jETFIIWBLg‘Ewh
.

'vx:~.

 

Entered as Second Class Matter at the New Yerk, N. Y.. Post Office. Copyrighted 1397, by Baum: no Arum. January 2:» 2%:

 

 

$2'50 a Van" 92 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. T“°"‘day-

NAT TODD'

Or, The Fate of the Sioux Captive. «a a By Edward 8. Ellis.

(‘UAI’TI‘IR l. , 'l‘hu.< t'nmmvnlwl Nut 'l‘mltl. :19 tho ins! snmnl uf'l Wish to mukv inquirivs ui‘ tln- lll'iuhluvi‘s‘ :ilurm
‘ H V ‘ , ' lhu sti-umvr. “hich hnrv :m'uy William lh-lmunll! lhn- way. I think I mighi pass for :1 rial-skin
A ‘ mm" AND A ‘ “(M‘AN- ii'llld Imogene» Mgrnwnl. l‘vllt'ht-tl his c-zlrs. lli- stuml ‘ \‘vry Wo-ll. 'l‘hnl hunks llnv, uml no «luuht \Ullll‘li
u“'(.1}v hm.“ I “m. “t la“. Mm“. in the WOW“! in'tho mills! ml Ihul \‘usl .1<.'l‘\'.\'l‘l\\'llll'h slum-hos. llllllljt-SS [in-h.- \\'llh :nwh if shv simultl w:- it.’
and it's a. “'()n(k.l-ful ml“.an 1w“ Started mm“,  1L\\il.\' W (hv “ms! 01 thv; M‘lmm‘tun Rlth‘l‘. [luring f yunlmuwl l‘\.ut. hiking lull his Mumps nml sunr)“
too! I. Nathan Todd. “1. Lulu,“ haw “mm m the his suiy “mum: thv Imliims ul thn N(H'Ih\\'(‘.\'t, he: mg Ilium; Hwy (lull I lit my hvml wry “'Ml. hilt
determination m muk0 “ ward] rm. “one Mmuj‘hml .nltvn «'unvvrswl wnh‘lnu‘iw-ih: Murine-m. tho- ihvy must :lllsWi‘l' l'l'll l gut hvlu-i' ones: and 115
ment. who. like enough. died ton ."WU‘S ago! Nu‘ "“W‘V‘Y in WWW“ I” h” “'5‘. .MNW'. "\mm‘ml' ‘ “n.” l “'5” "“""”“‘ .
on“ believes She is “Hm: bpsmos m”; and Wm” she ht‘llt‘Vt't'hlhzlt.HlI' IHHVI'-“'Ix|.‘*-IU.'\‘1.hll’th‘l‘. yet] so saying. our ho-r'n rt-pluywl hisnplunivs (ind
anl I going to hunt hm. up “n.2, AS (rm, "S I‘lho pl‘Ulnlhlll'l)’ 4:1 ho-i' yz-I ll‘ni‘lg \}:I.\ such as tn’wulkml slowly (l\\'ll_\’ in [he [urn-st. lhn dire-Minn
“Yo, I benew‘ I love her; and if 51“. is “wirfmmd Hti‘vnutlivn l\.'il ill lhu «lvtviiniiinlimi tn inukc- n which hu tmnk”w5m such as In lvml him In (In-
l'll offer mvsvlr to hpr. svnrch lol‘ ln-r, ’lln- Hilly t'1"\\' lU Killdr- him wusi " ln-nlh Hun-k. lrnm \th'h lu- hml sun-[ml (in-
u ' . , lhv suspil-iun ut' [mum-no- (hut tin» ('llpturs (.f I...“ mnrniiu: ln-l'nru '1‘)“. (my “UH “m. “r [1“. mi,“
,Relmond has fofim‘l mmsf'y “' Wm” ,‘md 1 sislm’ hml pl'tn‘o'mlc-Il \\"‘.\'[\\'ill'tl (n ()n‘mm. iln-ulllil'ul nl' lhv your. 'l‘ln- air was (lurki-nvd by
don t 399 Why I "an t' “ml I} I 1"" “7'” ‘ “3”” “ l.o-l mw N'I'.” mum-ll Nut. :is ht- wnlkml sluwly [ flocks of birds, win-ling; uvvrhmul; Vast drum-s of
Sarah Almm‘l [0"] 1"“ “'hml "h“ “m” H "‘n- I‘ulung. " lll'l'l‘ l um Ull thw hunks of tln- leluw— huffulrws may lw sn-vn sporting on lhv plains ur
know She Wanted t0 5'” “3,9 “fr hen“ 5” Sh“ “mm smnv. znml (li‘vKnll is qllitu‘ :l “HIP (lisiunm- nwuy. tliunulvring forward in innunwruhh- hvrlls. Now
many "mt Bm H‘””‘"‘"' It ain‘t ('o‘l'tuin lhul ln-no is in (NV-1:011 yet, amd and (hen imnu-nsc numbers of harm-:4 may be

Fl C Is a Co ) . ' V A  "bull-m} E N 7
NO.  V0 0" IY BEADLE AND ADAMS, Pubhshers, ‘1 V0" VOL 

 

 

 

 

    

2

Half-Dime Library.

 

w

 

 

 

seen, carecring gayly over the prairie, as free and
joyous as the wind. The forest arches echo with the
notes of birds and the scream of the wild animal,
while myriads of the beaver and otter are hard at
work in the different streams. All is changed as if
by enchantment.

Such an ap ) earauce d'd the forest present as Nat
Todd made his way throu h it. His sense of the
beautiful was limited, an the bewildering scene
around he took as a matter of course. It couldn‘t
well be otherwise and so he judged it best not to get
excited over it. nce or twice he came in view of an
antelope circling around him as if in sport. Finally,
becoming too reckless, it fell a victim to his rifle.

“You rriight ’ve knowed better than to cross Nat
’l‘odd‘s path, for he is a dangerous man, and it‘s
nothing short of suicide to get before his rifle. Bill
Biddon could have told you that. I don’t feel very
sorry. as I am amazing] hung ."

As it was about noon, 1e halte and cut the choicest
portion from the antelope for his dinner. This was

ousted over a fire; he made a hearty meal from it,
and in a short time he was on his journey ain.

Just as darknch was settlingy over the forest, he
reached the “Death Rock," ant crept into its dismal
recesses. The night was cold and he started a fire,
although it was as much to cheer the loomy place
as to afford him any warmth. As the laze flamed
up on the rocky floor, it lightened up many a dark
nook, and threw fantastic shadows into the for-
bidding rents that yawned around. Here and there
a ghastly skull or bone gleamed in the firelight,
ant in some places the skeletons had been al-
most undisturbed by ravenous beasts. As Nat lit
his pipe and gazed around him, his thoughts brought
more than one shudder to him. It seemed he could
see the doomed Indians clustered together on that
fatal day, when the last one defended the entrance
against the relentless besiegers. He could fancy the
sullen despairing gleam, as the solitary savage gazed
behind him and saw his dead companions, and him-
self the last remnant of his tribe; the lofty, heroical
countenance of the warrior as he folded his own
arms in death' the yells of baffled fury, as the be-
siegers poure into the cavern and found not a vic-
tim left them; and finally, the last scene of all, when
the wolves swarmed into the cavern and completed
the terrible work. The human bones, strewn for
may, feet from the Rock, showed what a wild car-
niv the beasts of prey had held over their unwont-
ed feast.

But the night had not far advanced when this
gloomy picture faded from our hero‘s imagination.
An hour 3 comfort from his soothing pipe made him
drowsy and forgetful, and he was falhng ofl into slum-
ber, when he was aroused by hearing a deep growl
near him. Starting up, he saw several eyeballs
glowing in the darkness at the entrance of the cave,
and could detect more than one air of aws gleam-
ing and snapping to ether. W thout c anging his
position, he raised is rifle and sent its contents
among them. There were several sha yells, a con-
fused scampering, and the next instan the passage
was still as death.

“ Positively no admittance, under any pretense
whatever," said Nat, as he arose and passed to the
mouth of the cave. “ I've camped here before, and
never like to be disturbed, so I‘ll close the door.
Hello! hit ou, did I?“

This exc amation was caused b stumblln over
the dead body of a wolf which 118A fallen in t 6 en-
trance. It was of the s ecies termed the “ mountain
wolf "—the la est an most dan erous kind found
in the West. at rolled it outsi e, where it was
seized in an instant by its unfeeling companions, and
in a half hour nothing was left of the unfortunate
animal except a few shin bones, over which the
others wran led for a muc lon er time. Nat, with
a great de of labor, rolled a uge rock to the en-
trance, eifectually barring it against all exce t hu-
man intruders, and then returned to the fire. ere
instead of wrappin himself 11 in his blanket and
lying down at once, e seated himself as if engaged
in deep thought. He remained a long time, gazrug

into the embers before him, until, as was
his habit, he commenced talking to himself.

“ There‘s no use of thinking about it, for it’s so
net as plain as was them wolves' e es awhile ago. Bill

lmond used to pra every nigh and morning, and
he‘s gone through safe and got a wife in the bar-
gain. That Imogene used to pray, and appeared to

ealways thinking about heaven and the angels—
that I’ll bet are just like her—and she's got a hus-
band. Bill Biddon used to swear like blazes some-
times, but I know I once heard him ask the Lord to
take care of him. Well, here‘s me, Nat Todd, go'
on one of the eatest tramps that was ever invent ,
and if an I wants taking care of it's this same
Nat Tod ,an it ain't noways likely the Lord will
take any notice of me unless I Him to. So I‘ll do
it. I‘ll pray to Him every mo and night." .

This good resolution arrived a , Nat did not hesr-
tate to put it into execution. Kneeling on the rock
he spent a time in earnest supplication, and then lar
down to slumber.

Several times he partly woke, as the snarling wolves
fought and tugged at the rock which blocked up their
way' but he not arise, as he felt secure. When
the light of morning streamed into the cave, the
brutes departed.

Then he rose and made ready to continue his jour-
ney. He hada portion of the antelope suflicient to
make a breakfast, and enough ammunition to fur-
nish him with all the food he would be likely to need
for along time to come.

The weather still was pleasant' and with buo ant
spirits he descended the menu toward the e
where he had first encountered Relmond, after his
ca turn by the Indians.

' I wonder whether I‘ll find it," he mused. “If I

ask

 

 

can get that and a hoss, l'll, be fitted out, and won‘t
care for anything else."

He had seen as yet no signs of Indians, but pro—
ceeded with extreme caution. During his stafy among
his tribe he had been allowed considerable reedom,
as has been shown; but, now that Imogene had
effected her escape, he knewa closer surveillance
would be kept over him in case he should unwittingly
Come upon some of his captors.

"I Wish I had a boss!" he exclaimed for the
twentieth time. “ I’m getting tired of this everlasting
trainping. My gracious! what’s them i”

As if in answer to his wish, he beheld, hardly a
hundred yards distant, two horses leisurely crop-

ing the grass. A second glance showed both to

furnished with Indian saddles and bridles, though
the were much scratched and disarranged from
their passage through the woods and undergrowth.

“ I thank the Lord for that," said Nat, earnestly;
“ it’s a special providence that both are saddled as
I don‘t like riding bareback. When one gets tire( of
carrying me, the other can take a turn. Ah! they‘re
the two bosses that Relmond told me got away from
him and Imogene the other night. Yes! there's her
Bony, as sure as the world. I’ve often seen her with

im. 1 must ct him!"

With this, 6 proceeded to capture the Indian
ony, which in reality, was the one once owned by
mogene. This was exceedingly difficult, as the am—

rnal had already scented danger. and stood ready
to bound away in an instant. But Nat was equal
to the difficulty, and at last seized the bridle and
vaulted into the saddle.

“ Whoop!" he shouted, swinging his plumes over
his head. “ Three cheers for Nat Todd!

He had secured a prize indeed. His horse was a
coal-black pony, high-spirited with clean, graceful
limbs, and of ood bottom. 0 was obedient, too,
under rein, an dashed away as merrily as if be en-
joyed himself as much as his master.

“There’s only one thing more that I need, and I
must have that.“

Away his horse careered, as swift as the wind—
now thunderin up some swell in the prairie, now
plunging hea ong through the bushes and then
( ropping into a walk as his path led t rough the
denser wood. Nat had left the mountain which
contained the “Death Rock," and was journeying
Over a well-timbered countr , crossed by innumer-
able streams and patches 0 prairie.

Late in the afternoon he reached the lake of
which we have spoken. Here he dismounted, and
leading his horsea short distance away, secured him,
while he made a search for his canoe. He found it
just as it had been left. Springing into it, he shot
ra idly toward the opposite shore. It was a long
pu , and it required an hour to reach it. As the
canoe grated on the sand, he sprung out and hur-
ried away a. short distance, when he halted beside an
old rotten chestnut. His manner was excited, and
he breathed rapidlyvas he plunged his hand into a
rent in the side. hile feeling around in the dark-
ness, his eye suddenly sparkled with exultatlon, and
he exclaimed:

“ I‘ve got it! whoop! I‘ve glot it!"

He hauled out into the lig t his—old fur hat!

 

CHAPTER II.
ru'r's FIRST ADVENTURE.

“ Yss I’ve got it! I‘ve not it!” exclaimed our hero,
in his oy. Nobody l.-.sn’t disturbed it. There!
that’s the last of on!" he added, as he dashed his
gaud plumes to t e ound. Then, placing his own
cool at on his head, 6 continued? 0-h-h-h! ain’t
that nice l—J erusalem !"

It was no wonder at all that he uttered the last ex-
clamation. for at the first turn in the walk he had
commenced with his recovered prize, his eyes en
countered the chief of the ve tribe he had left!
The savage was scarce a dozen eet distant, and had
been watching him all the time. Nat recovered his
equanimity in an instant.

‘How are you Upsarena? Glad to see you—(no
I’ll be hanged if I am.) Hope you’re well—(no, I
don't elther.")

“The Lon Knife hunts a great while!" replied
the chief, wit out noticing his words.

“ Well, yes, ’twas quite a spell. Hope you haven’t
been anxious on my account."

The chief gazed steadily at him a moment, and
then said:

“‘The Long Knife will go to the lodges of Upsare-

“Wait, hold on, you; I‘ve left my—va—I’ve left
my pocketbook on the other side of tne lake, and
must go get it."

Before U rena could make a reply, Nat reflected
that he ha told a falsehood; and thus violated the
vow he had made the evening before. He resolved
at once he wouldn't lie to save his life.

“No, Upsarena, I haven't left my pocketbook but
I have tied my horse on the other Side of the lake
and I would not like to go to your lodge without
him because he's a horse that’ll make your eyes

in e. ’

‘gThe Long Knife had no horse when he sought the
w s. ’

“ But he found one there."

The Indian gave our hero one of his piercing
and the latter saw at once that he was dis-

liev .

