Beadle's Pocket Library (no. 89) (1885 09 23)
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> ee . nL S| Mall lll ll cll ell elle iin SA aM Copyrighted, 1885, by Brapie anp Apams. Entered at the Post Vol VII #2.50 Published Weekly by Beadle and Adams, Price, N 0 89 ' ' ‘ ’ a Year. No. 98 WiLLIAM St., New YorxK. Five Cents. THE TRAPPER’S HOME,
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8 Bill Biddon, Trapper. Bill Biddon, Trapper; LIFE IN THE NORTHWEST. BY EDWARD 8. ELLIS. CHAPTER I. 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 reach- ing 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 be- hind my companion. Before going further, I may as well introduce my friend and myself. My companion answered to the name of Nathan Todd, and was a native of Maine He was a tall, lank individual, with attenuated limbs and an awkward appearance generally. He was meager but muscular, and when roused to the heat of passion, as quick and powerful as the pan- ther. His 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 fluetness of foot truly wonderful. He was a good, open-hearted fellow, ani one who, when driven to the wall, would be a dangerous enemy. Once or twice, however, he had shown the white feather, and his natural timidity would ofte. evince itself. As a consequence, Nat was not, perhaps, the safest companion in the hour of danger; but, for all that, there was no one in our party whose presence I would have preferred upon the night in which I in- troduce him to notice. There was no imminent peril threatening, and Nat was a capital companion, who could while away the hours, if he chose, with his inexhaustible store of anecdote and humor. I knew he entertained a warm affection for me, and would brave almost any danger rather than be sus- pected of his only deficiency. A single intimation would decide his course in a mom nt. Nat wore a singular dress—half savage and half- civilized. The pants and shoes were such as are fashionable in the enlightened world; but a capa- cious hunting-shirt incased his body, secured around the waist by a heavy band. The most striking part of his dress, however, was the hat. This hoe had brought with him from Maine, and it really seemed indestructible. It was of a gray color, and having lost its band, had acquired the shape of a cone. When it rested on his head the edge reached the shoulders behind, and the eyebrows in front, and the pointed peak rose far above the crown. Nathan Todd’s face wes full of shrewdness and good humor. He had a large, curved nose, broad mouth, and a fine blue eye. The chin was retreat- ing, but this drawback was modified partly by a long tuft of yellow hair, the only sign of beard upon his face, except a shadowy mustache. The hair was long and sandy, and harmonized well with the rest of his countenance. As for myself, my name is William Relmond, and T hail from one of the Middle States. Shortly 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. 1 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. f£ was not influenced solely by the love of gain, but the love of adventure urged me on, Provided with an ample outfit, I proceeded by the usual route to Independence, Missouri, where I made inquiries of the trains constantly leaving that point for Oregon and California. I here stumbled upon Nat Todd, my present companion. He had just ar- rived from his distant home, where he had left a 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 mo- ney, 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- tures were terminated by death ora happy denouc- ment. We engaged places in a train which left the next day. This company nuinbered nigh two hundred persons, and was composed of all kinds of charac- ters, except females, There were French voyageurs, Irishmen, and an agent of one of the western fur companies. The a aes of the rest were from the plow or workshop. They had secured the services of an experienced guide, and were well equipped for the journey before them. Nothing worthy of note occurred upon the journey for a length of time. We experienced the usual mishaps and trials of emigrants, but nothing more startling. We sometimes lost a part of our baggage and i ite in crossing the rivers, and were greatly discomforted by the terrific storms which often raged in those regions. Then, again, we trav- eled mile after mile, and hour after kour, upon the dry, monotonous, glistenim: , rolling prairie, s0 wea- ried and tired of the scene that we hardly exchanged a syllable for hours at a stretch. At last the plains of Kansas were reached. On the day in which [ introduce ny, friend and myself to notice, we had descried a solitary antelope at a greot distance upon the prairie, and set out to bring it down. We left our horses, hoping to reach the ani- mal by stratagem. I approached near enough to wound it, when it made off with the speed of the wind, Expecting to see it, give out each moment, we followed mile after mile, until ea dark- ness warned us that night was at hand, when we halted in alarm. The caravan was nowhere in sight, and, we doubt- ed 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 usup. But we heeded not this, as we expected to keep them constantly in view, and have the antelope cooked for our supper: I have showa how widely we were mistaken. We were compelled to see the night shut down around us, Without bringing us any hope of spending it with our friends, and at a late hour we were still plodding over the prairie. “ No light yet, Nat?” I asked, for the twentieth time. ““ Well. Ishould think you had asked that question about often enough, to be suited with my answer.” “TL expect to ask it a dozen times more.” “Then I'll just answer it once for all, so T won't be troubled ag’in with talking. No /—there’s the an- swer. “T don’t know but what you're right. Nat. We | must have comea long distance, utterly unconscious of it, in our eagerness to get that antelope. and it’s useless to hope to reach the camp again before morning.”’ “That’s my opinion. exactlv. That camp, I opine is a rood dozen miles off yet.” ae “Then we may have a chanee 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 great distance. Everything was as silent and motionless as though we were treading a region of death. “I wonder whether those fellows will go afoot se we way to pick us up?’ muttered Nat, half to elf,
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Bill Biddon, Trapper. 3° “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 oiher trains.” “I reckon they’re of some account to us, being they've got our horses and our traveling appara- tus. “That is true, Nat. In fact, since we have been walking here, lhave persuaced myself that those fellows would, just as likeiy as not, turn out of the way to get rid of us.” ‘Somehow or other, I've thought just the same for a week.”” “Then, if we value our property, we mustn’t let them slip,” “No: Dll be shot, if we must!” exclaimed Nat, half-angrily, striking at once into a more rapid walk, “Tf they run off with my mare, ViH—TDll—” 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 incoherently to himself and shoot . ahead, keeping me almost ona 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 ag ow 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! I was 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.” “Shauld we meet a lot of them savages, no doubt they would tell us something else besides that.” *'l expect so," and he wheeled around and strode ahead again. Tt was now getting 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 de- cidedly. “Tam tired of this.” Nat turned and looked at me a second, and then answered: “Sonam T. We've to camp out, and there's no use in wailing till morning. Ain’t it lacky 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 earth, My blanket was ample and sufficient for both. After some search, a small depression was 8 lected, and in this I spread my heavy blanket. We then stretched ourselves upon it, pulled the ends over us, being sure to inclose our rifles in its folds, and resigned ourselves to sleep. Ere the sun was fairly above the horizon, we were upand upon our way. Knowing the company would not be in motion for several hours, we hoped to reach them before they breakfasted, and have a laugh over 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 inti- mation that T was heard. . Suddenly my friend came to a 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 us»; we'll never see that company ag’in.”’ “‘What makes you speak thus?” . “I know so, I had a dream last night that my mare was gone forever and ever, and I know she is. Don’t you remember that fur-agent told us they'd change the direction they’s traveling some time yes- terday? They hadn’t done it when we left them, and they done it as soon as we got out of sight, I warrant.” I now remembered hearing our guide remark, as also did the fur agent with us, that the trail made an abrupt bend several miles abead, We were trav- eling northeast at that time, and the contemplated change was nearly due southwest. This fact had entirely escaped our minds, until it now occurred to Nat, and we had conseqtently been proceeding in a wrong direction. By referring to the sun, we found we had gone far too much to the east in order to in- tercept the train, which was now in all probability many leagues to the southwest, This was a discovery which was overwhelming. We had then been journeying in a direction whic! had brought us not a foot nearer the company than if we had remained motionless, and it was certain that the party was irrecoverably lost. * This is a pleasant discovery, Nat!" “Very.” “Tsee no hopefor your mare. 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 1 wouldn’t stop vill 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.” “T see no course left, then, but to proceed south, in hope of falling in with some emigrant train, or in striking the Or gon 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 tiy to catch a whirlwind as to followthem, No, we must try the Oregon trail, and get into California first. How far is the trail ofi?”’ “Ttcan’t be more than a day’s pcoaer the trafl follows the Platte iat Nebraska, anc I'm pretty sure we can reach it by nightfall, if we proceed pretty steadily and rapidly.” The day was clesr and pleasant, and the sky de- void of the least signs of threatening storm. 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 mountain- peak was just visible, reser.bling a slight pointed cloud against the blue sky, This disappeared at noon, and we were again like wancerers upon the illimitable sea. Ashort timeafter, Nat’s keen vision detected a number of black, moving specks to the westward, “An emigrant train, perhaps," I suggested. “They're Pawnee Injins 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? If you do, you're mistaken, Just let me know in what part of the country we are, and I'll let you know what sights you will see, thatis, if we are going to sce any. Let's keeptothe east; | don’t want them Pawnees in sight.” “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 faney to our rifles. what is there to prevent them from taking them? And,” added Nat, with a shrewd shake cf the head, “ P’ve not faith enouch in their good inten- tions to want ’em in sight at this time.” Not unwillingly I turned my face more to the nortbeast, and soon saw them disappear from view, Some time toward the middle of the afternoon we
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‘T thin descried a solitary buffalo ahead. After considerable difficulty we approached nigh enough to bring him down. He was quite poor, and his flesh was strong and tough; but we were glad enough to get it, such asit was. He wasthrown 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 State of Kansas and enters Nebraska, Although no considerable stream, we concluded not to cross it before morning, and we made arrangements for passing the night upon its banks. A goodly quantity of driftwood 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 bottom, with the dark, glistening stream flowing silently by, and smoking our pipes, we naturally fell into an easy conversation, wae can’t be far from the ‘ trail,’ can we?’ asked at. “further than I suspected,” I answered. ‘The mepuplican Fork, which {am convinced is the stream out there, is over fifty miles from the Platte,” “Wudge! I don’t believe I can head off them fel- lows after all, and my old mare and overcoat will go to thunder.”’ “They will go somewhere where you will never see _ them again.” “T know I’m bound to loso *em, and I sha*‘n’t think any more about them,’’ ; That's the best plan, Nat. They are no great , 8S. “Tsh’'d like to know whether that Greaser or fur agent took 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 earnestly at the roaring blaze, carrying ashes and cinders high in the air, “ Wonder if some Injins won't see that?” “T guess not. We are so low down the bank that : it ean be visibl» for no considerable distance upon the prairie, and the bend in the river fortunate- ‘ ly saves us from view up or down-stream, The only point from which it would attract attention is direct- ly 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 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 afforde | any one who might be lurking opposite. LTinvoluntarily shrunk from the fire, and felt relieved when the shore blended with the dark- ness, It now began to grow quite late, the flre had smol- dered low, when Nat, removing his cap, turned upon m2 with: “ph ga 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 _ “T mean to ask whether you feel in such a hurry to get to the mines as you did when we werein In- dependence?” Now, to confess the truth, the experience of the lost week or two, and especially 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 4. Bill Biddon, Trapper. have seized the first opportunity to return to a home, where I possessed enough to satisfy any sen- sible person’s ambition. Still I hesitated to commit myself, . a Tcannot say that I am; but what induced you Oo— “1'm sick of this business,” interrupted Nat,length- ening his legs with a spiteful jerk, j “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 ahalf in Lubec; and Alminy made a big pocket in it on parpose for me to fill full of gold chunks; and Ishould like to know how Iam go- ing to do it, when a Greaser has got it.’’ “Tam afraid that that would not be tie 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 vinching alternately one pocket, and then another. ‘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 fo 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.” Iknew this was but a momentary despondency with my friend, and for the sake of whiling away the time before sleep, 1 wasinclined to humor it. “But what will you d» for that gold that vou was going to buy Deacon Hunt’s farm with for your Alminy ?”” “Let her go without it,’ he answered, rruffly, without removing his gaze from the fire. ‘‘She can ret along without it. I believe she only coaxed me to go off to Californy to get me out of the way, so that mean Bill Hawkins might take my place. If he goes come any such game, he'll catch it when I get ACK, I laughed deeply, 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 T, after a moment's thought, in which my mind had taken on altogether different channel, “Tam free to own tat I have little faith in our suc- eess in California, I propose that we seek our for- tune elsewhere, The fact that gold exists in Cali- fornia is now known allover the world, and we know there is not the remotest_ corner of her territory which is not swarming 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 is right to suppose it exists in many others.” “Have you thought of anv place?” “Tt seems to me that in Oregon, among the spurs of the Rocky Mountains, there must be precious metal.” “But why hasn't it been found?” “ Oregon is thinly settled and no suspicion has led them to search for it.” “Well, let us dream upon it.” A few more fagots were heaped upon the fire, and then we lay down for the night’s rest. My companion had lain but a minute,when he sud- denly sprung to his feet, and exclaimed: “Hurrah for Oregon!” “Bs careful.” Ia 'monished; *‘ your indiscretion may be fatal. That wall of darkness across the river looks gloomy and threatening enouzh for me.” “Tt does—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, +
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~ ', , Heavens! are we attacked?’ I ejaculated, start- ing back from the fire, *T believe so,” replied Nat, cowering behind 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. l'ut no sleep visited my eyelids that night, Till the gray dawn of morning [listened but heard no more, ut Ss CHAPTER It, A NEW FRIEND. As the light of morning overspread the prairie I felt an unspeakable sense of relicf. Not a moment of sleep had visited me that night, although Nat’s extreme fear toward midnight gave way to his drowsiness, 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 simple preparations, I ranup the river-bank, and swept the prairie to the south of us to satisfy myself that no wandering Indians were in sight. The whole p'ain 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 objects that had escaped my vision, and be ascend- ed a hich roll in the bank, some distance up, and took a Jong, careful, scrutinizing sweep of the whole horizon. Feeling satisfied that he would be no more rewarded for his pains than I was, I started the fire and commenced cooking some of the buffalo, Thac been engaged in this for a minute or so, when I heard Nat call, in a hoarse, anxious half-whisper: “*Come here, quick!’’ T hurried to his side to ascertain the cause of his agitation, ' “Why, just look yonder; if that ain't enough to agitate one, then I don’t know what is.” He 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?” T 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 his head spitefully by way of emphasizing his remark, I continued gazing after the unknown person, At first I soppcncs it was an Indian, but at the distance, and with his back toward us, it was almost impos- sible to judge accurately. Amomen.’s thought con- vinced me that it was a white man. [ 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. 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, I’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. Our course. after the first five miles, swerved con- siderably to the northwest. 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 him. The footprints of his animal were distinctly marked, and we had no difficulty in keeping them, Bill Biddon, Trapper. 5 4 At noon we forded a stream, and shortly after another, both considerably less than the Republican York, 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, At sundown we left our guiding trail and struck off towsrd a small stream to camp fer the night., When we reached it, and decided upon the spot, Nat remarked, seriously: “Tsay, Relmond, that feller might be nerrencugh to give us another shot afore morning, and I'm goi to see whether his trail crosses the brook or not,” So saying, he wheeled and ran back to the spot 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 against thus running into danger, but not feeling much apprehension for his safety, I turned my back toward him, A minute af- terward I heard his footsteps, and, looking up, saw him coming with full speed toward me, his eyes dilated to their utmost extent, and with every ap- pearance of terror, : * He's there!’ he exclaimed. * Where?” | asked, catching his excitement. * Just across the s'ream up there; Lliked to heve 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, [know he did. When I splashed into the water like a fool, he looked up ¢t me; I seen him pick up his rifle, and then I put, expecting each moment to feel a ball in me.” “Tthought you intended laying hands on him if an 0) «tp es offered,” I remarked, with a laugh. “ declare, I forgot that,” he replied, somewhat crestfallen, After some further conversation, I decided to make the acquaintance of the person who had occupied so much of 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. Leaving 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 sprung across the str am, and made 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 pire. “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 pleasant evening,” I continued, seating myself near him, “Umph!” he grunted, removing his pipe, and rising to the upright position. He looked at me a second with a pair of glittering eyes, and then asked: ‘‘ Chaw, stranger?” “*T sometimes use the weed, but not in that form.” T replied, handing a piece tohim. He wrenched off a huge mouthful with a vigorous twist of his head, and returned it withouta 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 vet gta “but I hope you will permit a few ques- ons?’ “Go ahead, stranger,” he answered, gruffly. “Are you traveling alone in this section?” “tT reckon I ar’, ’cept the hoss which ar’ a tenam,”” * Follow trapping and hunting, T 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,” .
