slight form. The savages maintained their places as motionless as statues, their gaze ap- parently resting upon the stream behind them; while that of the female was fixed upon the stream in front, and her whole attention absorbed in direct- ing her canoe. know not whether the inmates discovered me be- fore I concealed myself, but I fancied I detected a — of the Indians at my hi -place, as they loated slowly by, and some cause led the female when directly opposite, and but a few hundred feet distant, to turn her face toward me. Judge of my astonishment, at perceiving that she was not an In- dian—but a white woman! Her appearance, as she turned her gaze directly upon the spot where I was standing, I can never forget. She was so close at d, and my view so perfect in the clear sunlight, that I saw every feature, The pale white face, sur- rounded by dark, luxuriant hair falling upon the shoulders, the dark eyes shaded by long inky lashes, and ‘the mute, untranslatable look, haunted me for many a night after. She merely glanced toward me, and slowly floated past. Dropping upon my hands and knees, I crept hasti- ly from the knoll into the undergrowth below, and made my way hurriedly but ote to the stream. I could not have been over a minute in so doing, but when I reached the water, and peered through the bushes, not a trace of the canoe was visible. I look- ed closely into each shore, up and down the stream, everwhere that I could look, but could not detect the slightest ripple or movement to account for this birt a sappearance, For over an hour I wait- in the hope that the canoe would reappear, but I saw nothing more of it. CHAPTER V. CONVERSATIONS AND PLANS, Tue disappearance of the canoe, although singu- lar in itself, had nothing supernatural about it. The shrubbery, which overhung the water on either shore offered a secure and impenetrable hiding-place, an a few dextrous, vigorous strokes of the oars were all that was needed to send it beneath their shadows, That this had been done, was plainly evident. Yet why had it been done? What motive was there for concealment? And why, if apprehensive of danger, had the Indians waited till they were in its vicinity? I carefully retraced my steps down-stream again. The whole proceeding was mysterious. I had, doubtless, exposed myself while watching the canoe and its occupants, and thus betrayed to an enem our presence in their country. What would result from this I could not conjecture, and determined to make every thing known to the trapper. But then I felt somewhat fearful of this. He would, doubt- less, be incensed at my thoughtlessness, which might compél him to leave a country offering such inducements to the trapper and fur-trader; and I argued it was not certain that I had really been seen by the Indians in question. If they meditated hos- tility, Biddon would be warned soon enough for all parpoeeie aad so I decided to keep my own secret or the Fe anace But the question which occupied my thoughts, al- most to the exclusion of every thing else, was the identity of the female in the canoe. What could bring a white maiden to these wild regions? What meant her LS orgign's in the canoe with two Indian warriors? at if she was the child which Biddon had referred to, as being captured upon the night of the massacre? This thought intensified the interes I already felt_in her. I believed she had seen me; and her silent look toward the shore had something more than curiosity in it. I imagined there was a mute, eloquent appeal in those dark eyes. I reached the tree, and, stooping upon my hands and knees, crawled within. The movement had well- nigh cost me my life. As my head entered I en- countered the alarmed visage of Nat, and Biddon, with his knife drawn, just prepared to spring upon me. “You liked to got rubbed out that time!’’ he ex- claimed, replacing his weapon, ‘ What made you forgit the sign?” “It must have been because it did not occur to me,” I laughed; “‘I have had no occasion to use it, and forgot it altogether; but I will remember it, be assu in future.” - “You'd better, for I was just going to shoot, too,’” ras gd rising to his feet, and then seating him- self a, , “You shoot!” repeated Biddon, contemptuously. “Your shooter ain’t loaded!" “T forgot that. I wonder if I couldn’t load it, say?” he indignantly demanded. “Yes, in course, if the reds waited fur yer.”’ Nat made no reply to this, except that of instantly to lo Ss piece. As it was near noon, e meal was prepared—this time from the beaver’s body. The hair was singed off from a piece, which was then cooked in the usual manner, " although bine’ f — was not equal to the tail of the ani- mal, the meat being more tough and oily. Shortly after, the trapper aces for the ae en of visiting his traps, and setting new ones. alone with Nat I determined to impart to him my morning's experience. mn Nat, Ihave seen Indians,” I remarked, in a quiet ne. “ You hain’t!” he exclaimed, starting up from his bed of skins with such suddenness as to break the remains of his pa “T have; and what is more, they have seen me.” “T should think it was considerably more! What did you do? I didn’t hear you shoot, Why didn’t you tell Biddon? Min ag t you—why, it seems to me you're very cool about it.”” “There is no occasion for excitement atall. Just iene quiet, and I will tell you how it all hap- pen Ly And thereupon I related the particulars. Nat’s wonder and apprehension were roused to the high- est pitch, Springiig to feet, he pulled his hat violently over his fore and striding about a mo- ment, demanded; os didn’t you tell Bill? Like as not he'll be shot and before he gets back.” at hae a tin tik then vod Liigwiiile eaia ~ no! not a bit; but then you know it’s rather os grvveig to feel that those inte eet are pee and waiting for a chance to shoot you aoe : “* every Misoel ** Nat,” I commenced, earnestly, “you ou are not afraid of Indians, and Wy, you show t in every word, look, and action, Thereis no excuse for this. Isaw only two savages, and a girl, evidently a captive. They disap suddenly, and were, ety, frightened at my presence, I see nothing this to excuse the excitement and terror you have vA ter who tha a wonder w : “Tam roe PS have to wonder a long time.” ie she good looking?” asked my com ion, seri- ously. " Very. What makes you ask that question?”
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*“T declare, if I don’t marry her just to spite Alminy, and make Bill Hawkins mad,” he exclaimed, joyously. At this point I could restrain my mirth no longer; but as Lindulged it, I was considerably surpri to ‘feel a slight twinge of jealousy at his words. “Tam afraid you will meet with formidable ob- | stacles, before you accomplish that; the most diffi- | eult of which will be to obtain an audience of the fair | one herself,” : “Don’t suppose she'll be very anxious to see me; | and I wouldn’t care if 1 only had my pipe and jack- | knife to pass away the time with.” “T think it would be as well not to mention this affair to Biddon.” | ““Why not?” “Tt can do no good, and he would be displeased at | the thoughtlessnessI have evidenced. I do not think | there are savages enough in the vicinity to render us | fearful of our safety. The canoe, I am disposed to Mernrites, belongs to some tribe quite distant from ere. ‘*But what are they here for?” “T can only conjecture. Biddon has never seen savages in this particular section, and these may be returning from some journey to their tribe.” / ‘Perhaps so, and may be not. These plagued In- jins sometimes live in one place and sometimes in another, you know, and it may be that a notion has | ane entered their heads to come and live in these a “There is reasonin what you say, but, as I stated, | if danger threatens, Biddon will detect its signs him- self in time.” “T think he will, though I shall feel a little flus- | tered every time he goes out. You remember when | he was after the antelope, he walked — among | the Injins, without knowing it till it was late to | stop.’ Vite did, itis true, but how nicely he walked out again. I tell you, Nat, that fellow has nerve equal to any emergency. What man, when conscious of an ph Mee | foe being concealed within a few feet of him, could have repressed every sign of trepida- tion or fear, as he did?” “Tt was a clever oy I allow.” “Biddon told me he felt a little nervous when he saw us start to come up, for, if we had reached him, it would have been all up with us. Such a man, I re- peat, will scent danger soon enough, without the hel» of others.” girl He will, and I hope he'll find out who that white rl is.” ‘*Nat, do you remember the account Biddon gave some time ago of a horrible massacre, upon the | sandy island near where we Kee one night?” | pa ant think there is much likelihood of my for- tting it.’ Nahe You will also recall the account of the oapture of | a small child by the savages? Now, it has occurred e ~ that this might be that child grown to woman- ood.” ““T know it is!” exclaimed Nat, joyously. “Tt is true there is much against it. It was a great distance from here, but, as these sav wander hundreds of miles at times, it is not improbable, upon that ground. Instances are only too common 8 ine ust m sons spending their lives in captivity amo: Indian tribes, She is a captive, no doubt, an long for restoration to her home and friends. ‘As I said, we will say nothing of this to Biddon, until he discovers signs of Indians himself. To-mor- row, we will go forth together, and spend the day in endeavoring to gain traces of the canoe and its in- mates; and if anything is discovered which is alarm- ing, we will impart it all to him.” is Nat agreed to, and a after we heard three raps upon the outside of the tree—the trap- per’s signal of his presence. A moment after he made appearance. He was considerably elated | at his prospect for a goodly quantity of furs; had set | a number of traps; was sure of half a dozen next day; had seen no signs of Indians, and was convinced there were none in the vicinity. None of us passed out again that day, but remained indulging in our pipes and conversation as usual until a late hour. é next ee Br a cept roposed that I | should accompany h ae daily round. I com- | plied, while Nat remained behind. The day was as warm and B arom as the preced- | ing one, aud the forest and stream as delightful. Biddon paddled slowly up the unrippled surface, and | in a short time reached the first trap; it had not been | disturbed. Still hopeful, he passed on to the second | and third, and all the others. But there were no s of beaver in any. ) ‘Shoot me, that’s quar’!”’ he exclaimed, thought- fully, as he saw the last one. ‘I don’t understand | it; | must git out and take a look round,” He sprung ashore, and minutely examined the | ground around. A few seconds sufticed, He looked up with a gleam of deep meaning, and said: ‘‘Here’s the track of a thunderin’ moccasin. The | << have pod Into E bg e step nto the canoe, and, taking the paddle. moved it carefuily back again Sa touched E each trap on the way. The footprints of a stranger were visible at each. “Thar’s been a beaver taken out of that one!” he remarked, as the last one was reached, ‘It’s lucky | for the sneakin’ coward that I didn't see him. He | wouldn’t ’sturbed any more gentlemen's traps.” . “Are you sure it’s an Indian who has been annoy- ou?” me Wagh ! Don’t you s’pose I could tell a red’s track from a Nee Ae “ But it mig might have been a white man—some hun- ter or trapper?” I ested. “A white man wouldn't be mean’nough to do sich | a thing, “less he war some of these Hudson Bay fel- | | jerked it off his head, and threw it spitefu | Theard a the thing Wash loaded Al lers. They vot come up to. at mine, and the way I walked into him war a cau- tion. But this ar’ an Injin’s track,” .“*Do you suspect there could be a number in the vicinity?” “Ef there war I'd ve heard of ’em afore. This is some varmint sneakin’ round yer, and he’s got to be rubbed out afore he makes more trouble.” “T fear that will be a difficult and dangerous job.” ‘** Let me be for that.” Shortly after we reached our home, and running the canoe beneath the bushes, entered it. We were somewhat surprised to find Nat absent. He return- ed, however, in a short time, and I saw at once by his nervous, flustered manner that something unusual had occurred. Biddon questioned him rather closely, as he suspected something, but Nat evaded his in- we abaiy and would not admit that he had seen any- thing to excite alarm. “I’m goin’ out, and when I come back I'll tell you what's the matter with them traps,” said Biddon, deporting, waited until he was beyond hearing, and then turning to wit companion, asked: ‘* What is the matter with you, Nat?” “Why?” he asked, with a start. “ Because you show plainly that something has oc- curred,”’ He remained silent a moment, then rere | his hat, ly down, where he gazed at it a second, exclaiming: “T’m sick of this!” “Sick of what?” “Why, of being in this fix.” “T don’t understand you. Please explain what you mean.”’ “T should think you ought to know.” * But I do not.” “Why, this wood is full of Injins; they’re behind every tree and stump, and in every bush, and you can ardly step without pitching over some painted heathen,’ “I’m afraid you are exaggerating,” I answered, suppressing a smile which was struggling at the cor- ners of my mouth, “No, Lain’t. I swow there are ten thousand Injins just waiting outside to pounce upon us,”’ ‘You are talking nonsense, and you know it.” “Well, there’s one Injin, for I seen him. Come now,” he affirmed, as if the matter was now settled beyond a question. ‘Ah! that alters the case considerably. I shouldn't wonder at all if there is one or a half-dozen savages in the forest.” * ou see one savage haven’t you a right to sup- . ere’s a hun more about, I should like to now?” “Not always, Nat; I have seen three myself, yet I | do not believe there is another one in the neighbor- hood. But I have not heard the particulars of this affair of which you have been speaking. Please let me hear them.’ “There isn’t much to tell, but there is enough to make you do a heap of ng. You see, after you had left, I took a notion that I must have a morning ramble; and I thought, too, there might be such a a as hp two running into danger and _ needing my help (I should like to know what you are laughing at). Taking my rifle, I was soon making way as noiselessly as pond, in a direction from the river. “T hadn't gone more than a dozen yards before I commenced thinking about Injins, and came nigh going back again. I wasn't afraid at all, you know ut then it appeared to me I might bring you and Biddon into trouble. However, I kept.on. I had gone some distance further, when all of a sudden I heard a terrible whirr and rattle, and jumped clean off my feet. But it was only a big ow) which I had stirred up. I was so provoked at the start he gave me that I ould have wrung his neck had I got my hands upon him. But I wenton, Pretty soon I reached a little stream of water, and as I jumped across, what do -~ suppose I saw in the sand?” “*T am sure I can not tell.” “Nothing less than a big moccasin-track. And what was more, it hadn’t been made there a week before! Istood and looked at it a good while, cogi- tating some wonderful things. At last I stooped and went to measuring it. Iwas fn going to rise, when t right by me. I jumped up so quick— to be ready, you know—that I floundered ard into the water. And may I be shot if there wasn’t a big painted Injin standing not ten feet off, He didn’t say a word, but just stood and looked at me with them awful eyes of his. As soon as I could think, I raised my gun, took a quick aim, and drew the trig- er; but the infernal mw a I pulled it n, ut it wouldn't en I happened to thnk this time the painted imp stood ning at me, without i a word, ' except to kinder be He had a big gun in one hand, and I was dreadful afraid he would shoot it. I told him not to stir, but to stand still till I got mine loaded, and he waited. But somehow or other, I s’pose I was in such a hurry that things wouldn’t go right. Instead of putting the powder in the -barrel I crammed it in my pocket, and ammed the ramrod into my shoe. I told the to ve patience and I'd ely! loaded in a minute. I t it fixed somehow at 5 and hauled it jy ted cof | shoulder, when, no Injin was there! I looked behin all about me, and up into the trees, but he’d been spirited away somewhere. However, I made up my mind to shoot at the spot where he had st and I up and blazed away. That is I blazed away with- out the gun going off. I believe he spirited that too.”’ “Let me-examine it. Perhaps you made some blunder.” “No, I’m sure I didn’t.” 7 I took the rifle with a smile of certainty that I should find something the matter with it. Sure enough the muzzle was crammed with paper, and upon removing it, a pipe-stem, broken in pieces, rolled out, while there was not a grain of powder in the barrel. “T declare I forgot abovt the powder!” exclaimed Nat, opening his Me in wonder. “But not about the bullet,’ I laughed, pointing to the fragments of his Nat picked up the carefully. “That's my pipe sure; and I had it in my mouth, I remember, when I started out, and missed it com- ing back. I didn’t gr it in the gun though.” “Let it pass. Did you see no more of your Indian friend?” ‘*No; he knew enough to keep out of my way. I waited a long time for him, and at last started home again. I kept an eye on every suspicious object, but, as I just said, seen nothing.” At this point I gave free vent to my pent-up mirth. Nat, much astonished, looked wonderingly at me, seemingly at a loss to understand the cause. “I do not see what there is to laugh at,” he re- marked, reprovingly. “If it’s a laughing matter to know that there are Indians all about you, why you must laugh.” “Your adventure with the Indian, Nat, and the singular load in your rifle, appears to me a funny matter, and I trust you will pardon me if—” “Didn't I tell you I didn’t put itin there? It was the Injin’s work.’ And to this day Nat cannot be made to believe that he was instrumental in introducing the pipe into his gun. After a few more unimportant remarks, the con- versation ceased. Nat’s adventure began to ort to me in a different form from that in which I had viewed it at first. I doubted not but that he was perfectly honest and truthful in what he said. But why, when exposed to the will of the savage, did he escape unscathed? Why did the latter stand fear- less and harmless before him? And what meant these sti sigus, these ‘‘footprints,’’ which were becoming visible around us? tters were assum- ing a puzzling form, We were being environed by Indians without = evidence of hostility upon their . What meant it? Surely there was a meaning deep and hidden for us to divine as yet. Suddenly Nat spoke. “Don’t you remember the canoe? We were going to hunt for that to-day!” “ Ah, how did I forget that? But had we not bet- ter wait till Biddon returns?” “No; let us go at once. Hark! what’s that?” I held my breath, as the distant report of a rifle reached our ears. The next instant came a sound, faint and fdr away yet clear and distinct—a horrid unearthly sound, as the cry of a being in mortal agony ! ipe. frogiients and examined them CHAPTER VI. STILL IN THE DARK—THE CANOE AGAIN. For a moment we stood paralyzed. Then our eyes sought each other with a look of fearful in- quite % 39 ‘‘Was that, Biddon’s voice?” I asked, in a faint whisper. “T don’t know. There it is again.” And again came that wild, howling shriek of such agony as made our blood ecurdle within us. “Tt is his voice/ Let us hasten to his aid,’ I ex- a my rifle and springing out. Nat followed closely, gun having been reloaded. The cry came from up the river, and toward it we dashed, scramb! and through the brush and und wth like two maddened animals, heed- less of what the consequence might be. Several times we halted and listened, but heard nothing save our own panting breasts and leaping hearts. On again we dashed, looking hurriedly about us, until I knew we had ascended as high as could be the author of that startling cry. Here we paused and listened. No one was to be seen. I turned toward Nat, stan behind me, and directly behind him I saw Biddon slowly approaching. “ What are you doin’ here?” he asked, as he came up. Ri Was not that your voice I just heard?” “T rather reckon it wa’n't. When you hear Bill Biddon baw] out in that way, jist let me know, will er?” “What was it?” I asked, greatly relieved. “That's more nor me can tell; but shoot and skin me, if I can’t tell you one thing,” he approached Chogely and whispered, ‘“‘there’s sunkthin’ else nor reds about yer.” “What do you mean?” I asked, although I under- stood well enough what he meant. “T's here once afore, as I told yer, and I never heerd sich goin’s on then. I’ve see’d the tracks of moccasins all about the traps, but can’t draw bead on the shadder of a red-skin.”’ _“ You heard that horrid howl, didn’t you?” '“ Heerd it! I should think I did.” “Was it_you who shot?” “Yes; the way on it was this: I got on a plain trail and follered it up hereabouts, when cotched the glimpse of a Blackfoot’s feather goin’ down through the bushes there, and blazed away at I never missed a red in my life, and I didn’t phe per iy se Sear ja Or eas . on ot aw: as he went out o: that orfal yell pn {Bg It didn’t seem that he madeit, but it sounded like as though ‘twas all about above and under the ground, and around and behind ur't; me. | “Anywhere near us?” asked Nat.