“ Upsarena will go in the search i" said the chief-
tain, quietly.

Now this was as much dreaded b Nat, and was

the first determination the chieftain
and howto rid himself of his troublesome visitor
puzzled him great! . But he was equal to the emer-
gency. Fortunate .v. be had been so excited in his

(1 expreSsed,

fl

 

I”, __..._.____,,,. _V ‘1

hunt for his cherished hat, that he had left his rifle

With his horse on the op osite side of the lake. With

out waiting as long as it as taken us to record it, he

answered:

d “Some on, then, Upsarena, for it will soon be
ar ."

He led the way, followed by the wary Chieftain,
who watched him as if he expected mischief. Nat
shovin the canoe into the water, steppped in and
seated imself in the forward part, although by do-
ing so he used the long paddle at a considerable dis-
a vantage. Upsarena seated himself in the stern
with folded arms, with his rifle resting on his up-
gathered knee.

The canoe sunk to its very inwales, but Nat im.
gelled it through the water With velocit . His heart

eat quicker, as he reflected upon tie expedient
necessa to et rid of his companion. Several times
he thong t o shooting him, as he sat so grimly and
complacently in the stern, watching every move-
ment; but he was prevented b ' several reasons. The
first was, his soul revolted at t e thought of such a
murder, even though it might add to his personal
safety; the second reason was that if murderously
mchned, he had no rifle with him; and the last one
was, that even if he possessed a wea on, he was
afraid to use it in the manner mentioned—all of
which proved that Upsarena was in little danger of
being shot at present.

Now and then he lanced furtively over his shoul—
der, as he neared t e shore of the lake, while the
grim Chieftain remained as stern and immovable asa
statue. Hitherto the canoe had glided as smoothly
as a bird; but suddenly, when within a hundred
yards of the shore, it careened, ca sized, and be-
fore the wily savage suspected misc ief, he was in
the water swimming for life. Just as the boat
turned, Nat sprung to his feet and made a tremen-
dous leap towar shore, striking out with all his
might to reach it before his com anion. His strata-

em succeeded to a charm. 6 water, about ten
eet in depth, was so clear that the smallest object
was distinctly visible on the bottom. Before Upsare-
na could rasp his rifle it sunk. Unwillin to lose it,
he imm late y dived for it. He saw it g tening on
the pebbly bottom, but failed to recover it the first
time, owing to the shortness of breath with which he
descended. A second effort was more successful,
and he rose to the surface with the cherished wea-
pon in his hand. At this instant Nat eme ed from
the water, and made some “tall walkin ‘ for his
horse. He found the animal as he h left him,
vaulted into the saddle and sped awa .

“ Good-by, Upsarena!” he shout . “Remember
me to the folks u(p in your parts; and now and then
remember Nat To d, and the nice swim you and he
took to ether.”

But at’s excitation was remature- for, as the
last word escaped him and e swung  hat over
his head several rifles amed from the forest behind
him, and as many bullets whizzed through the air in
close proximit to his bod .

“Jerusalem Who fir them?
I bargained for!"

The truth was the upsetting of the boat ban been
witnessed by t ree sav es. of U rena’s tribe
who had been hunting wit him. my supposed it
to be purely accidental, and knowing there was no
dangerto either, stood and calmly watched the strug-
gles of the two. When Nat eme ed and hurried u

6 bank, however, their sus to one were arouse
and they dashed after him. hen they came in
view again, the audacious whhe was gallopin awa ',
shouting and swinging his hat in the manner gescrih-
ed. Their susprcrons were confirmed and the three
fired, Without wating for their chief. The latter
soon was With them, and, brandishing his rifle over
his head, furiously commanded the capture of the
white man. Fo'rl‘gltting himself, Upsarena raised his
own rifle, took an pulled the trigger. But the
click of the lock reminded him that, for the present,
his weapon was her mless.

“ His scalp must hang in Upsarena’s lodge at the
risingpf the sun!" he shouted, bounding forward in

pursuit.

Nat, if he did not hear them, guessed the truth
and judged it best not to dispute with the chief
about the matter.

“ Come, my hoes, let’s see what kind of stufl you‘re.
dehe on. if “bl f h t required,

e ny, as_ sensr e o w a was

burst orward like a thunderbolt, leaving the pur-
suers rapidly behind. The lake at the foot of the
mountain was fringed by masses of under owth,
together with trees of considerable size. ing
himself from this cover, he emerged upon a rolling
prairie, scores of miles in width, and open, save that,
at long intervals, it was interspersed with groves of
timber, which bordered the streams crossin it.

Fortunately it was growing dark and he elt that
his enemies could not trouble him much longer.
Nevertheless, he was not the man to remain in
da er.when the opportunity was aflorded for es-
caping it. So he loosened the rein and let his horse
g? The last glimpse be cast behind him showed him
t e dusky figures of the savages far in the rear, on a
hill, standin together as if in consultation.

“I thong t you’d come to your senses," he rot
marked, “and not spend your breath in trying to
catch what can’t be caught.”

Feeling thus secure from danger, our hero drew his
horse down to awalk, and made his wa leisurely
forward. The night was cold and win y. There
was no moon; in a short time the darkness became
so heavy as to veil everything in almost impenetrac
ble obscurity.

After journeying an hour more, he descended a
sort of valley and found himself in the midst of a
grove of cottonwoods. The sound of mania; water
showed him what sort of a place he had co ’rpon~

That's more than

 

    

 

 

 

and he decided at once to camp for the ni rht.* He
led his horse a short distance lip-stream an picketed
him in such a. manner that the least effort made to
escape could not fail to arouse the hunter. This
done he eeled off a good quantit of the cotton-
wood bar ', and laying it within reac , made prepar-
ations for his own comfort. Under the circum-
stances, it was too hazardous to risk a fire, and he

was content to nestle in his blanket at the foot of a ,

1111 e willow.

S cep, heavy and sweet, gradually overcame the 3

hunter, and iii a short time he was as unconscious
of external things as if he had never been born.

It was near midnight when he awoke. What it
was that aroused him he could never tell; but he had
grown to believe there was a s ecial Providence
watching over him, and attribut it to that alone.

It sometimes happens that in the midst of heavy ;

slumber our senses are quietly but instantaneously
aroused, and it was thus with our adventurer. Be-
fore he hardly knew it himself, his eyes opened, as
did every sense. He lay perfect] motionless and
listened. The wind sighed mourn ully throu h the
tree-tops above him and the stream ripp ed as
sw'eetly as ever. Still, he did not stir, for he felt the
danger that was lurking in the air around him.

The next instant he was startled by the snapping
of a twig, as though the foot of some one passing
had broken it, and a minute after he heard voices!
They s oke in the tongue of the Sioux, and he thus
knew t ey were his ursuers.

“The Long Knife as campled here,” spoke one, as
if in consultation with the ot ers.

“Has he not gassed through the stream and fled
onward?" aske another. .

“The trail leads to the trees and is lost. It is not
on the other side."

A few moments’ silence followed the latter remark.
Then the savages recommenced their search. With
feelings that may well be imagined, Nat shrunk be-
neath the sheltering tree and listened. Now the
cautious tread came nigher and nigher, until it
seemed discovery was inevitable. Then again the
sounds grew fainter and fainter, until he began to
breathe freer, when a shiver ran over him as he
heard the deep breathing of one of his enemies
within striking distance. How his horse escaped
discovery he was at a loss to tell; but in such cases
it often seems the instinct that protects the animal
is equal to that reason that saves the man. It ap-
pears incredible that such brutes as horses and cows
can conceal themselves so as to baffle discove even
under the light of day. But that such is the act is
well known.

The horse, apparently sensible of his duty, re-
mained in a standing position as motionless as the
tree beside him; and thus was no more likely to at-
tract attention in the deep gloom than an inanimate
object. Thus it was the cautious Indians fairly
brushed him several times without so much as sus-
pecting his existence. Another thing puzzled Nat
greatly. How was it possible for them to detect his
trail in the darkness? Sight surely could avail noth-
ing in such an emergency. _

‘ The all-fired imps have come on their hands and
knees all the way, smelling of the trail,” he muttered,
to himself.

The true cause was soon evident, however. Even
while speaking, he saw a small point of light glide
silently forward and disappear on the opposide side
of the stream. In a second, it flitted to view again,
and then was quickly extinguished. Almost imme-
diately, a noise, as if some one were ste ping in the
water, was heard, and then followed a s' ence of five
minutes: duration. While wondering with a fear
which was not free from su erstition, Nat suddenly
ducked his head, as a torc i blazed to view within
thirt feet of him. Lookin carefully out, he saw
the {orch movin to and r0, and lighting up the
gleaming, painte visage of Upsarena. The savage
was in a crouching tposition, movmg as stealthily as
the anther, his eye alls glowing hke fire.

“ ow nice I could wipe you out!" thought Nat,
“ but I forbear. It don’t look right to take a fellow
so unawares. Jerusalem! don‘t come any ingherl"

The Indian was now so close that Nat feared the
thum i of his heart would betray his hidin place.
The c is held the torch over his head, his silisk
eyes scth the ground for any evidence of a
trail. He mov slowly and stealthin around some-
times stopping and moving the
and then, raising to the upri t position he lare
up into the trees, as though 6 expected to etect
the form of his foe among the branches. He must
have had a small opinion of our hero’s oou e to
thus expose himself to his shot. Suddenly the ight
disappeared, and a sha_ , hissing sound, as of a ser-
pent about to strike, di not escape the adventurer's
ears. The next moment the voice of Upsarena was
heard.

“ The trail reaches the stream, but does not cross.
He has followed the water, and is not here.”

Then the tramp of the retreating savages was
heard, growing fainter and fainter, until no noise
remained to show that dangerhad lurked so fear-fully

near.

“ Well, I feel a, heap better!’_‘ exclaimed Nat, rig.
ing to his feet and stretc himself. “Them ain’t
very smart Indians. after . They ve been follow-
ing me all the time I've been asleep, and have hunt-
ed all around me without coming to the point. I

ass with his gers

tho t U rena wasn't—"

Sugh ' pain in relief against a .atch of open sky,
Nat saw e form of an Indian stinctly outlined.
The truth was the words of U rena were only an

artifice to ascertain whether the hunter was con-

ht they are said
, in the West, it
cable to a single person as to more.

 

* Whenever persons rest for the
to “08mg” and as the term is u
6 as app

 

Nat Todd.

cealed in the vicinity. He uttered them in a loud
tone and immediately ascended the stream, while
aiiot er savage glided forward a short distance,
and then halted, his cars on the alert for any sus )i
cious sound. The long-drawn yawn and words of at
reached his ears, but the obscurity was too great for
him to detect the precise spot where the hunter was
standin . At the same time, the Indian was not
aware t at he was seen at all h his enemy.

For a moment both romaine perfectly motionless.
That time was am 1y sufficient for Nat to collect his
thoughts. The su den stoppage of his words showed
the Indian that the hunter suspected danger,
although he was by no means aware of his full
knowledge. For a few seconds after the discovery,
our here was completely astounded; but it was no
time to give way to his emotions. Seeing that either
one or the other must die, he naturally preferred it
should not be himself, and made his pre arations ac-
cordingly. Putting the lock of his ri e under his
hunting-shirt, he so muflicd the click, while cocking
it, as to sup ress the sound.

With the ndian, the minute had been as regnuut
with emotions as with the white man. is first
thought, when startled by Nat‘s words, was to signal
his companions to up roach; but he saw that such
a course would give t e hunter timely warning, and
being an ambitious man, he determmed to secure
his scalp without aid.

Nat saw the head of the Indian slowl sink, and
his body gradually blend with the undergrowth.
Taking as good mm as the darkness allowed, he
fired. A yell of agony and fury so horrible as to
craze the hunter, followed and t ie hurrying tramp
of feet was heard. Hardly conscious of what he
did, Nat ran a short distance and brought u against
atree, which he ascended in a twinkling. gowering
among the limbs he listened. All was assilent as
death. Once a faint, suppressed moan was heard,
but nothing else save the Slg‘hlnfi' of the wind and the
ripple of the stream disturbe the oppressive still-
ness. A faint moon had now arisen, and its light
illumined the prairie for a short distance. But the
stream, the trees and valley were like a solid mass
of darkness winding acrosst ecountry, and althor h
he strained his vision to the utmost to piercet e
gloom beneath, it was all in vain. With a great deal
of difficulty, he succeeded in loading his rifle, and
anxiously waited for further developments of dan~

ger.

In a half-hour, something was seen to flit like a star
among the bushes below, and a second glance
ghowed our hero that the torch was again in requisi-

ion.

“ It‘ll never do for them to bring that candle under
this tree," muttered the hunter. “ They‘d ‘ust as
sure get a glimpse of me here. Strange! ey‘ve
no more fear 0 me than to show themselves, that
way. Well! it‘s time they learned a lesson, and I
don‘t know of a person better qualified than Nat
Todd to give ’em one. I wish that plaguyl Indian
would ust hold still till I can draw head on im."

All t is time he was dodging his head around hur-
riedly pushin the muzzle of his rifle through the
branches, an doing his utmOst to get a sight at the
savage holdi the torch. Failing to do this, and the
light constant y ap reaching his iiding-place he at
last became so exc ted as to entire! forget mself.

“ Say, you ust look out for your cad now—“

Instantly t e light became stationary, and the
bronzed features of a savage were seen for a second,
when all was darkness aim—but not before the
rifle of our hero flamed ou in the darkness, with no
effect save to desperately frighten his enemies, each
scattering to cover as quick as thought. Fortunate-
ly for Nat, the flash of his weapon was not seen, and
his hiding-place remained as great a mystery as ever
to his foes.

An hour of undisturbed stillness followed. The
hunter was too shrewd to be deceived by the silence
of the Indians. That they were plotting some new
mischief was certain, and all that he could do was to
do nothing but to lie close and keep a bright look-

out.

Despite the fearful circumstances in which Todd
was p aced, a heavy drowsiness be an to steal over
him. First he gave a sudden nod, um ing his head
against the tree, which thoroughly awa cued him.

“ I really believe I was going to sleep," he gasped,
“ with them imps sneaking right under me. won‘t
wink both eyes again to-night."

To enforce this good resolution be pinched him-
self, pulled his hair, and resorted to every artiflce at
hand. Finally, he began speculating upon the end
of his present dilemma. He must be out of it pretty
soon by some means or other or his casewould be
hopeless. The morning could not be far off, and
when his situation became known, an unconditional
surrender would be the only course left.

A similar situation and such thoughts certainly
were enough to keep any ordinary mortal awake.
But sleegis as insidious an enem as death. Do his
utmost, at could not keep him 0 , and he succumb—
ed at last.