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» Bill Biddon, Trapper: “What mought you be doin’ in these parts?” “T and my friend out yonder are on our way to Oregon.” “*Umph! you’re pretty green *uns.”” “Now I suppose you will have no objection to give me your name.” © My handle’s Bill Biddon, end I'm on my way to trappin’-grounds up country.” “How far distant?” “A heap somewhar’ up *bove Yaliecrstone,”” “Do you generally go upon those journeys alone?” “Sometimes I does, and sometimes I doesn't.” I ceased my questions for a few moments, for fear of provoking him. As his route, as far as it extend- e1, would be in our direction, I determined to keep in his company if I could gain his consent. He was a splendid specimen of foe pe yeiel man. He was rather short, but heavy and thick-set, with a com- pactness of frame that showed a terrible strength slumbering in his muscles, His face was broad, cov- ered by a thin straggling beard of a grizzled gray, and several ridged scars were visible in different parts of it. His brows were beetling and lowering, and beneath them a ¢ouple of black eyes fairly snap- ped at times with electric fire. His mouth was broad, and thouzh one could plainly see a whirlwind of ter- rifle passion might be called into life \7ithin his breast, yet there was, also, in hisface, the index ofa heart alive to good-humor and frankness. I saw that, if pera 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. “Would you have any objection to my friend and myself accompanying you, that is, as far as you should proceed 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 spose I’m goin’ toholdinfur yer. Yer’sas 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.” “Whar is yer other chap? S'pose it war him what come ay through yer a while ago: had a notion of spillin’ his picter for his imperdence,” “T will zo bring him,” I answered, rising and mov- ing off. Butas I_stepped across the stream, I dis- earned the top of Nat’s white hat, just above asmall box-eller; 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 very. Are you afraid of him?” **No; buf I wonder whether he—whether he knows enything about the mare and my knife?’ “Perhaps so; come and see. Te just now asked for you.” “Asked for me?" repeated Nat, stepping back. * What does he want of me?’ “Nothing in particular. I just mentioned your 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 almostinausible whisper. as he tremblingly followed me across the brook and to the spot where Biddon, the trapper, was lying, “My 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, giiekly and nervously. ‘ I saw the trapper was not particularly impressed with him, and I took up the conversation. TL made several unimportant inquiries, and learne1 in the course of them, that our friend, Bill Biddon, was about forty years of age, and had followed trappinz and hunting for over twenty years. He was a native of Missouri, and Westport was the depot for his pe!- 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 fave him a fine outfit and paid him well for his skins. He possessed a magnific ntly mounted rifle, and his horse, he informed me, had few superiors among the fleetest mustangs of the South. Both 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 limped 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 particulars of our loss, and then asked, without due thought: “Did you not bere upon the banks of the Repub- lie>n 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 T 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 IIL THE TRAPPER’S STORY. I was aroused from my slumbers, before it was yet Ifght, by Biddon shaking me and calling in my ear: “Come, you chaps, you've got only two minutes to swaller yer feed in. Nat was already moving about, and Isprung to my feet, determined to continue in ov friend’s gool graces, if such a thing were possible, by a cheerful 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 very 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 pools. 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 i our course to- ward the northwest, so as to strike 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 canyons in the Blac‘ Hills. As he allowed his horse to proceed upon a moder- ate walk. we had no trouble in keeping him com- pany. We generally star ed 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 meal, spent an hour or two in smoking and conversation, and turned in for the night, One night we halted upon the bank of a largo 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 passed over this while fording tho stream, and I noticed that Biddon walked around it, and sae 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 soothing pipes, I ventured the inquiry: “*T see’d sights on that chunk of mud one time,” sail he, with a dark frown. | “ What was it?—what was it?” asked Nat, eagerly, ‘“TIere’s as what don’t like to think of that time,
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Bill Biddon, Trapper. fnuch!” he answered, seeming still unwilling to refer to it, * Why not?’’I asked, partaking of Nat's curiosity. “Tt makes a feller’s bloud bile; but howsumever,” he added, brightening up, “if you wants to hear it, yer kin.” “We do, by all fieans; please give it.” “Yas, that ar’ wara time of general wipin’ ont, and this yer water that now looksas black as a wolf’s 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. | 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 munch like work, T's his man, He said as how thar war a lot of fellers camped out on the prairie, as war gwine to start fr Oregon, and as wanted a guide; and hearin’ me spoken on as suthbing extronnery, why he'd like to know ef I wouldn't go; he'd make the pay all right. IT cut around the stump awhile, and at last cluded to go. I went out onto the perarie, and see’d the com- pany. They were men, women and children, *e ajeed ally the last ones. I see’d they wanted good watchin’, and I kinder hinted they'd find trouble before they’d reached Oregon, “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. In course they didn’t see nothin’, ‘cept one straddlin chap, like this feller yer that is called Nat. Hesaid as how he see’d wonders, he did, an thar war a hundred reds crawlin’ round the camp all night. “We went purty slow, as it weren't best to hurry theteams: but we hadn't been two days on the way afore the fools got into the all-firedest scrabble I ev- er 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 to be sich fools, they mought be fur all me, an I'd let em go on alone. Howsumever, the smallest party hung on for me not to leave ’em, and 1 cluded to stay with ’em as I knowed purty well they’d need me all the time, “The biggest company as had crossed the Platte, kept onby 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 heap the smallest, and had but three or four men end 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 dodgin’ through cover. Iknowed thatthe 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 they cotched the others; for ef they didn’t, they’d cotch it at night; reds war "bout them as thick as flies. They said how ef I's */raid 1 mought go back, but as for them /hey'd go through fire and blazes ‘fore they would. I felt r’iled *nough at this to leave ’em, and I would ef it hadn’t been fur them poor women; they looked so sorrerful I made up ey mind to stick to °em fur thar sake. “We reached the stream just as. it war growin’ (ark, 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 will, 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 river, The teams war drew over and we follered, ‘Lho wat > | 7 war some deeper nor now, and it took us a long time to land; but we got overat 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- rether near the middle, and the women inside ’emy There was four men without me, and I set ’em round the piace to watch fur sign. I 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 at a time. “*T’s pretty sart’in the reds would come some of tha’r tricks, and come down the river; so I went u to the upper part of the thing, and laid in the mu myself 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 | woke up the moon war up in the sky and the river had riz so my pegs war in the water. I flopped out, but didn’t see noth- in’ yet. Isneaked 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 they kinder thought the Injins mought've done. Jist as I war goin’ back I heard some of the purtiest singin’ in the world. Fu’'st, I thought it war an Injin, ef it hacn’t been so nice; then I ‘eluded it must be an angel. I listened, and found it came from the wagons. I crept up and see’d two little girls all ‘lone clus’ by the wagons, and a-singin’ sunkthin’. Shoot me! ef it, cidn’t make me feel watery to see ‘em. The moon war shinin’ down through the flying clouds, right out on ‘em, They sot with theirarms round each other and war bare-headed, and ef I hadn’t knowed ’em T'd swore they were angels sure. Taxed what they 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 gettin’ colder, and the wind comin’ up, druv the white clouds ‘fore the moon, makin’ it all black. But when it come out ag’in I see’d sunkthin’ comin’ down the river that looked like a log. 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 knife, The log stuck a minute, and then swung round and went down the river. I knowed the boys would see it, and I didn’t leave my place. Thintin’as how this war only sent down to see what we'd do, I war lookin’ fur other things, when I heard-a noise in the water, and, shoot me, ef a sneakin’ red didn’t come up out of the water, and commenced crawlin’ toward whar the gals were singin’. “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 on us; 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 ready but it weren't ho use, ‘Fore we knowed it, I seed over forty cf ’em ‘longside us, We blazed into ’em, and went to usin’ our knives, but I knowed it wouldn't do, They set up a yell and pitched fur the wagons, while bout a dozen went at us. The fu’st thing I knowed, the whole four boys were down. and thar ha’r raised, and the women screechin’ murder. It made me® Cesprit, and I reckon I done some tall work that nicht, Most these beauty-spots on my mug come from that scrimmage. I see'd a red dart by me with that little gal as was by ov and cotched a dead red’s gun and let drive at H but the gun weren’t loaded, and so the devil run oft wi" her, >-e oxcs war bellerin’, the horses snortin’, and
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8 Bili Biddon, Trapper. the tomahawks stoppin’ the women’s screams; the red-skins war howlin’ and yellin like all mad, and as Thad got some big cuts and knocks, I ’cluded it best to move quarters. So I made a jump forthe stream, took a long dive, andswum for the shore. I come up "bout whar you’re setting, and I made a heap of tracks ’fore daylight come.” ““And did they never hear anything of the chil- dren?” “Tnever see’d ’emag’in; but I come ’cross a chap at Fort Laramie, when I went down ag’in, what said he’d seen a gal ‘mong some of the red-skins up in these parts, and I’ve thought p’r’aps it mought be one of ’em, and ag’in it moughtn’t.” “Did you say that all happened out there?” asked Hat, erking his thumb toward the island men- oned, “T reckon I did.” “But there’s a lot of Injins there now!” exclaimed e, ie As like as not,”’ returned Biddon, with a sly look at me, “T’'m goin’ to sleep then,” and rolling himself u» in his buffalo blanket, all but his feet disappeared from view. * It’s "bout time to snooze, I think,’ remarked the mained in a lower tone, turning toward me. “1 think so, but I suppose 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 willfully harm a stranger; but since I have met you, I have a great desire to 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: “The way on it war this: [ see‘d you and Nat camping there, and I s’spected 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?’ Virst I drawed bead on you, but when that Nat jumped up, I let fly at bim, 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 morning, we sallied out upon the broad, open prairie again. The trapper now struck in a direction nearly due northwest, 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 Lever witnessed. They were to the west of us, and proceeding in a southern direction, vey ey the grass clein as they went, Far away. as far as the vision could reach, nothing butasea 0: black moving bodies could be distinguished. The whole western horizon, from the extreme northwest to the southwest, was occupied solely by them, and not. else met the eye. ey were not under way, and t the whole mass was moving slowly onward, The head buffaloes would seize a mouthful of grass, and then move on a few feet and grasp another. Those behind did the same, and the whole number were proceeding in this manner. It was truly a magnificent spectacle. E We approached within a short distance. They were scattered upon the outside, and with a little trouble the trapper 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 rusbed off into the drove, e then prepared to bring down one apiece. I selected an enormous bull, sighted for his head. I ap- fired. The animal raised his head, his mouth full of grass, and glaring at me a moment, gave a suort of alarm and plunged headlong into the 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 seriesmf snorts and drop- ing 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 thesea, 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 rie monsters thundered by. A strong wind carried the dust off to the west, and we were at last in clear air again. T looked away in the direction of the herd, expect- ing to see my buffalo’s lifeless form, but 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, ‘‘Theer’n our dogs bark, but I don’t see nothin’ of no buffa- oes, ogh!”” va hit mine,’ I answered quickly; ‘‘I am sure of “ Whereabouts?” “Tn 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.” ‘Bars and beavers, you! Them bufilers didn’t mind your shots more nora couple of hailstones. Do no see whar I picked mine?” asked the trapper, ulling the buffalo’s foreleg forward, and disclosing he track of the bullet behind it. “Isn’t a shot in the head fatal?” I asked in aston- ishment. P pe might Ui ‘em weal _ > cannon, ball, and hey’d git up and run ag’in, and ef you’ pper’em all day whar you did yourn, you'd pick an bullets out thar ha’r and they wouldn't mind it.” Ll afterward found to be true. The ig nik buffalo was thrown forward u face, his legs bent beneath him, and dressed 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. The 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 northwest, and grew colder, At nightfall, when we kindled our fire, the air was so cutting that Nat and I were ina shiver, Had it not been for our blankets we should have suf- fered considerably, though Biddon did not call his into requisition. After our evening meal, Biddon remarked: “The fire must go out, boys.” “Why? 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, inerrant “They're "bout these parts. Me’n Jack Javin once got into a scrimmage yer with ’em, when we didn’t ‘spect it, and fa. ‘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,"” “Let's bave ours out then,"’ exclaimed Nat, excit- it n his proached nigh enough to make my aim sure, and | ely springing up and scattering the brands around,
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=> Bill Biddon, Trapper. 9 “Needn't mind "bout that; 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 night as this, ef they’re "bout they'll be bound to give him a call, You needn't be afeard, howsumever, to snooze, ‘cause they won’t be *bout.”’ It was too cold to enjoy our pipes, and we all bun- dled up for the night’s rest. Soon I heard the trap- er’s heavy breathing, and shortly after Nat joined imin slumber, But I found it impossible to sleep. The ground was so cold that my blanket could not protect me, and the cutting wind was terrible. [ used every means that I could devise, but it was no use and | feared I should be compelled to either buil the fire again, or to continue walking all night to prevent freezing. I chose the latter expedient. It was quite dark, yet I had noticed our situation well enough, I judged, not to lose it. So grasping - 4 blanket in my hand Istarted on a rapid run directly over the prairie. continued a long distance, until pretty well exhaust- ed. I turned to retrace my steps. My blood was warming with the exercise, and I hurried forward, counting upon sound sleep for the remainder of the night, erttinnad my run for a full half-hour, and then stopped in amazement, as I saw nosigns of my com- panions. Thinking I must have — the spot where they were lying, I carefully walked back again, but without discovering 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 sure that they would be at no great distance. Inow commenced searching for a suitable place for rest, and at last hit upon a small depression in the prairie where a large 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- a5 myself, upon what had seemed a misfor- une, Lying thus, just on the verge of sleep, my nerves painfully alive to the slightest sound, I puddent felt atrembling of the ground. 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 penmeriy: I distinguished millions of faint tremblings, like the distant mutterings of thunder. Gradually these grew plainer and more distinct and finally I could distinguish sounds | ke the tread of innumerable feet upon the prairie. Every second the vat of the earth became more perceptible. Sud- denly the truth flashed upon me—a /urd 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 pen which threatened all alike. Springing to my eet, I paused a secund to collect my tumultuous thoughts. Could I reach the timber, T could ascend a tree and be beyond danger; but lknew 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 stood like a madman, the cold sweat pou ing 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 spot! 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.” } have said that I was in a sort of depression or hollow in the earth, and thata large stone was im- bedded or one side. Now asafer and more secure shelter could not have been found in this emergency. Rice, Cyr my blanket around me, I crept as far be- neath it as 1 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 Iknew the herd were thundering past, Fora long time I lay there, beneath those thousands of feet. one of which 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, witht bellowin, mass, and the next instant it regained its feet an disappeared. It must have been an hour that I lay there, ere the last animal leaped over me, Then I looked up and saw the stars shining overhead. My joy at thesight of those glittering orbs cannot be expr arose to my feet, and looked about me. It was too dark to discern aiees yet I could hear the my ae! 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- tion of my life! CHAPTER IV. THE TRAPPING-GROUNDS. Iwas agreeably surprised upon waking to see Nat within a few feet, holding two horses by the bridle. ‘*Which one will you choose?” he asked, with a broad smile. “How did you come by them?” asked I, “Ts'pose it must have been about the time you left us last night that Biddon woke me and told’me to follow him, es there was a pouer/ul chance to get a couple of horses for you and me. I asked him where you could be, and he said he s‘posed you'd gone further up-stream to sleep by yourself, though e hadn't seen yougo. Howsumever, we wasn't wor- ried, as we thought you were old enourb to take care of yourself, so we started down the bed of the stream. We went about half a mile, when Biddon showed me a small camp-fire, burned down to a few coals and ashes; but there was enough light to show us two horses picketed a few yards away, and we seen the feet of a couple of red-skins turned toward the fire. Biddon said as how they was a couple of hunt- ers, sound asleep, and we might lorrow their horses, if I didn’t make too much noise, He told me to stand still, and keep my gun ponte 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 his head and looked 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 shoot. and as the Indian was running purty fast, 1 aime about ten feet ahead of him, supposing, of course, the villain would git there as soon as the bullet did;. Tl be han if he wasn't mean enough to stop and let the bullet be wasted. My gun kicked like 1lozes, and the Indians, I s’pose, thought a whole tribe was upon them; for setting up a great howl, they scooled off in the darkness, leav ng us alone with the ani- mals, Running back, I overtook Biddon, who was riding along as if nothing bad happened. He asked me to ride, and of course I jumped on, and here I am. But which hoss do you want?” “I do not see as there is much room for choice,” T 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 vault- ed upon the other, The Jatter was a magnificent Indian pony, of oes} bay color, probably captured when very young, and high-spirited and fiery, Both manifested considerable uneasiness, knows