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g SS ee ae ee t . at it, 8 “Tt sounded jist under your feet about.” ‘* Jerusha!’”’ exclaimed the affrighted Nat, as he sprung nervously toward me. “Tt must have been the Indian who made that yell,” said L “In course; but things are beginnin’ to look quar- ish to me.” The same look of uneasiness again passed over the trapper’s face; and I saw that although he strove to hide it he was by no means at rest. Matters were beginning to put on an unusual aspect, and that was the reason, . Give the trapper of the north-west flesh and blood to contend against, let him know that nothing supernatural is arrayed against him, and he is the last manin the world to yield an inch. But the moment he sees something unexplainable to his simple mind (and the trapper is a credulous being), his courage deserts him. He believes that other spirits than those of men visit this earth, and they are his greatest horror. “Let’s go home; there's Injins all around us,” pleaded Nat. “How'd you know?” “Because I seen one myself.” Biddon looked inquiringly at me, and deeming it best, I related the incident given in the ing chapter. I saw at once his uneasiness was increased. i y didn’t you shoot the red-skin?’’ he asked of at. ae didn’t you shoot the red-skin?’’ added Nat, urn, pai did—hit him fair and square as I ever hit any- thing. * But didn’t do any more good than I did.” Ay a 7 ANC: We ANE we Ny, Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. “No doubt about that. I’ve been thinking that some of them helped off that fellow when I was load- ing my gun.”’ ‘We rete as well go back ag’in,” said Biddon. “T’m tired of huntin’ spirits, and I dunno but what we'd better move traps and leave this place to ’em.” *“*That’s what I am in favor of—” Nat suddenly paused, for Biddon, with a slight “sh!” motioned us down. We sunk quickly and silently to the earth, while he, in a crouching posi- tion, gazed steadily up-stream. ‘What is it, Bill?” whispered Nat. “ There's a canoe comin’ down-stream!”’ We said nothing; and Nat looked meaningly in the water. “Skin me, if there ain’t two reds and a squaw in it,’ added Biddon, without changing his position, or removing his gaze. I could not restrain the singular agitation that came over me at this moment. Fearing to betray myself, I cautiously arose beside Biddon, ‘Let me take a look,”’ I whispered. “Be keerful you ain’t seen,” he whispered, in turn, as he stepped back. As I looked, I saw, not more than two hundred yards distant, the canoe approaching, heading di- rectly toward us. For this reason, I could only see the foremost Indian, though I was positive another. together with the white captive, was in it. I gazed but a moment, and then looked inquiringly at the trapper. He made no reply, but again peered forth. “That ain’t a squaw; it’s a white gal,” said he, looking round upon us with an astounded look. ‘*Shall we rescue her?” I asked. ** How is yours, Greeny?” Nat lifted bis, examined the lock and looked into thebarrel. He had indeed discharged it, grazing the i head so closely as to wound his ear. ‘““Wonder if that was my gun? Sure, I believe it was,’ he remarked, still looking into the barrel. “Was it your gun?” repeated the trapper, his brow darkening like a thunder-cloud, and laying his hand ope his knife-handle, as he approached. Nat look- up and started as he saw his visage fairly gleam- ing with passion. i z i plans shoot it, Bill, by thunder!” he expostu- ated, The face of the trapper changed. It grew paler, but the dark cloud fied from it. He replaced the drawn knife. He believed the words of Nat. Matters were approaching a crisis. The recent startling events had their effect upon us all. The pain, gal avowed he could not stand “ sich goin’s on,” and should leave for some other quarters. Little sleep came to Nat that night. His adventure with the savage, and the more recent occurrence alarmed him. He had discovered that there were consequences to be feared from both sides. I was still unwilling to believe that there was any thing in the, events given which would not be soon explained. It was evident our foes were around, and from some inexplicable cause, had pursued an un- usual course toward us. We had all been exposed to their power, yet had esca harmless. What was the meaning of this? And, above all, what was the object of the appearance and disappearance of the canoe at the different times mentioned? These questions prompted my anxious curiosity, “THAT AIN'T A SQUAW, IT’S A WHITE GAL,” SAID BILL, LOOKING ROUND UPON US WITH AN ASTOUNDED LOOK.—Page 8. ““T made the infarnal imp hov'l."’ ‘* And I made mine grunt,”’ added Nat, triumph- antly. Me There is no need of bm Linte . “Each of you did your best, Nat included. You, Bill, I be- lieve, hit your man and mortally wounded him. That yell was of agony, though I can't conceive how we came to mistake it for yours. The dead or dying body of that Indian, I believe, is near at hand. what does that mean?’ I asked, asI detected some red fluid dripping from the limb of a bush to the earth. The trapper stepped forward and looked t “That's the blood of a Blackfoot, or I’m a skinned beaver !’’ he remarked, with a glow of relief. * ste convinced that’s Injin blood,” added Nat, rubbing it between the tip of his finger and thumb. . ‘‘ The blood of a Blackfoot Injin, too—a man’s about ogy two: years old, Probably a bro- ther to the one I frightened.” ‘“‘ Biddon, I believe, as I just said, that we will find = body of that savage, near at hand. Let us fol- low it.” *‘ Jes’ what I's going to do,” he replied, starting at once. It was easy to follow the trail, as every step was marked by blood, which in many places was drip- ping from the bushes to the ground. It was fol- owed but a short distance, however, as it led in a direct line to the river. 7 “It’s as Ls’pected,” said Biddon, turning round in a . ‘‘He’s taken to the water to hide his trail, and jes’ as like as not some of the other painted hea- then have helped him off.” ‘Ef she wants us to, in course.” “You going to shoot them?”’ asked Nat, anxiously. “Can't tell yit. Jest see that yer irons is ready, and we'll wait till they get out yer. Don't make no noise till I give the motion.” The trapper stole a yard or two infront of us, where he sunk ag down upon his facé till only his head was visible. Nat fingered his gun nervously beside me, while I, not a whit less tated, waited for the canoe to appear through the interstices of the bushes in front. In a moment [heard the faint iy aed an oar, and saw the trapper slowly raising his and bringing his rifle in front of him. He raised his hand warn- ingly for us to remain quiet until the moment should arrive. I heard the click of my companion’s gun, as he raised the hammer, and admonished him to be careful, Suddenly I saw the red head-dress of one of the say. glitter through the bushes, and, before I could speak, came an explosion beside me like the crash of a thunderbolt, Almost simultaneously, the herculean frame of the trapper bounded over me, and he exclaimed: ** Who fired that? I’m shot.” Nat and I sprung to our feet and dashed after him; but as I turned, though bewildered with excitement, I looked at the spot where the canoe was seen. It was gone! We dashed up the bank, and in a moment reached Biddon, The excitement had completely gone, and he stood coolly feeling his ear. ‘Was that your gun, Jarsey?” he asked. “No, sir; mine is still loaded.” and a desire to learn more of that mysterious be whom I had now twice seen. I ridiculed the ideas o Biddon, and Nat strove hard to convince him that he was not afraid. Biddon consented to remain un- til more was learned, intimating, at the same time, that it must be very soon. He visited the horses each day, and found them undisturbed. This, how- ever, only added to his anxiety. Had they heen ‘one he would have taken it as convinc roof 0 ees were bona fide Indians in the neighbor- The next day, after the closing scene of the last chapter, Nat to accompany me for the last time to the where we had seen the canoe. The frengrs. could not be prevailed upon to go, affirming that he should probably have his hands full at home. It required my utmost skill to succeed with Nat, as the horror had plainly settled upon him. “Tt’s awful,” said he, as we started, “this walking right into danger, but I want fo see that canoe ag’in, and especially that gal, and so I'll go.”’ “ And, I trust, behave yourself. You well know, Nat, you fired that shot which came so near ending Biddon’s life.” “Wonder if I did pull the trigger!” he exclaimed, suddenly stopping and looking around at me, “You know you did, and had he known it too it would have been a sorry piece of business for you, ie temper of his is terrible, when it is once ex- cited,” “T remember cocking my gun and kind of pulli the trigger, but I didn’t mean to pull hard enough to make it go off.” “I suppose not, I cannot conceive how Biddon
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persuaded himself to believe that you did not dis- charge it when the case was self-evident. But he is willing to believe almost anything since he has started.” We kept upon our way. Upon each of the occa- sions betore, as near as I could judge, it was about noon the canoe made its appearance; and as it was that time now, we hurried forward, lest the oppor- tunity should pass. The opportunity, I say—for al- though it had appeared but twice as yet, I somehow or other was well satisfied we should see it again. ““What are you going to do?” asked Nat. 7 “Tt will depend upon what wesee. If simply those two savages with the captive, as we judge her to be, are in the canoe, and no demonstration is made, I think it best not to attempt a rescue. It is only a supposition of ours that she is a captive, and we know not that she would thank us for interfering in her case.” : In a short time we reached the elevation already mentioned. Here we seated ourselves so as to re- main concealed from any aprageiers in the vicinity, while we ourselves with a little care could detect the vy. nape object passing. As I stooped, my hand | n contact with something cold, and upon at it, I saw it covered with dark, clotted I started, and wiped it on the grass, but it Jooki ooking blood. sent a shudder through me to reflect that it had once | been the life-fluid of a human being. “Ugh!” exclaimed Nat; ‘‘ain’t that awful?” ‘Tt is disagreeable, to say the least.” * Just look at the blood on the grass, too, and all around, I believe Bill must have hit a half-dozen Injins, sure.”’ THERE, MOTIONLESS AS A STATUE, HER SLIG “He must have wounded one terribly to make him bleed like this.” ‘And if he had been a flesh-and-blood Injin he would have never nreuanes in that manner. I tell ou, William Relmond, there is something more than umanabout us. I can feelit inmy bones, and I'm of Biddon’s opinion, that the sooner we get away from here the better.”’ “Fudge! Isee you are beginning to get alarmed.” “Oh, no; you are mistaken. I am not frightened at all. For Biddon’s sake, bu more especially for he Iam anxious. If you are desirous of remain- ng hereabouts, and will take all the consequences, I will make no objections.” “Of course, if I run into danger of my own ac- cord, I expect that I alone will suffer the penalty.” “Then we needn't say anything more about it; you know we pledged ourselves to remain true to each other, and I won’t desert you,” That's well spoken, Nat. The minute I am sat- isfied that our lives are imperiled, Ishall not be the means of prolonging t ril a moment. It is only this great desire to solve and understand the singular occurrences that are a around us, that leads me still to remain. I have determined that to-day we shall be satisfied, ; “My curiosity is extraordinarily high; but I guess that gal has as much to do with it as anything else. I’m determined to get a glimpse of her face, and, if ,0ssible, whisper in her ear that Nat Todd, from ine, is about. I flatter myself that the minute she knows that, she will jump overboard and make for shore without moving: a word to the chaps with her. “The greatest culty will be to convey your Bill Biddon, Trapper. words to the captive, without conveying it also to her captors.” - “I swow, it would be harder than I thought at rst. During this conversation, which was carried on in a half-whisper, Nat was constantly parting the bushes and peering through them, while now and then I aarea expectantly up the stream; but noth- ing as yet had rewarded our watchfulness, Sudden- ly I reflected that, as I had been twice defeated in observing the disappearance of the canoe, from the exact spot upon which we were now seated, we might make a better arrangement of ourselves, so as to insure this coveted knowledge to one of us at least. I mentioned this to Nat. “Tf one of us was on the t’other side, the thing would be certain, but that can’t be done very con- veniently, and we shall have to try something else.” “Suppose you go down-stream about a hundred | } yards, near the bend yonder,” I proposed to Nat. ‘Guess I will,” he exclaimed, as.he rose to go. “Wait a moment,’ said I, detaining him. your own safety depends upon it. ._Remember thata word or false movement, however slight, may de- feat our plans. Look out for danger to yourself, and not let your pours j be the means of your destruc- tion. é very careful.” I know not what led me to thus warn him; but at | the moment he arose to go, an unaccountable sense of impending danger came over me. It was not so | much for myself as for him that I felt thus. He | promised to heed my words and departed. HT FORM WRAPPED IN As soon as he had disappeared, I cast another look up-stream, but still there were no signs of the ex- pected canoe, and a sudden apprehension that I should not see it again came over me. There was, in fact, as much reason not to expect it as to antici- pate its coming, and as I looked up at the sun and saw that it was already beyond the hour, I was half- tempted to turn back. While I was debating, I natu- rally looked up the river, and there, just rounding the berd where the canoe had first come into view be- fore—thee it was coming. bret with agitation, I sunk upon the ground, and gave a low whistle as a signal to Nat. He returned it, as an evidence of his watchfulness. I saw that from where I was seated, the view would be more obstructed when the canoe was nearest. Ac- cordingly I te cautiously and quickly nearer the water's edge. his time, however, I slightly varied my course, and concealed myself behind the trunk of a fallentree, This was within a yard of the water, and afforded complete concealment, I noticed the —— rotten and ne reine hollow. ere I lay, and intently listened and watched. A few moments and an almost inaudible ripple was heard, and the canoe was opposite. I exercised ex- treme caution, and was fortunate enough to obtain a perfect view of each of the occupants. They were the same—the dark, malignant faces of the savages, and the fair features of the captive. She sat in the stern, her hand resting gently upon a guiding-oar, and her gaze fixed upon the stream in front. The canoe floated with the current, and not a paddle was stirred, nor the least motion made by the beings be- fore me. The head-dress of the taplivd was, as men- tioned before, eagle-feathers A Ne na om r “Let | me admonish you to exercise no ordinary caution, | Nat, for you have seen enough to convince you that | 9 while the dark, waving masses of hung low — the shoulders, contrasting with the whiteness of her face. A heavy crimson shawl enveloped the form, as when first seen. The features were regular and, perhaps, in my state of feeling, their beauty was considerably enhanced; but the thought came upon me that if there were anything supernatural in my experience, it was in seeking such wonderful beauty as was now before me. Unconsciously I forgot myself as the canoe was gliding past, and before I was aware, it was hidden from view by intervening obstacles. I withdrew hastily, intending to hurry further down where the view would be more complete. I had taken but a step or two when Nat's rifle was discharged, and I heard distinctly the muffled sound of his voice. Wild with agitation, I dashed to the spot where I suppos- ed him to be. The view of the river at this point was —, and I turned to look at the canoe. It had van- ished! I looked round for Nat, but he, too, was gone. I called him, and once thought I heard a faint answer. But it was not repeated, and I could not tell its direc- tion. I reached the ground and beheld the tracks of others besides has own, I waited until near night, but Nathan Todd was never to return. CHAPTER VII. ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS. “ WHERE’s your friend?”’ There was apprehension in the question of the trapper, or he would not have called Nat, as he had A THICK MANTLE, STOOD THE FAIR, MYSTERIOUS CAPTIVE.—Page 18. | never called him before. The question was asked, too, the instant I appeared. “T cannot tell,”’ 1 answered, seating nyself gloom- y. ““Whar’d you leave him?” “T cannot answer that, either. He went with me to watch the river, as you remember. Espying that canoe, he concealed himself a few yards away, in or- der to obtain a better view. Since then I have seen nothing of him.” y- es it be whe shot?” d HI “Tt sounded like his , althoug am not posi- tive that it really was. ™ ; “T heerd it an’ took it for him; and, shoot me, if I didn’t know he’d got into some scrape,”’ “*T fear he has, and the last one, too,” “My thoughts, ‘zactly. Luckily you did not, too.” “T came nearer than I wish to again, Biddon. I can tell you, that Iam willing to leave this place as soon as you wish, Let us leave to-morrow. Are you willing? “T'll go to-night if you want to.” “No; it will be best to wait until daylight. Ihave faint hopes that Nat may return,” “Waugh! you'll never see him again, and ef we're "bout yer another day, we'll never see each other n. _ *T think he has been only captured by some lurk- ing enemy, from whom he may won yet No, sir; I tell you he’s gone, and I reckon as how vc Perhaps Sok ane right, Bidd Ith erhaps you are right, Biddon, although I shall be loth to Iaave the vicinity when I am Be satisfied ° e,"?