“The Injin‘s all right, I guess—go‘s Nat Todd—all
ri ht— clever fellers—‘s all right!”

hus he mumbled as be commenced nodding
again. Finally he laid his head on the limb before
him, closed his eyes, and resigned himself to his
dreams. And the dreams came, and his sleep was
disturbed. He fancied he was in a hand-to-hand
struggle with Upsarena, and made an effort to give
him a kick. In so doing he unseated himself and
dropped to the ground. His rifle falli upon him,
effectually aw0ke him, and he instanty compre-
hended his situation. He lay quietly for a mo-
ment, and then felt cautiously around for his hat.
ing this on his head, he asped his rifle and
then 0 ned his eyes and look about.
H lood froze with horror as he saw two mon-

 

A3

strous eyes, seemingly of some dread animal, within
a foot of his face! A row of white teeth gleamed
still closer, and the hot breath of the monster
mingch with his own. Nat closed his eyes and shud-
deringiy awaited his fate. He felt the breath grow
warmer, and heard it drawn louder as though his foe
were gathering to strike. He uttered ashoit prayer,
and believed that all was over. Something warm
touched his check, as though an animal were lickin
it. He opened his eyes again and saw that he i
fallen at the feet of his horse, who was thus mani-
festing his affection for his master.

“I‘ve a good notion to shoot you for scaring me
so," muttered Nat. “ No, bless your old heart, you’re
just the one I want to see."

He quickly cut the thong that bound the horse
leaped in the saddle, and turning the animal‘s heat
toward the o ien prairie, startmi him on a full run.
The incvitab e shout and swing of the hat accom-
panied this niovcment, but there was no answering
yell from the savages. They were at that moment
several hundred yards upstream, and caught a
shadowy glim se of a man gallopin away in the
darkness, as h trium hant shout rcac cd their ears.
One of their number lad fallen and their intended
pre had escaped.

’1‘ iere were a few stars in the sky, which was gradu-
ally lighting up with the approac of day, as he hur-
ried his horse away from the grove. 'lhe air was
cold and raw-the scene clicerlcss and dismal; but his
spirits were too much highteued by his fortunate
escape to notice this )eculiarit '. He gave his horse
free rein, gradually s eerin him off to the left until
he was proceedingl in a nort ern direction. When he
left the grove he ad followed the back trail, so that
his last course was taken to regain the lost ground.
After a time he made another turn at right-angles
to the one which he was ursuing, in such a manner
as to describe a semicirc e.

As the first rays of the sun appeared above the

rairie, he reached the identical stream which had
een the scene of his adventures through the night,
but at a point several miles above. Making his way
through the grove he once more dashed out upon the
open prairie, and was galloping onward toward the
Rocky Mountains.

 

CHAPTER III.
snowma THAT we ARE Niizvsn 'roo om 1‘0 LEARN.

Tans far Nat Todd had journeyed without follow-
ing any definite course or plan. The all-absorbing
object which led him westward was sufficient to
make one of his temperament attem t any journey
on the North American continent; bu , as he said, he
laid down no course to follow, in order to attain the
end. Now, as he reined his horse down to a slow
walk, he commenced meditating upon the proper
course for him to pursue.

He reflected that he had been guided up to this

int by a mere whim. A suspicion of mogene

erment, that the tribe who captured her sister had
iroceeded to Oregon had grown to asecmi cer-

inty, and he had suffered imself to be blind led
by it. For aught he knew, she might have on
taken to Southern California or New Mexico, and it
was as )robable that she was in the missession of
one of t e hundred tribes of the South-west as of the
North-west. Over that mighty area of country, com-
prehending twenty degrees of latitude and exceed-
ng in extent all the States east of the Mississlpi,
roamed thousands of Indians, any tribe of which
might hold the ob ect of his journey; and the val-
leys of the Colum in, Sacramento, or Colorado, or
the slopes of the Cascade, Humboldt river, Sierra
Nevada, or Black Hills, might be searched without
giving him intelligence of the lost one‘s fate. This
gigantic undertakin our hero fully realized, and de-
termined, if possib e, to hunt no further without
some clew to assist him.

Scattered at at distances 9.10 the Oregon trail,
and on the rivers west of the Rec Mountain slope
were forts or stations, where, at 8,! times were con-

ated hunters and trapgers from every part of
he ar West. Nat doubte not but that e would
be able to ain information from some of them which
would gui e him in his search.

“Yes, that‘s the plan," he exclaimed, oyously.
“ I‘ll go down to the forts and find out all a ut her,
and t en hunt her u , take her home and marry her.
Then won‘t Alniiny eel badl Won‘t she!“

The morning was now quite advanced, and he con-
cluded it best to give his horsea ood rest, and re-
fresh himself before proceeding her. He had
noticed, for the last hour or so, a -uliar dull, roar-
igg sound, like the distant roll of t . 0 ocean, and was
1 to sus >ect he was near some river. Turning his
horse to t ie left, he had proceeded but a mile or so
when he came u n a small river, which he knew a
once to be the ig Horn. It was narrow, but deep
and clear, flowing swift over a bed of pebbles, that
could be seen listening ar out from the shore. The
water, hardly ree from the snow of the mountains,
was of icy coldness. The grass along its banks was
luxuriant, and Nat turned his horse loose, knowing
that he would not wander far, while he busied him-
self with huntingi some food for himself. Singularly
enough, he conl not catch si ht of any e, not
even a fowl or a rabbit. Fisi of mons rous size
could be seen lazily floating in the stream, but it was
out of his power to secure them, and he finally made
abmakfast OR the numerous mmom and pomm
Nance that were growing around him! Thisdone,

* The oommote is a vegetable resembling the com-
mon radish, which is often found in the river bottoms
of the West. The pomma blanc is a native of the
mountains, and much resembles, both in size and
{25%. our turnip, although more naurlshlng than the

r.

 

 

 

4

 

he returned to his horse and started a fire. There
were numerous trees 'rowing in the river bottom,
and he had little appre lension of disturbance from
Indians. The air, sweeping down from the Black
Hills, was as cold and bracing as winter, and he. vast-
ly enjoyed tho lire he had kindled.

While preparing to resume his journey, he was
startled b the actions of his iorse. He had
raised his end, his mouth still full of grass, and,
with every demonstration of alarm, was gaz'ni r up
the stream. Ills ears were thrust forward. his fore-
feet planted firmly on the ground, his nostrils dilated
as though he scented danger in the air. Nat bound-
‘ed to cover at once, and concealing himself behind
a tree, peered cautiously out to ascertain the cause
of these actions.

The alarm of the horse continued. He suddenly
turned and ran a short distance, when he wheeled
around with a snort and faced the suspicious object
again. A slight wind was blowin.r from that direc-
tion and Nat well knew his anima was not deceiVi-d.
His heart beat faster as be reflected that a band of
hostile Indians or a grizzly bear might be stealing
,npon him, and he. silently Cot'ktlil his rifle, deter-
mined to fire and then run for life.

While standing thus, every nerve strung to the
highest int, he saw a human head, surmounted by
a coon-s n cap, slowly rise from behind a clump of
bushes, until t 10 face and shoulders of a white man
were visible. It remained a moment in this posi-
tion, and then uickly disappeared. Nat saw the
features toil plain y to be mista 'en. They were those
of one of his own kin, and of one who was conse-
a friend. Without hesitation he called out:
Come out and show yourself!
Don‘t be scart; I

quontl

“lie 10 you, sir!
It‘s me, Nathan Todd, of Maine.
won‘t hurt you."

A moment after, the erson addressed step led
boldly into view and at vanced toward the. re,
where our hero met him. A dance showed the
stranger to be a trapper from t e mountains. Ills
dress was half-savage, similar to those generally
worn on the frontier—com osed of moccasins, leg-
gings, the hunting-shirt, an the skin on ), which was

rawn down to the beetling eyebrow 11 front. A
thick grizzly beard covered most of the faCe, so that
little lesides the gleaming eyes and the pug-nose
was visible. A long dan erous-looking rifle was
held in the left han , whi e the right was extended
to grasp the roffered one of our hero.

‘ How-dc o," exclaimed the latter. “ Glad to see
you. Hope your folks are all well. I am, and you
ook as though you might be."

“What‘s your handle?" asked the trapper, in a
voice that sounded like the rumble of thunder and
which made Nat start from where he stood. “ What‘s
the matter?" asked the stranger, as his eyes
sparkled.

“Nothln‘, only I step on a pin or a tack that
some one left here—the is, I step d on something.

at‘s m name, did you ask? athan Todd—Na-
than Tod —0h, heavens o‘ nath! don‘t squeeze my
fingers so! What’s your name?”

“ Tom Langdon, trapper and Indian-fighter."

“SQ! s‘pose—so I s so. What are Ion doing

here, if you have no objections to tell a fl end ?"
“I m trap in‘. This ar‘ the ,place wbar I’ve cir-
c'lated for t 0 last ten year, and it‘s the fust time
I‘ve see‘d awhite in these parts. I’d est been ‘round
to 'tend to the traps and skin the avers, when I
notched ht of your smoke—"

“ I hain‘ been smoking—I hain‘t been smoking!“

“ But your fire has. I see‘d the smoke, as I’s sayin‘,
and knowed it war a white and a ppwerful green
one at that, 'cause you wouldn‘t cotc a red kindlin‘
a fire right under my nose that way. They‘ve been
down in these parts once or twice since I’ve trapped
and I‘d never knowed it of I hadn‘t smelt ’em. 1
aee‘d yer horse pitch and tear, ‘cause he scented the
beaver-blood I’ve t on me. But what brings you
down in these pa ? Not trappin‘, I take it?‘

“ No; I‘m searching for a lovely maiden that was
lost man long long years ago.

It won] be linen t todescrlbe the expression that
illumined the visage of the trapper at this reply.
His monstrous beard nearly concealed it, but there
wise: blending of surprise and drollery in it, and be

"How come you to lose her? And what makes

{all think youll find her in this region? Inever
owed was circulatin' here.“ \
Nat ted, as brie as possible, his own adven-

tures and those of W Relmond since leavin
the States, dwelling particularly upon the histo o
Imogene Moment and the supposed fate of her ost
sister. The trapper listened, and, at its conclusion,
gave vent to a 3 eat but heart lau h.
t:  you laughin' at?" ed at, indignantly.
ou ‘

“ What have I done, I should like to know?‘

“ Oh lyou‘re so powerful green .”‘ replied the trap-
per sti laughing.

N’s: held ii. iii ed silence until the mirth of his
contagion h somewhat abated, when he inquired:

“ I goin to havehyou for compan ?"
, “ Ef yer w s yer’ ti about two moat s more, and
then turns your nose toward the States and tramps,
p’ra‘ps you man ht."

“ erusalem! f I had knowed that I would have
beenten miles further on my journey b this time.”

With this our hero turned and si ed his horse
to appro The trap r look d etly on, and
suffered him to mount w thout 3 Sign

a y-

“ was. sir " said Not, nod
-“ ouldg't wander," returned 0 tra per.

Notater his horse into a canter a

had ro-

aboutohundred yards, when he heard flin-

" ‘ ’ r'ho hilhorse
fifim uked,wheeling ,

 

“ Jest trot this way a minute," said the stran er.

Nat slowly approached, and in a moment con ront-
ed the eccent c hunter.

“ Got a piece of pigtail handy?“ asked the latter.

Nat was so provoked that he knew hardly what to
reply, but proffered the trbacco which he had ob-
tained from the Indians. The tralpper took the plug,
twisting a small piece from it. T en holding it out,

'he asked:

” That‘s ‘nougli for a chaw, ain‘t it?“

“ I s‘ )ose so.” .

“ Wa , you take it, then.”

So saying, he coolly placed the lar er piece in his
pocket, and turned his back upon at. The latter
sat like a statue for the space of five minutes, alter-
nately looking at the remnant of his tobacco stock
ill his hand, and at the one who had de rived him of
it. Then, with a half-suppressed “ lat an awful
hog!" he once more cantered away.

“Hello, Nathan Toad!" bawled the trapper, when
he had proceeded even further than before.

Our hero cantered on without heeding.

“ Hello, you, Nathan Toad!“ came again, in a
thundering voice.

" What do you want?” asked Nat, spitefully.

“ Jest come here a minute."

Had be deemed himself fairly out of rifle-shot, no
commands would have brought him back; bilt, not
knowing what his new-found acquaintance would
take into his head to do, he concluded it hardly
safe to U'lllpt him too lnuch.

“ Well, here I am again,“ he said, as he once more
confronted his troublesome companion. “ I haven’t
any more tobacco to spare, though.“

The trap )er, bending his keen gaze on him, asked:

"You’re ookin’ fur a gal, ain't you?“

“ For a maiden—yes.”

“And you haven‘t axed whether I didn‘t know
notliin‘ ‘bout her."

Nat started, for the idea of obtaining information
of the person before him had never entered his mind
until he had thus been reminded of it; and he saw,
moreover, that the trapper was in earnest.

“ My racious! I never thought of it—that‘s true!
Do on ",now any thing of her?“

“ When ?--how ?-—where ?——what did you say—who‘s

ot herY—when did on see her?" eager y asked

athall, fairl beside imself.

“ Jest bolt on now. Let—me—see,” slowly re-

ted the trapper, removing his cap and scratcbin

is head, as if to help his memo . “I‘ve heard 0
a fin! somewhar‘, but you may ra se my h‘ar ef I can
to whar‘ it was."

“ You don‘t say! Can’t you remember?” excited-
ly asked Nat. ‘ Think hard; you’ll recollect in a
minute. 1‘] die if I don‘t find out something now."

“Nathan oad,” said the tra per, looking up in
his face, “ the minute on to! me that story, I
knowed some one had to (1 me sunkthin’ like it, and
I tried to think who it war. I called yer back and
axed yer fur that pigtail, {est :30 see how you‘d take
it. Ef you‘d been mean, wouldn‘t said nothin’ to
you about the gal; but you's pretty clever like, and

’11 try and overhaul this memory of mine. Let—me
—see,“ regeated the trapper again, fixing his eyes on
the an and thinkin ntent y.

“ bhe‘s a splendid-loo maiden,“ quickly added
Nat as if to assist his reco action.

“ :Iest put a stop on that meat-trap of yourn, while
I cogitate awhile. ’

So saying, the trapper folded his arms over the
muzzle of h s rifle, an leaning his chin upon it, ap-
peared to gaze far off at the clouds that were strag-
gling through the western horizon. His e es had

t vacant look which showed his mind be en-
tirely occupied with itself, and total] oblivious of
everything else. Nearly twenty minu were thus
occupied, durin which it may well be sup sed, the
im atience of at could not but manifest tself. He
wh stled, coughed, sung, fldgeted in his seat, but it
availed nothing to the trapper. The rock was not
more motionless than he. At last he drew a long
breath and resumed his upright tion.

“Come, let‘s hear it nick, ’ (1 Nat.