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10 Bill Biddon, Trapper. ing they were in the hands of strangers, and Nat’s | commenced working at the animal. In a few mo- 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 Een expressed none, saying that I would be found all right in the 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 tooka 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 lond laughter that had aroused me. We were now pretty far to the northwest 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 nights were cool and chilling, and the days generally mild at noon, but often keen and exhilarating. The prairie was mostly of the rolling kind, but belts of timber were more common, 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. 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, e 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 prairie, so as to reach the grove mentioned upon the opposite side from the antelope. I was s‘ill at a Joss to understand his intentions, 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 grove next to the ante- lops I saw him emerge, holding a 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, perfectly concealed in the grass. he raz was visible fluttering above him. I now watched the motions of the antelope, He stood gazing at us, until the trapper came into view, when, with a star- tled glance at him, he wheeled and ran. Ina mo- ment, however, he paused and turned quickly around, is looks wera now fixed upon the fluttering signal. He stood motionless a moment, and then cautiously lifting his foot, madea step toward it. Thus he con- tinued to approach, step by step, with epparent fear, yet evidently impelled by an ungovernable curiosity, until he was scarce a hundred yards distant from the pros*rate form of the trapper. Still he was moving stealthily onward, when suddenly the sharp crack of Biddon’s rifle reached us. We saw the antelope vea wild leap into the air, and bounding forward, ‘all to the ground. The trapper sprung to his feet, and hastened to the fallen animal. * 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. seen us approaching, and was now making furious gesticulations. I watched him a moment, and then remarked: i Ho» is either signaling for us to come on, or to nae means us to wait, I guess, and we had better We We reined iv our horses and watched him. Appa- rently satisfied with our stopping, he stooped and ments he arose, and slinging a huge piece on his shoulder made his way into the ve. From this he emerged in due time, and made his way toward us, motioning, meanwhile, for us to remain in our places. “Why didn’t you wish us to approach?” I asked, as soon as he came within speaking distance. He made no answer, but throwing his meat upon the ground, hastily mounted his horse. Then he spoke in a deep whisper: ‘* Boys, did yer s’pose there’s over twenty red-skins among them trees?” * Heavens! it isn’t possible!’ I exclaimed. “It’s so; I see’d ’em, and tha’r eyes are on us this minute, They’re waitin’ for us to goon, 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 a run for it. eep close to me, and when I start, let your horses went.” * But the meat?” I hurriedly asked. ‘*Can’t take it. We may have a long run, an’ our horses won't want to carry no extra load. I didn’t ae ren animals, but I guess they ain’t mounted. eady.’ With this, Biddon wheeled his horse, and vanished from his place with the speed of lightning, while ours almost aaaenoney shot ahead like an arrow. Aa instant after, I heard the faint discharge 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. “IT 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 intoa 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 ia this chase, for, asremarked, not one was mounted. Biddon half turned in his seat, and look- ing back, amoment, 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?” T answered again in the affirmative. “Wal, jis’ keep yer peeper on him.” So saying, he raised his rifle, without checking the speed of his horse, took a quick aim along its long barrel and fired. To my astonishment, the Indian fell to the earth. * He’s done for,” remarked the trapper, quickly, is Ai We I fodder my iron, s’posen you try your hand.” I raised mine to my shoulder, and pointing it toward a suspicious savage, pulled the trigger, As might he expected, I came about as near to him asI did to Nat, in front. “Tt will take a long time for me to accomplish that feat,” said I. “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 ns at all hazards. They were s*parating and scattering over the prairie, with the evident intention of hemming us in. At this moment we came up to Nat, “Why don’t you run?” he asked impatiently. “They'll shoot us all afore we know it.” He had scarcely finished his words, when the pur- suers did fire, and with an uncomfortable effect, too. The bullets were plainly heard whistling through the air beside us, and one actually cut its way through ~~
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Bill Biddon, Trapper. il —————— ee the upper part of Nat's bat, some eight or ten inches from the crown of his bend. He dodged nervous- ly, and jerking the hat off his head, held it up to vi ew. “‘ Just look there!” he exclaimed indignantly, put- ting his finger through the orifice. “Whatofit!” grufily asked Biddon. “That’s a pretty question to ask, I should think! I swow I won't stand any such work as this.” And giving his horse the rein, he shotrapidly ahead. “T guess we mought as weill,”’ remarked Biddon, letting his horse have free r. in, The race was now decided. Atsuch speed as we went, of course the pursuers were soon left be- hind and in an hour not one was visible, all of them being either distanced, or having voluntarily with- drawn. lt is not necessary to give the particulars of our journey to the northwest. We continued traveling onward for six days, when we reached the region where it was intended we should remain until spring. This was much furtber northward than I suspected; 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 that, even now, was like the winter of the one we had left. We had entered a mighty wilderness, where, ere we left it, we were doomed to pass through strange experiences. Beaver signs were detected at several streams which we crossed during the last day or two of our journey, but Biddon paid no attention to them until about the middle of the afternoon, when we reached a small river flowing nearly due south, passing through the Hudson Bay Territory in ils course. When upon the opposite side, he remarked: “*Yer’s the spot whar we're goin’ to squat.” It is perhaps worth remarking that the section was a wooded country. We had passed over no clear rairie during the day, and were in the midst of a eep wood, é for crossing, the trapper headed directly up- stream for a short distance, when he turned to the 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, and, taking our saddles and trappings, moved away. * Have you ever been here before?” **T staid yer last season, but dicin’t ’spect to come back. Howsumever, I changed my mind, and ver weis. Move keerful, and don’t make a big trail.” We followed nearly a quarter of a mile directly up-stream, when he halted and looked carefully about him, “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. Sens forward to the water’s edge, the trapper parted the branches, and glancing a moment within, motioned for us to approach. ‘ “Tt's all right,” said he, “there hain’t been no reds pokin’ *bout yer while I’s gone.” With this, he stooped and pushed a small canoe into the water, and slinped within it. , We joined him, although our combined weight brought the frail vessel down to its very gunwales. It was made of bark after the Indian fashion, very light, but strong. Biddon dipped along Indian pad- dle in the water, and we moved slowly up-stream, After going a short distance, he again touched the nk, and from beneath another lot of shrubbyry, drew forth a number of beaver-traps, These were similar to the common traps used in all parts of the world, and set much after the same fashion, but with a very 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 beneath the surface of the water he then placed the trap. The next and last proceeding was to smear the bank around with a very odoriferous oil, obtained 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 ar- ranged that one is sure to place his foot directly upon it for support in ascending the bank, and the natural consequence follows, He is caught and falls into his mortal enemy's hands. “Ef we don’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. The trapper rowed the canoe quite a distance down-stream, when he sheered in to shore close to where a huge chestnut tree. larger than any I had ever before seen, overhung the water. Its base was enveloped by a mass of undergrowth, denser than common, and we were obliged to stoop to the edge of the boat before we could make our way beneath it. As we sprung up the bank, it pulled up behind us, and I then noticed that the chestnut was hollow, and had a deep orifice at its base. * ¥oller,"’ commanded Biddon, stooping and crawl- fg. We did so, although there was some hesitation upon et me , and my astonishment was unbounded at what I witnessed when within. At first nothing was visible but the darkness, and I stood, fearful of advancing or retreating. “Where are you, Biddon?” asked Nat, in a slight! wavering tone. The next instant the trapper struc a light; and as its rays filled the chamber, I repeat, . my astonishment was unbounded. We were stand- ing in an open space, at least eight feet in diameter, The chestnut was but a mere shell, with its trunk but a few inches in thickness at the most. The in- terior of this was fitted up like a house. The rotten chunks upon the sides had been torn down, and formed a pleasant, velvety carpet beneath the feet, All around the walls 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 s as to make it perfectly easy and con- venient to kindlea fire. Nat was the first to express his unbounded astonishment. “This beats all. I never seen anything like it, But don’t the Indians know anything of it?” ‘No, sir; and I ca’e’late as how they won't, ney- ther, ef you don’t tell *em.” “Oh! I won't tell them. I swow this is queer.” and he looked slowly about and above him. ** What’s this 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. “1 never start a fire, ‘cept at night.” “TI see—wonderful!” and I, too, gazed pepe ner about me. The light made the whole interior visible. The dark, snuff-colored fragments of decayed wood hung in ponderous masses above us, and the im- mense diameter gradually tapered as it ascended, until only the small opening, far above, was seen, re- sembling a faint star. The thickness of (he wood, together with the great number cf furs, protected us so well from the cold, that there could be little need of fire in the coldest weather except for cooking purposes. “This is rather odd, I allow, to you, Jarsey; but ef you had been with me down on the Yallerstone, you'd seen suthin’ as would 've made you look, you would. You may shoot me ef you wouldn't ” * 1 suppose I should, but not more than this has.” ag Meth 2 not; but don’t stand gapin’ there al! day, It’s gittin’ dark, and we'll have our fodder,”
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AZ The fire was now started, and the smoke ascended ‘finely, oerering at thooutlet. A good slice of meat was cooked, and we made a hearty supper upon it. After this the fire was allowed to slumber, but the light remained burning until alate hour. We lit our pipes, and chatted dieamily for a long time in our new home. The trapper, fecling 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 as‘ed. “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. Tho two mage as choice and delicious a meal as I had ever eaten. The day was clear and pleasant, and Biddon ex- pressed his determination of going up the s'ream in order to see the signs of game. I accompanied him, “but Natchose 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. We had wandered some distance, when Biddon pro- sed turning back, as he had just discovered 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 re- marking that probably he would return when he had regained his indispensable article. Left alone, I now wandered dreamily onward ina pleasant reverie, hardly conscious of what I was do- ing, until I was recalled to my senses by the gran- deur of a new scene that suddenly burst upon my view. I had ascended asmall rise oa the bank of the stream. from which I h:d an extende | view of the river. Istood for a momentrapt in the glories of the scene. My eye wasstill resting 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 abouta 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. 1 scrutinized them, vainly, to make out their num- ber, until it occurred to me that it woull 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 elevated knoll, which entirely concealed my body from sight. From this point I watched the approach of the canoe withinterest. Soon it came nigh enouzh to enable me to distinguish the forms within it. There were two Indian warriors seated, each with a paddle in his hands, but not using them, ex-ept fo keep the canoe in the channel, and in the stern, with a guiding oar, sata young female. I supposed her a squaw, belonging to the same tribe with her com- panions, and scrutinized ber as closely as_my posi- tion would permit. She wore a beautiful head- dress, gayly ornamented with stained porcupine- quills and beads, anda brilliant crimson shawl en- veloped her slight form, The savages maintained their places as motionless as statues, their gaze ap- Bill Biddon, Trapper. — parently resting upon the stream beneath them;! while that of the female was fixed upon the stream! in front, and her whole attention absorbed in direct- ing her canoe. : I know not whether the inmates discovered me be- fore I concealed myself, but I fancied I detected a giance of the Indians at my hiding-place, as they floated slowly by, and some cause led the female, when directly opposite, and buta few hundred fect distant, to turn her face toward me. Judge of my astonishment at perceiving that she was nt an In- dian—but a white woman! Her appearance, as sho turned her gaze directly upon the spot where I was standing, ean never forget. She was so close a’ hand, and my view so perfect in the clear sunliht, that I saw every feature. The pale, white face, sur- rounded by dark, luxuriant hair falling upon the shoulders, the dark eves 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 pest. Dropping upon my ha» ds and knees, crept hastily from the knoll into the undergrowth below, and made my way hurriedly but noise.essly 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, everywhere that I could look, but could not detect the slightest ripple or movement to account for this mysterious disappearance. For over an hour-I waited in the hope that the canoe would reappear, but I saw nothing more of it. CHAPTER V. CONVERSATIONS AND PLANS, THE Sneceeme 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, and 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 gece sive 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 betraved to my enemy our presence in their country. What would result from this I could not conjecture, and determined to make everything known to the trapper. But then, I felt somewhat fearful of this. e would, doubt- less, be incensed at my thoughtlessness, which might compel me to leave a country offering such inducements to the trapper and fur-trader; and I argued it was not certain that I had really be nseen by the Indians in question. If they meditated hos- tility, Biddon would be warned soon enough for all purposes—and se I decided to lLeep my own secret ‘or the present. Lreached the tree, and, stooping upon my hands end 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?” “Tt must have been because it did not occur to me” T laughed; ‘‘I have had no occasion to use it, and forgot it altogether; bat I will remember it, be assured. in future.”’ “You'd better, for J was just going to shoot, too,” added Nat, rising to bis feet, and then seating him- self again. “You shoot!’ repeated Biddon, contemptuously, ““Your shooter ain't loaded,”, 4
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Bili Biddon, Trapper.- 13) “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 proceeding to load his piece, As it was near noon, the meal was prepared—this time from the beaver's body. The heir was singed cfffrom a piece, which was then cooked in the usual manner. This, although very palatable, was not equal to the tail of the aui- mal, the meat being more tough and oily. Shortly after, the trapper departed for the purpose of visiting his traps, and setting new ones. When alone with Nat I determined to imyart to him my morning's experience, ‘Nat, 1 have seen Indians,” I remarked, in a quist tone “You hain’t!”” he exclaimed, starting up from his bed of skins with such suddenness as to break the remains of his pipe. “T have; and what is more, they have seen me.” “T should think it was considerably more! What did you do? TI didn’t hear you shoot. Why didn’t you tell Biddon? Why didn’t you—why, it seems to me you're very cool about it.” ‘There is no occasion for excitement at all. Just remain quiet, and I will tell you how it all hap- pened,” And thereupon I related the particulars, Nat's wonder and apprehension were roused to the high- est pitch, Springing to his feet, he pulled his hat violently over his forehead, and striding about a mo- ment, demanded: “Why didn't you tell Bill? Like as not he'll be shot and Btaiped before he gets back.” “You are not afraid, | hope?” “Oh, no! not a bit; but then you know it's rather unpleasant to feel that those infernal Blackfeet are all about you, and waiting for a chance to shoot you from behind every bush.”’ “Nat,” I commenced, earnestly, ‘‘you say you are not afraid of Indians, and yet you show it in every word, look, and action. There is no excuse for this. lsaw only two savages, and a girl, evidently a captive. They disappeared suddenly, and were, probably, frightened at my presence. I see nothing in this to excuse the excitement and terror you have exhibited.” “IT wonder who that girl is?” “Nat, do you remember the account Biddon gave some time ago of a horrible massacre, upon the gandy island near where we encamped one night?" “*T don’t think there is much likelihood of my for- getting it.” ‘You will also recall the account of the capture of asmall child by the savages? Now, it has occurred to me that this might be that child grown to woman- hood.” “T know it is!” exclaimed Nat, joyously. “Tt is true there is muchagainstit. It wasa great distance from here, but, as these savages wander hundreds of miles at times, itis not improbable, upon that ground, Instances a e only too common of per- sons spending their livesin captivity among these Indian tribes. She is a captive, no doubt, and must long for restoration to her home and friends, “We will say no'hing of this to Biddon, until he discovers signs of !ndians himself. To-morrow, we will go forth together, and spend the day in en- deavoring 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,” This, Nat acreed to. and shortly after we heard three raps upon the outside of the tree—the trap- per’s signal of his presence. A moment after he made his 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 sign 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. The next bcc, the trapper proposed that I) should accompany him on his daily round. I come! plied, while Nat remained behind, The day was as warm and pleasant as the preced-, ing one, and the forest and stream as delightful, Biddon paddled s!owly 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 cthers, But there were no signs of beaver in any. “Shoot me, that’s quar’! he exclaimed, thought- fully, as he saw the last one. ‘'I don’t understand it; I must git out and take a look round,’ He sprung ashore, and minutely examined the ground around. A few seconds sufficed. He looked up with a gleam of deep meaning, and said: “*Tere’s the track of a thunderin’ moccasin, The reds have found us out.” He stepped into the canoe, and, taking the paddle, moved it carefully back again. He touched at each trap onthe 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 luc! 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- ing you?” “Wagh! Don't you s'pose I could tell a red’s track from a grizzly’s?”’ “ But it might have been a white man—some hun- ter cr trapper?” I suggested. “ A white man wouldn't be mean ’nough to dosich a thing. ‘less he war some of these Hudson Bay fel- lers. They try them tricks sometimes, but they git come up to. I catehed a feller once from Fort Hall 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 th vicinity?” “ Ef thar 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." “Tet 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! saw at once by his nervous, flustered manner that something unusval had occurred. Biddon questioned him rather closely, as he suspected something. but Nat evaded bis in- quiries, and would not admit that he had seen any- thing to excite alarm. “Tm goin’ out, and when I come back I'll tell you what's the matter with them traps,” said Biddon, departing. l waited until he was beyond hearing, and then turning to my 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 seizing his hat, jerked it off his head, and threw it spitefully down, where he gazed at it a second, exclaiming: “Tm sick of this!’ “Sick of what?” “Why, of being in this fix,” “Tdon’tunderstand you. Please explain what you mean,” “Why, this wood is full of Injins; they're behind every tree and stump, and in every bush, and you can hardly step without pitching over some painted eathen.” “Dm afraid you are exaggerating,” I answered, suppressing a smile which was struggling at the cor- ners of my mouth. “No, Lain'’t. Iswow 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