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a —— eg ee es ree | | | | a 10 — Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. a “Tm satisfied, an’ you oughter be. Leastways, I’m goin’ to-morrow, an’ you kin stay and play with those Blackfeet as long as you like. I’ve been up to see the horses, and fixed things so as to start as soon as daylight. Any ’jections?”’ ** None at all.” “Then ‘tis settled, and let’s snooze.” But it was by no means settled. As I lay that night ruminating upon the scenes through which I | | surrounding me rumbled and groaned as though oromised to re- | had so recently passed, the pledge that I had made with Nat came back to me. I had main by him as long as there was hope; to desert him now, would be a violation of that vow, and an unworthy act upon my part. For us both to leave him would probab his fate if alive. It was by no means certain that if lost, he was irrecoverably ‘one, and I resolved if the trapper should depart on the morrow that I would remain. In making this resolution, perhaps it was not the desire alone to benefit my companion that prompted it, although I aver that that alone would have been sufficient. Unconsciously, almost, I found my thoughts ee at to the being who had been the cause of this trouble. At most, I could only speculate and Pe ta with regard to her. and the same speculations and conjectures I ha made before. Jndoubtedly she was a t intluence; and that she was the same maid re- erred to by Biddon, seemed certain to me. I had mentioned this thought to him, in the hope of per- suading him to remain. He started somewhat at the unexpected s estion, and, after a few mo- ments’ thought, admitted the probability of such be- ing the case. © my surprise I found I had completely defeated my own plans. ‘I kinder thought then, that little thing war suth- in’ more nor human, an’ ef it’s her, you see I’m urty sure now. No use talkin’, I shan’t stay here loaner than time — to start. It might be that gal, and ag’in it moug it mought- nt,” I said no more, for I saw it would be useless. tn’t. Shoot me When he had once determined be a matter there | ng him. He was satisfied that ‘‘spirits was no changi him, and there was but invisible *’ had encom one way of escaping them. He was now re ing beside me, oblivious to ex- ternal things; and as the night was far advanced, I lay down and slept. awoke early and caught a ge of Biddon as he departed, doubtless after the horses, in order to leave at once the place which had such terrors for him. In the course of a half-hour he returned. “The horses are waitin’,’’ said he. I arose and passed out. The three animals stood outside, a short distance away, each saddled and | prepared for travel. “Come, work liv and fetch them skins out,” 1 Bais £7 | the bashes toward him, and plucked the delicate said Biddon. I him until everything was readiness for starting. ‘*Jump on, and shoot me ef we won't soon be cl’ar of this outlandish place.” **Biddon I am not ing with you,” I said mildly. ‘* What?” he asked, loo ng wonderingly at me. ‘‘T intend to remain here.’ “Ogh! Jump on; it’s time we started.” “T said I was going to remain here.” “Do you mean it, Jarsey?” he queried, bending such a fierce look upon me. “Most certainly I do.”’ “Then all Bill n’s got to say is, you're a fool.” I colored slightly at this, but made no reply. Me er tostay fur? Get and lose yer ha’r, I eo ag 3 to Depo the reds.” “T am sorry, friend es that you feel thus. When Nathan Todd and I country, we pledged eternal friendship to each other, and Iam sure I should never feel at ease if I should leave him in this dire extremity. means satisfied that I can afford him no assistance. He has no claims upon you, and I should not expect ou to remain, but as I said, Lam determined not to eave this place untii I have obtained satisfactory in- formation of him.” The trapper remained silent a few minutes, then ke. PT s’pose you mean right, Jarsey, but you're awful simple, Yer’s as what hopes you'll find the other chap right side up and squar’ with his ha’r on, but I don't ’spect your ha’r "ll be yer’s to-night. Howsum- ever, you're bound to , L see, so yer’s good luck. I'd like to stay with you, but I ain’t backward to say Bill Biddon knocks under (his time.” He reached his hard, horny hand, and I took it. “Good-by Bill, I hope we shall meet again. We have not n long acquainted, but I trust long enough to be friends.” ‘** And you'll remember as how old Bill Biddon did- n’t mean what he said just now.” * Certainly, certainly, I know you did not.” “Wal, -by it is, then.” F to one in the great wilderness of the North- west. After parti with Pied} remained stationary a long time, meditating upon the strange resolve that I had acted upon. If looked at with the common-sense view that the honest trapper gave it, I was sensible it was nothing less than a piece of recklessness upon my part, which only could be excused by the motives t actuated me. I felt some regret, certainly, at parting with Biddon, for that manly heart which throbbed within his massive breast drawn me toward him, and I knew he had come to me in a far diffe ent light than he did at first. However. I was h and could not e that { was never to see him again. Toward night the ere evidence of an approach- ing storm. A strong wind arose, and a melancholy, the States for this | \ ht sight of the bluish th fro | stant he cau pte Bi racy 's ead rifle, and, with i Iam by no | desolate moaning, like the precursor of winter, could be heard in the forest. Darkness came on earlier than usual, and, as I passed into the trapper’s home, the storm burst upon me. No one who has not wit- nessed a storm in the wilderness can appreciate the awful grandeur. AsI cowered within the heart of the old forest king, its power was subdued to my ears; | but enough reached them to give me an idea of the | shining in unclouded splendor. | so that I looked to captive | among a tribe of Indians, over whom she wielded a | | was submerged, it was out of the question to pursue | curious coincidence that = ! first and last glimpses _ the shores of the stream. terrific spectacle without. The huge sides of the tree it were yielding to the hurricane; the wind blew with such fury that at times it sounded as though wailing screams were rending the air above me; and the sharp Be amp of the trees riven by the mere! rivaled the crash of the thun- derbolt itself. As the mornin 1 ee epe the storm died away, and as I step forth, the sun was Slinging my rifle over my shoulder, I wandered aimlessly forward, following the course of the stream for several hours. Becoming considerably wearied, I seated myself upon a fallen tree; but my mind was in such a state of excitement that the desire to press forward was irresistible, and I arose again. The river at this a was flowing east and west, e southward. As Idid so,I saw Biddon in the distance, riding leisurely away. He was miles distant, and as the prairie in many parts with the hope of overtaking him. I contented my- self with watching him until he disappeared. He appeared precisely the same as when Nat and I first caught sight of him; and it struck me as a rather of him were similar. Soon he was a mere speck on the horizon, and presently pape ce altogether, The storm which had just ended was the usher of the cold season. A strong wind had arisen, and was blowing coldly through the forest. The changes in these regions are remarkably sudden; and by the middle of the afternoon needles of ice put out along I suffered much from this | sudden and severe cold; and to make it worse, every- thing upon which I could lay hands was so water- soaked as to make it impossible to kindle a fire. I continued wandering aimlessly forward, until I descended a large valley, filled with trees of enorm- ous As I entered, I heard a crackling in the bushes above me. I looked carefully about, but could detect noth Creeping stealthily up the bank, I came upon the cause of this apprehension. There was a species of fruit called the “ buffalo ber- ry,’ quite numerous here, and in among them, seat- ed on his haunches, and contentedly devouring them was a grizzly bear.’ I started as I took in his colossal form, and turned to make a hasty retreat; but curi- osity held me to the spot. He was a huge beast; his massive form being enveloped in a coat of long, black, glossy hair, and his eyes small and glittering. His long nails rattled among the leaves, as he pulled fruit. All at once a mad desire to take this formidable creature’s life came upon me. I knew it was only the most skillful hunter who could prevail inst him, and yet I determined to take the risk. As he sat, his side was turned toward me, and I made a low whistle to attract his attention. He stopped chewing instantly, and turned his head toward me ois eo) ope 5 ce his two anny os ning plainly. was ly upon my face, w my rifle upon a stone front. Raising the hammer, I took a deliberate, sure aim at one of his d pulled the trigger. “ How does that suit?” I asked, exultingly. To my rprise and terror, I saw him sitting apparently un- h but looking about him, as if to ascertain from direction the shot had come. The aext in- a low growl plunged directly toward me. That cumbrous body could roll over the much faster than I suspected, and I foun when alarmed, I could also travel be ong £ But in the tangled undergrowth I was no match for him, as he crushed through it without the least inconveni- ence. I saw he would assuredly overtake me before I could go a hundred yards further; so throwing m rifle to the ground, I drew my knife and waited h attack. As he came rolling forward, the biood from und that, | his wound trickled down, and daubed his mouth; his red tongue lolled out, his mouth was wide open, and his long and white teeth shone with terrible ferocity. He was, indeed, a terrific animal, and I drew a deep breath as I felt that a struggle was close at hand. Suddenly, when a hun feet nt, there came the report of another vifie, and the brute halted, and gazed about him, I also cast a wondering look around to see who my new friend was. No one was in ae oo yet Isawa faint curl of smoke rising from the bushes above me. The bear also discovered it. and with another growl made towardit. He had evidently been struck, and his rage was turned in another direction, ly loading my rifle, I ran up the intending to follow and assist my unknown friend, but both he and the brute had disap’ A I stood anxiousl, for some guiding sound, and soon heard the rt of a gun in the distance, ing poe ob! faint shout. Tearing through the undergrowth, I dashed hastily forward. The trail of the bear was very_plain by the blood-marks upon te und. SoonI reached the t where a strug- gle taken Pigsry The ground was torn up and cast about, and the blood was spattered for many feet around. Following further, I came upon the dead body of the brute. There was another bullet- mark in the head, and a ghastly wound in the throat from which an enormous quantity of blood had poured. But where was the author of this deed? Why had he fled? Who was he? I looked about expecting to see him near at hand, but was disappointed. On the ground were the marks of a moccasin, and it was evident my preserver was an Indian. This fact sug- ested other questions. Had he been following me? Ise how came he to be eoce just at the instant needed? And what was his object? It could not be that my life was sought, for, if such were the case, it had been really spared, as I had been continually ex- posed through the day; and in the occurrence just narrated, he had preserved my life at the imminent risk of his own. : At any rate, the affair was singular and unac- countable, The Indian was probably gazing upon me this moment, and I looked furtively about, half-ex- vecting to see his glowing eyeballs in the thick shrub- ery around. It was now growing late, and I cast about for some i in which to spend the night. The wind still lew, and a fire was indispensable. I gathered sev- eral armfuls of twigs and branches, and pitched my camp upon the banks of a small stream, a tributary of the river referred to. Here, after the expense of an almost incredible amount of patience, I succeeded in starting a fire. The pangs of hunger now began to make themselves felt, as I had tasted no food the entire day. The grizzly lay but a short distance away, and I concluded that he should answer the de- mands of nature. As I drew my knife and started toward him, a shadow glided from before me, and I saw a human form stealthily make off. I stopped suddenly and hesitated, but finally went on, cut a piece from the animal, and returned. Just before 1 reached the crackling fire, I saw a shadow flit before me and dis- appear. It was too distinct and plain to be a freak ot imagination, and it was evident that something or somebody was following or watching. Whoever he might be, I determined that, upon the first oppor- tunity, he should have the contents of my gun for his temerity. The consciousness that some one was near at hand, watching, perhaps, every motion, lessened my appetite somewhat. However, after skeweiing a food sized piece and dope | it, [made a hearty ~y- ver; and, as I produced my inseparable pipe, I think, had it not been for the instinctive presence of that invisible form, my enjoyment would have been com- ete. The pleasant warmth of the fire, the soothing ef- fect of the pipe, gradually threw a dreamy, half-un- consciousness Over me, into which I sunk with wil- ling delight. As my listless eyes rested upon the glow embers, there came a strain of wonderful music, like the faint tones of a distant wind-harp. I stirred not, but listened, fearing to move, lest the spell should be broken. Again came the wave of heavenly harmony, swelling to the most inspiring grandeur and then dying away into faint, fluctuating uemors, fainter and fainter, till the strained ear could just feel their waves. It sounded in the air above me. I knew there was nothing real in my ex- periences, yet I listened breathlessly for it again. The music continued, I think, over an hour, and, to this day, it seems as if 1 can still hear it. Such music I have never heard before or since, As I sat alone that dark, stormy night, in the wilderness of the North-west, hundreds of miles from civilization, it seemed there was a chord within me that respond- ed to the air-tones above. It ap sometimes to sink until it had Kec ee, ta me in its wild, thrilling power, and thén suddenly swept upward, until I was pained with intense listening. At it died away, and with a long sigh of relief I awoke to full con- sciousness, 1 have heard others narrate experiences similar to ‘mine, and I leave the explanation to the curious and investigating, convinced that I can offer none which will be ees 1 replenished fire, folded my blanket around me, and lay down to sleep, The night-wind was howling dismally through the forest, and the distant rush of the river made melancholy music. Ina short time I fell into a deep twig Iwas aroused from this by feeling something work- ing at my blanket. I lay motionless a moment to ascertain the character of the threatened danger. The next moment something struck me like the paw of an animal; and we 4 a wolf had attacked me, I sprung to my feet, with . oe | threw off my blanket, and drew my knife. s.stead of confronting wolves, I met the gaze of a half-dozen savages! For a moment I was comaetey bewildered. — “You go ‘long with us,” said one, laying his hand upon my arm, CHAPTER VIII. TRAPPING AMONG THE INDIANS, rat I had arias n to an 4 feet, ae cones con- tinu nap aoe n an unknown tongue. It per- lexed me to understand how one of Psd was Eble address me in tolerable English, I suppose he must have had intercourse with the traders and hunters and the forts and stations of the North-west. After a few minutes’ conversation, the Indians ap- parently came to a satisfactory conclusion; for they seated themselves around the fire, orde me to do the same, and here they sat as grim silent as statues, not a muscle moving, excepting an occasion- al wink of the eyes at long intervals. I watched them, it seemed for an hour, shivering with cold all the while, although my captors had not deprived me of my blanket. _ At last, as I looked up, I saw that day was break- ing. There was a faint light in the east, heralding the approach of the sun. Shortly after, it burst above the forest line, lighting up the interminable prairie and wilde with its golden glory. The savages sprung to feet, seized their weapons, and started away.