“ It ain‘t much, I a ow, but I make no doubt it‘s
sunkthin'. It was two ears ago down at Brown‘s
Hole, thatI heard it. A at of us fellers were tell n'
stories round the fire thar’ one ht, in the winter,
when old So! Jagzin, or ‘ Oregon 80 ,' as he was called,
(yes, I’m sure it was Sol, now,) told awonderful story
’ outa white he‘d see‘d somewhar‘ u in Oregon
near the Blue ountains, I think. He ad tra pe
two seasons near the canon of one of the rivers t ‘
and was cac'latin‘ stayin' another, when one night
one of the most bootifulest critters, outside he
States, came down on him, and told him the reds had
spotted him, and war‘ gwine to lift his ha’r and bor-
r_er his tra and peltries. He axed her some ques-
tions, an l'arnt that she lived ’mong the reds——
though what tribe, I don‘t mind. She-said she and
her sister had been took by the knaves when they
wa'n‘t taller than a beaver. Sol offered to take her
down toone of the forts and start her home ’in.
But she said she had no home ’cept ’mbng the In ins,
and wouldn‘t go. Sol said she was werful hand-
some, dressed up like a uaw, with est such black
eyes-and ha’r, and with a ittle foot no b er than a
beaver‘s claw. He coaxed her a littlew lie, but it
was no use. She didn‘t ‘pear to want to leave. She
said that the reds had found one of Sol‘s tra the
day afore, and they cac’lated on having es
when they come down on him. She had managed to
find out what they were drivin’ at and had hunted
‘round till she found out where he hid himself.

“Wal, Sol had jest time to pack up his skins and
get out of the way of the hope hen they did come

own on his house. Howsumeve , he was all ht,
and got on cl‘ar. 8016:: I said,toldmethis o
yearmanditwas oyearafore thathehad

Half-Dime Library.

 

seed the gal. He said he had gone up in them parts
two—three times since, just to find out ‘bout the gal,
but never had heard or seen anything of her since.
Remember, she wa‘n‘t a woman, but only a little

rl, and may not be the one you‘re arter. ‘causel
'now them reds ar‘ desprit on cotchin‘ sich poor
critters."

“ Who is Oregon Sol?“ asked Nat, breatlilessly.

“ He's a teller that‘s trapped u ) in Oregon nigh
onto twenty years, and who s got t lat name on that
account.“

“ Where is he now?”

“ Ugh! gone under, like enou li. Hain‘t seen llllll
since I’s down to Brown's H0 0 two years ago this
last winter."

1 i“ If living, where do you suppose I could find
i in?"

“ Dunno—he‘s a quar dog. He‘s got a home some-
whar‘ up in Oregon whar‘ he lives alone, and ef you
s‘arcli around thar‘ for ten or fifteen year, you
might run afoul of him some time."

“ But how was it you saw him at Brown’s Hole?"

“ He comes down thar’ once in a while, I b‘lieve.
It was inthe winter, as I said, that I see’d him, but I
dunno whether that‘s the time he takes to make the
folks a visit or not. He come the day More and he
left the next mornin’ arter he told us that story."

“ Well, now, my friend, you‘ve started me on the
ri ht track I think and you’re welcome to all the
to acco I’ve got. ow I‘m bound to find that maid-
en if she’s to be found. What plan would you advise
me to follow to do this?"

“ It’s a dub‘ous hunt, Mr. Toad, and yer‘s as thinks
it’ll be a long hunt and no game—a longtrappin‘-
season without a beaver or otter. But, ef you’re
bound to put the thing through, why strike a bee-
line for Brown‘s Hole and jine some of the tra pers
as goes to Oregon. Find out whether Oregon .‘ol is
livin‘, and hunt him 11 ef you can, thou h I don‘t.
b’li‘ve he‘d have you With him. Ef he ain’ goneun-
der, you’ll hear of him down at the ‘Hole,’ though
it‘s likely you‘ll have to wait, as the boys ar’ up on
the beaver runs."

“ How long will it take me to reach the place?"

“ Four—five days will take you thar‘ ef you don’t
stop to make many calls on the reds ‘long the way."

‘ I‘ve got to cross the Rocky Mountains, of course.
I know where Brown‘s Hole is, and I think I can
easily find it." ' _

“ oller up this Bi Horn to the mountains, and
you’ll find a ass the. ‘11 take on through."

“Whoop! urrah!” shou Nat, swin ing his but
over his head and dashin away, withou ausing to
bid his friend ood-by. e trapper watc ed him a.

moment, and en muttered:

“It‘ll be along hunt, I‘m afeard."

In a short time the joyous Nat Todd was hid from
view by the intervening trees and undergrowth.

 

CHAPTER IV.
snowmo m'r rr Is now ALWAYS arm '10 inc ALONE.

Ali-rim leaving the trapper, Nat rode at a brisk
gallop in a westerly course, and soon emerged from
0 ver-bottom into the open prairie ain. Far
ahead loomed the peaks of the Rocky ountains.
Viewed in the clear summer air, their summits
seemed ti ed with a faint blue, and resembled an
lar p e of clouds rest in the horizon. Away
to t e northward, as far as t e vision could reach,
the mighty cliffs alone met the eye; and sweeping
around in a western direction, so as to inclose the a -
venturer in a semicircle rolled the Black Hills, one
of the grandest 5 am 0 the whole Rocky Monntain
chain. On the 10 tiest 1115111“, the are snow blend-
ed almost perfeetl v with e clear 3 beyond. Now
and then a. blast 0 wind swept down from the moun-
tains, bringing its arctic climate with it.

When a scene similar to this is gradually ap-
proached by the traveler, he experiences its sublimi-

in all its fullness. The roar of Niagara impresses
t e senses with a feeling of terror so atasto
overcome all other emotions. But the so emn still
ness that surrounds these mountains is so impressive
as to be almost audible, like the faint roar of the
ocean; and the soul seems filled with a responsive
emotion.

Nat neared the mountains on abrisker center but,
for a time, seemed to make no p at all, for
distance is as deceptive upon the p e as upon the
wier. During the afternoon he entered a use
several miles in breadth, opening before him e a
tunnel. He was satisfied, however, that it was not
the famous “ South Pass ’ at the head-waters of the
Platte, thro h which the Oregon trail leads. On
either handt e gi antic walls towered above him,
piercing the very couds. Rocks, jagged and. max-
sive, were piled up thousands of feet above him,
and the stunted cedars, a few scruboaks and bri-
ers, were the on] sign of vegetable life. Our hero
gazed above an around him, feeling as though

assing throu
housand fee
he saw somethin
squirrel but whic a second look showed to be a

My bear. Further on he detected another, but

ey were ' so distant he had no fear of them.
Viewed from the cliffs, Nat and his horse would
have seemed but a mere Fpeck moving through ths

o ebelow.
3 ‘VI declare, this beats all " he mused. “I must
call on the President when I go back, end tell him
this is the lace where the Pacific railroad should
cross the Mountains. . Won’t them grizzliel
open their eyes when the: see a locomotive than
dering thrill-Fish here, hear it one of it!
regular hu cane screams? And old U
should besulkyenough mtwgve u
when the train comes along, won

It required

above, seated on a projecting rock,

save

h the gate of another world. Full a .

move which resembled a large,

snags?“
rel hours. even at  h o0~

O'ifl <
r. -. not 

 

I :_,

.~ :“ - I
mmJa.3¢‘_ —..a-..—.J‘..-“.“.H_ x" _*._. ._.

.

 

 

 ._ ._._4

V .__._a..-.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

. notice

,tot

' {even when wounded.

rate at which he was going, to get. through the
pass. Toward the latter part the way was rougher,
and he met with more obstructions. ,

“Well, here I am at last," he exclaimed, ashe
found himself once more upon the open prairie.
“There are no more mountains to cross this side of
the fort, I believe. I‘ll fetch up there in aday or
two, see that Oregon Sol, fliid out where Irene is,
hunt: her up, take her down to the States, marry her
of course— Blazes! what‘s that?"

A full-grown panther stood within a dozen feet of
him. Passing a small cluster of trees, the animal
bounded in front of lils rearing horse with that won-
deriii 1' stare which a brute gives at the first sight of
a wh te man. Nat restrained his horse from flee-
ing, and hardl knowing what he (lid, tried to ride
down the pant icr, buthis noble horse refused obedi-
ence. After a while our hero bcthouglit himself of
his rifle, and without stopping to take aim, fired at
the brute. The aimless ball did iioliariu, and the
frightened beast seampered away at a rapid pace.*

" ' ‘hat’s the luckiest move you ever made," shout-
ed Nat, after the retreating animal. "If I had
time I‘d follow you up, and teach you better than to
stand before such a dangerous rifie as the one Na-
than Todd possesses."

Darkness now began to settle over the prairie.
Nat concluded it best to seek a spot for camp. Af-
ter a careful search he decided upon a spot in a val-
ley-like depression where the remains of a camp-
fire were visible. irst pickoti‘ig his horse, he lay
down within a short distance, dependin upon the
animal's sagacit to arouse him in case 9 danger.

The beast ha alread given such evidence as to
make it certain that no oe however wary, could ap-
proach without excitln his alarm. Invoking, as
usual, the protection of eaven, Nat closed his eyes
in slumber. He had recaiition enough, however, to
collect a large quantity of wood so that in case he
should need a fire during the night, he would not be
at a loss to obtain it.

Just before closing his eyes, he was startled by
hearing among the mountains a ion , peculiar cry-—
a sort of lengthened treinulous how of most dismal
tone. Although he had heard nothin like it before,
be ’u ed it to proceed from the dre ed mountain-
wo f. e listened a while, and hearing no repeti-
tion, closed his eyes, little dreaming that the trail of
his horse was the occasion of the ominous sound.

A half-hour later, he was brought to his feet by a
most appalling cry. There was something so un-
earthly, so horrible about it, that for a time, he was
completely unnerved. It was that sound which his
horse had given in the agony of extreme fear; and
not even the wild yells of the mountain-wolves, that
followed it, were so fearful. .

Nat found his horse rearing and tugging at his
ro )e, his eyes fixed and glowing. and his body quiv-
ering with fear. He approached his beast, and, after
a time, succeeded in partly pacifying him. He then
looked around to ascertain the ,cause of alarm.
Nothing was visible, although the moon enabled him
to see guite a distance. About twenty feet away he

a stump, around which he deemed it best to
start his fire, as he believed the fri ht of his horse
was occasioned by some animal lurk ng in the vicin-
ity. Accordingly, he gathered an arm iii of fuel and
tossed it town the stump. His surprise was un-
bounded when he saw what he had an posed to be a
stump rise to its feet, with a threaten ug owl, and
spring back several yards, where it reso utely con-
fronted him.

" Heavens!" exclaimed Nat, with a start. “ Who
thought you were a sneakin_ wolf? I took you for
an old stump. How do you ike that?"

He did not miss his aim this time. The wolf
doubled up like a steel-tra , utterin a dying howl,
that was answe by a undred. t iroats from the
mountain. Admonished by this fearful warning
Nat soon had a brisk the burning, and enough woo
piled beside it to keep it going until morning. He
hen led his horse up to it so as to beout of reach of
5in animal, and loading his rifle waited for his visi-

ors.

The (place which he had chosen for his camping-
groun was, as said, a ort of hollow or depression
which so concealed his fire as to prevent its bei
seen until one was directly u on it. The death-how
of the wolf near him was sti echoed b others, and
it was easy to tell by the sounds that t ey were sig-
naling to each other, and were rapidly centering
around the spot which contained t eh' dead com-
panion. In a moment, Nat saw through the smoke
a pair of glowing eyes fixed upon him, and a length-
ened whine, terminating in a sha yelp, brought a
score of others almost instantly to heir Side.
Matters were certainly beginning to look'serious,
but Nat knowingfthe dread which every animal has
of fire, felt that watchful and vigilant there was
no personal danger. His only fear was that the ter-
ror of his horse would become so great as to make
him uncontrollable, and he would burst across the
prairie and be forever lost to him.

The wolves continued to increase in number until
it seemed that several hundred were gathered on
the banks above. The first intruder, whose death
was the penalt of his temerity, was seized by
the foremost of t e others and devoured in a twink-
li . This served onl toincrease theirthlrstforblood
an the became oubly venturesome. Although
Nat hel his horse so close to the fire as to scorch
them both, a huge wolf made several leaps, and
snapped his jaws so close that his animal sprung in-

e flame to escape him. He instantly leape out

*The panther found among the Black Hills is an
animal otall dissimilar from the one of the East.
“The former of a. smaller size, scrawn and cow-
m'dlv. and rarely'can be induced to face t e hunter,

 

 

‘bear instantly followed on a lopingiltumbling

 

Nat Todd.

again, and it was with the greatest difficult he could
be restrained. The wolf, encouraged by 3 success,
endeavored to get at the horse‘s heels so as to ham-
strin him. Lying down on his face, he crawled
within a foot or two and then made a spring; but the
horse seemed to understand his intention, and, quick
as was the movement of the wolf, he encountered
the heels of the animal with such force as to split his
head open and scatter his brains to the Wlllt. The
wolf, while yet quivering in tiie throes of death, was
pounced u )0“ by his companions as usual, and torn
iinb from inib!

Nat was struck with admiration at the exploit. of
his horse, and determined to attempt the same. thing
himself. He waited until another hii o fellow had
ventured rather close, when he steppm forward, and

ave a furious kick, closing the animal‘s jaws like
t ie spi-in of a steel-trap. iit before he could with—
draw his oot it was seized by several with such pow-
er as to bring him upon his back, and he felt that ho
was being drawn away from the fire by the infuri-
ated beasts!

“ Murder! let go, can't on?“ he shouted, clutch-
ing madly about him, an still retaining the halter
of his horse. In his frantic movement he seized a
iirebrand and hurled it blazing among the swarming
bodies. I’lis foot was freed instantly and the wolves
retreated several yards, but immediately returned.
Before they reached him, he was on his feet again,
and too close to the fire for them to reach him.

“ Confound it! 1 wish I’d gone home with Bill Rel-
mond, instead of coming out here like a fool to hunt
up that squaw!" exclaimed Nat. “I might better
have stayed home, anyway."

It now occurred to him to attempt an ex iedient
which he remembered hearing the ra per, iddon,
mention as having been used 1) himsei iii a similar
case. Raising his rifle at rant om, he fired into the
group. It was almost ini ossible to miss killing one,
and a sharp yell showed t int he had not failed. The
slain wolf followed the fate of the others, and was
devoured with as much gusto as though he had been
Nat Todd himself. As soon as the latter could re-
load. he discharged his gun again. This time the
bullet plowed its wa throu h the haunch of one
wolf, and buried itsel in the lead of another. The
latter, not noticing his own hurt, sprung upon the
fallen one. Before this one was airliy devoured
several scented the blood of the woun ed one, and
although he was as active and powerful as the rest,
he was borne down to the earth by a score of raven-
ous ones, and quickly dis atched.