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‘14 now,” he affirmed, asifZ the matter was now settled beyond a question. “Ah! that alters the case considerably. I shouldn’t wonder at allif there is one or a half dozen savages in the forest.” “ff you see one savage haven’t you ari ht to sup- pose there’s a hundred more about, I should like to know?” “Not always, Nat; I have seen three myself, yet I do not believe there is another one in the neighbor- hood. But TI have not heard the particula s of tuis 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 thinking. Yousee, after you had left, I took a notion teat I must have amorning ramble; and I thou ht, too, there might be such a thing as bi two running into danger and needing my help (Ishould like to know what you are laughing at. Taking my rifle, I was soon making my way as noiselessly as possible, in a direction from the river. **T hadn’t gone more than a dozen yards before I commenced thinking about Injins, and came niga going back again. I wasn't afraid at all, you know, but then it appeared to me [ might bring you and iddon into trouble. However, I kept on. [had gone some distance further, when all of a sudden I heard a terrible whirr and ratile and jumped clean off my feet. But it was only a big owl which I had stirred up. Twasso provoked atthe start he gave me thatI should have wrung his neck had I got my hands uponhim. ButIwenton. Pretty soonI reached a little stream of water, and as I jumped across, what do you suppose I saw in the sand?” **T am sure I can not tell.” “Nothing less than a biz moccasin-track. And what was more, it hadn’t been made there a week b2fore! I stood and looked at it a good while, cozi- tuting some wonderful things. At last I stooped and wont to measuring it. I was as going to rise, when IT heard a grunt right by me. I jemp +d up so quick— to be ready, you know—that I foundered backwarl into the water. And may | be shot if there wasn’t 1 biz painted Injun standing not ten feet off. He didn’t say a word, but just stood and looked a‘ me with them awful eyes of his. As soonasI could think, I raised my gun. took a quick aim, and drew tha trig- er; but the infernal gun snapped. I pulled it again, ut it wouldn’t go, and j ist then I happened to think the thing wasn’t loaded. AIL this time the painted imp stood grinning at me, without saying 1 word, except to kinder grunt, He had a big shining gun in one hand, and I was dreaiful afraid he would shootit. [told him not to stir, but to stand still till 1 got mine 1 :aded, and he waited. But somehow or other, I s’pose I was in such a hurry that things wouldn’s go right. Instead of putting the powder in the gun-barrel [ cramned it in my pocket, and ammed the ramrodinto my shos, [ told the Injun to have patience and I'd get loaded in a minute, I got it fixed somehow at last, and hauled it upto my ‘shoulder, when, no Injin was there! ‘looked behind, all about me, and up into the trees, but he'd been spiritsd away somewhere. However, 1 made up my mini to shoot at the ey where he had stood, and Lup and blazed away. ThatisI blazed away with- outthe gun going off. I believe he spirited ‘hat too.” “Let me examine it. Perhaps you made some blunder.” ‘*No, I'm sure I didn’t.” I took the riflo with a smile of certainty that T 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 about the powder!” exclaimed Nat, opening bis eyes in wonder. “But not about the bullet,” I laughed, pointing to the fragments of his pipe. Nat picked up the fragments and examined them carefully, Bill Biddon, Trapper. A “That’s my pipe, sure; and I had it in my mouth, Tremember, when I started out, and misse | it com- ing back. I didn’t put it in the gun though.” **Let it pass, Did yousee no more of your Indian friend?” “No; heknew enough to keep out of my way. I waited a long time for him, and at last started home again. 1 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 mo, seemingly at a loss to understand the cause, “Tdo not see what there is to laugh at," he re- marked, reprovingly. ‘If it's alauzhing matter to know that there are Indians all about you, why you must laugh.” “Your adventure with the Indians, Nat, and tho singular load in your rifle, appears to mo a funny matter, and I trust you will pardon meif—” * Didn't I tell you I didn’t put itin there? Itwas the Injin’s work.” And to this day Nat cannot bo made to believe that he was iustrumental in introducing the pipe into his gun. After a few more unimportant remarks, the con- versation ceased. Nat’s adventure began to ooreet tomein a different form from that iu which I had viewed it at first. [ doubted not but that he was perfectly honest and truthful in what he said. But why, when exposed to the wild of the savage, did he escape unscathed? Why did the latter stand fear- less and harmless before him? And what meant these strange signs, these “footprints,” which were becoming visible around us? Matters were assum- ing apuzzling form. We were being environed by Indians without any evidence of hostility upou their part. What meant it? Surely there was a meaning too 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?” © Iheld my breath, as the distant report of a rile reached our ears. The next instant camea sound, faint and far away yet clear and distinct—a horrid, unearthly sound, as the ery of a being in mortal agony! CHAPTER VI. STILL IN THE DARK—THE CANOE AGAIN, For a moment we stood a Then our eyes sought each other with a look of fearful inquiry, “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 agoaoy as made our blood curdle within us. * It is his voice! Let us hasten to his aid,” I ex- claimed, catching my rifle and springing out. Nat followed closely, his gun having been reloaded, The ery came from up tho river, and toward it we dashed, scrambling and tearing through the brush and undergrowth like two maddened animals, heed- less of whet the consequences 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 ery. Here we paused und listened. No one was to be seen. I turned to- ward Nat, standing behind me, and directly behind him I saw Biddon slowly approaching, * What are you doin’ here?” he asked, as he came up. “ Was not that your voice I just heard?’ “*T rather reckon it wa’n’t. When you hear Bill Biddon bawl out in that way, jist let me know, will er?” “What was it?” I asked, greatly relieved,
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Bill Biddon, Trapper. 16 “That’s more nor me can tell; but shoot and skin me,if I can’t tell you one thing,’ he approached closely and whispered, ‘‘there’s sunkthin’ else nor rods about yer.”’ “What do you mean?” T asked, although I under- stood well enough what he mcant. “T's here once afore, as I told yer, and I never heerd sich goin’s on then, I’ve sce’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! Ishould think I did.” “* Was it you who shot?” “Yes; the way on it was this: i got on a purty plain trail and follered it up hereabouts, when I cotched the glimpse of a Blackfoot featier goin’ down through the bushes there, and blazed away at him, Inever missed a red in my life, and I didn’t miss him. Howsomever, he didn’t mind it, but kept on and got away, and jist as he went out of sight that orful yellcame. It didn't seem that he made it, but it sounded like as though "twas all about me, above and under the ground, and around and behind 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. “Let's go home; there’s Injins all around us,” pleaded Nat, “ How'd you know?” * Because I seen one myself.” Tiddon looked sega aaey. at me, and deeming it best, I related the incident given in the precedin chapter. I saw at once his uneasiness was increased. = xt hy didn’t you shoot the red-skin?’’ he asked of vai “Why didn’t you shoot the red-skin?” added Nat, in turn, = if did—hit him fair and square as I ever hit any- thing.’ ** But didn’t do any more good than I did.” “T made the infarnal imp howl.” ee Imade mine grunt,” added Nat, triumph- antly. There is no need of words,” Linterposed. ‘Each of you did your best, Nat included. You, Bill, 1 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, See, what does that mean?” I asked, as I detected some red fluid dripping from the limb of a bush to the earth, The trapper stepped forward and looked at it, “That’s the blood of a Blackfoot, or I'm a skinned beaver!” he remarked, with a glow of relief. “Yes, I'm 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 pate years old. Probably a bro- ther to the one I frightened.” “Biddon, I believe, as I just said, that we will find the 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- lowed but a short distance, however, as it led in a direct line to the river. “Tr’s as L s’pected,”’ said Biddon, turning roundin diseust. ‘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.” “No doubt about that. I've been thinking that some of them helped off that fellow when I was load- ing my gun,” re ore “Wo moucht as well go back ag’in,” said Bid- don. “I’m tind cf huntin’ spirits, and [ 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 “sii!” 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-sireum |” 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 eame over me at this moment. Fearing to betray myself, | cautiously rose beside Bicdon. ** Let ine 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, heacing di- rectly toward us. For this reason, I could only see the foremost Indian, though I was positive an- other, together with the white captive was init. I gazed but a moment, and then looked inquiringly at aa He made no reply, but again peered orth, “That ain't a squaw: it’s a white gal,” said he, looking round upon us with an astounded lock, “Shall we rescue her?” I asked, “Ef she wants us to, in course.” “You going to shoot them?” asked Nat anx- iously- * Can't tell yit. Jest see that yer irons is ready, and we'll wait till they get out yer. Don’t make nu noise till I give the motion,” The trapper stole a yard cr two in front of us, where he sunk softly down upon his face till only his head was visible. Nat fineered his gun nervously be- side me, while I, not a whit less agitated, waited for the canoe to appear through the interstices of the bushes in front. Ina moment I heard the faint ad of an oar, and saw the trapper slowly raising his head 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 T saw the red head-dress of one of the savages 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 [turned, though bewildered with excitement, I looked at the spot where the canoe was seen. was gone! We dashed up the bank, and in a moment reached Biddon, The excitement had completely gone, and he stoop coolly feeling his ear. ‘* Was that your gun, Jarrey?” he asked, “No, sir; mine is still loaded.” ‘How is yours, Greeny?” Nat lifted’ his. examined the lock and looked into the barrel, He had indeed discharged it, grazing the trapper’s head so closely as to. wound his ear. “Wonder if that wae 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 upon his knife-handle as he approached. Nat look- ed up and started as he saw his visage fairly gleam- ing with passion. RT didn’t shoot it, Bill, by thunder!’ he expostu- lated. The face of the trapper changed, It grew paler, i |
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[ie ay ~ but the dark cloud fled 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 uponusal/, The trapper avowed he could not stand ‘‘ such 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 conse- quences 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, ridiculed the ideas of Biddon, and Nat strove hard to convince him that he was not afraid. Bid- don consented to remain until 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, however, only added to his anxiety. Had they been gone he wou'd have taken it as convincing proof that there were bona fide Indians in the neighborhood, The next day Nat agreed to accompany me forthe last time to the spot where we had seen the canoe. The trapper could not be tea upon to go, af- firming that he should probably have his hands full at home. It required my utmost skill to succeed = Nat, as the horror had plainly settled upon m, Upon each of the occasions before, as near as T could judge, it was abont noon the canoe made its appearance, and it was that time now. we hurried forward, lest the opportunity should pass, ‘What are you going to do?”’ asked Nat. “Tt will depend upon what we see. 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 attemptarescue, Itis only a supposition of ours that she is a captive, and now not that she would thank us for interferiog in her case.” In a short time we reached the elevation already mentioned. Here we seated ourselves so as to re- main concealed from re stragglers in the vicinity, while we ourselves with a little care could detect the slightest object ing. As I stooped, my hand came contact with something cold, and upon looking at it, 1 saw it covered with dark, clotted blood, I started, and wiped it on the grass, but it 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 ble, 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.” "He must have wounded one terribly tomake him bleed like this.” “And if he had been a flesh-and-blood Injin he would have never tramped in that manner. I tell rot William Relmond, there is something more than uman about us. I can feel it in my 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; youare mistaken. I am not frightened at all. For Biddon's sake, but more especially for on Iam anxious. If you are desirous of remain- ng hereabouts, and will take all the consequences, [ make no objections,”” © Of course, if [ run into danger of my own ac- cord, I expect that I alone will suffer the penalty.” bd m we needn't say anything more about it; you know wa peiaes ourselves to remain true to each other, and I won’t.desert you.” 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 glanced 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 [*) the disuppearance of the canoe, from the ‘Bill Biddon, Trapper) 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 yor 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, ‘“ Let me admonish you to exercise no ordinary caution Nat, for you have seen enough to convince you tha your own safety depends upon it. Remember that a word or false movement, however slight, may de- feat our plans. Look out for danger to yourself, and not let your curiosity be the means of your destruc- tion, Be 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. 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 bend where the canoe had first come into view before—there it was coming. Quivering with agita- tion, Isunk upon the ground, and gave a low whistle asa signalto 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 grape cautiously and quickly nearer the water’s edge. his time, however, I slightly varied my course, and concealed myself behind the trunk of a fallen tree. This was within a yard of the water, and afforded complete concealment, I noticed the log was rotten and apparently hollow. Here 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 obtaina perfect view of each of the occupants, They were the same—the dark, bys ye 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 streamin front. The canoe floated with the current, and not a paddle was stirred, nor the least motion made by the beings be- foreme, The head-dress of the captive was, as men- tioned before, eagle-feathers and porcupine-quills, while the dark, waving masses of hair hung low upon the shoulders, contrasting with the whiteness of her face. A heavy crimson shawl enveloped her 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 by intervening obstacles. I withdrew hastily, intending to hurry further down where the view would be more complete. I bad taken but a step or two when Nat’s rifle was discharged, and heard distinctly the muffled sound of his voice. Wild with azitation, I dashed to the spot where I suppos- ed him to be. e view of the river at this point was i and'I turned to look at the canoe, It had van- e » I looked round for Nat, but he, too, was gone. IT called him, and once thought I heard a faint answer, But it was not repeated, and I could not tell its direcy
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Bill Biddon, Trapper. tion. I reached the ground and beheld the tracks of others beside his own, I waited until near night, but Nathan Todd was never to return, CHAPTER VII. ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS, ““Were’s your friend?” There was apprehension in the question of the trapper, or he would not have called Nat, as he had never called him before. The question was asked, too, the instant I appeared. *T cannot tell,” I answered, seating myself gloom- ly. Mi 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 order to obtain a better view. Since then I have ceen nothing of him.” ‘*Was it he who shot?” ‘Tt sounded like his gun, although Iam 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, Lucky you did not, too.” “TIT came nearer than I wish to again, Biddon. I can tell you, that I_am willing to leave this place as soon as you wish. Letus leave to-morrow, Are you willing?” “T'll go to-night if you want to.” "No; it will be best to wait until daylight. faint hopes that Nat may return.” “Waugh! you'll never see him again, and ef we're "bout yer another day, we'll never sce each other T have “I think he has only been captured by some lurk- ing enemy, from whom he may escape.” “No, sir ; I tell you he’s gone, and Lreckon as how we'd better be gone too,” * Perhaps you are right, Biddon, althourh I shall be loth to leave the vicinity when I am not satisfied of his fate.” “I'm satisfied, an’ you oughter be. Leastways, J’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 tostart 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 had so recently passed, the pled. e that I had made with Nat came back to me. I had promised to re- 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 probably seal his fate if alive. It was by no means certain that if lost, he was irrecoverably gone, and [ resolved if the trapper should depart on the morrow that I would remain, I awoke early and caught a glimpse of Biddon as he departed, doubtless after the horses, in order to leave at once the place which had such terrors for him. Jn course of « half-hour he returned, “The horses are waitin’,”’ said he. Larose and passed out. The three animals stood outside, a short distance away, each saddled and prepared for travel, ‘ “Come, work lively, and fetch them skins out,” said Biddon, I assisted him until everything was in readiness for starting. . * Jump on, and shoot me ef we won't soon be cl’ar of this outlandish place.” 7 * Biddon, I am not going with you,” I said, mildly, * What?” he asked, looking wonderingly at me, “‘T intend to remain here.”’ “Ozh! Jump up; it’s time we started.” “T said I was going to remain here.” .“Do you mean it, Jarsey?’’ he queried, bending such a flerce look upon me. * Most certainly I do.” i ee ; ane all Bill Biddon’s got to say is, you're a ool { colored slightly at this, but made no reply. “What yer going to stay fur? Get shot and lose yer ha’r, Is’pose, jist to please the reds.” “Tam sorry, friend Bidden, that you fecl thus. When Nathan Todd and I left the States for this country, we pledged eternal friendship to each other, and lam sure I should never feel at ease if T should leave him in this dire extremity. Iam by no means satisfied that I can afford him no assistance. He has no claims upon you, and I should nct expect you to remain, but, as I said, | am determined not to cay» this place until I have obtained satisfactory in- formation of him,” ue trapper remained silent a few minutes, then spoke: “T 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 Il be yer’s to-night. Howsum- ever, you're bound to stay, I see, 80 yer’s good luck. I'd like to stay with you, but I ain't backward to say Bill Biddon knocks under é/is time.” He reached his hard, horny hand, and I took it, “Good-by, Dill, [hope we shall meet again. We have not been long acquainted, but I trust long enough to be friends.” “And you'll remember as how old Bill Piddon didn’t mean what he said just now.” “Certainly, certainly, I know you did not.” “Wal, good-by itis, then.” J was alono in the great wilderness of the North- west. y After parting with Biddon, I remained stationary a long time, meditating upon the strange resolve thatI had acted upon. If looked at with the common-senso view that the honest trapper gave it, I was sensible it was nothing less thana Perce of recklessness upon my part, which only could be excused by (he motives that actuated me. I felt some regret, certainly, at parting with Biddon, for that manly heart which throbbed within his massive breast had drawn me toward him, and I knew he had come to regard mo in a far different light than be did at first. How- ever, I was hopeful, and could not persuade myself that I was never to see him again. Toward night the sky gave ev.dence of an approach- ing storm. A strong wind arose. and a melancholy, desolate moaning, lilse the precursor of winter, could be heard in the forest, Darkness came on earlier than usual, and, as I passed into the Sab here home, the storm burst upon me. No ove who has not wit- nessed a storm in the wilderness can appreciate the awful grandeur, As lcowered 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 terrific spectacle withcut. The huge sides of the tree surrounding me rumbled and groan d as though — it were yielding to the hurricane; the wind blew with such fury that at times it sounded as though wailing screams were rending the ar above me; and the sharp splintering of the trecs’. riven by the lightning rivaled the crash of the thun- derbolt itself. As the morning approached, tle storm died away, and as I stepped forth, the sun was shining in unclouded splendor, 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 astate of excitement that the desire to press forward was irresistible, and T arose again, The river at this point was flowing east and west, so that I looked to the southward. AsIdidso,lsaw Biddon in the distance, riding leisurely away. He was miles distant, and as the bis in many parts was submerged. it was out of the question to pursue with the hope of overtaking him. I contented my- self with watching him until he disappeared. The storm which had just ended was the usher of the cold season, A strong wind had arisen, and wa}