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“Keep close, and don’t run!” said the savage who had addressed me at first. ‘No danger of my attempting it,’’ I answered, fol- lowing almost cheerfully behind them. And in truth it would have been the hight of folly to make an attempt to escape. Each of the savages was a fleet runner, each possessed a loaded rifle, and the utmost limit that I possibly could have gained, as will be evident to the reader, was perhaps ten feet. No halt was made for breakfast, and during the whole forenoon we tramped through the wilderness in a northerly direction. the extreme upper part of the great Nebraska Ter- ritory, I felt Hudson Bay erritory, within the British line. But retty certain that I was now in the | As I knew I had been in | | audible. here my companions made a turn to the eastward, | and then, strangely enough, proceeded south again, | so that 1 was uncertain whether I was now in the United States or not. The reason of this detour on the part of the savages I never knew, and could only conjecture. I afterward imagined it was for the purpose of prey ews bewildering me in case I should ever attempt to leave them. When the sun was overhead, the Indians halted upon the banks of a small, flashing stream, and pre- ared their meal. A half-hour before halting, one of he Indians had dodged off into the forest. Some time after I heard the report of a rifle, and in a few minutes he returned with a large ptarmigan in his hand. The feathers were plucked from this, and the body dressed much after the fashion of civilized com- munities. It was then blaze, and, despite the change of circumstances, I made as good and substantial a meal upon it as did any of my companions. The méal finished, the savages squatted before the fire, drew forth their pipes, and commenced silently smoking, their bad with suppressed fierceness, as ever and anon a side- long glance was bestowed upon me, One of the In- dians—he who spoke English—was examining my revolver. He closed one eye, and peered wonder- ingly into the six little barrels; then he fingered about the hammer, took off the cap, tasted it, and replaced it. (It may be remarked here that at the time of my experience percussion caps were almost. unknown in this region. As they were of compara- tively recent invention, few of the trappers consent- ed to use them until a long time after), I was ex- ae each moment to see the weapon discharge tself, as it was fully charged, and was handled awk- wardly. The Indian looked at it in every direction and at last gave it up. He took a smell of it, and snuffing the a tbe handed it to me. ** What is he?’ **A young gun,” I answered with a smile. As I took the weapon I looked about me. There were five unsuspicious savages, and there were six messengers of death at my command. For an in- stant a wild resolve thrilled me; but it was for an instant only. My soul revolted at the wholesale slaughter I should be compelled to inflict, and I looked at my interlocutor with a Wea smile, “Does he shoot?” he queried, his dark eyes light- ing up with curiosity. ae. —— : Msp uth to er end it?” . : shoot a m,” he answe: ting a the trunk of a large tree. id: * What of it?” “ Hit him where you mind to.” “Oh, let’s have a mark,’’ I laughed, stepping for- ward and tearing off a small piece of the bark, so as to offer a red spot several inches in diameter. The other savages were now surveying my motions with interest, and with some degree of suspicion the for- midable looking little weapon in my hand. I saw there was an peporranity for making a good impres- sion, and I resolved to do it. I poem Pod. back a few paces, took a careful though apparently a careless eke and fired the six barrels with tolerably good ‘‘ Just look at the mark,” I remarked, rather stiffly. The Indian stepped forward and examined the holes, all within an inch or two of the center. Then with his knife he pried out each bullet, and showed them tohis companions. They grunted their satis- faction, or rather wonder, and turned the diminutive six-shooter over and over in their hands, totally un- able to comprehend how such a number of fatal shots could come almost simultaneously from it. I loaded and fired it a number of times, and my friend —he who spoke English—asked me to make him a present of it. I assented with the greatest pleasure, as I had no power to refuse, and volunteered to in- struct him in its use, and all things considered, we were getting on quite intimate terms. This proceeding of mine was a stroke of policy to which I owe my life. My readiness to acquiesce in al] their wishes convinced. them that I cherished no vindictiveness, and I am satisfied that, had I asked my captors at this time to allow me to proceed un- molested upon my way, they would have done so. But I was willing to tarry with them awhile, for rea- = obvious S ~ ome P @ remain a Spot for over an hour, prac- ticing with the revolver. At the end of that tire its new owner had made such progress as to be able to ae a good-sized tree a distant at nearly every ot. Him nice thing!" he remarked, shoving it in his t, ee good in a close hug with a bear or foe,” I re " ere was but one drawback to the savage’s pros- pects of pleasure. I had but a small quantity of caps, and of course there was no means of obtain- he? among his own kindred. He, however, sat- ed himself with the thought that le could obtain more at some of the trading-posts in that section. The line of march was again taken up, and con- »artially cooked over the | glittering through the vapor | | were soon wendin The sun had sunk beyond the western mountains, and the deep gloom of night was settling over the wilderness, when, as we reached the top of a swell, I saw for the first time the Indian village. Itlay in a sort of valley, and numbered sixty or seventy lodges. As seen in the dim twilight these looked singularly pic- turesque. I could see dark forms flitting about the lodges, and the low hum of their conversation was We were descried, as our forms stood in relief against the sky, but no signals were given by either party. As we descended into the valley my heart began to fail me at what I feared my reception would be. Stories of the tortures undergone by captives came over me, and I ventured to express myfears to my friend. ““What your name?” he asked. “will,” I replied. “Will, stay here, and me come and fix things. My name is Jim,” quainted. The other savages seeing us halting stopped also, and looked suspiciously. Jim (as I shall hereafter name him) said something in an unintelligible tongue aud they os on. “Stay here, Will, and me fix things.” With this he disappeared, and I seated myself up- | on the ground to await his return. It struck meas rather curious for him to give a captive such a good i phe pa to escape, but it pleased me with- a and it need not be told Imade no attempt to make off. In a few minutes he returned, bearing in his arms several Indian garments. “Will, put him on, and me fix things,”’ said he throwing them down beside me. I hastily donned them, understanding fully their use and intentions. ** Keep close, and don't say notting to nobody,” he added, as they enveloped my person. He now turned his face toward the vi our way mar otge it. We passed several savages who spoke to me, Jim, however, tak- ing the responsibility of yk . At last we reach- ed his lodge without my identity being discovered. This was at the extreme eastern end of the village, and, as we entered, I saw it was devoid of any per- sons except ourselves. “You sleep there, Will,” said he, pointing to one corner, where a buffalo-robe was Visible by the dim light of a few smoldering embers. Thanking him for his ren offer, I pon while he replenished the fire, seating himself by it, and commenced the never-ceasing pleasure of ipgen a 2 his revolver, Lying half asleep on the buffalo-robe, listless] gazing at the savage, his features all at once struck me, I had seen them before, but where I could not recollect. Let me see—ah! it was plain now. He was one of the occupants of the mysterious canoe! It soon e known throughout the village that a captive was amo: the entrance of Jim’s lodge was thronged with those anxious to geta peep at me. Knowing that this curi- osity must be tified sooner or later, I stepped boldly forth, and mingled among them, in order to have the matter finished at once. No violence was offered me, although several pinched my arms rather severely, seemingly determined to be satisfied upon all my points. My Indian friend, Jim, was married, and in the | course of the day, his squaw made her Serene She was a middle-aged woman, and tolerably good. looking for a savage. »Jim informed her that I was to be her slave, and thus it may be said I was estab- lished in winter-quarters. The heavy storm, referred to in the previous chap- ter, was the close of a warm season, and the fierce | northern winter set in. Winter in the North-west is far different from that season in the Middle States. It is full six months in continuance, and, such is the intense coldness for the greater part of the season, that the thermometer sinks to t ty and often forty degrees below zero. Two weeks after my capture, it seemed im the lodge, with a roaring fire a few feet off. Yet the savages seemed scarcely to heed it. arments were added to their costume, and they itted as incessantly through the v as ever. In the tribe it was acknowledged that I was the property. of Jim, and thus my lot was much more en- urable than otherwise. He was really a good-heart- ed Indian; and the course that I ever tained to- ward him won his rd. However, he was a laz dog, like all of his male kindred, and it was fopomt- ble to discover in him any of those tical attri- butes which are so gene conceded to the North | Anatiren iedian. n Sp 5 em bem age he 7 card extravagan' -Wro’ res 0 speech common to ‘iis iKindsed” and ‘added their P € an awkward oath or two, and a phrase learned rom the Hudson Bay traders. The ter part of the day he sat before his fire, smo and moodily into it, while his better half busied he about the a; ment as willingly and Tg ae as though she never dreamed of a different lot, I as- sisted her as much as lay within my came at last to do all of the out-door work. I have always regarded my capture by this tribe of Indians as a fortunate circumstance. I cannot imagine how else I could have maintained life through the unusually severe winter which followed. No mortal hand could have saved me from perishin from cold, while it would have been utterly impossi. ble to have procured food, when the snow lay six wer, and said he, taking the name probably | given him by the whites with whom he was ac- e, and we | them, and the next morning | ible to prevent freezing to death in | A few extra | feet upon the ground, and the rivers were sealed by great depths of ice. Although frequent occasions resented themselves, I determined make no ef- ort to leave my captors until the spring had arrived. As mentioned, I had pretty well-defined suspicions that Jim was one of the savages who occupied the | mysterious canoe, referred to in the preceding chap- | ters. I was not positive of this, although, when I | stood by his side and viewed his profile, the resem- blance seemed perfect. One great disappointment had already come. I was sure that I should learn something either of Nat or of the mysterious captive. When I questioned Jim, he answered with such © a sincerity, that I was pretty well convince e knew nothing of either. In regard to the latter he laughed; but he knew nothing of either. Sometimes when I fell into a reverie, and suddenly awoke, I could see Jim lift | his eyes quickly from me, as though he had been en- | deavoring to satisfy himself of my identity. He | questioned me artfully, and I told him all. At last I | resolved to put the question direct, “ Jim, didn’t you and another warrior, some moons | ago, pass down the river at the south, with a white woman?” There was a perceptible start at this question, but he answered, a “Don’t know nothing "bout ‘em.” | ‘* Why, Iam pretty sure that I saw you.” | _ Heshook his head, There was nothing to be gained | } by further questioning, and I gave it up. But Iwas satisfied he knew more of Nat and the captive than | he was willing to tell—and I was not mistaken. Shortly after this conversation, Jim told me that | he and several of his tribe were in the employ of the , Hudson Bay Fur Company, and traded numerous | furs with them every spring. I asked him if he was not in the territory of the North-west Fur Company. He replied that that made no difference; each tres- passed upon the other’s grounds, and he had been engaged for both.* few weeks subsequent to this, therecamea storm which laid the snow six feet deep, and Jim informed me that, in company with several others, he should roceed to set his traps for the winter’s work, and e willingly consented that I should accompany him, Preparations were accordingly made. tra. garments were donned, a couple of traps taken by each, and, placing our snow-shoes upon our feet, we sallied forth. This was the first time Lever attempted to travel with snow-shoes, and, as may be supposed, I made awkward work of it. These were fully six feet in length, resembling a canoe somewhat in shape, and of extreme lightness. The interior is filled with a gauzy net-work, which allows the light, sand-like snow to fall through without impeding | one’s pro They are fastened loosely but se- curely to the feet, and when the snow is. not dam ened by thaws, twenty miles can easily be made | aday. Without these convenient things it would be | next to impossible to travel during six months of the | year in the fur-bearing regions, We proceeded westward some eight or ten miles. | before all of the traps were set, when, turning, we retraced our steps, intending to visit them the fol- lowing night. e trap used by the Indians of this section is much the same as the common steel-tra | of the States, being, however, much larger, an without the saw-like teeth of the latter. A long chain, with a heavy stone attached, is fastened to the trap, and concealed beneath the snow, to pre- vent the animal making off with the whole concern. , The trap is placed just beneath the surface of the | — and bits of frozen fish are scattered around, 1 | which attract the half-starved foxes, lynxes, beavers, and wolves in the region. Having completed all ar- rangements, we retraced our steps, reached the village just as night was seiting in. Nothing of note tcok place the next day, and, as the night came on, Jim informed me that they were ing to visit their traps to ascertain what luck they fiad. As he made no objection, I again donned my snow-shoes and joined them. There was but one | savage besides himself. The snow was crisp and fine, and the travelin, cornea nay. easy. Jim d be him, for the purpose of bringing back anything found in the traps. It was a bright moonlight night, and as we jour- | neyed through the forest, there were > parenes of snow almost as light as day. We shunned the trees, as the snow-crust was brittle around them, and once or twice crossed broad belts of snow, devoid of tim- | ber, which Jim informed me were the beds of rivers, | As we traveled on, nothing broke the silence, except | the muffled sliding of our shoes over the icy crust, | or a single word from one of the Soy os |. The first trap we reached had the fore-leg of a fox | in aa r loo, at Jim inquiringly, unable to under- | st t. " "4 He gnawed him off and run away; look out next me.” | "The fox had been caught by his fore-leg, and, find- | ing himself unable to get loose, had eaten off the im- | prisoned limb and escaped on the others, In a | month's time he would probably suffer no inconven- ience from it. In the next trap was found a red fox, whose fur bears but a trifling value. He was killed, placed upon the sled, the trap reset, and we proceed- | ed to the rest. None of them had been visited, ex- * The Hudson Bay Com , established two hun- dred years ago, by Prince: Rupert, divided its terri- tory into four compartments—the Northern, includ- na the country of the Far North; the Southern, | I south to Lake Superior; the Montreal, in- | cluding the country along the northern shore of the | Gulf of St. Lawrence; and the Columbia De _ e ding Oregon, in which, I be- Rocky ment, comprehe all the country west o | aan ae m lieve, they still trade,