Nat fired over twenty s ots in the herd, and more
than that number fell victims; and still it seemed to
have no effect save to whet the ap etite of the oth-
thers. Several more were slain, w on the hunter no-
ticed his ammunition was getting low. Prudence
compelled him, therefore, to desist from his work of
slaughter. Witliiniich care he reloaded his rifle, de-
termined to use it again only as a last resort. But
the. fury and courage of the wolves had soincreascd
that he saw some other expedient must be resorted
to, or his life would not be his own in a half-hour.
He threw several firebrands among them. This scat
tered them fora moment; but it could not be con-
tinued, for the good reason that it must do rive him
of his fire, and thus make his case entirel io )eless.

As an additional means of defense he ind ed an-
other fire, and finally had four in fiiil blast, so that
he was incloscd in a Circle of flame. This served
every purpose, and no matter how great the hunger
or temerity of the Wolves, not one durst venture
over the magic boundai . hat con ratulated him-
self iipon having foiled t ie insatiatc rates at last.

But it was not long before this emotion of relief
gave wa to that of sickly terror. He saw that his
fuel conh'l not possibl last till morning. A couple
of hours more at mos , it must die out. In despair,
he looked up to the heavens, and saw by the constel-
lations that it was hardly midnight.

Several times he revo ved a desperate scheme in
his mind, it was to mount his horse and start off on
a full run. It seemed the only hope left, and yet a
second thou ht told him it would be certain destruc-
tion. Imp ed with his weight, the horse must
finally succumb and fall a victim. The lunk, eadav’
erous wolves were ca able of worrying anv animal
of the rairie to deat i; and the most terriiic speed
to w ch the horror of death could urge his ani-

mal would reserve him but an hour or so. NO‘ he
dismissed '3 plan, satisfied that it could avail him
nothing.

Hour after hour gradually wore away, and the
fire slumbered low. With feelings which none can
imagine, our hero threw the last stick upon the fire.

Up to this time the yells and clamor of the wolves
had been deafening; but Nat, all at once, noticed
that the had ceas , and the silence of death reign-
ed over he scene. Some great fear had fallen upon
them, and they now dashed awa in a tumultuous
drove, leaving the hunter alone th liis‘horse.

“Somexgreater danger, if possible, threatens!" he
exclaim .

. Scarcer had he spoken, when he caught the out-
lines of a colossal form above him, and saw instantly
that a y hear was ap reaching. His horse
caught 31 ht of the brute at t e same moment, and,
with a wi d yell broke from him and dashed across
the prairie, his mane streaming in the wind. Thte

I
and Nat’s heart thrilled rely
alone. .

“ N ow’s my time i” he exclaimed, catching a brand
and running in the embankment. He 03:?!“ sight
of a cluster 0 trees, several hundred y s ahead,
and waving the brand above his head, made a dear

rate due for the refuge. He had one one-half

ashe saw ewasen

 

“Clear the track!" he shouted, in a sort of wild
ecstasy, as he swung the flaming missile around him.
The wolves fairly touched him, but the brand was
all—potent. He reached the tree without ascratch.
Here he was non lused for a moment. In one
hand he held his rii e, and in the other the rated.-
ing torch which his rapid run had team into a
roaring b aze. It was impossible to climb the tree
without (il‘tfinfillg both. The hunter decided in a
moment. aising a loud shout, and waving his
brand over his head, he sprun toward the wolves,
scattering them like chaff. W on they were a few
rods distant, he flung the dreaded flame directly
among them, and leaping back to the tree, dro i )cd
his gun and made a bound upwaid, catching a mb
and sustaining ‘himself by one hand. Over this he
threw his feet, but- fate was against him; the limb
broke and he came to the 'round. Nothing discon-
certcd, he made another ea ,and catching again,
brought his body up among t e limbs. But so close
were the wolves, and so narrow the escape the last
time, that he found himself lightened of a large part
of his hunting-shirt, it being in the teeth of the
greedy caiiiiibals below.

“ Now howl as long as you want to!" shouted Nat,
as he ciambered up the tree and perched hliiisclf in
the very ton.

“ I'll bet I won‘t fall asleep to-night, and you‘ll wait
a while before you breakfast with me.“ ‘

CHAPTER V.
wnicn Is iios'er HISTORICAL

NEVER. did shipwrecked mariner hail the sight or
morning with greater Joy and thankfulness than did
Nat Todd the first glimpse of day in the cast. As
the mm a )peared above be horizon, the wolves, one
by one, sunk away, until none remained. Seei
t. ie coast clear, Nat ventured to descend. He fourtid
his rifle fully fifty feet away from the tree, where it
had been clawed and disfigured b the ravenous uni.
inals. 1t had suffered no materalinjury, however,
and he was glad enough to recover it as it was.
From the situatimi of the sun he was able to tell
what direction to take to reach the fort, and without
losing time he started off on foot.

He traveled on until noon, when he shotabird,
which furnished him with a heart dinner. He was
never at loss for a fire, as his hit furnished the
means‘ and the weather was so cool this day that
he could not resist the pleasure of en oying it for
awhile. Unconsciously to himself he fe into a doe
slumber, and did not awaken until dark. Stanley
at his indiscretion, lie sprung on, resolved to travd
the most of the night to make up for lost round.

The prairie continued most] of the re kind;
and, aided by the faint light 0 the moon an stars,
he made considerable progress. Several streams
were crossed, and finally a sort of grove, of perhaps
a half mile in extent, was entered. A cold, chilling
fear crept over our hero as the dark shades encom-

.assed him; and it was in no way lessened when he

ward the footstc is of some animal behind him. In
fact, we doubt w iether there is a more unconifortr
able sensation a person can experience than the con-
sclousncss that some one or something is doggin
his footsteps in the dark. The sup iressed step, f -
lowed by a ii'eacl‘iei'ons silence—t ie imaginary a -
proach of a foe, and the expected blow, make t in
suspense harder to bear than the danger itself. At
intervals, the rustic of the leaves sounded closer and
closer, until he was so wrought _u ion b fear that he
could stand it no longer. Cooking iis ri 10. he dod ed
aside, and concealing himself behind a tree, we
the approach of his foe. Closer and closer sounded

the footstepsi) until all at once. not a wild animal or a ’

human foe— ut his horse walked in front of him.

“ Thank heaven 2“ exclaimed Nat, fervently. “ This
is tliti most fortunate thing that could have hap-
penet ." '

The horse seemed as much deli hted as his man-
ter, and when he once more felt h m on his back, he
seemed unable to restrain himself.

“ Now you may go till you‘re tired “ said Nat. no
lie emerged into the open rairie. The horse. with
a neigh of deli ht, straigh ened his limbs and sped
away like a swa low. llis rider ceased wondering at
his escape from the wolves and bear when he saw
with what speed he was carried. With now and then
an occasional bait for rest and refreshment, the
journe was continued until noon of the next day,
when 0 crossed a large stream of cold, sparkling
water, and several hours later be discerned in the
distance the plain of Brown‘s Hole. He struck his
horse into a canter at sight of it, and movin
through the bluffs, crossed two smaller streams this
tumbled down from the stratified cliffs on his right;
After passinga few rods further the whole area bum
upon his si ht. A man dresse like ahunterstood
in front 0 the fort, amusing himself with the antics
of .a couple of do . He can ht sight of our hero,
and turned towar him. Nat OUI'K himself the re-
cipient of a hearty Welcome and felt that he had
stumbled upon something like koma in the wilder-

ness.
“ Brown‘s Hole " is one the most remarkable at
forts on the Pacific slope. It was once termed
*To avoid givin a false im ression we m stat.
that the wolf of t a West wi never attach“?y
about
him. The will follow a traveler formii
up their smal howling, but he is perfec
pon him,,ur most
But afew dro of blood willdra

“Fort David Crockett,“ but it is now more gener-
unless the latter has the smell of fresh bl k
as
“E's.
ion as there is no fresh wound u
in h possession.
the we was from miles distant the trail.

 

he distance when he was surround b a dozen incident above iven the fa of these animals
wolves who, had been frightened from tgejpin‘suit caused b a smiii w'ound inrythe horse‘s foot wfi‘
of the horse byt eappearance ofthe bear. hadleft tsmark in severalplacel. ‘ . I .l _.
'L ' ' tw' Ii‘M " " - \ 1': I" *1; > 1 r
.. .f .. H  , .  at"  Q-  ffiw‘ffl-‘Tiifig‘ "r V n ‘ ‘L t? w.

 

\

.4"

w ; a
lathe,

 

 

ally known by the former name. It stands on the
Sheetskadcc or Prairie Cock river, and is more than
a mile and a half above the sea-level.* The plain
upon which it is situated is about six miles across,
and is walled in completely by a chain of mountains
rising fifteen hundred feet above. The Sheetskadee
enters the north-west side, and sweeping round in a
beautiful curve in front of the fort. makes its way
through the mountain-cliffs full 8. thousand feet in
hight, where it moves over with a solenm calmness
that is indescribable.

Not the least remarkable peculiarity of this plain.
ls its climate. Forming a plateau. (ls; it does. over
eight thousand feet in hight, one would suppose an
eternal winter would hold reign. ()n the contrary,
the rich mountain grasses. with numerous copses of
willow and cottonwood, are growing the entire year;
and when the blasts of winter whirl the snow in
blinding drifts over the mountain-peaks and in the
country around, the horses of the hunters may be.
seen calmly cropping the herbage on the banks of
the Sheetskadee, and the hunters themselves in the
hi ht of enjoyment.

‘he fort, some years since, was a hollow square of
log-cabins, with the roofs and floors construcred of
mud. Around the outside were numerous Indian
16d es, Where the families of the white trappers re—
mained while the latter were absent among the
mountains or beaver-runs. Many of the Shoshone
or Snake tribe are found at the fort. They appear
in the largest numbers during the winter months,
when they bring lar e uantities of the meat of the
mountain-sheep an ot ier animals, which they fur-
nish to the travelers and traders in exchange for
beads, trinkets, ammunition, etc. A storehouse also
stands outside, where the trappers barter their furs,
and the Indians their horses, for hatchets, knives,
fishhooks, lead and whisky.

The Shoshones are the nearest assimilated to the
whites, and during the winter months the whole
tribe, numbering considerably over a thousand,
pitch their lodges on the plain around the fort;
while scores of trappers and hunters congregate
within the fort, or among their Indian squaws, and a
scene of enjiriyment, such as is rarely witnessed,
takes place. here are gatherings among the Indian
lodges where both races congregate, while mocca-
sins, bufialo-robes and “leggins ” are sewn with
decr-sinews. The wild song of the dusky warriors
is heard; and there is dancing, and music, and love-
making, and marriage—all that go to make up life,
where for the time being, the participants give way
to socral pleasure. And many is the thrilling legend
related by some hun er, who, perhaps, has hunted
for years on snow-shoes in Prince Rupert’s Land, or
penetrated to the Frozen Sea for seals and walruses;
many is the escape narrated by the trap )t‘l‘, who has
stealthin secured his peltries on the s iores of the
far-off Columbia, or among the wildest fastnesses of
the Rocky Mountains, in spite of the treacherous
Blackfeet or Flatheads.

Nat arrived at the most unfortunate time at the
fort. It being in early summer, the on] white men
were the store-keeper and three or four unters who
chanced to be in the neighborhood for a few days.

“If on seek an of the hunters, you will have to
wait ti lautumn. he men are off hunting, some of
them hundreds of miles distant. They‘d be in, per-
haps, in the course of several months, before start-
lugV 01! for the beaver-runs.”

his information was 1given by the trader, after
our hero had explained is Object in appearing in
that part of the world at such a time.

‘1‘ Do you know any thing of a fellow called Oregon

9

“ Old Sol J agzin, you mean? Ah—yes. No man ex-
ce t Kit Carson is so well known this side of the
Mississippi.”

“ Where is he now?”

“ That‘s a question I can not answer. and I doubt
wllifether any one else can except the individual him-
se .’

“ How long since he has been here?"

"Let me see: he hasn‘t been in these parts this
car. The last time. was winter before lost. He was
ere only a day or two, just long enou h to dispose

of his peltries, and lay in a supplyo tobacco and
ammunition, when he was off again. ’

“What do you suppose the reason to be? Have
you no idea, that he has collapsed—been killed,'"I
mean?"

“I hardly suppose that, and yet it may be true
after all. Sol 18 a most experienced Indian-fighter
and hunter, and after goi throu h such a course
of training as he has it isn t likely ed to under at
this time of life; bu then a trap er’s li e is a hob-
nob with Death, and though the atter must win at
last, he does it sometimes sooner than is ex cted.
However,” added the trader, “I have little ear for

17

“What reason then do on give for his absence?”

“One reason is this: e traps somewhere up in
Oregon, no one knows where, for he always goes
alone. Since we Americans have got hold of Ore-
gn, the emigrants have commenced coming in

ere, during be last few years. This has made the
beavers scarcer, and Sol, hke enough, did not secure
suficient furs to make him think it worth while to
come down at the usual time. So he thought he
would lie over for a season.

“ Did on ever hear him say anything of the love

' lyglrl t at I have been speaking about?”

Now that you have referred to it, it occurs to me
that I have—but only once, and that was the time of
which Tom Lan don ke. I distinctly remember
his relating the nciden just as you say it was told
you. It exdted my curiosity somewhat, and I made

*This stream is now marked on maps as Green
river.

 

several inquiries of Sol as well as of others who
have, been in Oregon. But neither he nor any one
else could give any additional information.”

“ Do you suppose this lovely gal to be living?”

“ I can only conjecture, w rich you can do your-
self. I shou d not despair of llllt ing her alive and
well until I received indubitable evidence that she
was dead.“

“I don‘t suppose. any one besides this Sol could
give me any information which I seek.”

“No; it is hardly probable. You see, it might be,
termed an accident y which he obtained his knowl—
edge, and I doubt very much whether he could tell
any more than I have.”

Nat was somewhat discouraged, but not entirely
disheartened by what the trader told him. His first
impulse was to start for Oregon at once; but second
thought told him that such a course could avail
nothing. He believed he had obtained a clew to
what he sought ; and that patience and perseverance
were only needed to follow it up to a successful ter-
mination. It was now early summer, and be con-
cluded to remain at the fort until the arrival of Sol
.lagzin, or until it was known that he would not make
his appearance.

The time passed heavily to the ardent fellow.
Day after da dragged by, and week after week, until
several rnont s were passed. Still there were no signs
of the hunter’s return. Several trappers made their
appearance at intervals and remaining a day or two,
took their departure. Once or twice large bodies of
the Shoshoan visited the store-house, and, bartering
with the trader, rode away again. Toward the
middle of summer, a distinguished Russian traveler
accompanied by an American, remained severa
days at Brown’s Hole. Nat made their act uaint-
ance at once, and the time passed pleasantly uring
their stay. The three had several hunting and fish-
ing expeditions together, and our hero was thrown
into ecstasies when the American informed him that
he was a friend of Relmond, and had met him in St.
Louis on his return from the Yellowstone. Relmond
and Imogene, having a faint ho )e that the traveler
would chance to come across at. had dispatched
their best wishes for his safety. Relmond, as before
mentioned, had determined not to let Imogene know
the true cause of Kat‘s erratic expedition, for fear
that it might awaken hopes which could only occa-
sion the keener disappointment.