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18 Bili Biddon, Trapper. blowing coldly through the forest. The changes in these peices are remarkably sudden; and by the iniddle of the afternoon needles of ice put out along the shores of the stream. 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 enor- mous growth. As entered, I heard a crackling in the bushes above me. I looked carefully about, but could detect nothing. Creeping stealthily up the bank, Icame 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 hauncbes, 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, ashe pulled ba bushes toward him, and plucked the delicate fruit. Allat 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 against 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 heal toward me as if listening. I could see his two co.l-black eyes glistening plainly. Iwas lying upon my face, with my rifle resting upon a stone in front. aising the hammer, I took a deliberate, sure aim atone of his eyes, and pulled the trigger. “ How does that suit?” ( asked, exultingly. To my surprise and terror 1 saw him sitting apparently un- hurt, but looking about him, as if to ascertain from what direction the shot had come. The next in- stant he caught sight of the bluish wreath from my rifle, and, with a low growl, plunged directly toward me. That cumbrous body could roll over the ground much faster than I suspected, and I found that, when alarmed, Lcould also travel rapidly. 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 pe rca overtake me before T could go a hundred yards further; so throwing m rifle to the ground, [drew my knife and waited his attack. As he came rolling forward, the blood from his wound trickled down and dauhbed 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 hundred feet dis‘ant, there came the report of another rifle, 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 sight, yet [ saw a faint curl of smoke rising from the bushes above me, The bear also discovered it, ‘and with another growl he made toward it. He had evidently been struck, and his rage was turned in another direction. Hastily loading my rifle, I ran up the hill, intending to follow and assist my unknown friend, but both he and the brute had disappeared. I stood anxiously listening for some guiding sound, and soon heard the report of a gun in the distance, followed by a faint shout. Tearing through th> undergrowth, I dashed hastily forward. The trail of the bear was very plain by the blood-marks upon the ground. Soon I reached the spot where a strug- gle taken place. The ground was torn up and cast about, and the blood was spattered for many feet around, Following further, l 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- gested other questions. Had he been following me? Else how came he to be present just at the instant needed? And what was his opp It could not be that my life was sought, for, if such were the case, ‘it had really been spared, as I had been continually exposed through the day; and in the occurrencs just narrated, he had preserved my life at the im- minent risk of his own. It was now growing late, and I cast about forsomoa lace in which to spend the ni ht. The wind still lew, and a fire was indispensable. I gathered sev- erol 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 aimost 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 ef The grizzly lay but a sort di-tance away, andI concluded that he should answer the demands 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 I reached the crackling fire, I saw a shadow flit before me and dis- appear. It was too distinct and plain to be a freak of imagination, anit 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 skewering a good-sized piece and roasting it, I made a -bearty supper; 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 complete. Legh eget 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 listléss eyes rested upon the glowing 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 frandeur and then dying away into faint, fluctuating tremors, fainter and fainter. till the strained ear cou d just feel their waves. With a long sigh of re- lief I awoke to full consciousness, T have heard others narrate experiences similar to mine, and I leave the explanation to t’e curious end investigating, convinced that I can offer none which will be satisfactory. Ireplenished the fire, folded my blanket around me, and lay down to sleep. The night-wind was howling dismal'y through the forest. and the distant rush of the river made melancholy music. In a short time I fell into a deep ria I was aroused from this by feeling something worl:- ing at my blanket, I lay motionless a moment to ‘scertain the character of the threatened danger. The next moment something struck me like the paw of an animal; and thinking a wolf had attacked me I sprung to my feet, with a sho , threw off my blanket, and drew my knife. Instead of confronting wolves, I met the gaze of a half-dozensavages! For a moment I was completely bewildered. “You go "long wit) us,” said one, laying his hand upon my arm, CHAPTER VIII. TRAPPING AMONG THE INDIANS. Arrer I had arisen to it feet, the captors con- tinued conversing in an unknown tongue, It pers
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Billi Biddon, Trapper. 16 te ee plexed me to understand how one of them was able to address me in tolerable English, I suppose be must have had intercourse wth the traders and hunters and the forts and stations of the Northwest. After a few minutes’ conversation, the Indians ap- parently came to asatisfactory conclusion; for they seated themselves sround the fire, ordering me to do the same, and here they sat as grim and silent as statues, not a muscle moving, excepting an oceasion- al wink of the eyes at long intervals. I watched them, it seemed for an hour, shivering with cold all the while, although my capters 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 cast heralding the approach of the sun. Shortly after, it burst above the forest line, lighting up the interminable prairie and wilderncss with its golden glory. The savages sprung to their feet, seized their weapons, and started away. “Keep close, and don’t run!” said the savage who had addressed me at first. “No danger of my attempting it,” Iarswered, 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. AsI knew I had been in the extreme upper part of the great Nebraska Ter- ritory, I felt Psi certain teat 1 was now in the Hudson Bay Territory, within the Bri:ish line. But here my companions made a turn to the eastward, and then, strangely enough, proceeded south again, so that I was uncertain whether 1 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 misleading and 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- pared theirmeal. A half-hour before halting, one of the 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 partially cooked over the blaze, and, despite the chenge of circumstances, I made as good and substantial a meal upon it as did any of my companions. The meal finished, the savages equatted before tho fire, drew forth their pipes, and commenced si‘ently smoking, their eyes glittering through the vapor with suppressed ficrceness, as ever and anon a side- long glance was bestowed upon me. One of the In- cians—he who spoke English—was examining my revolver, He closed one eye, ani 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 tho time of my experience percussion caps were almest 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- ecting 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 gunpowder, handed it to me, ‘What is he?” z 4 “ A young gun,” I answered with a smile. “ Does he shoot?” he queried, his dark eyes light- ing up with curiosity. f course, Would you like to see me fire it?” “Yah! shoot at him,’ he answered, pointing at the trunk of a large tree, What part of it,” “Tit 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 offera 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 lit'le weapon in my hand. I saw there was an opportunity for making a good im. pres- sion, and I resolved to do it. 1 stepped back a few paces, took a careful though apparently a carcless prt aca fired the six barrels with tolerably good effect, “* Just look at the mark,” Iremarked, rather stiffly. The Indian stepped forward and examined the holes, all within au inch or two of the center. Then with his knife he pried out each bullet, and showed them to his companions. They grunted their satis- faction, or rather wonder, and turned the diminutive six-shooter over and over in their bands, 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 —be who spoke English—asked me to make hima present of it. LI assented with the greatest pleasure, as [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 proceed ing of mine was a stroke of policy to whichI owe my life. My readiness to acquiesce in all 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 a while, for rea- sons Obvious to the reader, We remained in this spect for over an hour, prac- ticing with the revolver. At the end of that time its new owner had made such progress as to be able to strike a good-sized tree a rod distant at nearly every ot. “Him nice thing!” he remarked, shoving it in his t. “Very good in a close hug with a bear or foe,” I repped. here was but one Crawback to the savage's pros- pects of pleasure. I had but a small quantity of caps, and of course there was no means of obtaining any among his own kindred. He, however, sat- istied himself with the thought that he could obtain more at some of the trading-posts in that section. The line of march was again taken up, and con- tinued until nightfall. The sun bad sunk beyond the western mountains, and the deep gloom of night was settling over the wilderness, when, as we reached the top of o swell, I saw for the first time the Indian village. It lay ina sort of valley, and numbered sixty or seventy lodges. As seen inthe dim twilight these looked singularly picturesque. I could see dark forms flitting about the lodges, and the low huin.of their conversation was audible, 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 be- fan to fail me at what ' feared my ern oa would e. Stories of the tortures undergone by captives came over me, and I ventured to express my fears to my friend. ‘What your name?” he asked. “Will,” I replied. “Will, stay here, and me come and fix things, My name is Jim," said he, taking the name probably given him by the whites with whom he was ac- quainted. 7 The other savages seeing us halting Lec a also, and looked suspiciously. Jim (as I shall hereafter name him) sald something in an unintelligible tongue and they passed on. “Stay here, Will, and me fix et “With this he disappeared, and I seated myself upen the ground to await his return, It struck me <s rather curious for him to give a captive such a
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20 Bill Biddon, Trappér. good opportunity to escape, but it pleased me with- al, and ty need not be told I made 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 envelo my person. He now turned his face toward the village, and we were soon wending our way through it, We passed several savages who spoke to me, Jim, however, taking the responsibility of replying. At last we reached his lodge without my identity being discov- ered, This was at the extreme castern end of the village, and, as we entered, I saw it was devoid of any pig 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 kindly offer, I lay down while he replenished the fire, seating himself by it, and commenced the never-ceasing pleasure of examining his revolver. Lying half-asleep on the buffalo-robe, listlessly gaz ng at the savage, his features all at once struck me, had seen them before, but where I could not recollect. Let mesee— Ah! it was plainnow. He was one of the occupants of the mysterious canoe! It soon became known throughout the village that a captive was among them, and the next morning the entrance of Jim’s lodge was thronged with those anxious to get a@ peep at me, Knowing that this curi- osity must ‘gvatified 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 on all my points. Indian friend, Jim, was married, and in the course of the day his squaw made her Breeranes. She was a middle-aged woman, and tolerably good- looking fora 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. Winterin tae Northwest is far different from that season in the Middle States. Tt is full six months in continuance, and such is the intense coldness for the greater part of the season, that the thermometer sinks to thirty and often forty degrees below zero. Two weeks after my capture, it seemed impossible to prevent freezing to death in the lodge, with a roaring fire a few feet off. Yet the Savages seemed scarcely to heed it. A few extra garments were added to their costume, and they fitted as incessantly through the village as ever, In the tribe it was aeknowledged 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 maintained to- ward him won his regard. However, be was a lazy og, like all of his male kindred, and it was impossi- ble to discover in him any of thos poetical attri- -butes which are so generally conceded to the North American Indian, In conversation with me he dis- carded those extravagant, highly wrought ficures of eo common to his kindred, and added in their pl an awkward oath or two, and a phrase learned from the Hudson Bay traders. The greater part of the day he sat before his fire, smoking and gazing moodily into it, while his better half busied herself about the apartment as willingly and contentedly as though she never dreamed of a different lot. I as- sis! her as much as lay within my power, and came at last to do all of the outdoor work. As mentioned, I had pretty well defined suspicions Jim was one of the savages who occupied the mysterious canoe, referred to in the previous 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! should learn something either of Nat or of the mysterious captive. When I questioned Jim, he answered with such eres sincerity, that I was pretty well convinced he 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 toll himall, At last I resvlved 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 a ome start at this question, but ke answered, promptly: “Don’t know nothing "bout ’em.” “ Why, I'm pretty sure that I saw you.” He shook his head. There was ncthing to be gained by further questioning, and I gaveit 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 Northwest Fur Company. He replied that that made no difference; each tres- passed upon the other’s grounds, and he had been engaged for both, A few weeks subsequent to this, there came a storm which laid the snow six feet deep, and Jim informed me that, in company with several others, he should proceed to set his traps for the winter’s work, and te willingly consented that I should accompany him. Preparations were accordingly made, Extra 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 I ever 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 progress. They are fastened loosely but se- curely to the feet, and when the snow is net damp- ened by thaws, twenty miles can easily be made In 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, Nothing of note took place the next day. and, as the night came on, Jim informed me that they were going to visit the traps to ascertain what luck they had. As he made no objection. J againdonned my snow-shoes and joined them. There was but one savage besides himself. The snow was crisp and fine, and the traveling comparatively easy. Jim dragged a small sled behind h'm for the purpose of bringing back anything found in the trap. It was a bright moonlight night, and as we jour- neyed through the forest, there were patches of snow almost light as day. We shunned the trees, as the snow-crust wes 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 si- lence, except the muffledsliding of our shoes over the icy crust, or a single word from one of the savages. The first trap we reached had the fore-/er of a fox - ie \ aaaooae at Jim inquiringly, unable to under- stand it, ‘ “ He gnawed him off and run away; look out next me,