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12 cept the last. In this was imprisoned a beautiful black fox, the capture of which nearly set the two savages in ecstasies. The fur of this animal is more valuable than that of any other caught by the trap- pote one alone sometimes bringing as high as two a undred dollars. It is so rarely captured, and such rize, when taken, that a hunter would be satisfied with one single animal during the whole season. . Our tivo animals being secured upon our sled, and the traps carefully reset, we commenced our return journey. The night was far advanced when we reached the Indian village. As we entered the lodge, Jim’s squaw arose noiselessly and Shy grees oe the fire. While peta | my snow-shoes, I remarked to Jim that my feet had felt for the last half-hour as though they were asleep.” “Let me see him,” he asked, quickly, jerking off the thick moccasins which I had donn back. He looked at my feet a moment, and ex- claimed: *‘ Him froze up!” I was considerably startled at this, and anxiously asked him if they were badly frozen. “Yaw, but me fix ’em,” he answered, and com- menced immediately rubbing until I begged him to desist. He paid no heed to my entreaties, but con- tinued this treatment until he had restored com- | letely the congealed circulation, and saved the use- ul members, The savages had but poor fortune in trapping this winter, and there was considerable suffering. The Indians of the North-west rely solely upon what they are thus able to take for their food during the cold season, and, as there is generally plenty of game, they fare well. accountable cause drives all the animals away, and cases of actual starvation have occurred. Jim told me that three winters before a case of cannibalism had occurred in their tribe, and years before that, when a mere child, there came an appalling time. Half the families were obliged to devour some of | their members to support life until spring, and, for ever a week, a miserable old bison the whole tribe. Jim said he had more than once cooked his moccasins and eaten them. The tribe was driven to no such extremity as this while I was with them, and I saw no want myself. Jim was one of their best hunters, and he supplied his own lodge before that of others. Yet, there were others who were not so fortunate, and who were often compelled to endure the pangs of hunger for days at atime. When food was secured, they gorged themselves nearly to bursting, and were the happiest of mortals, until the wants of nature again made themselves felt. During my captivity, several things occurred to make me + that the mysterious captive refer- red to was in this village the whole time, and I was satisfied that Indian Jim knew more of Nat than he would impart to me. These imaginings filled me with moody misgivings, and I made a resolve that as soon as spring came I would make my escape; and if I could learn nothing of the two beings whose fate was unknown to me, to depart for the States. The life I was leading was a wearisome, monotonous one, and in time would become unendurable. Spring was but a month or two distant, and in its approach I placed my fondest hopes. CHAPTER IX. THE BUFFALO-HUNT AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. As stated in the last chapter, there was consider- — able suffering on account of the scarcity of food. The count rt the north of Nebraska is the paradise of all es of game in the summer months, but during the winter, the large animals proceed to the southward, and the deep snows prevent the —. of the smaller ones, except by means of traps. Spring, therefore, was looked forward to with er expectation, as the harbinger of enjoyment and the season of the chase. And itcame at last. First the sun grew hotter and blazed more sagen the snow became re 4 and cloggy, and the dripping of water could be heard through the day and night. Streams of melted snow poured into the rivers all along the banks, and the ice became weaker and weaker each moment, till, at last, with a terrific crashing and thundering, the whole mass started, and a week after, the clear, blue running water only was seen. The thaw con- tinued, and with feelings of indescribable joy, we once more saw the face of the earth. Vegetation now commenced with pitprisiig a and in an almost incredibly short space of time, bright, radi- ant, glorious sp ry bome indisputable reign. Indians were departing and arriving every day with loads of fish, wild fowl, and game, and the village was a scene of unbridled feasting for many a day. One forenoon a ey, announ that a herd of buffaloes was quietly browsing a few miles to the sonthward, This produced commotion through the village, and preparations were at once made for the grand hunt. Some twenty or thirty splendid Indian ’ ponies were mounted by as many warriors, and to my inexpressible delight, Jim informed me that I should accompany them. A small, high-spirited an- imal was given me. He was of a dark color, and his dappled haunches glistened in the sun like polished ebony. - About noon we sallied forth from the village, and struck a southward direction, restraining our ani- mals to a walk, in order the severe test at hand. ile riding along by the side of Jim, the thought of escape—which had not ‘been absent from me for the last six months—came with double force. Iwas now mounted upon a fleet, long-winded animal, who could hold his own with any horse bestrode by the Indians: what was to pre- vent escape? In the excitement of the chase, I might wander miles away, and be gone many hours suspicio without exciting nm, My captors, I suppose, But now and then some un- | ad supported | So peonerve their wind for | a few weeks | | Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. had no thoughts of my attempting a flight, as I had rmitted so many opportunities pass, and I felt here would be no suspicious eyes watching my mo- tions. The prairie stretched hundreds of miles to the southward, and it seemed my animal longed to bound away upon it. I felt the time had come, and coors never to return to the Indian village a cap- Ive, An hour or so after, we came in sight of the drove, cropping the new grass of the prairie. So numerous were they, that as we looked over them, it was impossible to see their extent. Far away, until they touched the horizon, the ocean of dark, swarming bodies could be seen. Our animals now partook of the excitement of their masters. Arching their necks, they scented the prey afar, and it was nearly impossible to re- strain their impatience. They snorted, plunged champed their bits, shook their heads, and seeme determined to rush forward despite all restraint. We continued a aon 8 approaching in a body, preserving strict silence, in order not to alarm the game. In this way, we came within a hundred yards, when a bull raised his alarmed gaze at us, and, giving a loud snort, heaved his huge bod round and plunged madly into the herd. All too the alarm and went thundering away, making the earth tremble with their multitudinous tread. It was now wholly useless to undertake to check our animals longer, and setting up a wild yell, the Indians plunged after them. The buffalo is not a runner, and, owing to the shortness of his fore- legs, appears to roll in his gait. The Indians’ horses soon bring their riders alongside the bisons, and as soon as the shot is given, they shy off to avoi the infuriated animal's horns. efore I was pre- pared for it, my animal was abreast of a buffalo, and waiting for my shot. Here I committed a blun- der common to all beginners of the hunt. I fired while holding the reins in my hand. The conse- quence was, my bullet hit the animal somewhere about the head, got entangled in his mane, where it would cine g out in a day or two. My horse immedi- ately veered to one side, and allowed the buffalo to run until I could reload. I now saw my beast knew more of the chase than I did, and, dropping the rein upon his neck, allowed him full freedom. Cautiously, but rapidly, he came alongside the hy ng buffalo, and, taking more care, I sent a bul- et through the fore part of his body. It was his death-wound; and, seemingly conscious of his fate, and determined on revenge, he wheeled instantly round, drove his fore-feet into the ground, and drop- ped his head to ripup my charger. This movement was so sudden, and we were so close upon him, that my horse could neither check his Speed, nor turn to one side. But he avoided him for all that. Dropping upon his haunches with a snort, he made a terrific bound upward, an went clean over the buffalo, The maddened animal expected this, and struck his horns upward, ng still to kill him. The in- stinct of the horse was too much, however; he, too feared such a fate, and epee high enough to avoid the horns, As he came to the ea again, he plunged swiftly away, the enraged buffalo in full pursuit; but he easil kept clear from him, wheeling and dodging, and still remaining nigh enough for me to give my shot. My gun was unloaded, and before I could charge it, the buffalo had fallen to the earth and was fast dying. I now looked about me. Buffaloes were flying in every direction, and the forms of the savages could be seen darting to and fro among them, dealing de- struction at every turn. The herd was pouri simultaneously southward, while the scores that. been cut off were endeavoring to rejoin them, car- rying us along with them. In different parts of the rairie could be seen the dark, motionless forms of e slain buffaloes, showing how successful the chase had been thus far. The sky, which in the morning was fair and clear, was now becoming overcast, and two or three warn- ing rumbles of thunder were heard in the distance. Still, the savages were too excited to notice the inter- ruption, as Spe a ee buffalo remained. I saw Jim plunge his horse unhesitatingly into a crowd of a dozen or so, when, as he commenced dealing de- struction, his horse became entangled, and he was compelled to make a fying leap over the backs of the animals around him. Ss he accomplished success- fully, leaping from one back to the other, until he was clear of them all. Suddenly, it occurred to me, while holding my fiery horse, that, if I meditated escape, it bd abtan time to be about it. Turning to the southward, I could just descry the drove thundering away, a vast cloud of dust circling above them. The rein was dropped upon the neck of my horse, and stretching out his head, he bounded away like the wind. He was a noble animal, and was now in his element. He enjoyed he chase as much as any of the savages; and, as mile after mile of shoagh flew beneath his feet, he was only warming into the excitement. As T looked back, I could just discern the Indians, like specks in the distance, still at their bloody work. We were now at no great distance from the herd, and my horse, catching sight of an old worried bull, somewhat in the rear, instantly made toward him. He was too jaded to hasten his pace, and I could see his fury was roused, I prepared to shoot him, as it would go to show my ysis if I should have any. that the excitement of the chase had alone carried meaway. While yet some distance, he shied to one side, and turned his head warningly toward us, but without halting. The horse, however, finding that I still retained my shot, continued to bring me closer. At last the bison struck into a swifter run, and made desperate efforts to rejoin his companions. In an instant I was beside him, and holding my gun to my shoulder, was just on the point of firing, when he | Spongy earth. | to pierce the Stygian gloom around; but it was less; not the smallest point of the faintest light could suddenly stood at bay, in precisely the same manner as the other. My horse, instead of making a running leap this time, stopped instantaneously, planting his feet firmly in the ground. I was not prepared for this, and shot a dozen feet over his head, falling upon my face within a foot of the buffalo. The shock was terrible, and I was severely injured. I endeavored to rise, fearing that I should be gored and trampled to death, but was unable, and heard the buffalo scampering away. I placed my hand to my face, and found it covered with blood, and a strange be- wilderment was coming over me. I arose to my knees and gazed about me. The buffalo was plung- ing in the rear of his drove, while my horse was gaij- loping wildly around me, his mane and bridle flying in the wind. I heard the bursting of thunder over. head, and everything was growing dark and confus- ed. I tried again to rise, but failed. There was a thick darkness about me, a heavy hand pressing me to the earth, and all became chaotic. ‘ When consciousness returned, all was blank dark- ness. The rain was pouring down in torrents, and, stunned and bleeding, I lay on the soaked, cold, I Gradually the remembrance of my misfortune came over me, I must have been lyin several hours upon the prairie, exposed to the cold, dismal storm. My clothes were saturated with the chilling rain, and my face and hands bedabbled with mud and dirt. I struggled desperately to my feet, and endeavored use- be seen in any direction. Up, down, on every hand, the same solid wall of darkness enveloped me. Iwas many miles from the Indian village, and had lost its direction. At that moment, I would have given worlds to have been within Jim’s lodge. Flight, in my present condition, was not to be thought of, and I must soon receive succor or I should perish. I listened. In the dismal sweep of the rain some- thing like a footstep was h - I called out, but there was no reply. Again the splash of a foot was heard, now from a different point. Soon I discov- ered some animal was walking around me in a circle, Feeling round in the spongy prairie, 1 found my rifle, but it was useless as a means of defense, as the charge was thoroughly wetted. I clubbed it, and waited for the attack. Still around and around the same step went. At first I fondly hoped it might be Jim, or one of his companions, but its footfall showed it to be a quadruped, and its approach was too cautious, Suddenly it halted and walked diérect- ly toward me, I drew my rifle back, ready to brain it the minute it was within my reach, A faint neigh = “ett pe gs e! it —. my faithful horse. ca. 1€ approached, and low- ered his head for me totake his bridle. With a feel- ing of deep thankfulness and hope, I clambered into the saddle, and he bounded away, his unerring in- stinct leading him straight SoWAnK: home, The rain continued to t, cold and dismal, and I felt already burning within me a hot, fiery fever from the terrible suffering I had undergone. I should soon be prostra and without some kindly hand to nurse me, would inevitably perish. But the horse was certain; and after an hour or two my heart lea as we entered the silent Indian village. But one light was burning, and that was in the lodge of Jim, showing that he expected my return. I tS) instantly up to the entrance and dismounted, while my noble a made off to imp ign for himself. im arose as he heard my approach, and, li his torch, advanced to meet gag . antigen “You had a long hunt—”’ He started back in horror Then, holding his light over his imi “ at my appearance, head, and peering at e, he ~ “What de matter? Been in fight?” ‘No; I was thrown from my horse, and lay sense- less upon the rie until a short time ago. I feel bad, Jim, and fear I am severely injured,” said a searing to seat myself, ‘Wait minute; am hurt; let me fix ’em,” He clapped his hands, and instantly the bundle of blankets at the side of the lodge arose to an u right position, and his squaw walked forth. My wounds were now dressed, my garments changed for dry ones, and with a hot cup of drink, I was swathed in blankets, and placed the fire. Jim said it was not far from morning, and if at that time I was worse, he would call in the Medicine Man, All night the fever burned and raged, and when morning came I was partially delirious. Jim exam- ined my pulse, shook his head erg and de- parted from the lodge, In a short time he returned, and with him came the Medicine Man, an Indian considerably advanced in years, and much loved and honored. by his tribe. , too, looked ve, and held a consultation in an undertone with Lone oon these I knew I was dangerously, probably fa- And now came days of those strange, indescriba- ble visions that come over one in high fever. I was in all imaginable places, and saw wonderful per- sons and scenes, ow and then, there were mo- ments when reason flitted to its throne. At such times I saw the Medicine Mar or Jim near me; and once, as I wonderingly opened my eyes, I saw the mysterious captive bendin over me. I looked straight into her dark, liquid eyes, and reached forth and touched her garments, to satisfy myself that it was no freak of mind.. My fixed stare alarmed her, and she looked in ea + at the Medicine Man, He mumbled somet , and she departed, bout a week after my accident, as I subsequent- ly learned, I awoke with my full reason. As I look- ed wonderingly about me, the first object that en- countered my eyes was the captive to whom I have alluded, My fixed stare at her seemed to alarm her, and she arose to pass out,
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, Bill Biddon, Trapper. — “Wait,” said I; ‘ pray do not leave me.” “But you must not talk,’’ she replied, much agi- tated, ‘‘ the Medicine Man will not allow it; you will injure yourself.” , ‘You and the Medicine Man are both mistaken. I know I have been sick and delirious, but my mind was never clearer than it is this instant. I knowa few moments’ conversation can not injure me. Let me beg you not to refuse, as I can not tell whether the opportunity will ever again be offered. The young woman before me was much embar- rassed, and for a moment hesitated, | seqraingly, in doubt: between duty and inclination. Seizing the op- portunity, I urged my wish with greater fervor than ever. Finally she glanced furtively around as though she expected to meet the twinkling orbs of the Medi- cine Man, and then answered: “T cannot refuse = wrong that I should thus “gg the injunctions that were given for your good. hat is it that you wish to ask me?” : ‘*Am I out of danger?” “Not yet. You have been crazy for a long time, and more than once the Medicine Man has shaken his head in doubt when he looked upon you.” ‘“‘ Have you not watched by me nearly all the time I have been thus?”’ I gazed full in her face as I uttered this question, ay recta and yet it seems | : | | | | grave! The thoug | yet ready to give way to utter despair. and she dropped her eyes in confusion, as she re- lied : ae I have assisted the Medicine Man several times as he wished me to, and I have done no more to you than I would to any one in similar circumstances.” “No, sweet lady, I know claimed, in admiration; “your heart is open to any one. Who you are I know not, but I can see your | though something had fallen to the earth above. gone aroun the same awful exp rience, that filled my soul at that discovery. Such a whirlwind of fire as seethed ous my bursting brain, such a per- fect blaze of all the passions that can rack the human moment I was frantic, and then suddenly a dreadful and frightful calmness soothed my frame. Ay, | was buried alive! The sav. my trance-like stupor for death itself, and I had been hurried prematurely into the grave. Oh, the rigs aren geese TA To die while in the t was too horrible! I was not ause a second for thought, for I knew it would sure- 'y come. I twisted and barks. ge with the strength of fury. I could turn my body around, and use my arms. There was an open space before my face, as I had been buried in the sitting position. Had I lain back I could not have survived five minutes; as it was, my limbs were immovably secured, and it was absolutely impossible for me to free myself. I durst not | | over on my bosom, and looke ¢ ae | are those here who love me. Iw | among them.” mind, I cannot ey with this feeble pen. For a | can die with your own kindred. Jim, who is fait es had mistaken 13 upon her. Should I ever see the land I left when a should be a stranger among strangers. There remain and die “You will ou, and na u to you, will furnish us both with a fleet horse, and we can elude all pursuit. I—” I paused, for her agitation had become painful. She was sinking to the earth, when I caught her, and leading her a short distance, seated myself beside her on a fallen tree. Then I gently pulled her head down upon her fea- tures. Her gaudy head-dress was removed, and her “Flee with me,” I impetuously urged. not be a stranger. Hundreds will love | white face lay among the mass of jetty hair like a It was a long time, for such an experience, before | I admitted this, but i was compelled to at last. Death by suffocation was rapidly ~ k abien smag and all that t. was left for me was to pre for breath of air around me had already been breathed | over and over again, and was becoming hot, steamy. and sickening. I was gas and panting, bu strove to collect my thoughts aud keep them from wande I commenced praying. Suddenly a muffled sound reached my ear, “ | listened—it was repeated directly over me, now rap- ou haven't,” I ex- | race is similar to my own, and judge you to al willing prisoner among these Indians. Your image | has long been before me, and I can never forget your | fair, angelic face. What first was merely interest — grown into a stronger passion for you, though I ear—” I paused as she suddenly arose to her feet, and raised her hand in a warning manner. Before I could ask the meaning of this, a shuffling step was heard, and the next minute the Medicine made his appearance. He gesticulated angrily toward her, and she passed quietly out of the lodge. I fol- lowed her with my eyes, and as she reached the pas- sage-way, she turned toward me with a look that told more than words. The Medicine Man evidently suspected what I had been doing; I could see he was excited, and mumbled continually to himself. He forced a bitter, scalding drink to my lips, which was soothing in its effects, and in a short time I oo Now comes a long blank in my memory. After this incident, black night shut around my mind. There is a faint recollection