Half-Dime Library.

{

After the departure of his two friends, Nat found »

time bung more heavily than ever on his hands. He

frequent] ' spent days in rambling over the mountains .

hunting t 10 different game that so abounded. He
wondered why the hunters should go to great dis—
tances to seek their prey when there was such abun-
dance at their doors. But no signs of beaver and
otter were seen in proximity to the fort.

The summer departed. Cold, blusterin autumn
made its appearance. The trader informer Nat that
the trappers might be looked for every day. Indeed,
the same week several came in. But no one brought
tidings of “ Oregon Sol.”

A fortnight after this, when the Shoshones pitched
their lodges around the fort, and over thirty trappers
and hunters were on the ground, Nat received notice
that a great party would be held that evening, which,
of course. it was expected he would attend. No re-
fusal could be expected, and there was little danger
of any being offered.

At the appointed time they all assembled in the .

lodge, whic had been prepared expressly for the
purpose. The oily li hts disclosed a singular and
characteristic scene. here were old and weather-
beaten hunters, shaggy and scarred lithe, graceful
warriors, and maidens of all shades. from the dusk
hue of the autumn-leaf to the pure Caucasian. A 1
ages, from the mere youth to the man of three-score
and ten were seen. Wives, husbands brothers, sis-
ters and lovers mingled to rether. There were a
couple of “professors” on t e violin, so that abun-
dant music was furnished. All went into the sport
as if they relished it. Some danced as finely as if
made of Damascus steel; some bounced square up
and down; others shoved themselves around with a
slow, solemn motion: while some shot hither and
thither, like balls of india-rubber.

Late in the night Nat found himsel tete—a-tete with
a beautiful half-breed. While engaged in an earnest
talk she suddenly exclaimed:

“ onder is old Solomon, I declare l”

Nat saw, at the Opposite end of the room, a short,
stumpy-looking fellow, clad in the garb of a trapper,
and around whom were congregated a number of
both sexes. A moment later, the trader touched
Nat on the shoulder and whispered:

“ That’s Oregon Sol. He Is in an unusual good-
humor to-uight. I spoke of you to him, and he says
he will see Iyou in the morning. Be frank and to t e
point, and think you will have no difficulty in gain-
ing all the information you wish.”

t was near morning before the party broke u . In
spite of the excitin expectation which Nat fe t re-
lat' to Oregon So , it must be confessed he slept
soun 1y until near the middle of the forenoon. As
soon as he awoke he re aired to the warehouse to
see the trader. e foun not only him, but Oregon
Sol, who had just disposed of his furs, and secured
his winter stock of ammunition and stores. The
trader introduced the two at once. We will not de-
tail the tedious conversation to which Nat was com-
pelled to submit before he obtained his information,

ut give the substance of what we have learned.
The old trapper was whimsical and eccentric, and it
uired the combined skill of the trader and Nat,
ore he divul ed what little he knew. He stated,
substantially, w at Langdon had ahead given,

5’
inting out only in addition the precise location of
he place in the Blue Mountains at which he was
visited b the “ lovely maiden,” and stati that the
longed to the Cayuse tribe.

Indians e place

 

 

,,,,,,,.., , ,N.

where he was attacked was just above the canon of
a stream which debouched into L'swis river. Nat.
who possessed a thorough knowledge of the geogra»
phy of the country, traced out the very stream on n.
mo. in the possession of the trader, and gained
suc 1 an idea of the country as to make him confi—
dent of his ability to reach it alone; but be counted
much on the assistance of the old terrible-looking
trapper.

I was, then, with the sorest disappointment,
that he learned that Oregon Sol was not go-
ing to return again to Oregon. He had obtained
information from a friendly Cayuse of a re ion
literally swarming with beaver and otter, to w rich
the two were oing in company. He would not (lis-
close its location, save to say it was in an entirely
different direction and hundreds of miles from the
Blue Mountains. at used ever inducement at hls
command to get the trapper to c ange his intention,
or at least to postpone it until another season; but
it availed nothing. As a class, no men are more.
stubborn than those western, half-civilized rangers;
and the adventurer finally saw that if he made his
contemplated journey to Oregon, it would have to
be made without any companion or guide.

 

CHAPTER VI.
A HAUL IS MADE CONTAINING A MYSTERIOUS LETTER.

WHEN a person comes toan unexpected resolution.
his first impulse is pretty sure to be to carry it out at
once; and undue haste is equally sure to characterize
his movements.

A half-hour subsequent to the explanation record-
ed in the last chapter, Nat Todd, well mounted and
armed, was riding at a brisk canter toward the
north. Brown’s Hole and its swarming population
already were invisible behind the mighty clifi‘s that
walled it in from the outer world. The trader at
first opposed his erratic course, but was compelled
to admit at last that it was the only one left to him.
None of the trappers present in the fort were going
to the same section, and, as there were none who
would consent to lose a season for the purpose of
aiding in what could be of little profit or interest to
themselves, it will be seen that the course of Nat.
was perhaps the best under the circumstances.

He determined to follow the Ore on trail to Fort.
Hall, about two hundred miles istant on Lewis
river. Having thoroughly osted himself, during his
stay at Brown’s Hole, on t e difficulties of the jourv
ney, be ap )rehended no trouble, except it might be
from the lackfeet, whose war-parties often hov-
ered around this highway For somethin over a.
dozen miles he kept up the valle of the S eelslca—
(lee, one of the most beautifu rivers in the far
West. The water of this river was clear as air, of
uniform breadth, and in no place over three feet in
depth. The mountains rose on either side to the
hight of a thousand feet above the level of the
stream. He camped at night on the bank of this
river, and at an early hour resumed his journey.

Nat had taken t e precaution to furnish him.
self with a goodly quantit of meat before start
ing, as the trader informed im that he was about to
enter a, desert, where the robabilities of obtaining
food b aid of his gun won (1 be light indeed. A few
miles rom his camping-place, he reached a point in
the mountains through which the river wore its way
in such a manner as to make a canon, and, for the
distance of five miles, he was compelled to clamber
over frightful precipices, along brinks of yawning
caverns, and over paths not more than a foot in
width, where there was nothing save the naked face
of the rock to cling to, where a single misstep would
be instant destruction. But his Indian horse was as
firm and sure-footed as the trained mules of the
Andes.

The day passed without affording him a glimpse of

a sin 16 human being. The only signs of animal life,
besi es himself and his horse, were a few creaking
ravens and ma ies that circled overhead and gave
their dismal we come to this desolate region. His
camping- lace afforded a view of the Anahuac
Range, w ich stretshed away in the direction of the
Great Salt Lake. He ex ected to encounter no
white persons unless it mi t be one or two trappers,
as the season was one in which few, if any, emi-
grants braved the perils of the mountains. The next
morning he continued his journey in a northern di-
rection, over a sort of rolling plain of coarse, sandy
gravel, upon which no sign of vegetation, save the
forbidding wild wormwood, was observed. One or
two miserable-looking prairie-wolves were espied in
the course of the afternoon. They slunk along the
river-bottoms, iving vent, now and then, to a howl
which echoed ike a wail of death from cliff to cliff.
As if to increase the gloom of this desert, a flock of
famished ravens followed him for a lo distance,
chanting their discordant notes and dar ening the
air with their funereal wings.

On the afternoon of the fourth day. the adventurer
struck Ham’s Fork, a. tributary of the Sheetskadee.
At this season, the river was quite shallow, but dur-

' ing the spring it is over two hundred feet in depth.

His journey was a long and often tedious one; but
there were many natural curiosities encountered,
which sometimes served to interest him for a time.
Amon these were the remarkable Steamboat and
Soda prings, the Three Buttes, and the Valley of
Chasms.

He underwent much suflering from the scarcity
of food, and upon several occasions his horse became
so weakened as to be unable to carry him. Had he
been aware of the formidable journey he had under-
taken his enthusiasm would have failed to carry
him through. But on the tenth do. he ascended a
high ridge, which afforded him a. ew of the great
southern branch of the Columbia. Far to the north-
ward, in the land of the Shoshone, could be seen the

 

(-

 

 

 

' e:

 

Three Buttes looming up in the sky, while to the ,

south-west stretched a rugged chain of mountains.
But, a more cheering sight than all, there was Fort
Hall, nestling down in the )lain, its white battle-
{nelnts'glowing like burnishe silver in the clear sun-
i it. i

inia cou )le of hours he drew rein in front of the
fort, shout rig for those inside to come forth. Iii-
stantly an armed man made his appearance who gave
him welcome.

“Got any thing to eat?" asked Nat. “I’m terri-
bly hungry. Do you think you’ve got enough to sat-
is me? ’

he guard surveyed the strange comer with a quiet
smile, and then replied:

“If ou doubt it, come in and try it. Come, come,
nilullllt, yon‘t sit there; you‘re not serving your horse
r .’

2 ‘That is true—nor myself either," answered Nat,
,’ hurrying within the gate.

The hospitality offered him was the most genuine

and hearty.

His horse was well taken care of, and ,

himself feasted like a prince. Within he found quite ,

; a collection of hunters and trappers.
l sion of his meal he arose and remarked:
' “Gentlemen, if there is a man in this company
/ who feels, erfectly satisfied, for the present, that man
is Nat T d."
“ Nat Todd, (lid you say ?" uestioned the man
who had welcomed him to the ort, as he arose and
came toward him.
“ The same, sir, at your service.”
“There is a letter here for Nathan Todd."
“ A letter for me?“ he repeated, catching his
breath, and feeling a sudden loathing of the food he
had ust swallowe .
“ es, sir; Iwillgive it to youin a minute.
I believe we have two, if I am not mistaken."
“ Who has written me letters! Can‘t be it’s the
lovely maiden I‘m looking for. She liain‘t learnt my
address yet."
In a moment two letters were placed in his hand.
One was lum and heavy and a glance at the su-
perscription s owed Nat it was from his widowed
mother. A mist floated before his eyes as he trem-
blin ly broke the seal, and his heart fairly leaped
whi e erusing it. It was a ho eful letter such as an
affect onate mother would wri to the el( est of four
growu-up sons, breatliin prayerfull of his fate, and
, containing a few words rom each 0 the “ children,”
I and iving, as a part of the gossip, the fact that his
, Alin ny had married Bill Haukins shortly after the
departure of Nat for the West.
Just what I expected l" remarked Nat, aloud.
“ I might have known that, when she coaxed me so
3 hard to go to California—though I was such a fool
' that I thought she did it out of pure, genuine love.
1 ‘ Never mind; wait till I take this lovely maiden home
that I am going to fin up among the mountains."

The letter closed wi h an earnest wish for Nat to
come home. The farm was large enough to support
all, and the fond mother could not see the necessity
for even one of her children leaving the dear old
home. Nat'folded up his letter, resolved to spend a
day in answering it, and to promise to return home
the next summer.

He glanced at the next envelope, but failed to rec-
ognize the handwriting. The wonder with which he
broke the seal was increased to literal amazement
. when he read it. The contents were as follows:

“ To NATHAN TonD:-—Follow the trail to Burnt river,
nd then strike of! to the north-west to the Blue
ountains. The one for whom you are looking is in
the ossession of the Cayuse tribe."
“ erusaleml who wrote that letter?" he demand-
ed, looking around him. There was no signature
to it, nor anything besides his own name on the en-

velo e.
“Where did you t that letter?" he re ated,
:grnfin‘gt toward the f end who had welcome him to

h...-

Inhfact,

e o .

“It was left here about two months since by aman
: who rode into the fort, the same as you have, on
i ' l horseback, and from the same direction.”

“‘ He did not inform us."

“What did he look like?”

“ There was nothing about his appearance that
seemed unusual that am aware of. He remained
over night. In the evening he wrote that letter and
told me to hand it to you when you reached here,
which he said would probably be in a month from
that time.”

“ Why it beats all! How did he know anything of

\

    
   
  
   
   

me, mu less of the lovely maiden fon whom I am
gearching? You do not know where he came
rain?"

 

“From the States, I suppese, although I am not

cc" Know where he was going?" _
“ No sir; at I suspec it was to Oahfornia.”

“ me ow he was dressed—how he looked."
The man laughed outright at Nat‘s eagerness.
“ Had I suspected this anxiety upon your part, I
should have certainly made this in sterlous person
. leave his name, at least, with us. 8 rode upon a
coal-black pong-(3wa dressed in such a manner as to
show he was in more civilized regions than are
found this side of the Mississippi. His hair was long
and k, his face clean shaven, with hudsOme, reg:

features.

Nat thought deep! upon what his friend had just
related, but could rlngup no remembrance of hav-
ing ever seen a person who bore the slightest resem-
blance-to the one just mentiéined; and, since leaving
the Yellowstone, he had me no horse similar to the
erred to. For a long time he thou ht of

  
   
    
   
 
    
  
 
 
  

 

 
 
    

 
 
 
 
 

 
 
  
  

himself reatl tosovethe
,  'and
description

near

At the conclu- ‘

»Todd emerged from Fort

northern bank of the Malheur, a trl uta

 

Nat Todd.

often. He questioned three others who had seen
the man, but none could add anything to what had
already been told. At last, liewas coin )elled to give
up the hope of finding out who the iin ’llOWll could
be. The whole affair wasa mystery. It was destined
to remain so a long time to him.

The afternoon was spent in writing home. He gave
a whole account of his adventures, not oniittin ' to
statellnit he was in pursuit ofa " lovely maiden, ' as
far superioi-lo Aliiiiny as the sun was to the moon:
and hinting the probability of liisinakiiig his a ipear-
ance in Lubcc the next season, with her as his wide.
He closed with a glowing account of his health,
which, under the invigorating climate of the Far
West, had become rugged and settled, and urging
his mother to feel no anxiety u on his account. The
letter finished, he handed it to iis friend, who prom»
iscd that it should be sent eastward as soon as op-
portunity offered.

The entire night was passed by Nat iii meditating
u on the future. The advice of the note he held in
his hand corresponded with that of Oregon Sol, and
he had no doubts that both were correct but he felt,
at that nioineiil, that he would give all he owned in
the world if it would be the means of ex ilaining the
inyster ' of the letter. lt'was iiiexplicalile. Howa
man w oin he had never seen, and in a region which

he had never visited, could know the object which .

brought him hither was incomprehensible.