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Bill Biddon, Trapper. 21 Tho fox lad been caught by his fore-leg, and, find- ing himself unable to get loose, had eaten off the im- p.isoned 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 trifling value. He was killed, placed upon the sled, the trap reset, and we proceed- ed tothe rest. None of them had been visited, ex- cept the last. In this was imprisoned a beautiful black fox, the capture of which nearly sct the two savages in ecstasics. The fur of this animal is more valuable than that of any other caught by the trap- ners, one alone sometimes bringing as high as two jundred dollars. Our two animals being secured upon our sled, and the traps carefully reset, we commenced our return journey. he night was far advanced when we reached the Indian village. As we entered the lodge, Jim’s squaw arose noiselessly and replenished the fire. While removing my show-shoes, [remarked to Jim that my feet had felt for the last half-hour as though they were asleep. ‘ 4 “Let me see him,” he asked, quickly, jerking off the thick moccasins which I had conned a few weeks back. He looked at my feet a moment, and ex- claimed: *‘ Him froze up!” i : 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 cum- nletely 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 Northwest rely solely upon what they are thus able to take for their food during the the cold season, and, as there is generally plenty of game, they fare well. But now and then seme un- 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 over a week, a miserable old bison had supported 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, During my captivity, several things occurred to make me suspect 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 t made a resolve that as soon as spring came I would make my escape; and if | could learn nothing of the two beings whose fate was unknown to me, would depart for the States, 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 country to the north of Nebraska is the paradise of all species of game in the summer months, but during the winter the large animals proceed to the southward, and the deep snows prevent the capture of the smaller ones, except by means of traps. Spring, therefore, was looked forward to with eager expectation, as the harbinger of enjoyment and the season of the chase. And it came at last. First the sun grew hotter and blazed more fiercely; the snow became damp and cloggy. and the dripping of water could be heard through the day and night, Streams of melted snow poured inte: the rivers all along the banks, and the ice became weaker and wesker 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 surprising growth, and in an almost incredibly short space of time, bright, radi- ant, glorious spring held indisputable reign. Indians were departing aud 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 forencon, a savage announced that a herd of buffaloes were quietly browsing a few miles to the southward. This produced commotion through the village, and preparations were at once made for tho grand hunt. Some twenty or thirty splendid Indian ponies were mounted by as many warriors, and to my inexpressible delight, Jim informed me that T should accompany them. A small, high-spirited animal was given me. He was of dark color, and his dappled haunches glistened in the sun like pol- ished ebony. About noon we sallied forth from the village, and struck a southward direction, restraining our ani- mals to a walk in order to preserve thelr wind for the severe test at hand, While riding along by the side of Jim, the thought of escape—which Fad not been absent from me for the last six months—came with double force. Iwas now mounted upon a ficet, long-winded animal, who could hold his own with any horse bestrocde 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 without exciting suspicion. My captors, I suppose, had no thoughts ef my attempting a flight us I had ermitted so many opportunities to pass, and 1 felu bere would be no suspicious eyes wat hii g my mo- tions. The prairie stre:ched hurdre¢s of miles to the southward, and it seemed my animal longed to bound awey upon it. I felt the time had come, and foot 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 hey tcuched 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, We continued stealthily approachirg in_a body, preserving strict silene:, in order not to alarm the game. In this way, we came within a bundred yards, when a4 bull raised bis alarmed gaze at us, and, giving a loud snort, heaved his huge body 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 hteaca up a wild Pages the Indians plunged after them. he 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 bivons, and as soon as the shot is given, they shy off to avoid 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 abont the head, got entangled in his mane, where it would drop out in a day or two. My horse imme- diately veered to one side, and allowed the buffalo to run until Lcould reload. 1 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
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22 Bill Biddon, Trapper. lunging buffalo, and, taking more care,I sent a ullet 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 rip up 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 avoide him forallthbat. Dropping upon his haunches with a snort, he made a terrific bound upward, and went clean over the buffalo. The maddened animal expected this, and struck his horns upward, expecting still to kill him. -The in- stinct of the horse was too much, however; he, too, feared such a fate, and leaped high enough to avoid the horns. As he came to earth again, he plunged swiftly away, the enraged buffalo in full pursuit; but he easily 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 tothe earth and was fast dyiag. Inow 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 main herd was pouring simultaneously southward, while the scores that had been cut off were endeavoring to rejoin them, car- ryinzus along with them, In different parts of the prairie could be seen the dark, motionless forms of the slain buffaloes, showivg 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- ape rumbles of thunder were heard in the distance. Still, the savages were too excited to notice the inter- ruption, as long as a single 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 flying leap over the backs ofthe animals around him. This he accomplished success- fully, leaping from one back to the other, until he was clear of them all. Suddenly, if occurred to me, while holding m flery horse, that, if I meditated escape, it was high time tobe about it. Turning to the southward, I could just desery the drove thundering away, a vast eloud 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 inhis element. He enjoyed the chase as much as any of the savages; and, as mile after mile of prairie flew beneath bis feet, he was only warming into the excitement. As Ilooked back, I could just discern the Indians, like specks in the distance, still at their bloody wor«. We were now at no great distance from the herd, and my horse, catching sight of an old worried bull, somewhat in tho 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 pursuers, if [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 [ was beside him, and holding mv gun tomy shoulder, was just on the point of firing, when he suddenly stood at bay, in precisely the same manner astheother. My horse, instead of making a running leap this time, stopped instantaneous'y, planting his feet firmly in the ground. I was not hai a for this, and sbot a dozen feet over his head, falling upon my face within a foot of the buffalo. The shock was terriblo, and Iwas severely injured. TIen- deavored to rise, fearing that I should be gored and jrampled 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 bewilderment was coming over me. Larose to my knees and gazed about me. The buffalo was plung- ing in the rear of his drove, while my horse was gal- 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 ri-e, 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 Gark- ness. The rain was pouring down in torrents, and, stunned and bleeding, I lay on the soaked, cold, spony earth. Gradually the remembrauce of my misfortune came over me. I must have been lying several hours upon the prairie, exposed to the cold, dismal storm. My clothes were saturated with tho chillin x rain, and my face and bands bedabbled with mud and dirt. 1 struggled desperately to my feet, and endeavoroa to pierce the Stygian gloom around; butit was uso- less; not thesmallest point of the faintest lirht could beseen in any direction. I was 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. Tight, in my present con- dition, was not to be thought of, and I mustsoon re- ceive succor or I should perish. I listened. In the dismal sweep of the rain somo- thing like a footstep was heard. I called out, but there was no reply. Again the splash of a foot was heard, now from a different point, Soon I discover- ed some animal was walking around mo in a circlo. Feeling around in the spongy prairic, 1 found my riflo but it was useless as a means of defense, as the charge was thoroughly wetted. I clubbed it, and waited for the attack. Still arvund and around the same step went. At first [fondly hoped it might bo 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 direct- ly toward mo, I drew my rifle back, reacy to brain it the minute it was within my reach. A faint neigh was heard—joy inexpressible! it was my faithful horse. As I call-d to him, he approached, and low- ered his head for me to take his bridle. With a feel- ing of deep thankfulness and hope, I clambere ! into the saddle, and he bounded away, his unerring in- stinct leading him straight toward home. The rain continued to beat, 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 prostrated, and without some kindly hand to nurse me would inevitably perish. But the horse was certain, and after an hour or two my heart leaped 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 rode instantly up to the entrance and dismounted, while my noble horse made off to look out for himself, Jim arose as he heard my approach, and lifting his torch, advanced to meet me, “You had a long hunt—” . He started back in horror at my appearance; then rien | his light over his head and peering at me, he asked: “What de matter? Been in fight?” “No; I was thrown from my horse, and lay sense- Jess upon the prairie until a short time ago. I feel bad, Jim, and fear I am severely injured,” said I, starting 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 up- right position, and his squaw walked forth. My wounds were now dress my garments changed for dry ones, and with a hot eup of drink, I was swathed in blankets and placed by 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 J was partially delirious, Jim exam~
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ed Bill Biddon, Trapper. 23 ¥, ined my pulse, shook his head Cas and de- parted from the lodge. In a short time he returned and with him came the Medicine Man, an Indian considerably advancedin years, and much loved and honored by his tribe. He, too, looked grave, and held a consultation in an undertone with Jim. From these signs I knew I was dangerously, probably fa- tally injured. 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 persons and scenes. Now and then there were moments when reason flitted to its throne. At such times I saw the Medicine Man or Jim near me; and once, as Iwonderingly opened my eyes, Isaw the mysterious captive bending 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 look- ed inquiringly at the Medicine Man, He mumbled something, and she departed. About a week after my accident, as I subsequent- ly learned, I awoke with my fullreason, As 1] lcok- 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. “* 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 itis this instant, I know a few moments’ conversation cannot injure me. Let me beg you not to refuse, as I cannot tell whether the opportunity will ever again be offered.” The young woman before me was much embar- rassed, and for a moment hesitated, seemingly 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: “Tcannot refuse your request, and yet it seems wrong that I should thus Rg 8 the injunctions that were given for your good. What is it that you wish to ask me?” * Am I out of danger?” “Not yet. You bave been crazy for a jong 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, aoe dropped her eyes in confusion as she re- lied; - “T 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 you haven’t,”’ I ex- claimed in admiration; “ your beart_is open to any one. Who you are I knownot, but I can see your race is similar to my own, and judge you to bea 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 in/erest, has grown into a stronger passion for you, though I fear—” 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, » shuffling step was heard, and thé’next minute the Medicine Man made his appearance. He gesticulated angrily toward her, and she passed quietly out of the lodge. The Medicine Man evidently suspected what I had been doing; T conld 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 ion ashort time Islept. | Now comes a long blan« in my memory. After this incident, black night shut around my mind. There is a faint recollection of again seeing Jim and the Medicine Man bending over me, and the sweet pale face of the fair captive, and then again came utter oblivion. CHAPTER X. AN AWFUL AWAKENING, T HAVE now reached a point in my life over which I would fain passin silence. It is an experience 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 remember falling into a deep sleep, in which the last form that passed before my eyes was that of the dark Medicine Man; there was a confused mur- mur of voices, and then all became cark., Gradu- ally the darkness was swept by the glittering folds of a dream—a dream which had jittl form or 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- passed before my face, frequently pausing and ex- tending their arms over my body, and sometimes standing and intently scanning my countenance, This continued a long time, not a 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 ee et radiance became instantly as black as night. n this [could distinguish the rushing forms grow- ing fainter and fainter, until at Jast all was black- ness again, Then came a feeling as though the thick darkness in one vclume were gradually crushing me beneath it, and then a strange feeling of being cram and held forcibly still. Then came a long, deep, indrawn breath, and I awoke, All was confused and inexplicable. Open my eyes as wide asI might, I could not pierce the Stygian gloom. I tried to move, but could not—could not stir a limb, and only the fingers of my hand, The air was steamy and hot, and I was surrounded by something which chained every part. I strove to collect my thoughts, I remembered the consulta- tion in the hut, the coming unconsciousness, and— my present awakening. y first impression, after this, was that the house had fallin over me, 1 clinched my hands—/fhey closed upon carth! 1 reached forward and licked the darkness, 7 fasted earth !—and then came the sudden, overwhelming knowledge— I WAS BURIED ALIVE! No pen can draw the faintest picture, no soul con- ceive the unutterable horror, unless that soul bas gone through the same awful experience, that filled my soul at that discovery. Such a whirlwind of fire as seethed through my bursting brain, such a per- fect blaze of all the passions that can rack the human mind. | cannot bd ray with this feeble pen. For a moment I was frantic, and then suddenly a dreadful and frightful calmness socthed my frame. Ay, 1 was buried alive | The savages had mistaken my trance-like stupor for death itself, and I had been hurried prematurely into the grave. Oh, the appalling ciscovery! To die while in the grave! The thought was too horrible! T was nor yet ready to give way to utter despair. I durst not peed a second for thought, for 1 knew it would sure- y come, I twisted and struggled with the strength of fury. Icould turn my bocy around, and use my arms. There was an open space before my face, as had been buried in the sitting position, Had Iain 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. Tt was a Jong time, for such an experience, hefore T admitted this, but I was compelled to at last. De: th by suffocation was rapidly epprosching. and all that was left for me was to prepare for it, The small breath of air around me had already been breathed
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Biil Biddon, Trapper. over and over again, and was becoming hot, steamy,. and sickening. I was gasping and panting, but strove to collect my thoughts and keep them from wandering. I commenced praying. Suddenly a muffled sound reached my ear, as though something had fallen to the earth above. I listened—it was repeated directly over me, now rap- idly and regularly. What could it mean? Was it the sign of dissolution, or was it real? I listened, and heard it plainer and plainer above the wild throbs of my heart. J/ was 7eal/ Something or somebody was digging at the grave above! Could I now hold out till I was reached? The air had already become thick and palpable, and strange 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. 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 woce:/ I shouted— there was a pause and stillness; and then the efforts were renewed with greater vigor. I shouted again. 1 could feel the jarring trembling cf the loose earth above. Some one was endeavoring to rescue me from my awful fate, thank God! 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 Pulte fluttered wildly, for 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 deep, heartfelt prayer to the Merciful Being who had thus snatched me from the most appalling death. There was a bright moon shining, and, as I turned, I saw the dark In- dian’s eyes fixed wonderingly upon me. © Jim,’’ said I, solemnly, **‘ may the God who has put it into your heart, reward you for this act. I 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, There, standing motionless as a statue, her slight form wrapped in a thick mantle, her sweet, white face appearing like a spirit’s, stood the fair, mysterious captive.* For a moment I was disposed to believe it was a spirit before me, so still and motionless she remained. Suddenly she turned to depart. ** Hold!” exclaimed I, springing forward and seiz- ing her arm; ‘‘ Hold one moment, till I thank thee.” “Thank the Great One above,” sh» replied, ina pen ngrect 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 of glory around it. Then, looking me calmly in the face, she added: “You have escaped an awful death, it is true; and you are not the only one who has thus risen from the grave. When delirious, you spoke of home and of friends there, and I know your presence is prayed for, The chance of reaching them is now placed within your reach. A horse is saddled an1 bridled, and awaiting you, but ashort distance away.. Jim *In the northwestern part of Oregon is a tribe of Indians called Chenooks, who 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 the Northwest have been known to inflict it upon their captives, will furnish you with a rifle. You know the direc- tion to take, and let me urge you to flee.” Again she turned to go, but I restrained her. “ You are a white person, and do you wish to live and die with these savages?” The tears glistened on her face as she replied: ‘* T have not a friend in the civilized world. My parents were murdered by the Indians, and myself and sister carried away in captivity, We were separated: I wa3 taken eastward, and she westward beyond the Roc':y Mountains. She cannot be living, for she was a deli- eate child, ycunger than me, incapable of bearing one-half the suffering that must have been imposed upon her. Should I ever see the land I left when a child, Ishould be astranger among strangers. There are those here who love me. I will remain and die among them.’” “TWlee with me,” Timpetuously urged. ‘ You will not beastranger. Hundreds will love you, and you can die with your own kindred. Jim, who is faithful to you, will furnish us both with a fleet horse, and we can elude al! 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 over on my bosom, and looked down upon her fea- tures. Her gaudy head-dress was removed, and her white face lay among the mass of jetty hair like a 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 tomy own great passion? What else cculd it be? Encour- azed by the certainty that the latter was the case, I urged my suit with redoubled ardor. I pictured the Beniioces 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 toid, in case she attempted to leave them, instant death would be the result, I saw she wished—she longed to flee, and the ehpesrions she offered were only suggested by her ears. ‘* 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 replied, meaningly. “I was not aware, Jim, that I had enemies among you,” “You 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 knew of my existence, you would not be spared a moment, This is what Jim means, and his words must be heeded.” “ Must I travel afoot and alone?” I asked of the Indian. ‘*There’s hoss what tossed you over buffler,”’ he answered, pointing to a clump of trees, ‘and I'v» eat your other things,”’ he added, handing m+ 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 I shall also leave for home to-night, If inquiry is made, you can tell them