of again seeing Jim an the Medicine Man bending over me, and the sweet idly and regularly. Whatcould itmean? Wasitthe sign of dissolution, or was it real? I listened, and heard it plainer and plainer above the wild throbs of my heart, Jt was real/ Something or somebody was d ging at the grave above! Could I now hold out till I was reached? The air had already become thick and palpable, and sti e fires were flitting before my eyes, I held my breath till the distended blood-vessels seemed bursting, and then as I respired, the earth turned to soft mud around me; and then the long, labored inspiration was like drawing in some loathsome reptile. But what was above? It,could not be a person, as I had been buried by them. The small | jewel set in darkness. The dark, sweeping lashes, the faint roseate glow of each cheek, the delicate nose and lips, as the moonlight rested on them, were indescribably beautiful. There was, too, a tumul- tuous throbbing that showed what a powerful emo- tion was agitating her. What was that emotion? Was it a response to my own great passion? What else could itbe? Encour- aged by the certainty that the latter was the case, I urged my suit with redoubled ardor, I pictured the hese that would be hers in a civilized country, and the utter misery that must follow her life among the savages. She informed me that she was a cap- tive, not of the tribe near at hand, but of one further north, which had held her ever since the massacre of her parents; and that she had been told, in case she | attempted to leave them, instant death would be the It must be a famished ; animal hastening to devour me, Yet this would be | a relief, to gain one more draught of the sweet, cool | air of heaven before death. Now I heard the murmur of voices/ I shouted— | there was a pause and stillness; and then the efforts | above. | from my awful fate, thank God! pale face of the fair captive, and then again came | utter oblivion. CHAPTER X. ; AN AWFUL AWAKENING, I HAVE now reached a point in my life over which I would fain in silence. It is an rience so strange, so like some horrid vision of sleep, so dif- ferent from what usually falls to the lot of man, that, at this remote day, I cannot look upon it with- out a recoiling shudder of horror, I times persuaded myself that it was unreal; but no, it is true, and time can never clothe the memory | dian’s eyes ve some- | were renewed with greater vigor. I shouted again. I could feel the jarring trembling of the loose earth Some one was endeayoring to rescue me A moment after, and the cool air brushed my face; a strong hand seized my arm, and—oh, joy inex- pressible! I was on the earth again. For a moment I was bewildered and dizzy, and my ulse fluttered wildly, for I had been very nigh death. was recalled to full consciousness by the familiar voice of Jim. ** Got in a tight fix, Will. Ole Jim jus’ in time.” I took the savage’s hand without a word, and sink- ing upon my knees, sent up a Be to the Merciful Being who had hus snatched me from the most appal death, There was a brigh moon shining, and, as I turned, I saw the dark In- f ixed wonderingly upon me, “* Jim,” said I, solemnly, ‘‘may the God who has | put it into your heart, reward you for this act. I of it in a different dress than that of unearthly | terror. Bleak and bare it stands alone, in my check- | ered lot, and the silver that now glistens prema- turely in my hair, came upon that night. I remember falling into a deep sleep, in which the last form that before my eyes was that of never, never can.” “Jim didn’t do it,” he quickly interrupted. ‘‘ She did!” and disengaging his grasp, he darted out of sight. I turned and looked behind me. standing motionless as a statue, her slight form | wrapped in a thick mantle, her sweet, white face the dark Medicine Man; there was a confused mur- | mur of voices, and then all became dark. Gradu- | ally the darkness was sig by the glittering folds of a dream—a dream which had theme, but the minutest particulars of which I re- member to this day. here were airy, waving figures gliding silently about me, without voice, but with every variety of motion. They passed and re- assed before my face, frequently pausing and ex- fending their arms over my body, and sometimes standing and intently scanning my countenance. This continued a long time, not & word spoken either by myself or the forms, when suddenly the whole changed. The waving figures darted with the rapidity of lightning among each other, and the ulet radiance became instantly as black as night. n this I could distinguish the rushing forms grow- ing fainter and fainter, until at last all was black- ness ness in one volume were gradual y crushing me be- neath oe then a str: I feeling of being cramped and held forcibly still. en came a long, deep, in- drawn breath, and I awoke, All was confused and inexplicable. Open Then came a feeling as oss} the thick dark- | ttle form or | ‘Biygian as wide as I might, I could not pierce the S n | gloom. I tried to move, but could not—could not stir a limb, and only the fi air was steamy and hot, and I was surrounded by something which chained every part. I strove to collect my thoughts. 1 remembered the consulta- tion in the hut, the coming unconsciousness, and— my present awakening. first impression, after this, was that the house had fallen over me. I clenched my hands—they closed upon earth! 1 reached forward and licked the darkness. J tasted earth /—and then came the sudden, overwhelming knowledge— I WAS BURIED ALIVE! No pen can draw the faintest picture, ceive the unutterable horror, unless no soul con- that soul has ers of my hand. The | ped aml like a spirit’s, stood the fair, mysterious c ve. ‘or a moment I was dis to believe it was a spirit before me, so still and motionless she remained. gy ee she po aoe is depart. “ Hold!” exclaim springing forward and seiz- ing her arm; “ Hold one Miontor till I thank thee,” as Sweet voice. ‘ He it is who has preserved your e. As she uttered these words, she turned her dark eyes upward, and the moonlight streaming down upon her face, threw a vail like a halo o glory php it. Then, looking me calmly in the face, she ed: “You have esca’ an awful death, it is true; and rave uot the only one who has thus risen from the 73 en “ug tees, and I know y' and awaiting you, but a short distance away. Jim will furnish you with a rifle. You know the direc- tion to take, and let me urge you to flee,” Again re) ees to go, but I restrained her. _ and die With thew sparen, pnd do you wish to live e tears glistened on her face as she replied: “I have not a friend in the civilized world. My ts were murdered by the Indians, and myself and sister carried away in captivity. Wewere separated; I was taken eastward, and she westward beyond the Rocky Mountains. She cannot be living, for she was @ d * eate child, younger th one-half the suffering “nto aro ng dhe impound * In the north-western part of Oregon is a tribe of Indians called Chenooks, abe bury their sick as soon as the Medicine Man pronounces them beyond re- covery. This horrid practice is not confined to them alone, for other tribes in th known to inflict it upon their captives. There, | ‘Thank the Great_One above,” she replied, in a | result. I saw she wished—she longed to flee, and the objections she offered were only suggested by her fears, ‘Hist!’ she whispered. ‘‘ There is some one.” Iturned. Jim stood beside me. ‘How soon goin’?” he asked, anxiously turning to me. “Shortly; why do you ask?” ‘*Day comin’, and if you git cotched, no use!’’ he repli , meaningly. _ I was not aware, Jim, that I had enemies among you.” “Yout hain’t; but—”’ The rest of the sentence was gesticulated, first. pointing to me and the fair one beside me, *‘*Do you not understand?” asked the latter. “There are several in the tribe who look upon me | with envious eyes, and were they conscious that you heartfelt prayer | : e North-west have been | Jim and Im | Suspicions 0! | as he came. It was now knew of my existence, you would not be spared a . This is what Jim means, and his words must be heeded.” iiss Must I travel afoot and alone?’ I asked of the dian. “There’s hoss what tossed you over buffler,” he answered, pointing to a clump of trees, ‘‘and I’ve brought your other things,” he added, handing me my knife, powder-horn, and rifle, ‘‘and I'll show through woods to perarie.”’ “Thank you; but I shall not need you, as I know the way well enough.” “ How soon you goin’ to start?’ he asked, turning to depart. “Tn less than an hour I shall bid you farewell.” “Jim,” interposed the fair captive, “bring my horse to the same spot. I think Ishall also leave for home on If quis is made, you can tell them this, and add that I shall p robably be with them ina few days again. As I know the wilderness well, I will guide our friend here through it,”’ The savage looked cautiously at us both. If he was | shrewd enough to suspect the truth, he was also polite enough not to show it. He replied that her wish should be gratified, and he disappeared as noiselessl, etting far in the night. The moon rode high in the heavens, and shed a full, perfect light down upon us. “So you are going, said I, looking at her. “Tam going attempt it,’’ she answered, firmly. “And through no action of mine shall you eve ‘t this step,” I added, warmly. Oh! I hope he will soon return, for I wish to go,”” she said, as with a shiver of apprehension she look- = hurriedly about in the dark shadows of the for- es “As yet we know not each other’s names,”’ said I, pleasantly. “ True,’’ she answered, with a faint smile, ‘ Mine is Imogene Merment.”’ imine is William Relmond; but where can “Ah! there he is now,” she answered, with a deep flush, and the next minute the savage stood beside us. ‘The animal's there; you'd better be off. Soon as you git away, I'll cover up hole, but I'm afeard there am some in’ about here. “ We will go at once,” said Imogene, gathering up her dress. I turned to give a last word to Jim, but he had vanished. * Let us h ,”’ said she, ‘‘for I have adread that we are watched, and will not get away after all. I pray God that nothing may prevent us, now that we She almost ran. In a minute we reached the grove. Here we found two horses ready for a journey. Without losing a moment, we mounted and struck ™ ‘Why this di ; ogene?” I asked “Why this direction, Im ” ; ‘To avoid pursuit,” she answered. “At daylight we will change it, and proceed to the south-east.’ The open prairie was some miles distant, and as long as we were in the deep shadows of the wood the greatest danger was to be apprehended. It was more than probable that the extended absence of ne, at the same time, had aroused the more than one savage, As al] must
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14 have known that I was buried while still living, and that she had battled their determination as long as there was hope, when the morning came and showed her abrupt departure, they could not help suspect- ing the true cause. ‘he air was cool and exhilarating, and, as my fiery animal pranced beside that of Imogene, I could Beadle’s . Half-Dime | | | not restrain the wild, ardent hopes that thrilled my | being. Iwas homeward bound with the fairest prize in the universe tome. What else could be needed? Ah! there was the fate of Nat, my companion, still shrouded in obscurity. I determined to question her at once in regard to him. ““Tmogene, although this is hardly the pro ment, I cannot help questioning you about of a friend.” *“T know to whom uickly. ‘“‘Ihave heard him speak of you, but he does not know of your existence. He is a captive like yourself, save that he seems perfectly contented with his fate.” “Thank heaven! it seems indeed that a wonderful Providence is watching over all of us.” **T believe he will effect his escape, but it must be through your instrumentality, for [ will not dare to show myself.” : ** Good, clever Nat, I will do se bree for him,” I exclaimed, warmly, ‘He is a whole-souled fellow, for all he is so odd. Only to think, he has been so nigh me all this time! as far as lies in my power.” “T have had several conversations with him, in all of which erate of you. He appeared to love you, and regretted greatly that you were so reckless, He said he had long striven to teach you to hunt with caution, but never succeeded. He also referred to a trapper named Bill Biddon, the one who did his best to save our — when they fell victims to the say- es, and whom I would give all the world to see, e said he succeeded, after several years, in quite a hunter of him.” ‘Oh, the rascal!’’ I laughed, “ just like him.” When day dawned we continued our journey for r mo- e fate several hours. I learned in the course of the conver- | sation that Imogene Merment wandered ae. among the tribes for many miles around, and as learned in after years, her existence was known to Te as far opposite as Fort Churchill and Fort all. At noon I shota ptarmigan, which was cooked, and upon which we made a hearty dinner. Imogene as- cended a small eminence to ascertain whether an signs of pursuit were visible, None were discovered, but we hurried forward until nightfall, when we drew up for the night. We started a fire, and, at my ur- ent request, oo lay down beside it, while I ept watch. Our horses were ge y at scarcely a rod distant, and yet in the night they became so ter- rified at the ef tape of some animal, that the broke loose and fled, and we never saw them r This was a great loss to us, but in the mo g we continued our journey on foot, and at noon ascended a high mountain, which was aspur of the Black Hills, lying between the Yellowstone and Missouri. The day was a clear, beautiful one, and the fairest aks of the mountain, looming up against the blue, Far-off horizon, formed a fine background to pod 2 rious landscape spread out before us. Nevers I forget the magnificent scene which was ned to our vision. To the north, the mighty wilderness stretched in one unbroken tract as far as the eye could reach, while to the southward the gliste waters of the vast rivers could be seen, winding an losing their tortuous channels in the forest again. South of us, nestling in a deep valley, could be seen the tiny bee-hive-like lodges of the tribe we had seeming] panty eee a square rod of ground. ** Yonder,” said ne, pointing to the north- ward, ‘“‘is the tribe which holds your friend. The village is two days’ journey, but the course is direct, and you cannot fail to find it. If you wish to search for him, I will remain here until you return. I should wish to approach no nearer, as it would increase the danger to both of us. Your friend has hunted with the tribe in this mountain, and should you be at a loss to find me again, ask him to guide you to the * Death Rock,’ and you will reach me by the most di- rect course.” T hesitated long before leaving Im duty to Nat, and the hopeful view she took of i finally decided me. She was confident I should find him and be back in a few days, and u me to de- lay no longer. We re to the “‘ Death Rock,” where we separated. ogene was familiar with its peculiarities, and me that in its recesses she could find security from any animal foe.+ Before leav- ing her [ saw that she was provided with food suf- ficient to last a week at least, and as she was fur- nished with a rifle and ammunition, her situation was certainly as good as my own. CHAPTER XI. THE BRIGADE AND AN OLD FRIEND. Brppina Imogene -by, I started to the north- ward. At nig! tI kindled a fire by which I slept in safety, and at an early hour resumed my journey. Atnoon I reached the, banks of a river, so large that I was pretty certain it was the Yellowstone, and * The Crow Indians are a numerous ig coal vided into the Blackfeet, Sioux, Dacotah, Unk-pa- Two Kettle, and Minnie besides several others. has its se te village and chief, but all are on friendly relations with each other. + Death Rock is com principall but m. of a vast cave, in which it is said a whole tribe of Indians once hed; choosing death by starvation rather than fall into the hands of their enemies. It is my place to assist him, | ou refer,” she answered, | Library. hence was able to judge pretty correctly of my lo- cality. The river was broad, and it was quite a seri- | ous undertaking to cross, but it had to be done. As I was stepping in, a sound of distant voices struck me. I paused and listened, and soon could hear the loud, regular, swelling song gradually ap- proaching nearer and nearer, and, at stated inter- vals, the powerful chorus. Something in the sound of this song, at such a time, was indescribably stir- ring and inspiriting; and, as it came nigher and nigher, and grew louder, its power increased. Hard withdrew a short distance and awaited its appear- ance. Soon a lenge canoe nearly full of men came to view around a bend some hundred yards distant. It was followed by another and another, all keeping time to the words of their Min 2 We are going with the tide, oho! yoho! Free as mountain-winds we glide, Yoho! yoho! Oh! ours is a merry life, And full of danger, toil, and strife. Then join your voices In the glad refrain, And let the mountains Echo back the strain. Yoho! yoho! ‘ As over a score of majestic voices joined in the chorus, the echoes were awakened for miles around. I watched them in wonder and admiration, Soon to my surprise, they made toward the shore where I stood: As it was noon, they were probably putting in for their dinner. In a moment the boats were hauled up on the bank, and, as rough and hardy a set of fellows as ever met, sprung upon the shore. A huge fire was soon blazing and roaring, an enor- mous quantity of meat steaming and spitting, and the men, exceping the cook, were lolling about on the grass, each one smoking and chatting, and mak- ing a scene of pleasant confusion and enjoyment. now step forth from my concealment, Sev- eral turned their faces toward me as I passed them, but no unusual amount of astonishment was mani- fested. I made my way to a group of three, and seated myself beside them. ‘“Whar’d you come from?” asked a short, gruff- looking man. “No place in particular, at present,’’ I replied, pleasantly. “One of them Nor’west chaps, I s’pose!’’ “No, sir; Iam notrapper, but a mere adventurer.” s Tell that to them as believes it,” he retorted, an- rily. . i f is immaterial whether you believe it or not. If I were a member of the North-west Fur Company, I should not be ashamed or afraid to own it, as I be- | lieve that is as respectable and honorable as the one in whose service you are.” ‘* Boys, do you hear that!” called out the fellow. ‘*Yer’s one of them sneaks—a Nor’wester, and he’s insulted us—”’ ted “T did no such oe “Do you hear that, say ?” he called out, without regarding my words. ‘“ Here’s a sneaking Nor’- wester cracking up his party afore us.” | | wild animals. I was provoked but made no reply. His words at- | tracted attention, and, anxious to see the trouble, all | gathered round. “What's up?’ demanded a stumpy fellow, push- ing his head in between the others. A fight! a fight!’ “Make a for ’em,”’ “Blow me, if he don’t look like one o’ them Nor’- westers as sent Governor Semple out of the world.