“At any rate I'll (10. ‘ Fallow lI/e trail to Burnt
River,‘ it says, and then ‘xirlke QU‘ to the Blue MOI/w
tut/w. That course will take me to the very s 0t

Far to the west, in a parallel direction with his own,
he could discern the peaks of the llluc Range, stretch
ing far along the sky. At night hereached Burnt
river, a stream as cold and liinpid as ainouutaiu-
spring. 11 was at this point he was to “strike oil' “
to the. west. Tlll‘ night was a clear moonlight one, and
be continued his journey along time, until stopped
by the wild character 0 the region. In the morn
ing, an hour after starting, he reached abroad belt
of prairie, stretching away to the very base of the
mountains. Here his horse relapsed ntoadelibcr~
ate walk, while he fell into a deep and lasting rcve
rie. ’l‘liis musing iii might have continued along
time had it not been interrupted by the sudden whiz
of something before his eyes.

“ iiellol what‘s that?“ he exclaimed, looking
around him. Just ahead lit! saw the barb of an ar-
row siicking out of the earth, and behind, scarce a
furloug distant, nearly a dozen Indians running to—
ward him with thc speed of the wind!

 

CHAPTER VII.

PROVING THAT IT IS NOT ALWAYS BEST TO LOOK BEFORI‘
YOU LEAP.

Our. glance was enough for our hero to see that
discretion was the better part of valor. One loud
yell, and his horse with a wild snort, sprung for-
ward like a racer. The flauntiiig apparel of the nav-

l ages seemed to alarm the latter as much as his “(103

that Oregon Sol mentioned: and then it says t at 1
the Ca use tribe hold her. The something was stated '

by bot l, and of course must be true. It‘s a long
journey but Nat Todd has not come all this distance
to turn incl: at this place. No, sir! The trail which
he has started upon must be followed to the end."

Nat remained at the fort a couple of days, in order
to recruit himself and horse. He made the ac( uaiiit-
ance of all those within it, but gained no additional
knowledge of what most concerned him. Fort Hall
was built in the year 1832, b anian from Boston, for
the purpose of opening trai c with the Indians in the
vicinity. At this time the nearest post of the Hud—
son Bay Com mm; was seven hundred miles distant,
and he had ittle fear of coml'ictitioii from them.
But this wealth firm, with its vast resources, soon
forced him to cave. Fort Boise was instantly es-
tablished on Red River, and the British company
sent out scores of their agents, who literally sur-
rounded the unfortunate Auicrican, and by under-
selling him in everytliiii v, in a short time compelled
him to “break " and so 1 out his fort, at a great sac-
rifice, to the H’udson Bay Company. The course of
the latter body in this affair may strike the reader as
dishonorable; but, if he will reflect a moment, he
will see that nothing was done by them which is not
practiced around us every day. It was but fair com-
petition, and the American Fur Company, as well as
many others, amle retaliated in time. Loni: after
Ore on fell into t e hands of the Americans, the
H11 son Ba Company claimed and held tln- right of
trade with 11 its territory. With a shortsi litcdness
which is unaccountable, our Government al owed this
ctla‘im, and to this day the British reap the benefit of
i .

It was a pleasant mornin in autumn when Nat
all, and turned his face
toward the northward. It would be tedious to the
reader were we to follow our hero step by stop until
he reached the Blue Mountains. His journey to Fort
Boise was much the same as the one from Brown’s
Hole. An hour’s ride brought him to the limit of
vegetation. The earth became of a red, fiery color,
covered here and there with sliriveled cottonwoods
and shrubs, with barely sufficient grass to keep his
animal from starving. He
brated “Three Buttes.“ base are
shaped peaks, two thousand feet in big t. Their
tops were covered with glittering snow; further
down, small streams issue, and bands of ve station
encircle them to the base, giving during t ie sum-
mer months, a most beautiful ex iibition of the dif-
ferent zones of the earth. Eight days of constant
terror from roving Indians—of pa nful traveling
over the knife-like stones—over black barren swells
—through a vast, uiitiuibered country—sometimes
fording the river beside which the trail led—some-
times camping on the hard-baked earth—at others
beside the soft, rippling river—at times ready to give
we to despair, and turn back—at others renewed
by ope—eight days of such travel as this, and one
a temoon a solitary horseman, scarccl resembling
Nathan Todd, drew up in front of Fort oise.

A week’s stay at Fort Boise sufficed to putNat and
his beast in t e best of sirits and condition. He
found the hospitality of its nhabitants as genuine as
those of the other posts, and left them with many
ex ressions of regre .

he country over which he now journeyed steadily
improved in appearance. A short distance from the
fort, he came ugon a number of springs whose
waters were muc better than those of the Steam-
boat Spring At night, he encam upo? 3w
0 16
Lewis, which put in from the western si e. The
next dayhe continued still upon the Great Trail.

* The treaty of 1846, says: “ The possessory rights
of the Hudson Bay Com ny, and of all British sub-
jects who may be alrea yin occupation of the land
or other pro rty lawful y acquired within said ter-

tory shall recanted) Ge 1. Barney maintained
that the right of t s compargg . 1 exclusive trade on

the North-west coast, ex h Ma 1859, and took
he on of one of 131: (fort: to“: me‘filfi‘gsbo:
British com un or 0 an n
will» ’ tisfactorily

c shalt time since
muted.“ ,

the troub wa‘n la

assed close to the cele—,
yramidab

 

and he needed no urging. The Indians discharge
another flight of arrows, and giving vent to their
chilling war-whoop, sprung with renewed speed after
the fugitive.

“Blazes! I think this is a mean trickl" muttered
Nat, glancing furtively over his shoulder. “ I should
like to know what they‘ve got against me and my
boss. Never mind, they‘ve got to dig gravel fast to
UVel'iukc me in this race.“

The speed with which the Iiidi is ran was wonder-
ful, but it could not be ex meter to match that of
the horse. lie was a nob 0 animal, and skimmed
over the 'round with great velocity. The distance
between tic pursucrs and the pursued so rapidly
lengthened, that the latter began to hope the race
would be shortly resigned by those who held it at
such disadvantage. Already bc ond reach of the
strongest how, it was with relic that he observed
the savages had no lire-arms. He was in a region
seldom visited by the whites, and where, from ap-
pearances themed-men were determined such a
state of aflairs should continue as long as possible.

The trepidation with which this race of life and
death was commenced by Nat Todd, all at once be-
came terror, when he saw that the prairie over which
he was iiyin' terminated at mile or two ahead. At.’
that point t is ground, assumed an uneven rocky,
character, which increased until it was literal y com-i
posed of gorges, caverns and preclpicosl Through

hese it was impossible to force his animal at a fas-
ter rait than a common walk.

“ y gracious! things begin to look equally! Come.
boss, you must go it while. you can."

If it Were late in the day, Nat would have had
more hope: but it was early in the forenoon, and the
relentless savages had a long time in which to secure
their victim.

When the latter reached the end of the small

)rairic he sprun ' from the saddle and, givin his
iorse ree rein, p ungcd in among the rocks to so ‘
up his iii ht on foot. He indulged in one fearfu
g once he iind him, and saw his pursuers a third of a
mile distant, shouting and gestlculailng furiously, as
they deemed he was as wel as secured.

“ The more haste the loss speed," is an adage whose
force was never so distinctly shown as in the present
case. Kat‘s only thought was a wild desire to go
ahead, and he scarcely heeded the means by which
this wasto he gained. He lluiged niadl around
rocks, itching headlong in o unseen hol own and
stumbl ng over bowlders, and all the time it seemed
to his tormented brain that he was absolutely ain-
iiig no ground at all. In the midst of his iiigh , he

unexpectedly found himself between two in e rocks, .

that rose far above him and extended qu to a dis-
tance in front. , radually narrowin until the open-
ing at the‘oppos to end 3130"le liar 3y large enough
to admit the passage of his body. He deemed it
would be too great a loss of time to turn back and
run around, and determined to take a start and make
his body go through. Stepping back a foot or so, he
drew in a deep breath and ran with all his might. As‘
he felt his arms brushing the rocks, he concentrated
his strength and made one des crate, frenzied leap,
intending to pass clean throu ' i. The consequence
was, he ouii( himself immova ly wedged in between
the walls!

“ Fast, as sure as I live!“ he gas d, endeavor-lag
to force himself out again. But i was of no use'
the force with which he had driven himself forward
was so Igreat that no strength of his could extricate
him. e kicked and twisted, and tried to push the
rocks further apart but it was unavailinfr.

“Oh! I‘m lost!" he moaned. “The ndians will
be here before I can free myself, and I shall lone m
scalp after all. This is worse than the Iron 8
ghat I once read about. Heavens! isthere no help

or me?" - .

He gazed up pitifully) and pleadineg as if the

rocks would be moved

vice-like grasp. Be ap .‘ not to a heart,

but to an inert soul, of rock;_‘he was fast, apparean ' ' A

 

 
 
 
 
   
 
  
 
 
 
  

I
e was compelled at last, to cease his exhaustive
efforts and listen. 'He expected on monies
see theformn of a dozen infuriitedrfndinm‘ut‘

   
  

   
  
 

him,o hear the tw of theirbowsalthelr
remained.»th fie ‘ - .
r , 7’

, minute  anymnd,
. 1‘ , ‘ I ‘ '  Ag.
" 7r 3":

  
     
 

entreagtoreeasetheirfi
edinv n

  
   
   
  
   
  
   
  
 
 
   
  
   
   
       

W—a -. . .......-—— .._ -—v

i r  Mann's; mt:

, ,. , .. ._.-...._‘_._

them, a faint ho that they had lost all scent of
him began to him and be renewed his ef-
forts to extricate himself. y exhausting his breath
and doubling his efforts, he suddenly found to his
inexprossible joy, that' he was free and on
once more.
Our hero now committed a blunder for which there
was certain] no excuse. The rcsultof his former
haste shouh have been heeded. Inthe rocks around

' have concealed hiinse f, w iere even the basilisk orb
of an American Indian would have failed to detect
his presence. He committed ablunder, we say; and
yet, in the end, as is often the case, it proved one of

he happiest efforts of his life.
have suspected the singular termination, its short-
si litedness was none the less.

e emerged cautiously from the rocks, and gazed

'about him. There Were no signs of his pursuers;

ined to continue his flight toward the mountains. He

ere )t stealthlly along a short distance. when be de-

Mil'iml, a few rods ahead, and directly in his path, a

huge mr rc, too broad to leap, and extending, ap-

parent y, or miles to his right and left.

I While debating how this new difficulty should be
gotten over, two arrows shattered their heads upon
the rock beside him, and an exnlting whoo ) showed
he was discovered. He glanced back, an saw the
forms of his enemies springing from rock to rock,
and dodging in every ima inable way to avoid his
shot. Retreat was impossi ile, as they were spread-

thcmselvcs out like a fan so as to encompass him
in is present position.

“Do or die, and the Lord help me!“ he exclaim-
eilr, compressing his lips and preparing for the final
6 ort.

It was a deed. no sane man would have attempted
or succeeded in. But terror—an absolute horror of
fallin into the Indians’ hands—accomplished it.
Draw ng in his breath, Nat made several bounds for-
ward, and, as his foot reached the edge of the precl-

iice, s rung out with superhuman strength! Ii or an
nstan , his crouchin form was seen in mid-air and
then disappeared! ut he had succeeded in striking
the opposite side, and, half-stunned by the concus-
aion, c ambered to his feet and limped away.

The Indians paused in amazement at seein the
white man’s wonderful leap. As he was lost to s ght
the rushed forward expecting to see his manglet
bo y far down the dreadful ab as. Reaching the
edge, they cagight a glimpse of im, several rods in
advance, tur ng the corn r of a projecting ledge.
Their astonishment was‘ui ()llllilei , and they be-
lieved him to be a supernatural being. Not one of
their number had the temerity to altempt the same

eat. - -

A cold sweat broke out upon him as he realized he
had cleared the frightful chasm, and his feelin of ter-
ror changed instantly to uncontrollable hatr of the

.' savages, that they had forced him to such a desper-

1 ate effort for life. He was so much bruisedb tho
' shock as to be barely able to limp behind the edge
af alluded to. Here he sunk down, not even able to
‘ walk further. We )eered cautiously around the cor-
ner of the rock, ant saw his enemies standing in full
view, talking and gosticulating as though engaged in

. some earnest ar ument. He examined the lock of

“ 1' his rifle, and, see n that it still remained unharmed,

‘ brought it to his s oulder and ointed it toward the

grou ). But the exhaustion 0 his system was so

grea as to throw his whole body into such a tremor
as to make him unable to draw sight on a single one.

Failing in this, he lay flat on his face, and, resting it

on the rock, aimed at the center of the group and fired.

“ There’s one imp rubbed out, curse him!" he muz-
tered, as he saw a reeling savage caught in the arms
of his com anions and borne away.

By the 1: me he managed to reload, not an Indian
was visible. A bomb-shell could not have scattered
them more effectual] . Now was the time for flight;
but, besides being e ppled, as stated, he felt an ob-
stinate determination to make the Indians suffer for
what the; had done.

To un erstand the events which follow, it is ne-
cessary that we should digress for a moment, and
ex lain more particularly our hero‘s situation.

he chasm which separated him from the In-
dians wasone of those immense cracks or awns
which are often seen in .the Far West, tha were
made at some remote age by an earth uake. He
had legged it at the narrow :st spot, so t at it was
impos ie for his enemies to reach him unless they

used some artificial means to cross, or should a

round it. It was not likely the ‘latter course wou d

be taken, as i ' would involve too great 0.10:: of time;

and Nat, accordingly, prepared to guard against the
former stratagem.

For a half-hour not a sizn of an Indian was seen.

At the cud of that time a branch fluttered for an in~

Itant in the air and then (lisa peared. He rose to

his feet and, looki carefully ward the suspicious

point, finally detcc a chavon head, the body of
which was concealed. it was at a point lower down
than the one where they were last seen; and before
he could cover it with his aim, it was withdrawn.

Still watching the same paint, he soon noticed a

£206 of rock projecting, e the leaf of a table

in the opposite side. A closer scrutiny revealed

“ the fact that it was gradually crossln the chasm. It

agparently moved without human ai , but no second

t ought was necessaryto reveal the a cuts at work.

Nat was satisfied that before the co d accom lisb

th would be compo ed to show t em-

9 determined to lodge a bullet some

whmi among them. little, fear from their

._. he aace ,tbetopof tbe'rock w ore to

-i _ r o tioasl'léflis, trepidation had given
an a calm as, and he seemed nowto

,thcmostgenuine courage. He vowed‘that.

4., 4 IV ‘; l ‘1.