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Bill Biddon, Trapper. 25 this, and add that Ishall probably be with them in a 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 po- lite enough not to show it. He replied that her wish should be gratified, and he disappeared as noiseless- Wy ashe came. It was now getting 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 to attempt it,” she answered, firmly, “And through no action of mine shall you ever regret this step,’’ | added, warmly. “Oh! I hope he will soon return, for IT wish to go,” she said, as with a shiver of apprehension she look- be ae about in the dark shadows of the for- est. ** As yet we know not each other’s names,”’ said I, pleasantly. “True,” she answered, with a faint smile, ‘ Mine is Imogene Merment.” “And mine is William Relmond, But where can Jim be?” ** 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 peekin’ about here.”’ ‘We will go at once,”’ said Imogene, gathering up her dress. Iturned to give a last word to Jim, but he had vanished, “ Let us burr7,”’ said she, “for I haveadread that we are watched, and will not ret away after all. I pray God that nothing may prevent us, now that we are started.” 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 to the northward, “ Why this direction, Imogene?” I asked, “To avoid pursuit,” she answered. ‘* At daylight we will change it, and proceed to the southeast,” The open prairie was some miles distant, and as long as we were in the deep sbadows of the wood the greatest danger was to be apprehended, It was more than probable that the extended absence of Jim and Imogene at the same time had aroused the suspicions of more than one savage. As all must have known that I was buried while still living, and that she had battled their determiuation as long as there was hope, when the morning came and show- ed her abrupt departure, they could not help sus- pecting the true cause, The air was cool and exhilarating, and, as my fiery animal prancd beside that of Imogene, I could not restrain the wild, ardent hopes that thrilled my being. I was 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. “Imogene, although this is hardly the proper mo- ment, I cannot help questioning you about the fate of a friend.” “T know to whom you refer,” she answered, 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.” F “Thank beaven! it seems indeed that a wonderful Providence is watching over all of us."? “T believe he will effect his escape, but it must be throagh your instrumentality, for I will not dare to show myself.” “Good, clever Nat, I will do anything for him,” I exclaimed, warmly. ‘‘ He is a whole-souled fellow, forall he isso odd. Only to think, he has been so nigh me allthis time! It is my place to assist him, as far as lies in my power,” “T have had several conversations with him, in all of which he spoke 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 toa trapper named Bill Biddon, the one who did his best to save our family when they fell victims to the sav- ages, and whom I would give all the world to see, He said he succeeded, after several years, in making quite a hunter of him.” **Oh, the rascal!” 1 laughed, ** just like him.” When day dawned we continued our journey for several hours, At noon I shot a 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 urgent request, Imogene lay down beside it, while I kept watch. Our horses were picketed at scarce- ly a rod distant, and yet in the night they became so terrified at the approach of some animal, that they broke loose and fled, and we never saw them again, Anis was a great loss to us, but in the morning we continued our journey on foot, and at noon ascend- ed a high mountain, which was a spur of the Black Hills, lying between the Yellowstone and Missouri. The day was a clear, beautiful one, and the fairest peaks of the mountain, looming up against the blue. far-off horizon, formed a fine background to the glorious landscape spread out before us. Never shall I forget the magnificent scene which was open- ed to our vision. To the north, the mighty wilder- ness stretched in one unbroken tract as far as the eye could reach, while to the southward the glisten- ing waters of the vast rivers could be seen, winding and losing their tortuous channels in the forest again. South of us, nestling in a deep valley, could be seen the ei bee-hive-like lodges of the tribe we had left, seemingly covering scarcely a square rod of ground. “Yonder.”* said Imogene, 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 direct course,”’ F I hesitated long before leaving Imogene, but my duty to Nat, and the hopeful i she took of it, finally decided me. She was confident I should find him and be back in a few days, and urged me to de- lay no longer. We repaired to the * Death Rock,” where we separated. Imogene was familiar with its peculiarities, and assured me that in its recesses she could find security from any animal foe.* Before leaving her I saw that she was provided with food sufficient to last a week at least, and as she was fur- nished with a rifle and ammunition, ber situation was certainly as good as my own, CHAPTER XI. THE BRIGADE AND AN OLD FRIEND, Briopina Imogene good-by, I started to the north- ward, At night I kindled a fire by which I slept in safety, and at an early hour resumed my journey. At noon I reached the banks of a river, so e that I was pretty certain it was the Yellowstone, and hence was able to judge pretty correctly of my lo- cality. The river was broad, and it was quite a seri- ous tndertaking to cross, but it had to be done, * Death Rock is composed principally of a vast eave, in which it is said a whole tribe of Indians once perished; choosing death by starvation rather than to fall into the hands of their enemies,
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26 Bill Biddon, Trapper. 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 indeseribobly stir- ring and inspiriting; and, as it came nigher and nigher, and grew louder, its power increased, Hard- ly satisfied of the nature of the approaching body, I withdrew a short distance and awaited its appear- ance, Soon a large canoe nearly full of men came to view around a bend some hundred yards distant. Tt was followed by another and another, all keeping time to the words of their song: We are going with the tide, Yoho! 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 ascore of majestic voices joined in the c)orus, 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 wera 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 en r- mous quantity of meat steaming and spitting, and the men, excepting the cook, were lolling about on the grass, each one smoking andchatting, and mak- ing a scene of pleasant confusion and enjoyment. I now stepped forth from my concealment. Sev- eral turned their faces toward me as I passed them, buf no unusual amount of astonishment was mani- fssted. Imade 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, Moasantly, * One of them Nor’west chaps, I s’pose!"”” “No, sir; Lam no trapper, but a mere adventurer.” 1 Tell that to them as believes it,’’ he retorted, an- erily. “It is immaterial whether you believe it or not. If I were a member of the Northwest Fur Company, [ should not be ashamed or afraid to own it, as I be- lieve itis 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—” “| did no such thing.” “Do you hear that, I say?” he called out, without regarding my words. ‘‘Here’s a sneaking Nor’- wester cracking up his party afore us.”’ I was provoked but made no reply. THis words at. tracted attention, and, amxious tosee the trouble, all gathered round. “What's up?’ demanded astumpy fellow, push- ing his head in between the others. “A fight! a fight!" “Make a ring for °em.”” * Blow me, if he don’t look like one o’ them Nor’- westers as sent Governor Semple out o’ the world.* Go in, Tom!” *In anaffray between two parties, belonging re- spectively to the Hudson Bay and Northwest Fur Companies, the leader of the former, Mr. Semple, was shot by a member of the latter. This happened some years before the date of our story, but fora long time there was ill-feeling and frequent encoun- ters between the two companies, “T'll maul him as soon as I get in fightin’ order,” said Tom—he of my first acquaintance. Matters were now getting serious. A collison be- tween the redoubtable Tom and myself seemed una- voidable, His impudent bravado and insults had roused me somewhat, and I made up my mind that Ishould 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 Fd parations. “That’s right, Tom, go in and win,” add iseveral voices. “Gentlemen,” said I, ‘all Task is that ‘ou shall understand this matter, and show fair play —” ** We'll do that, you!” interrupted severé |, “In the first place,” I continued, ‘‘I h we said nothing against the company in whose sei vice you are. This 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 Isaid, lam not in the service of any company but am a mere adven- turer in these parts. With this explanation lam now ready for any proceeding he may wish.”’ “Smash me to nuthin’, ram me down and shoot mo, if that ain’s Jarsey, or I'm a sinner!” exclaim- ed a familiar voice, and thesame instant Bill Biddon stepprd into the ring before me. “ Give us your paw, Jarsey.” He eres my hand, while his scarred countenance was dissolved, in one great, broad smile. It is need- less to say I was delighted beyond measure at this unexpected meeting. * Why, 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: “Tf you say another word to that gentleman, as is worth forty like you, thar'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 en- r’ous, [ allow,” donned his coat with the most per- fect. meekness. “Now,” said Biddon, facing the rest, ‘if thar are any ‘bout yeras wants to take up this fou’t, wh i s'ep forward and I'll settle the matter with m,”’ “Ts ho 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- per, turning toward me with a backward wave of hishand. ‘ Now hold on, you. fur ef you take back anything you’ve said, shoot me, ef 7 don't lick you. Och!” Then 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 response, All was still as death. “Wal, boys,” added Bill, returning to his good nature, ‘‘he ain’t a trapper; never took a skinin
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Bill Biddon, Trapper. ‘27 his born days; isa perfect gentleman, and I°i] 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, smiling and talking ond shaking hands; and the first hand I grasped was Tom Wilson’s. * Hope you won’t mind what I said;” he spoke in a lower tone, “I orter beenlammed 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; you're a trump.” ‘“‘Tt’s my private opine,” called out Biddon, ‘‘ that this coon is goin’ inter these eatables, and ef you wants a bite, Jarsey, you'd better j’ine.” All now crowded around the meal-pot, and com- menced devouring its contents with the avidity of wild animals. It consisted mainly of pemmican (dried buffalo flesh), a food much in vogue in the Northwest, with several biscuits and some scalding tea. The meal finished, the men instantly produced their pipes, which they indulged in for ten or fifteen minutes. The boats were then shoved into the water, the cooking-utensils placed on board, and prepara- tions made for starting, ‘*Wharyou bound to?”’ asked Diddon, just as they were ready. “The Blackfeet-Sioux,” I answered, unable to re- press a smile. “ The Blackfeet-Sicux?"’ he repeated. “Yes; do you know their grounds?” “It’s bout twenty miles down-s 1—that is, the village. Weca’c’late to camp thercabcuts to-night. What, in the name of beavers, do you want with them?” “T'llexplain matters when we have a better op- portunity,’’ I answered. 3 “Jump in with me, then. an’ I'll get Tom Wilson to rest me awhile, and we’il talix over matters and things.” I sprung into the boat, and the brigade was soon under way. ‘The Yellowstone, being broad and deep, and the current quite p werful, the work was light. The song was taken up by the vuyadevre, all joining in the chorus and keeping time with the measured dip of their paddles. 1 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.” “T hoped you would accompany us to the settle- ment.” *T should be glad to do so, but circumstances for- bid.” “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 inthe autumn, while in the wilderness, I was considerably surprised to find him in your service. ‘ “Te had a dispute with one of his employer's agents, and gave him a severe pounding, He was reproved rather sharply, and left the company in disgust. This was during the winter, Shortly after he visited Red river settlement, and volunteered his services, and they were gladty accepted.” " ‘He has been, then, buta 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.” - * Se pt aware we are now in the United States territory. It is not often that we extend our work into insexont 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 neighbor- hood, intendins them for one of their fur companies, but after his dispute he offered them to us, and this bri-ade was dispatched for them, Tle will find quite apile 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 lace at the oars. Tho trapper mo‘ioned me beside im. Seating ourselves in the opposite end of the boat, he said: “Now, we'll have a talk, Jarsey, ogh! “The first thing to be knowec,” said Biddon, ‘is how in the name of human natur’ you come in thesa parts? How warit, Jarsey?” * You must remember, Ridden, I have been a pris- oner for the last six months,” and thereupon I told my story. “* Did you never hear nothin’ of Greeny?” “Yes; a rumor reached me that he was living with a tribe of Indians to tie east of us.” “ Altogether onpossible,” answered the trapper, with ashake of his} cad. “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, I have been a captive, and am now here without bo: ily harm.” “*Tt's qua’r, Tallow, how you come out as you Cid. The reds in them parts are rampsrageous, and if it hadn't been for that Jim, and that gal, you’d °c’ gone under sure.”’ The brigade proceeded regularly and rapidly down the Yellowstone, until the sun sinking in the west, warned them that night 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 into shore for the night’s encampment. A dens» forest on either side of us rendered our situation gloomy; but this was soon dispelled by the jolly royane urs. 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- parations for supper, made a scene well calculated to dispel all gloom, All fathered around the hearty evening meal, These hardy fellows, after the labor\- 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 in it who had rey Se and hunted from the shores of the frozen sea to the 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 savages of the more temperate regions: and now they recounted their reminiscences, and speculated upon the fate still in store for them. The hours passed rapidly, and, ere I was aware, the voyagevrs 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 again seitled over wood and river. Nothing disturbed the deep silence save the faint flow of the Yeliowstone, or the dull noise of anember asit broke apart, and now and then the distant wail of some wild animal. I soon joined the rest in the land of dreams. The first apprisal [ bad of the approach of day were the loud cries: ‘* Leve! leve! leve!"* uttered by nu- merous voices. ‘ Starting up, I saw the voyageurs all astir, making * Arouse and get up ;
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28 Bill Biddon, Trapper. Bela enon an ready to embark. The boats were launched, and, being too early for breakfast, the men sprung in and seized the oars, ‘* We halt for breakfast,” said the steersman, ‘at ee Indian village, which I understand is your destin- ation, With the same inspiring song of previous days, the men bent 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 night before was re-enacted, The place chosen was a broad, open plot of grass, reaching down to the water’s edge anil extending some hundred feet back to tue edge of the fore st. No signs of Indians were seen, and I was somewnat puzzled to know how it was known they were in the vicinity. The clerk explained tome that Biddon had described the halting ig and the distance so accu- rately, that there could be no mistake, and the sav- ages would soon be seen, He had scarcely spoken, when a movement was heard in the forest, and several Indians made their appearance. They seemed to understand the mean- ing of the brigade; for, directly beliind 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 less than half an hour the whole array wasdepos- ited in the boats, and the Indians were proudly pexasing inthe gaudy trinkets and dresses which ad just fallen to their lot. ‘** Where is their village?” [asked of Biddon. tt “ A mile or so back in the woods; you can’t miss it. **T can remain here without danger, canI not?” “ Yas. I guess so—hold on, Ill fix it for you.” With this he strode rapidly towarda man who ap- peared to be the chief, and commenced a@ conversa- tion. He understood the Sioux tongue well enough to hold quite an intelligible conversation. The talk lasted but a few moments, when he returned, “*You needn’t be skeerish,”’ he said; ** I’ve made it all right. I told that old chap you wanted to take a look at the country hereabouts, to skeer up somo furs for us ag’in. He was a little s’pishus at fu’st, shoot ma if he warn’t! and he axed ef you wanted to run off with tha’ gal o’ theirs, ’eause ef you war, ‘ou’d better leave yer ba’r behind you. There’s been wo or three round these parts after her, and ho won't stand it no Jonger, You've got to be mighty shy, Jarsey, I kiri tell ye; but [hope you'll get 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 anything to say.” “f had nothing except to express my thanks, which you seem averse to receiving.” “Tt 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 ae elkirk settlement with us; don’t s’pose haa ; think you're a fool, shoot me ef I don't, ogh! “Tt seems our separation is to be something like it was before,” Ilaughed. ‘I believe you had asmall opinion of my abilities at that time.” “Wal, yer’s as hopes you'll come out right side up this time. In course lll have a glimpse of that ugly face of yourn ag’in. In course.” “T don’t know about that. As you have gone into the service of the Hudson Bay Company.your sphere of action will be far removed from mine, and it will bean occurrence which I cannot imagine at this time that will bring us together again.” “That ain’t so sart’in,”’ said the trapper, in a low, confidential tone. “I rather opine I'll be down in Independence 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 hain't, ogh!” “T hope you will not spend your life in the dreary region north of this, for it will indeed be a dreary, lonely life for you.” “Wal, you sée, Jarsey,” he continued, with ashade 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 mougut as well be in one part as t’other of this country.” ‘* Fudge, Biddon, don’t talk that way. Why, I am sure I shall see you settled down in the Sta.es wick a wife and a dozen children—” I paused as I noticed the trapper’s face. Some strange emotion was gaining the mastery over him; but he conquered it in a minute, ae Never talk that way ag’in, Jarsey; I can’t stand it. **Pardon me; you will soon be under way,” I spoke, wishing to pass from the allusion which had been so painful to bim. He turned, and looking at the brigade, which was making preparations to start, answered: **Yas; the boys are 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 puropse is to seek out Nat Todd. I have given you an account of my ging J and partial flight with Imogene, the captive, who has told me of his whereabouts. She is now waiting at Death Rock for me, and is as confi- dent as I am that [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 Ihave little fear of that, as I have no expectation of re- maining any length of time.” “Wal, as that little gal has se’d Nat, of course he’s kickin’. Bless her soul! I'd like to see her sweet face, but I s'pose the brigade can’t spare me just now. Jarsey, I’ve my s’picions that that other sperit is somewhere out toward Oregon. 'mony a tribe of red-skins. I’ve had my s’picions, Isay but I'llsay nothin’ more now, ‘eept to kind of hint I may take a tramp out in them parts some day to seo if thar be signs of her.”’ “I sincerely hope that such may be the case, a1- though I cannot be as sanguine as youarec, Should you rescue her, the debt of gratitude—" “There! that'll do, ogh!"" interrupted Biddon. im- peratively. “Such things go ag'in’ my stummicl:, and Idon’t want to hear ’em. As you're on tho track of Nat, go, fur he may be somewhar yit, 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.” “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. Ozh! ogh! and the trapper enjoved his joke merrily. He stopped suddenly and looked at the brigade, “Wal, Jarsey, talkin’ time’s gittin’ mighty short, I'd like to tal longer, but can’t do it this time. Boge wel havo a time down in the States ’fore ong. **T sincerely trust we shall,” T 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, forI am sure he would not willingly miss an opportunity of seeing his old friend again. Of course, Biddon,® we shall meet, if not in this world. I hope in the next.” “P’raps so, though I c1n’t tell till wo ets there, Don’t know much *bout them matters, ogl!’’ 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 £