* Go p= Tom!” “Pil maul him as soon as I get in fightin’ order,” said Tom—he of my first acquaintance, Matters were now getting serious. A collision be- tween the redoubtable Tom and myself seemed una- voidable. His impudent brayado and insults had roused me somewhat, and I made up my mind that I should withdraw nothing I had uttered, and bear none of his insolence. ““What’s the row?” demanded another; ‘I don’t understand it.” “Why here’s a sneakin’ Nor’-wester,’’ answered Tom, “ blowin’ "bout things, and I’ve made up my mind I won’t stand it; and he continued his war- like pre tions. ; Pha ’s right, Tom, go in and win,” added several voices. “Gentlemen,”’ said I, “all I ask is that you shall understand this matter, and show fair play—” “We'll do that, you!”’ interru several, “In the first lace,” I continued, “I have said no against the company in whose service you are. man, whom you call Tom, accused me of being a member of a rival company; I replied I was not, although I should not be ashamed if such was the case. He avers, however, I have insulted you, and seems determined to avenge it, and I am per- fectly willing to gratify him. As I said, I am not in the service of any company, but am a mere adven- turer in these parts. With this explanation I am now es any proceeding he may wish.” “Smash me to nuthin’, ram me down and shoot me, if that ain’t Jarsey, or I’m a sinner!” exclaim- ed a familiar voice, and the same instant Bill Biddon stepped into the ring before me. “Give us your paw, Jarsey.” : He grasped my hand, while his scarred countenance *In an affray between two parties, belonging re- spectively to the Hudson Bay and North-west Fur Companies, the leader of the former, Mr. Semple, was shot by a member of the latter. happen some years before the date of our story, but for a long e there was ill-feeling and frequent encoun- ters between the two companies, | is wort ly satisfied of the nature of the approaching body, I | was dissolved, in one great, broad smile. It ip need- less to say I was delighted beyond measure at this unexpected egies f 63 Ws Bill, I little thought to meet you here.” ‘““And yer’s as what thinks Bill didn’t think so himself.” The others stood wondering. The old trapper turn- ed, and seeing Tom standing with his fists still clinch- | ed, shouted: “Ef “a say another word to that gentleman, as forty like you, there'll be only a grease- spot left of you. Do you hear?” and he shook his ponderous fist beneath his nose. The fellow did hear, and with a muttered “It’s cu- | ous, I allow,” donned his coat with the most per- | fect meekness. “Now,” said Biddon, facing the rest, “if thar are any "bout Pica’ as wants to take up this fout, wh jis step forward and I'll settle the matter wit im. “Ts he a Nor’wester?” asked one, breaking the silence. ‘“What you want to know fur?” “Cause if he is, he can’t pass this crowd without swallerin’ them words,” ‘“What words?’ demanded Biddon, fiercely. ““What Tom said he said.” **Have I not explained—” I commenced. “Now jist hold on, Jarsey,” interrupted the trap- = turning toward me with a backward wave of nis hand, © Now, hold on, you, fur ef you take back rave tro % ou've said, shoot me, ef Z don’t lick you. Ogh!” 1en turning to the others, he continued, “He ain’t goin’ to take back nothin’ he’s said yer- abouts; and ef Tom Wilson thar don’t swaller what | he said, yer’s as will make him do it.” “T mought’ve be mistaken,” said the now fright- ened Tom. “That won't do.” ““Wal, he didn’t say so,” he jerked out. “That'll answer, S’posen I say he is a Nor’wester, how ‘bout that?’ demanded Biddon, glaring about on the rest. There was no yc All was still as death. “Wal, boys,’ added Bill, returning to his good nature, “he ain’t a trapper; never took a skin in his born days; is a parfect gentleman, and I'll make you ‘quainted with Bill Relmond, from the States, or, as I call him, Jarsey, as fine a chap as ever tramped these parts.” The scene that followed was singular and amus- ing. All crowded around me, ng and talkin and shaking hands; and the first hand I gras was Tom Wilson's. “Hope you won't mind what I said; he spoke in‘a lower tone, “I orter been lammed for it, sure.” “Don’t refer to it,” I laughed; “I suppose you were only anxious for a little amusement to pass away time.” “That's it "zactly, Jarsey BN ofan a trump.” “It’s my private opine,’ ed out Biddon, “that this coon is goin’inter these eatables, and ef you wants a bite, Jarsey, you'd better jine.”’ All now crowded around the meal- c it, and com- menced devouring its contents with e avidity of c It consisted mainly of pemmican et buffalo flesh), a food much in vogue in the orth-west, with several biscuits and some scaldi tea. The meal finished, the men instantly produ | their pipes, which they indulged in for ten or fifteen minu he boats were then shoved into the water, the cooking utensils placed tions made for starting. ‘““ Whar you bound to?” asked Biddon, just as they were deg “The Blackfeet-Sioux,” I answered, unable to re- press a smile. “The Blackfeet-Sioux?” he repeated. «Yes; do you know their grounds?” “Tt’s ‘bout twenty miles down-stream—that is, the vil .. We ca'c'late to camp thereabouts to-night, bob. We the name of beavers, do you want with em “Tl explain matters when we have a better oppor- tunity,” P answered. sii “Jump in with me, then, an’ I'll get Tom Wilson = rest me awhile, and we'll talk over matters and ngs.” I sprung into the boat, and the brigade was soon under way. The Yellowstone, being broad and deep, and the current quite powerful, the work was light. The song was taken up by the voyageurs, all joini in the chorus and keeping time with the measu dip of their paddles. I seated myself in the stern, beside the steersman, whom I found to be a clerk in the Hudson Bay Company, and a gentleman. “How long will you remain with us, Mr, Rel- mond?” “Only until night.” bg hoped you would accompany us to the settle- ment. “T should be glad to do so, but circumstances for- ” d. “Tt was quite fortunate,” he smiled, “that you and Biddon were acquainted. He is a noble fellow.” ‘Most assuredly he is. I accompanied him as a seeker of adventures, last summer from Indepen- dence, and we separated in the autumn, while in the wilderness. I was considerably surprised to find him in your service. “He had a dispute with one of his employer's agents, and gave Wim a severe pounding. He was reproved rather sharply, and left the company in dis- ust. This was during the winter. Shortly after he visited Red river settlement, and volunteered his services, and they were gladly accepted.” “He has been, then, but a short time with you?” “Only a few weeks—but long enough to let us know the value of his services. This brigade is all owing to him.’ on board, and prepara-
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| ’ a - store for them. Bill Biddon, Trapper. 15 “* How so?” : “You are aware we are now in the United States territory. It is not often that we extend our work into it, except in Oregon, which has lately fallen into the hands of the Americans. Biddon has engaged a large quantity of furs of the Indians in the neig abor- hood, intending them for one of their fur companies, brigade was dispatched for them. He will find quite a pile of money due him at York fort when he ar- rives there.”’ : : Further time was spent in conversation with the clerk, when I noticed a person had taken Biddon’s dlace at the oars. The trapper motioned me. beside im. Seating ourselves in the opposite end of the boat, he said: ay Now, we'll have a talk, Jarsey, ogh! : “The first thing to be knowed,”’ said Biddon, “is how in the name of human natur’ you come in these parts? How war it, r oaigg #9 ‘* You must remember, Biddon, I have been a pris- oner for the last six months,’’ and thereupon I told my story. Fey ‘ ‘ Did you never hear nothin’ of Greeny?” ; “Yes; a rumor reached me that he was living with a tribe of Indians to the east of us.”’ “Altogether onpossible,’’ answered the trapper, with a shake of his head, ‘* Why is it impossible?” ‘*He’s had his ha’r raised, sure, and never see’d the next day arter we see’d the last on him.”’ “Tam more hopeful than you are, Recollect, J have been a captive, and am now here without bodily harm.” “It’s qua’r, I allow, how you come out as you did. The reds in them parts are ram eous, and if it hadn’t been for that Jim, and that gal, you’d ‘a’ gone under, sure. I's tuck once by them same chaps. Me an’ Snapper Jack was sot on one dark night in an awful snow-storm by a hundred on’em. They blaz- ed right into us, and Jack rolled over with a pound of lead in him, and never said a word. I's purty well riddled in my lower story, but I got off with my ha’r while Jack never knew who tuk his. They ca’e’lated on toastin’ you up brown, and would ef it wa’n’t fur that gal.” : The brigade proceeded regularly and rapidly down the Yellowstone, until the sun sinking in the west, warned them that ht was at hand. The steers- man informed me they should not be able to reach the Indian village that night, but would early the next day. Just as the shadows were blending with the darkness on the river banks, the brigade ran in to shore for the night’s encampment. A dense forest on either side of us rende our situation gloomy; but this was soon dispelled by the jolly voyageurs. Fuel was collected, and three fires crack- led and blazed cheerily around us, The men passing to and fro, chatting and joking, the confusion of pre- yarations for supper, made a scene well calculated dispel all gloom. All gathered around the hearty evening meal. These hardy fellows, after the labori- ous day’s work, their appetites sharpened, ** Ate like horses, when you hear them eat.” The meal finished, the indispensable pipes were in requisition. The brigade included men NS who had trapped and hunted from the shores of the frozen sea to toe plains of the Kansas, and from Labrador to the mouth of the Columbia, beyond the Rocky Moun- tains. They had encountered every imaginable foe; the intense cold and the polar bear of the North, and the innumerable hordes of sayages of the more temperate regions; and now they recounted their reminiscences, and speculated upon the fate still in The hours passed rapidly, and, ere I was aware, the voyageurs were gathering their blankets around them for the night's rest. “Come, bundle up, Jarsey,” said Biddon, “for thar’ll be no time to snooze in the daylight.” The men were stretched at every point around the fire, their feet being toward it, their heads radiating outward, so that the three groups resembled the same number of immense wheels. As most of the places were occupied, I lay a little beyond the circle, within a foot or two of Biddon. The fires now smol- dered, and the heavy darkness n settled over wood and river. Not disturbed the deep silence save the faint flow of the Yellowstone, or the dull noise of an ember as it broke a and now and then the distant wail of some wild animal. I soon joined the rest in the land of dreams. The first apprisal I had of the approach of Sey were the loud cries: “‘ Leve! leve! leve!’’* uttered by nu- merous voices. up, I saw the voyageurs all astir, voniy tne ark, The boats were launched, an being too early for breakfast, the men sprung in an rs. weet att tor breakfast,” said the steersman, “ at the Indian village, which T understand is your destin- ation.” ith the same inspiring so capa ball to their oars, and the boats shot rapidly through the foaming water. In the course of an hour or more the brigade put in for breakfast, and the same bustling scene that had taken place the ht before was re-enacted. min place chosen was a broad, open plot of grass, reaching down to the water's and extending some hundred feet back to the e of the forest. No signs of Indians were seen, and I was somewhat puzzled to know how it was known they were in the vicinity. The clerk explained to me that Biddon had described the halting spot and the distance so aecu- rately, that there could be no mistake, and the sav- es would soon make their 2 ages e had scarcely spoken, W. a@ movement was of previous days, the * Arouse and get up, | | | heard in the forest, and several Indians made their | appearance, They seemed to understand the mean- ing of the prea for, directly behind them came numbers of others bearing loads of peltries—the furs of beavers, foxes, badgers, lynxes, martens, otters, and wolverines. A barter at once commenced, and in s, | less than half an hour the whole array was deposited but after his dispute he offered them to us, and this | in the boats, and the Indians were proudly paapeing in the gaudy trinkets and dresses which fallen to their lot. “Where is their village?’ I asked of Biddon, ‘ ‘A mile or so back in the woods; you can’t miss i ore “FEcan remain here without danger, can I not?” “Yas, I guess so—hold on, I'll fix it for you.” With this he strode rapidly toward a man who ap- peared to be the chief, and commenced a conversa- | tion. He understood the Sioux tongue well uangs to hold quite an intelligible conversation. The lasted but a moment, when he returned. “You needn’t be skeerish,’’ said he; ‘* ’ve made it allright. I told that old chap you wanted to take a furs for us ag’in, e was a little s’pishus at fust shoot me if he warn’t! and he axed ef you want to run off with that gal o’ theirs, ‘cause ef you war, you'd better leave yer ha’r behind you. There’s been two or three round these parts after her, and he won't stand it no longer. ou've got to be mighty shy, Jarsey, I kin tell yer; but I hope you'll git her fur all that, ogh!” “Tam grateful to you for this kindness, Biddon—”’ “Never mind "bout that; come to the p’int ef you've got any thing to say.” “Thad nothing except to express my thanks, which you seem averse to receiving.” “It does go ag’in’ my stummick, I allow, Jarsey; when you come the squaw over me, I can’t stand it. Yer’s as likes to talk fair and squar’ and leave the rest. Shoot me ef I doesn’t!” ‘“‘T suppose the time has come for us to separate, then, Biddon?”’ “Leastways it’s close at hand. Think you'd bet- ter go » to Selkirk settlement with us; don’t s’pose | 5] you will; think you're a fool, shoot me ef I don’t, ogh!” sc It seems our separation is to be something like it was before,” I laughed. “I believe you had a small opinion of my abilities at that time.” “Wal, yer’s as hopes you'll come out - side up this time. In course I'll have a glimpse of that ugly face of your’nag’in. In course.” *T don’t know about that. As you have gone into the service of the Hudson Bay Company, your ee oot of action will be far removed from mine, and be an occurrence which I cannot imagine at this time that will bring us together again.” “That ain’t so sartin,’’ said the trapper, in a low, confidential tone. “I rather opine I'll be down in In: dependence this fall, and ef these fellows ca’c’lates on keepin’ me around, they've got to step round ’em- selves. Shoot me if they ain’t, ogh!”’ “*T hope you will not region north of this, for it will indeed be a dreary, lonely life for you.’ “Wal, yousee, Jarsey,”’ he continued, with a shade of feeling, ‘it don’t make much difference whar I traps. Yer’s as s’pects to go under somewhar in the mountains, and leave my top-knot fur the buz- zards and reds, and it mought as well be in one part as t’other of this country.’ “ Pudge, Biddon, don’t talk that way. Why, I am sure I shail see you settled down in the States, with a wife and a dozen children—”’ Ipaused as I noticed the trapper’s face. Some strange emotion was gaining the mastery over him; | but he conquered it in a minute. “ Never talk that way ag’in, Jarsey; I can’t stand it.’ ** Pardon me; you will soon be under way,’’ Ispoke, wishing to rom the allusion which had been so painful to him. c ore! pps was making preparations to start, an- swered: ‘Yas; the boysare near ready, and they won't wait. What yer goin’ to do, Jarsey, when we leave you ’mong the reds?” ““T have told you, Biddon, that my sole purpose is to seek out Nat Todd. I have given you an account of my meeting and partial t with Imogene, the captive, wheae told me wt he whereabouts. She is now waiting at Death Rock for me, is as confi- dent as lam that I shall bring Nat with me. These Indians, believing Imogene to be with the other tribe, will not suspect her flight unless a runner ar- rives here and acquaints them with it; but I have little fear of that, as Ihave no expectation of remain- ing any length of time.” * Wal, as that little gal has see’d Nat, of course he’s kickin’. Bless her soul! I'd like to see her sweet face, but Is’pose the brigade can’t spare me just now. Jarsey,l’ve my s’picions that that other sperit is some- where out toward Oregon,’mong a tribe of red-skins. I've had my s’picions I say, but I'll say nothin’ more now ’cept to kind of hint I may take a tramp out in them arts some day to see ef thar be signs of her.” “I sincerely hope that such may be the case, al- though I cannot be as sanguine as you are. Should you rescue her, the debt of gratitude—”’ “ There! that'll do, ogh!’’ interrupted Biddon, im- peer. “Such things go ag’in my stummick, an don’t want to hear’em. As you're on the track of Nat, go, fur he may be samenhar t, in spite of the fears I have that he isn’t, arter all.” ‘Rest assured I shall leave no stone unturned. I shall seek him at once.” f “‘ And when you finds him, tell him old Bill Biddon is about, and ready to hunt savages with him any time, ef he don’t git behind me when shootin’ time comes, Ogh! ogh!"’ and the trapper enjoyed his just | He turned, and looking at the bri- | | | joke merrily. He stopped suddenly and looked at the brigade. “Wal, rho © talkin’ time’s gittin’ mighty short. I'd like to talk longer, but can’t do it this time. “pee 2) we'll have a time down in the States ‘fore ong.” “TI sincerely trust we shall,” I answered, unwilling to turn the hopeful picture which he was drawing for himself. “ And we'll have Nat ‘long with us,”’ he added. ‘Of course, for I am sure he would not willingly miss an opportunity of goer 2 his old friend again. Of course, Biddon, we sh meet, if; not in this world, I hope in the next.” “P’raps so, though I can’t tell till we gits there. Don’t know much *bout them matters, ogh!”’ At this moment the voice of the steersman was heard, ordering the men to their places. Biddon turned, took a step, then halted and faced me. “ Good-by, Jarsey.”’ He extended his hand, but ere I could take it it | was hastily withdrawn. He mumbled something, look at the country hereabouts, to skeer up some | nd your li e in the dreary | | dashed his hand across his face, and strode rapidly toward the boat. ot Good-by, Biddon. God bless you!” I called after im. The voyageurs seized their oars, and in a few mo- ments they were in the stream, their same chee song prion J as loudly and as joyously as before. stood upon the bank, watching them as the current bore them onward. In a few moments they reached a knoll in the river—Biddon made a signal to me, and the next minute they had vanished. As the song of the voyageurs grew fainter and fainter, until it died away in the distance, I awoke from the mournful reverie into which I had fallen, and turned to the work before me. There was a dozen Indians around, all busy with their new pos- | sessions. Some were eG ey in their new blankets, some examining t and others wrenching off great mouthfuls from huge twists of tobacco, and evidently in the highest spirits. The chief had been presented with a fine, lished rifle, and he was standing apart, trying its ock, and “drawing bead,”’ on different objects in the distance. I waited till he appeared satisfied, and then ap- proached and made a complimentary remark; I saw at once it was not comprehended, and there was not ey a savage who could speak a word of Eng- ish in the tribe. However, as they spoke the same tongue as the tribe in which I spent my captivity, my situation was not as bad as it might have Peon, In course of half an hour, the chief started toward his village, the others saunte along behind him, and myself at his side. His rifle was now thrown over his shoulder, and he seemed to have lost: all in- terest in it as he walked forward, his dark eyes bent upon the ground. A few minutes’ walk through the forest brought us to the Indian village, It was so similar to the one before described, that it needs no mention here. The Blackfeet Sioux are one of the many divisions of the Dacotah or Sioux tribe, whose hunting-grounds include the greater part of the vast territory of Ne- braska, These sub-divisions of this numerous people are tribes within themselves. Although s the same tongue, they are separate and literally in- de ent of each other. h has its village and chief, whose authority is absolute. Like all North American Ini their life is a tory one; and the traveler who to-day finds them located on the Yellowstone or little Missouri, may a year after, find them as far westward as the Great Falls of the Mis- souri. My advent among the savages excited no unusual attention, as they are often visited by traders and hunters. The chief took me to his own lodge, where all the attention I could wish was given. I was glad- ly rised to find upon the next me f that there was a half-breed among them who cou a speak the English tongue. His acquaintance I soon made, He was a middle-aged man, who had spent most of his life in trapping, sometimes as far northward as the Saskatchewan, and who often acted as interpreter for his tribe. He possessed the daring hardihood of the French trapper, and the low ferocious cunning e had ever considered this tribe as eir glittering knives, = the _ i people, having a squaw and several children, From this halfbreed Ilearned that the flight of Imogene was not yet discovered, and that the tribe which held Nat was about a dozen miles to the east- ward, linformed the chief, through the interpreter, that I should make several days’ ramble through the woods, in order to get a better idea of the face of the country and of its resources. He seemed to believe I really was an agent of one of the fur compani and offered me an escort. I declined, however, an the next morning started on foot in the direction of the tribe alludedto. _ CHAPTER XU. FOUND AT roe 1 troox a direction nearly due east toward the Black Hills. Near the middle of the day I reached the shore of a lake. It was a small, beautiful sheet of water, its glistening surface unruffled by a single ripple, and I stood a long time gazing upon its placid bosom. The blue outline of the opposite shore was faintly visible in the distance, and here and there the green face of a tiny island protruded from the surface, adding greatly to the picturesqueness of whe Uetcodi 8 ooking dreamily out upon this lake, m nasmall speck, j discernible for eyes rested u toward the other side. It was too small and dark to be an island, and, furthermore, I fancied it was moving. A moment more satisfied me that it was a oint upon was it, canoe crossing the lake nearly to th which I was standing. So small and bi
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16 —$$ - a that for a long time I was tempted to believe it was nothing but a bird floating upon the surface; but the flashing of the oars in the sunshine showed its true nature, and I awaited anxiously its approach. _ On it came, slowly and steadily, its form gradually ine the outlines of a single man. It struck me as a little singular that the Indian, should approach so un- hesitatingly a stranger, and I was upon the point of concealing myself; but, knowing that I must have been seen, and that such wa and mad would only awaken suspicion, I remained boldly in view. A few minutes later and the canoe grated upon the sand a few yards from me; and, daubed in all the glittering paraphernalia of savage war-paint and plumes, no less a person than Nathan T ashore and approached me. I was upon the point of calling out to him, when I ~ saw he did not recognize me. Since we had last been | had grown we py eae my | bari together my beard dress was also changed to that of a semi- an. I drew my hat down to my eyes and spoke in a | changed voice. ‘A pleasant day this, my friend.” “ Yes, it is,’ replied the cracked voice ** A fine country this, too.” “Yes, that’s so; didn’t expect to see you.” “And why not, my friend?’’ * “Cause ‘tain’t often you see a white man in these parts; you’re the first one I’ve seen.” ** And how is it you're here yourself?” * Wal, stranger, there’s a long story fastened to that question—a longer one than I care about spin- a =e present.”’ ‘You are not a prisoner, I hope?”’ ‘It was some time last fall I got tuk, and I’ve been with them, of course, ever since.” ‘“‘And why have you remained with them so long? It strikes me that if I had the fine yg emay you a Ishould not be long waiting to bid them fare- well.” “You see, when I landed down here, it was winter, and you must know that a fellow from the States would make poor work tramping a thousand miles at such a time. So I concluded to wait till spring, and have been thinking about going for the last month or two, but somehow or other I haven't got started; Lsuppose ‘cause I haven't had a good start.”’ ‘*You wish to return to the States?’ “IT guess I do; Lam about as hemesick a dog as you ever laid eyes on; and there’s a gal home thatI want to see amazingly.” At this remark I was compelled to cough several times. I felt like Genres upon the grass and roll- ing over and over, and yelling like an Indian. But I determined to carry the deception still further. ‘*She most likely has given you up as dead by this time.” “Tm a little afraid she has, and that’s the reason I want to go down and tell her her mistake. But I don’t know as it would be any use, by gracious!" “And why not, pray?’’ “Oh, there’s a chap named Bill Hawkins, who thinks he’s molgnee smart, all the time flourishing round there. I’d just like to lay hands on him once,’’ and Nat shook his clinched hands menacingly. Then resuming his natural manner, he added, and with a sort of desperation, ‘I don’t care, though. If Sal wants him, she can have him.”’ J “That's it. Take things am grange A is my meen when you — —— a to. 4 at end making this last remark, I unwit y my voice to its natural key. Nat ssantedy and sicana wonderingly at me. “Did my remark surprise you?” I asked, working harder than I ever did to maintain my gravity. “Tt weren't what you said, but your voice sound- ed amazingly like a person I used to know. He was about your size, but don’t dress like you, nor didn’t have such whiskers.” ‘“What was his name?” ‘* William Relmond, from New Jersey.” “ William Relmond, from New Jersey,’’ I repeat- ed, as though trying to recall some -forgotten remembrance, ‘He used to be called ‘Jarsey’ by Bill Biddon,” * added Nat, quickly, as if toaid my recollection. “And do you know Bill Biddon?”’ I demanded. “IT am of the annem hunted with him along time.” “Ah! indeed. He is an old friend of mine. I saw him some time since, and he was then in the service of the Hudson Bay Company.” * Didn’t he say any thing about ‘ Jarsey?’”’ ‘lve hit it now! There's where I heard the name. Yes, he said a great deal about him, and he also men- tioned a person called Nathan Todd, I think.” ‘Lam the man, sir,”’ responded Nat, with — A ‘You are! I recall now that he mention ) fact of your captivity, although he was more in- clined to say you were dead and gone long since.”’ ‘Bill is a cute chap, but he’s mistaken there.” ‘ “Yes; ; he seemed to cherish a warm friendship or you.’ ‘You see, the way of it was this: Me and Bill Rel- mond started from Independence last summer for | cme 7 A we was with ran away | from us, taking my knife and mare with them. So | California. The we started for Californy on ourown hook. Wecame across this Bill Biddon and changed our minds, or, rather, Relmond did, and we concluded to go on a hunt. We fixed on a place down on the Yellow- stone, and would have spent a good time if it hadn't been for that Retmond. He was a good fel- | Or hat anted?” . ‘Ss Ww low, but betwixt — and me (you needn't say noth- ingesen it, you know), he was rather soft, and I had to keep a clus watch over him to prevent his gettin’ into danger, There used to come some Injins down the stream in a canoe, and they set his head crazy. It wasn’t the Injins, though, but a white gal they as it approached, until I could discover | d stepped | | made me walk all the way here. I haven't seen Rel- | mond or Biddon since, and I should like to know that I do, being as I have | Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. | | laughed one 0! had. She was pretty, knowed better than to chase her as he di have knowed what would have come of it. We used to go down and watch this canoe. One day I went a little lower down the stream than he did, and hid in some bushes beside the water to take a good look at the pal and the Injins. Pretty soon they came, and as they got along by me, by gracious if they didn’t start right into the bushes after me! Iwas so fastin the roots and limbs that I hadn't time to git out be- fore they got right onto me. I then up and blazed away to keep them off, but I forgot to take aim, and didn’t hit them, and the first thing I knowed I didn’t know anything. One of them smashed his toma- hawk square at me, grabbed me by the neck, whop- ped me into the canoe, paddled to the other side, and what has become of them.” “Biddon is safe, of course; and Relmond was a captive, I believe, awhile, but he managed to make his escape some time since." ““How do you know that, I should like to know?” “Tam William Relmond.” Nat started as if struck by a thunderbolt. His face was such an embodiment of wonder, doubt, and pleasure, that I gave way completely to my feelings and, seating myself upon the ground, rolled over and being, and make us weak as an infant. When I again resumed — feet, my friend approached and extend- ed his hand. “What you laughing at? I knowed it was you all the time.’ It is hardly worth while to dwell upon the words which passed between Nat and myself after my iden- | tity became known to him. Of course he was half frantic with joy, in turn, and overwhelmed me with questions and explanations, and in the course of half an hour we came to a full understanding. I had acquainted him with my separation from Imogene, and that she was waiting for me at ‘‘ Death Rock.” He knew the place well, and without losing time we hastened forward. He had become ac- quainted with Imogene, and had often conversed with her about her lost sister, and of me, little dreaming that she had ever seen me, Nat proved his knowledge of the country, for his course toward the Death k was direct, and, ere we had traveled many miles, it loomed up to view. It seemed a long while to reach it, but before dark we were both conversing with Imogene, The night was spent within its natural cave, Nat and I conversing around the fire, while Imogene, wrapped in our blankets, slumbered unconsciously beside it. Nat sueceeded in catching several fine trout from a small mountain-stream, and when we resumed our journey, three more hopeful people could not have been found in the universe. Our P was less rapid than usual, as we feared for Imogene, although her life had been such | as to make her the very embodiment of health and activity. At night we reached a bend of the Yellow- | take alittle rest. He nits banks. A fire was n at kept watch, I conclud to allowed me to sleep heavily until morning, when J was aroused by one of the stone, and camped u kindled, and while | most unearthly shrieks that ever greeted mortal ear. “God of heaven! what does mean?” I ex- claimed, springing to my feet. ‘* Sounds like the ‘ Snorter,’ the engine that I heard on the Boston road,’’ answered Nat, es his eyes. ‘“Hush!"’ I admonished, as again that hideous scream burst upon us. “Wonder if the Pacific Railroad's built yet?’ re- those laughs which rack our whole | | see Biddon, don’t forget me to him. Good-by.’ Tallow, but he ought to have _ Inow ste ; he might | est, to whic | rowed out to the steamboat. ped forward from the shelter of the for- I had instinctively retreated with the trembling Imogene. ‘‘Ah! who are those?” called the captain, in- stantly. “We are whites, as you can readily see, and only ask to be taken to our friends,” A few minutes afterward a small boat put out from the steamer, and Imogene, followed by my- self, stepped into the boat, but Nat lingered. re eet hurry, Nat, don’t keep them waiting,” “I'm going to remain,” he remarked, quietly. ‘** What do you mean?’’ I asked in astonishment, He approached and whispered in my ear: i i going to hunt up Irene Merment !” ow y¥—"" “Don’t say anything,” he interrupted, with a smile. “I willdoit. There is no use trying to per- suade me to go with you. My mind is made up, and has been made up a ue time.” Imogene joined her entreaties with mine, but he could not made to change his resolution. Not wishing to detain our friends, I extended my hand. “Tf you are determined to remain, I must now bid you good-by, Nat. Your determination is so new to | me that I can aie A realize it. It is a hopeless | search I fear. e May t One who has so mercifully watched over all of us, still protect you. If ou ever “Nor me either,” said Imogene, taking his hand. “T long to see him, to pee out my heart’s gratitude to him. I hope we shall see you again.” ‘*Oh! you will, sure. I shall be down in the States one of these days, and like enough —. a wife with me, and several little Todds, as good-looking as our heirs will be. You mustn’t think this is a last arewell, for I know it isn’t.” We exchanged farewells once more, and then were As we were received on board, Nat swung his plume and shouted: y — life to you! the fust news you receive from Nat Todd will be a dispatch from the Rocky Moun- tains, ‘that he is making a sensation in that neigh- borhood,’”’ and the eccentric being vanished in the forest. Imogene had no suspicion of the true cause of Nat Todd’s erratic course, and I judged it best to let her remain in ignorance until Nat should inform her himself. ether that time was ever to come. no one could tell; but I had strong hope that it would, As may be supposed, our advent created an infinite amount of questioning and wonderment for our new- found friends, The boat was the steamer ‘* Shooting Star,”’ which had been sent to trace the Yellowstone, as far as it was navigable, by a company in St. Louic. They proposed opening trade in this section, and knowing well the prodigious resources of the coun- try watered by its tributaries, had sent a skillful captain and crew to ascertain its character and | availability. The river had, however, been ascended before. The ‘Shooting Star” ascended the Yellowstone several hundred miles further, until brought to a stand-still by the rapids in its pet part. Several days were spent in running up Clark’s Fork, the Big Horn, Tongue, Powder, and numerous other streams, many of w. ch, as yet, have received no names, al- though of considerable size. All along the banks of these gathered crowds of wondering Indians, who surveyed us with mingled terror and amazement. On two occasions, when halting to wood, the crew were attacked by them, and one of their number was | slain, At other points they manifested a friendly marked Nat, “or, maybe some of their engines | have run away from them.” As I stood a and waiting, the gray of morning commen a through t ss and shortly the day as I was about to awaken Imogene, the awful scream ht or- awned. A moment after, | was repeated, seemingly directly across the river. | It was not a human voice, but sounded like the cry of a wild animal in the direst agony. As if our terror was still too faint, we now heard the loud ring of a bell. “‘ What is that?’ asked Imogene, pale with horror. ‘* Heaven knows!’’ I answered. Sounds like the old bell up in Lubec,” remarked Nat, who, singularly enough, was the least tated, ‘Listen!’ whispered Imogene, raising her hand. h me beta stro d eave 0 e stormy nger an nearer each second, and at Evel that wild, un- earthly shriek. ‘Look!’ spoke Imogene, in a husky whisper, pointing down the river. I did look, and what was seen? There, just round- ing the curve of the Yellowstone below us, burst the broad, flaming hull of a steamboat. For a moment I could scarce believe my senses. | Nat was the first to recover himself. ng body of A ' dians. Rumors reached the States that a a dead sound like the distant | | ‘*T knowed what it was all the time, by gracious! | ou!” et The latter exclamation was addressed in vociferous | tones to the steamboat; and, f lest he might still escape notice, he sprung into the water and waved his ewe excitedly over his head, yelling at the top of his voice all the time. We had been seen however, and heeded by those on the boat. A small bell tinkled, and instantly the huge wheel of the steamer reversed es the water into foamy waves, and quickly ringing it to a stand-still. The then hailed us. Raed and lodging,’’ answered Nat. ““ Who are you?” ‘“White men, of course.” ‘White men; I see only one, and you're an Injin, sure as I’m Captain Garbold.” | / | di tion and bartered extensively with us. inally the bow of the boat was turned home, and on a glorious gery 4 in the latter ot June 1850, we glided into the turbid waters of the mad Missouri, and a few days later the ‘ Shooting Star” rested at the wharves in St. Louis, Accompanied by. Imogene I made my te | home as rapidly as pos- sible. As may be supposed, my return was a never- to-be-forgotten day to my friends. The caravan which I had joined at Independence, had been at- tacked, a few days at a to my separation from it, by an overwhelm che In- ‘ had fall- en in the massacre, and my reappearance was like the dead returning to life. The reader, I trust, can imagine the few remaining incidents. After in- duc Imogene to return to the States, I do not think I should have ever forgiven myself had I not offered her all the protection within my power. She was like an exotic at first, taken from a distant clime; but love works wonders. To-day there are few accomplishments of her sex which she does not ss. Ihad gained no princess or wealthy hero- ne, but simply a wife in the truest sense of the word. THE END. BEADLE’S HALF-DIME LIBRARY. 1—DEADWOOD DICK. By Edward L. Wheeler. 5c. 2—YELLOWSTONE JACK. By Jos, E. Badger. 5c. 8—KANSAS KING. By Wm. F. Cody. 5e. | 4—THE WILD-HORSE HUNTERS. By Capt. Mayne Reid and Frederick Whittaker. 5e. 5—VAGABOND JOR. number) By Oll Comes, a 6—BILL BIDDON, TRAPPER. By Ed. S. Ellis. So. | 7—THE FLYING YANKEE. By Col. Prentiss ’ Ingraham. 5e. The HALF-DIME LIBRARY is sold by all news- | dealers; or is sent, paid, on receipt of price— five cents per wont su Address BEADLE. AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 WILLIAM StREET, New YORE.