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_of the savage, Bill Biddon, Trapper. 29 was hastily withdrawn, He mumbled something, dashed his hand across his face, and strode rapidly toward the boat. = **Good-by, Biddon. God bless you!” I called after im. The voyagerrs seized their oars, and in afew mo- ments they were in the stream, their same cheery song echoing as loudly and as joyously as before. I stood upon the bank, watching chan as the current bore them onward, In a few moments they reached aknoll in the river—Biddon made a signal to me, and the next minute they had vanish d. As the song of the royvgeurs grew fainter and fainter, until it died away in the distance, 1 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 parading pompously in their new blankets, some examining their glittering knives and others wrenching off great mouthfuls from huge twists of tobacco, and all evidently in the highest spirits. The chief had been presented with a fine eee rifle, and he was standing apart, trying ils ock, and “ drawing bead,’’ on different objects in the distance. I waited ull he appeared satisfied, and then ap- proached and made a complimentary remark; I saw at once it was not comprehended, and there was not srobably a savage who could speak a word of Boglish in the tribe. However, as they spoke the same tongue as the tribe in which I spent my cap- tivity, my situation was not as bad asit might have been. In course of half an hour, the chief started toward his village, the others sauntering 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. 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 wasglad- ly surprised to find upon the next day, that there was a half-breed among them who could speak the English tongue. HisacquaintanceIsoonmade. He was a middJe-aged man, who had spent most of his life in trapping, sometimes as far northward as the Saskatehewan, and who often acted as interpreter, for his tribe. He possessed the daring hardihood of the French trapper, and the low ferocious cunning Te had ever considered this tribe as his people, having a squaw and several children. From the half-breed I learned 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 companies, and offered me an escort. I declined, however, and the next morning started on foot in the direction of the tribe alluded to. CHAPTER XII. FOUND AT LAST. I rook a direction nearly due east toward the Black Hills. Near the middle of the day I reached the shore of alake. 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 b'ue outline of the opposite shore was faintly visible in the distance, and here and there the green face of atiny island protruded from te surface, adding greatly to the picturesqueness of the scene. As I stood looking directiy out upon this lake, my eyes rested upon a small speck, just discernible far 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 canoe crossing the lake nearly to the point upon which I was standing. So small and black was it that for a long time | was tempted to believe it was nothing but a bird floating wpon 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 s'eadily, its form gradually increasing as it approached, until I could discover the outlines of a single man. It struck meas 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 a proceeding 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-psint and plumes, no less a person than Nathan Todd stepped ashore and approached me. I was upon the pcint of calling out to bim, when I saw he did not recognize me. Since we bad last been together my beard had grown considerably, and my dress was also changed to that of a semi-barbarian, 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- ning at present.” “*You are not a prisoner, I hop: ?”’ ““1t was some time last fall I got tuk, and I’ve been with them, of course, ever since.” ““And why have you remhined with them so long? Tt strikes me that if I had the five opportunity you anise should 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 sucha time. So TI concluded to wait till spring, and have been thinking about going for the last month or two, but somehow or other I hoven’t got started; I suppose ‘cause I haven't had a good start.’ ** You wish to return to the States?” “T-guess Ido; I am about as homesick a dog as you ever Jaid eyes on; and there's a gal home that I want to see amazingly.” At this remark I was compelled to cough several times. 1 felt like dropping upon the grass and roll- ing over and over, and yelling like an Indian. ButI determined to carry the deception stfil further. “She most likely has given you up as dead by thjs time.” ' ‘I'm alittle afraid {she’has, and that’s the reason Twantto godown 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 Tlawkins, who thinks he’s mighty 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 asort of desperation, ‘1 don't care, though, If Sal wants him, she can have him.” “That's it, Take things philosophically is my motto, when you are compelled to.” In making this last remark, T Lili ed dropped my voice to its natural key. Nat starte: , and stared wonderingly at me. “Did my remark surprise you?" I asked, working harder than I ever did to maintain my gravity,
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30 Bill Biddon, Trapper. “Tt weren’t what you said, but your voice sound- ed amazing 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 half-forgotten remembrance. ; “He used to be called ‘Jarsey ’ by Bill Biddon,” added Nat, quickly, as if to aid my recoliection. * And do you know Bill Bidden?” I demanded. “Tam of the opinion that I do, being as I have hunted with him a long time. “Ah! indeed. He is an old friend of mine. I saw him some time since, and he was then in tue service of the Hudson Bay Company.” * Didn't he say any thing about ‘ Jarsey ’?”” “T’ve 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.’’ “Tam the man, sir,.”” responded Nat, with dignity. “Youare! I recall now that he mentioned the 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 for you.” 3 : “You see the way of it was this: m> and Bill Rel- mond started from Independence last summer for California. The company we was with ran away from us, taking my knife and mare with them, So we started for Californy on our own hook. We came across this Bil! Biddon and changed our minds, or, rather, Relmond did, and we concluded to_go on a hunt We fixed on a placs down on the Yellow- stone, and would have spent a_ good time if it hadn’t been for that Relmond. He was a good fel- low, but betwixt you and me you needn’t say noth- ing about it, you know), he was rather soft, and Thad to keep a clus watch over him to prevent his gettin’ into danger, There u ed to come some Injins down the stream in a canoe, and they set his head crazy. lt wasn’t the Injins, though, but a white g2l they had. She was pretty, I allow, but he ought to have knowed better than to chase ber as he did’ he might have knowed what would have com> of it. *« We used to go down and watch this canoe. One day Iwenta little lower down the stream than he did, and hid in some bushes beside the water to take a good look at the gal and the Injins. Pretty soon they came, and as they got along by me. by gracious if they ditn’t start right into ie Bienes after me! I was so fastin the roots and limbs that I hadn't time to pit 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 his them, and the first thing [ 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 made me walk all the way here. I haven't seen Rel- mond or Biddon since, and I shoul! like to know what has become of them.” * Biddon is safe, of course; and Relmond was a captive, I believe, awhile, but he managed to mako 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 tc my feelings and, seating myselt upon the ground, rolled over an laughed one of those laugh which rack our whole being, and make us weak as aninfan-. When Tagain resumed my feet, my friend approached and ex- tended 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 betweer 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, he 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 th» Death Rock 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 Imozene, wrapped in our blankets, slumbered unconsciously beside it. Nat succeeded in catching several fine trout from a small mountain-stream, and when we resumed our journey, three more hopcful people could not have been found in the universe. Our progress was less rapid than usual, as we feared for Imogene, although her life had been such as t> make her the very embodiment of health and activity. At night we reached a bend of the Yellow- stone, and camped upon its banks, A fire was again kindled, and while Nat kept watch, I concluded to take a little rest. He allowed me to sleep heavily until esate when I was aroused by one of the most unearthly shricks that ever gre-ted mortal ear, “God of Heaven! what does that mean?” I ex- claimed, springing to my feet. “* Sounds like the ‘ Snorter,’ the engine that I heard on the Boston road,” answered Nat,rubbing his eyes, “Hush!’? I admonished, as again that hideous scream burst upon us. **Wonder if the Pacific Railroad’s built yet?’ re- marked Nat, “ or, maybe some of their engines have run away from them.” As I stood wondering and waiting, the gray light of morning commenced appearing through the for- est, and shortly the day dawned. A moment after, as [ was about to awaken Imogene, the awful scream was repeated, seemingly directly across the river. It was not a human voice. but sounded like tho ery of a wild animal in the direst agony. As if our terror was still too faint, we now heard the loud ring of a Zell. ‘“* 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 agitated, * Listen!’ whispered Imogene, raising her hand, Now was heard a dead sound like the distant heave of the stormy sea, growing stronger anl nearer each second, and at intervals that wild, un- earthly shriek. “Look!” spoko Tmogene, in a husky whisper, pointing down the rivi r. I did look, and what was seen? There, justroun4- ing the curve of the Yellowstone below us, burst tho broad, flaming hull of a steamboat. Fora moment I could scarce believe my senses, Nat was the first to recover himself. “T knowed what it was all the time, by gracious! Hilloa, you!” The latter exclamation was addressed in vociferous tones to the steamboat; and, fearing lest he might still escape notice, he sprung into the water and waved his plumes excitedly over his head, yelling at the top of his voice all the time. We had been seen, however, and heeded by those onthe boat. A small bell tinkled, and instantly the huge wheel of th- steamer reversed, plowing the water into foam, waves, and quickly bringing it to a stand-still, Tlo captain then hailed us. “ What's wanted?” “Supper 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,”
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Bill Biddon, Trapper. / 31 I now stepped forward from the shelter of the forest, to which 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 ont from the steamer, and Imogene, followed by myself, stepped into the boat, but Nat lingered. vf a hurry, Nat, don’t keep them waiting,” said I. “1m going to remain.” he remarked, quietly. “ What do you mean?” T asked in astonishment. He approached end whispered in my ear: “I'm going to hunt up Lene Merment!” “ Why—” “Don’t say anything,” he interrupted, with a smile, “I will do it. There is no use trying to persuade me to go with you. My mind is made up, and has been made up 2 long time.” Imogene joined her entreaties with mine, but he could not be made to change his resolution. Not wishing to detain our friends, I extended my band. “If you are determined to remain, I must now bid you good-by, Nat. Your devermination is so new to me that I can hardly realize it. It is a hopeless search, I fear, May the One who has so mercifully watched over all of us, still protect you. If you ever see Biddo», don't forget me to him, Good-by.” “Nor me either,” said lmogene, taking bis hand, “T long to see him, to pour out my heart's gratitude tohim. I hope we shall see you again.” “Oh! you will, sure, I shall be down in the States one of these days, and lite enough bring a wife with me, and several little Todds, as good-looking as your heirs will be. You mustn’t think: this is a last tarewell, for I know it ien’t.” We exchanged farewells once more, and then were rowed out to the steamboat. As we were received on board, Nat swung his plume and shouted: “Lone life to you! ths fu’st news you receive from Nat Todd will be a dispatch from the Rocky Mount tins, ‘that he is making a sensation in that neighborhood,’” and the eccentric being vanished in the forest. . Imogene had no suspicion of tho true cause of Nat Todd's erratic course, and Tiedeed it best to let her remain in ignorance until Nat should inform her himself. Whether 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 infl- nite 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 com- pany in St. Louis. They proposed opening trade in this section, and knowing well the prodigious re- sourees of the country watered by its tributaries, had sent a skillful capt>in and crew to ascertain its character and availability. Theriver had, however, b en asrended before. The ‘Shooting Star” ascended the Yellowstone several hundred miles further, until brought toa s'andstill by the rapids in its upper part. Several days were spent in running up Clark’s Fork, the Big Tiorn, Tongu*, Powder and numerous other streams many of which as yet had 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 oceasions, when halted to wood, the crew was attacked by them, and one of their number was slain, At other points they manifested a friendly disposition and bartered extensively with us. ‘inally the bow of the boat was turned home, and on a glorious morning in the latter part of June, 1850, we glided into the turbid waters of the ma Missouri, and a few days later the “Shooting Star” rested at the wharves in St. Louis. Accompanied by Imogene I made my way home as rapidly as pos- le, 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 subsequent to my separation from it by an overwhelming body of Apache In- dians. Rumors reached the states that all had fall- enin the massacre, and my reappearance was like the dead returning to life. The reader, I trust, can imagine the few remaining incidents. After in- ducing 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 possess. I had gained no princess or wealthy hero- ne, but simply a w/é in the truest sense of the word. THE END, Half-Dime Singer’s Library 1 Wnoa, E:ma! and 59 other Songs, 2 Caprain Curr and 57 other Songs, 8 Tur Garxszoro’ Har and 62 other Songs. 4 Jounny Morcan and 60 other Songs. 5 Tu. Srrme You Wiru A Featner and 62 others, 6 Grorcr THe Crarmer and 56 other Songs. 7 Tux Bevie or Rockaway and 52 other Songs. 8 Younc Pevian. You're Too Frese and 60 others, 9 Soy Younea Grru and 65 other Songs. 10 I’« THe Governor’s On ty Son and 58 other Songs 11 My TI’an and 65 other Songs. 12 Comin’ Toro’ Tur Rye and 55 other Songs. 138 Tue Rotiick1nc InisHMan and 59 other Songs. 14 Op Doe Tray and 62 other Songs. 15 Wuoa, Cuarure and 59 other Songs, 16 IN TH1s Wueat By anp By and 62 otner Songs. 17 Nancy Lee and 58 other Songs. 18 I’« THe Boy THat’s Bounp To B.aze and 57 others, 29 Tae Two Orpnans and 59 other Songs. 10 Waat ane THE Witp Waves Sayine, Sister? and 59 other Songs. 21 Inpianant Potty Woe and 59 other Songs. 22 Tne Utp Arm-Cuair and 58 other Songs. 23 On Coney Istanp Beacu and 58 other Songs. 24 Oip Simon, THE Hot-Corn Man and 60 others. 25 Iw mn Love and 56 other Songs. 23 PARADE or THE Gusrbs and 56 other Songs. 27 Yo, Heave, Ho! and 60 other Songs. ‘ 23 "fwiLL NEVER po To Gin rt up So and 60 others, 29 Buve Bonnets Over tHE RorpER and 54 others, 30 ‘'ue Merry LAvGHING MAN and 56 other Songs. 1 Sweer Foraer-me-Nor and 55 other Songs. 82 LeerLe Basy Mine and 53 other Songs. 83 De Banjo AM pe INstRUMENT FOR Mg and 53 others, 34 Tarry and 50 other Songs. 35 Just TO PLEASE THE Boys and 52 other Songs. 36 SKATING ON ONE IN THE GuTTER and 52 others. 37 Kovorep Kranks and 59 other Songs. 38 Ni. DESPEXANDUM and 58 other Songs. 39 Tue Girt I Lerr Besryp Me and 50 other Songs 40 "Tis suT 4 Lirt.e Fapep Fiowsr and 50 others 41 Pretty Warinevatna and 60 other Songs. 42 DANCING IN THE Bakn and 63 other Songs, 43 H. M.S. Prvarore. compLere, and 17 other Songs Sold everywhere by Newsdealers, at five centa per copy, or sent post-paid, to any address, on re ceipt of Six cents per number. BEADLE AND ADAMS, PusLisHers, 98 Wittiam Street, New York.
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382 OCTAVO PAGES. ag Spe meee POG th TB RARY. See aRS TBO cet a CX-¥-3-0-¥-0-0-0-1-¥-¥-7-} 2S OS OSSSSSOOS SOOSSSOSSOSOSOOO OOOO OOOO (COSSSOCOO090 ISSUED EVERY 1 Deadwood Di-k, the Prince of the Road, ward L. Wheeler. Kansos King; or, The Red Right Hand. By Buf- fa o Bill. The Flying Yankee; or, The Ocean Outcast. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. The Double Daggers. By Edward L. Wheeler. The Two Detectives. By Albert W. Aiken. The Prairie Pilot. By Buffalo Bill. By Ed- The Buffalo Demon; or, The Border Vultures. By Edward L. Wheeler. Antelope Abe, the Boy Guide, By Ol] Coomes. Ned J Wylde, the Boy Scout. By “Texas Juck” (J. B. Omohundro). } uffalo Ben, the Prince of the Pistol. By Edward By Cel. Ingraham. Ralph Roy, the Boy Buccaneer. By T. Nick o’ the Night; or, The Boy Spy of 776. C. Harbaugh. Jack, By I Tsien 2 Yellowstone Jack. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. Wii Ivan, the Boy Claude Duval. By Edward L. Wheeler, Diamond Dirk. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. Keen-Knife, Prince of the Pratries, By O11 Coomes. Oregon Sol; or, Nick Whiffles’s Boy Spy. By Capt. J. F C. Adams. Death-Face, the Detective. By E. L, Wheeler. Lasso Jack. By Ol) Coomes. Roaring Ralph Rockwood, the Reckless Ranger. rh, er BS Senee ec ies he Boy Clown. By Frank S. Finn, The Phantom Miner. By Edward L. Wheeler, The Sea-Cate By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 24 The Dumb Spy By Ol Nes. 25 Rattling Rube, By Harry St. George. 26 Old Avalanche, the Great Annibilator, By Edward L. Wheeler. 27 Gla «-Eye, the Great Shot of the West. By Capt. J. F. C. Adains. 281The Boy Captain. By Roger Starbuck. 29 Dick Darling, the Pony Express Rider. By Capt. brederick Whittaker, 80 Bob Woolf, the Border Ruffian, By E. L. Wheeler. '1 Nightingale Nat. By T. C. Harbaugh. BL the Road Agent. By J. E. Badger, Jr. » the Masked Terror. By E. L. Wheeler. t Bunker, the Trapper. By George E. Lasalle. BS The Boy Rifles. By A. C. Trons. 86 The White B ffalo. By George E. Lasalle. 87 Jim Bludsoe, Jr, By Edward L. Wheeler. 88 Ned Hazel, the Boy Trapper. By Capt. J. F.C. Adams. 89 Deadly Eye, the Unknown Scout. By Buffalo Bill. 40 Nick Whifflew’s« Pet. By Capt. J. F.C, Adams, Al Deadwood Dick’s Eagles. By E. L. Wheeler. 42 The Border King. By Ol! Coomes. 48 Old Hickory. By Harry St. George. 44 The White Indian. By Capt. J. F.C. Adams. 45 Buckhorn Bill. By Edward L. Wheeler. 46 The Shadow Ship. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 47 The Red Brotherhood. By W. J. Hamilton. 48 Dandy Jack. By T. C. Harbaugh. 49 Hurricane Bill. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 50 Single Hand. By W. J. Hamilton. 51 Patent-leather Joe. By Philip S. Warne. 52 The Border Robin Hood. By Buffalo Bill. 568 Gold Rifle, the Sharpshooter. By Edward L, Wheeler. 54 Old Zip’s Cabin. By Capt. J. F.C, Adams. 55 Delaware Dick, the Young Ranger Spy, By Oll omnes. WEDNESDAY. Mad Tom Western. By W. J. Hamilton. Deadwood Dick on Deck, By E. L. Wheeler, Hawkeye Harry. By Oll Coomes. The Boy Duelist. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, Abe Colt, the Crow-Killer. By Albert W. Aiken. Corduroy Charlie, the Boy Bravo. By Edward L. Wheeler. Will Somers, the Boy Detective. By Chas. Morris, Sol Ginger, the Giant Trapper. By A. W. Aiken. Rosebud Rob. By Edward L. Wheeler. Lightning Joe, the Terror of the Prairie, J. F.C. Adams. Kit Harefoot, the Wocd-Hawk. By T. C. Har- bangh. Rollo, the Boy Ranger. By Ol] Coomes, Idyl, the Girl Miner. By Edward L. Wheeler. Detective Dick; or, The Hero in Rags, By Charles Morris. 70 Sure Shot Seth, the Boy Rifleman. By O11 Coomes. 71 Sharp Sam; or, The Adventures of a Friend.ess Boy. By J. Alexander Patten. @2 The Lion ofthe Sea. By Albert W. Aiken. 78 Photograph Phil, the Boy Sleuth. By Edward L, Wheeler. @4 Picayune Pete; or, Nicodemus, the Dog Detective. By Charles Morr s, Island Jim; or, The Pet of the Family. By Brace- bridge Hemyng (Jack Harkaway). Watch-Eye, the Shadow. By Edward L. Wheeler. Dick Dead Eye, the Boy Smuggler. By Col. P. In- grubam. 78 Deadwood Dick’s Device. 79 The Black Mustanger. Reid and Frederick Whittaker. 80 Old Frosty, the Guide. By T. C. Harbaugh. 81 The Sea Viper; or, The Midshipman’s Legacy. By Col. P. Ingraham. 82 Seth Jones; or, The Captives of the Frontier. By Edward 8S. Ellis, 88 Canada Chet, the Counterfeiter Chief. L. Wheeler. 84 The Dumb Page; or, The Doge’s Daughter. B Captain Frederick Whittaker. per a 85 The Boy Miners. By Edward 8. Ellis. August 26. 86 Jack Harkaway In New York, bridge Hemyng. Ready Sept. 2. 87 The Hussar Captain. Ready Sept. 9. 88 Deadwood Dick in Leadville. By Edward L. Wheeler. Ready Sept. 16. 89 Bill Biddon, Trapper. Ready Sept. 23. 64 65 By Capt, 66 68 69 7S 76 cx3 By Ed. L. Wheeler. By Captain Mayne By Edward Ready By Brace- By Col. Prentiss Ingraham- By Edward S. Ellis. 90 Tippy, the Texan; or, The Young Champion. By George Gleason. Ready Sept. 30. 3 Beadle’s Pocket Library is for sale by all News- dealers, five cents per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each. BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.