   
  

       

   
     
  
 
  
    
   
   
  
    
   
    
 
 
    

  

  

   

  
 

      

 

his feet ,
him there were plent ' of flames in which he could .
i
As no one could 3

v and supposing they had been deceived, he determ- I

Half-Dime Library

I before the savages should cross the chasm, some of
, them should go to the bottom.
He sat in this position a few moments without de-
’ teeting any further movements of t e ridge of
rock, when it occurred to him that his foes might be
5‘ extending operations in another direction.
well he took a second glance; for, as it was, it had
well-nigh been his last. To his left were three In-
dians, and the very instant he turned toward them
the foremost had iis arrow drawn to the head and
. lointed directly at Nat. As quick as thought. the
attcr turned a back-somerset. landing on the rock
1 below in a manner more expeditious than dignified,

the air with deadly velocity.
Nat now saw that he was to be assailed at two
oints, and all his efforts must be turned against
hese. After watching their movements a while, he
found the same artifice was to be adopted by both
parties. Each was to force a huge, tabular rock far
enough across the gorge to allow them to leap across.

the cunning of the rascals was sufficient for every-

thing. Ponderous bowlders were in readiness to roll
uplon the end, and preServe the rocks in their places
w ile the miscreants passed over.

In spite of our hero s most vigilant efforts, the sav-
ages succeeded in pushing these partial bridges far
enough to answer their mrpose, without affording
him achance to pick o one of their number. By
means of bushes, and by keepii themselves behind
the bowiders they were rolling, t re placed it out of
his power to harm a single one. T 1e oint was now
reached which was to decide the con est. All that
remained was for the Indians to cross.

alarming the rest, and there was not one who dared
ex' "is himself to his aim. They now endeavored,
by every artifice in their power, to draw a shot from
h lll, their intention being to rush across before he
could have time to reload. The adventurer under-
stood this, and made his resolution to reserve his fire
until the last moment, not using it until he was com-
pelled to.

Now and then a bronzed head would rise to view
and then flit out of sight again; and one or two,
bolder than the rest, sprun to their feet, brandish-
ing their tomahawks over t ieir heads, and lea in
about so as to distract his aim. Once adark

several minutes, as if to invite a shot; but Nat was
too shrewd to imagine that any real savage would
expose his skull in such a maxmer. He preserved his
silence with provoking coolness.

At last an ndian s rung up and essayed to run out
upon the lid of rock, at ropped quickly behind one
o the bowlders. This stra 'em well-nigh brought
the wished-for shot from on hero. 7
praising the trigger when the savage whisked out of
mg .

above him and was repeated at both places sev-
eral times. The game at this point assumed an ex-
citing character. Nat knew it was the easiest
thing in the world for these red-skins to leap across,
and he believod the
tired or not.
each knew it would be instant death to one of them;
and these demonstrations were continued, each one
hopin his friend would commit suicide for the bene-
fit of is race.

He watched the visages of both, until he saw one

resolved to make the attempt. But he was not given
the opportunity. While in the very act of starting
he gave afrenzied ell and leap in the air pierced
, through the breast y the bullet of Nat Tod .

A loud howl rent the air, and the forms of five
dusky red-skins rose in view. The foremost, without
hesitation, ran out on the ed 6 of the rock and
made a bound outward; but w e in mid-air he gave
a death-shriek, and doubling up like a ball, went
spinnin down the chasm.

The 0 hers paused in astonishment at this second
shot, while Nat hurriedly reloaded his rifle. Scarce
a moment elapsed before he fired the second time
among them. and his own shot was echoed by that
of another from an unknown quarter, and two sav-
ages bit the ground at the same instant. This was
too much for the Indians, who really believed the
Evil Spirit was upon the opposite side of the gorge,
and they scattered and fled as if he pursued them.

The consternation of the sav was no greater
than the amazement of Nat Tocd at such an un-
looked-for assistance. Two fatal shots besides his
own had been fired, and they had saved him.

“When I pulled trigger the first time I asked the
Lord to reserve me. He has done it, and I thank
him for t!" said he, reverently. “ Still some human
hand has been used to do it, and he must be around;
so I‘ll hunt him up."

This was easier said than done.
time limpi around the rocks, and searc ug for his
unknown f end. But it was of no avail, an at last
he shouted:

“Hello, whoever you are! Come out and show

ourself. It’s Nat Todd you’ve befriended; he wants

0 see you. ’

A sup ressed laugh reached his ear. Wheeling
around 9 saw a large, powerful-looking man, dress~
ed in the garb of a trapper, leaning on a long rifle,
leisume aurve him.

“ Heaven save meI if there ain't BILL anox then
my name isn’t Nut '1. odd!” '

, .

c; :IAPTER vm.
. m was run JABRATIVE was new man
“How a!" or Hamil;ng Biddon, extending. V '
. his huge ban toward our hero. .

He 5 ant a long

i

 

assume an air of determination. This Indian had i

. .. .. M--.“

“Why, well, and nearly crazy with jo at seeing
you here ag’in. What brought you out n this part

1 of the world?"

it was ,

while the arrow glanced over him and shot away in ,

There was no timber of any size in the vicinity, but ,

“What brought erself? I s‘pose we‘ve both got
a little story to tel , and so let‘s jis‘ git under cover
somewhar’ and have a powerful talk. No fear of the
reds now,” added the trapper, with a chuckle, as he
moved away. .

It cost Nat pain to keep pace with him, and he was
cpm elled, at last, to cry out for him to walk more
ls‘ UVV '.

“ hat's the matter?" queried the trapper, turn-
ing toward him. "They didn’t get one of them an
rers in yer, did they?"

“No; I took a pretty long jump and got bruised
somewhat. I wasn‘t much afcared of their arrows."

“ You wasn‘t, eh?" asked Bill Biddon, as he licked
u the one which had been discharged Nat.
“ 'asn’t much afeared of ’em eh? Do on see that
reddish stuff on the pint of this arrer- lead? Wal,
sir, ei‘ that had pricked yer skin, you’d ‘a‘ swelled up
like a rizzly, and at last bu‘sted. 002 why? Its
their-an 'est of pizen. Shoot the imps! I know thar
tric ’s.“

The trapper led the way some distance further,

‘ when be halted before what seemed the face of a

The fatal shot of Nat bad the effect of thoroughly ‘

solid rock. He turned around, carefully scrutinizing
eVery rock and bush visible; when, apparently satis-
fied, he paSsed a few feet further, then made a short
turn and suddenly disappeared, leaving Nat in the
most unbounded astonishment.

“Come in, come in!" said the gruff voice of Bid-
don, sounding from the cavernous recess of the rock.
“Come in, come in, or one of them pizened arrers
might hit you."

‘ Yes, yes,” repeated Nat, with an involuntary

. start, for strange asit maylseem, the presei ce of the

' small opening, and he noticed, for the

al ‘
surmounted by a gaudy tuft, remained in plain sight -

His finger was .

A moment after the same thing took place ‘

Th intende to filth“ whetherhhe 1
e on trou e wit mm was t at a
y ‘ ’bout J arscy and the gal he’was after? Did they git

i

 

taken by reds as b’lo

r made im less coura ous than

formidab e tra
P es, yes; but how is the t ing to be

when alone.
done?"

The face of his companion now ap cared at a
. rst time, a
peculiar longitudinal aperture, through which it
seemed impossible to force a human body. When
attempted, however, it proved an easy matter. He
found himself standing in a small, narrow cavern,
lighted by openings at either end. Beaver and otter-
skins hung around, and the apartment looked very
comfortable.

“ Is this your lodging-place i" asked Nat.

“Yas, sir; this is the place where Ore on Sol has
slept for a long time' but he‘s give up t e business
in these parts, and o ered me his house to rent.”

“ Oregon Sol! Do you know him?”

“ Wagh! Does we know each other? Me and him
war" born in the same house in Boonslick county
Missouri, on the same night, and growed up aside 0
each other fora dozen years, fightin’ and quarrelin‘
as much as if we war' brothers: We hadn‘t either of
us any brothers or sisters, and 801‘s iarents (as they
call ’em) went under as soon as he earnt to go on
his pegs. I’urty soon mine did the same and we
fined and went with a lot of trappers, and have been
'nocking ’round the 'arth ever since. Kit Carson
was born in the same place, the year after us, but, in
course, he was a little shaver when we left. But,
shoot me, I‘m talkin‘ too much. Know anything

off, or what's come of 'em?’

“I saw them get on a steamboat on the Yellow
stone, and I suppose they are somewhere in the
States married, and enjoyin themselves as much as‘

ssible. That uts me in m ml of the message they
eft for you. c and lmogene told me, if I ever
came across you, to give you their undyin love and
to ask you to go down in their parts an live with
em.“

“Jersey kinder walked into my affections, and I
should like to shake the feliar‘s w a ‘in: and that
little Imogene, (bless her, if I don t thin she‘s a sperit
Ket,)1’d go along tramp to see her give me one of

er purty grins.
I can’t bear the clearin’s, and I spect Jamey has got
me in some thar books or newspa rs down tbar’.
I’d kinder like to see how Bill B d on would look in
a book. and see somethar picters of 'im. Jarsey
told me he was goin’ to do it, and I s’pose the teller
has. How comes it that you’re here? ’ .

“Well, you remember there were two girls who
escaped t at massacre at which you were present
some years ago.“

it Yas'!)

“Well, you know Relmond has gone off with one
of these.’

“ Yas, I know it.“

“And the other has never been found.”

“ No, I b’lieve not." , .

" And that she may still be living."

“ P’raps so.” ,

“ at an rate, there is as much reason to believe
she is as ere was to believe Imogene was before
she was seen.’

“ Yas shoot me if that ain‘t so."

“Well, Imogene told me, before goin East, that,
she always believed that Ir ster. and a

ene, her
lovely maiden, was captured by Indians, who went

‘

toward Ore on with her.”

“What 0 that?"

“ Well, Oregon Sol, who was down at Brown‘s Hole
when I left there, told me that a year or two 0 he
saw a captive white girl up in these moun 1,311:
Don‘t you think there is some reason to believe t
that captive'is Irene Merment?"

Y , sir
“That lathe reason I am here. I am looking for

r. .
“ You said the other gal b'lieved the other one was
ed to these parts?" .
She o remark thattome. ‘ u > a ,
“ Wal, sir, 82:6 waa right!" a 

But I never ’x ect to see ’em ag’in. ‘

' I

 

Hillartm

 

 

 

“ She was right! How do you know that, Biddon‘!“

" Bill Biddon hain‘t tramped the Erairies for thirty

ears for nothin‘. Ef he can‘t te whar‘ a red be-
ongs, even ef it is night when he sees him, then you
may 3 oot me. When them reds came down on us
that night, I knowed they war‘ from three different
tribes, and knowed one of. these tribes b'longed to
Oregon, and I‘ve long s‘picioned the gal was taken
by the Oregon ones.
war” gone under long ago. She war’ more tendernor
Jersey‘s, and didn‘t seem built right to stand the
weather. You say old Sol told you he‘d see‘d such a
gal  these parts once ‘1“

t H ‘l

“Wal, he told me the same thing, and that's one
reason wh I ‘11:. here. Howsumever, afore going
further, let s hear the news ‘bout yourself, beginnin'
with the time when you give us the slip on t 1e Yel-
lowstone."

Nat thereupon related what the reader has prob-
ably learned in another volume, and at its close,
asked:

“ Now, Biddon. let me hear your history.“

“ I hain‘t got much to tell. s‘ ose Jarsev told you
‘bout me up to the pint whar‘ went off with the
brigade ?‘ ’

‘ Yes, he related that." .

“Wal, I went up to the Selkirk settlement With
them tellers, and they give me a rousin‘ pile of
money and trinkets for the furs I got ‘em, and then
very perlitely told me my name was down on thar
books, and I was app‘inted to go to one of thar forts
called Ill cross,* ‘bout fifteen thousand miles further
north. w r‘ I was to trap for seventy-five or eighty

But it allers seemed to me she '

 

' Nat Todd.

n

 

off, ill/ending no! to spare a single one! You see I 911- i

trapped them. You came along and helped me, for

which I‘m much obliged.“ I

A broad smile illumiued the trapper’s visage, as I
our hero ended his remarks.

“ Shoot me. Nat, you‘re a qua‘r beaver. I used to i

think you‘s "fear-wt of red-skins, and I kinder think i

|

t

I

so yit. But when a teller would expect you to own
up squa‘r and knock under, you're sure to give some
reason that nobody ever thought on. Howsumevcr,
I've taken a like for yer, Nat and 1 offers you a
grip of my aw. When Bill Iiiddon does that he ‘
memo- if, ant he's your friend as long as his top-knot i
is on his uoddle.” ‘ I
The two 'ras ed hands, and sealed forever the, I
friendship t. iey lad long entertained for each other. ‘
“Bill,” said Nat, “down at Fort Hall this letter I
was given me. Since seeing you. I‘ve thought per- ',
haps you wrote it.“

“ Let me see it.“

The trapper took the letter and fumbled itawk-
wardly, and examined the writing with a curiosit
similar to that with which a scholar would scrut -
nize some unknown hierogl phic.

“Ar‘ them what you cal lei/fem.” he asked, put-
ting his tinger on them.

"Certainly; can‘t you write, Biddon?"

“Me write! Wagh! 'l‘hem crooked things looks
like mashed bugs to me, and allers did. Me and Ore-
gon Sol went to school one day down in Missouri, but
the teacher wasn‘t there, and we hadn‘t no books,-s0
you see our edication was limited. lcan‘t see how
them jiggers can speak, but I s'posc they docs. Just
read ‘cm."

 

._... n . .. . _. . ..

 

directed me. It is 110w rather late in the afternoon.
Shall we show ourselves again to-da i"

“ I will crawl out pretty soon and kc observation.
That jump of yours—which I allow was some—«‘peam
to have lamed you a little, and I s‘pose you‘ll want.
to rest your bones.“

“Yes, I shouldn‘t mind it. If you‘re going out,
keep a shar .) eve for the infernal rascals."

“ Varh! on t be ai’eared of liill Biddon. [was
out loo 'in’ at the Weather when I heard your ride

1 crack, and I knoWed thar‘ war‘ whites ‘hout, and like

enough in dimculty with the reds. so I crawled
around and soon see‘d how things stood. In coursl‘
ldidu‘t know ‘twas vou but. I made up my mind to
give ‘em a taste of Bill liiddon, thinkiu‘ as how they
might be pryin' round after my traps, if I didnt
scare ‘em a little.“

"Do you think you‘ve given them such a fright
that they will not disturb you again?“

“ Wa i! wngh! I give ’em a powerful scare, wal
I did: )ut I‘m afeared it wont last long. They
thought awhile ago they‘d come across the Old Boy
himself, but after they've talked over the matter, in
course they‘ll know who it war, and I shouldn‘t won~
der cf they‘d burn us or root us out.“

"What was it they did to frighten Oregon Sol
away?“

“ He wasn‘t exactly frightened away. Ef he had
wanted to stay, he‘d done it, sure, in spite of ‘em.
Wal, thar'! they filed a whole lot of brush in front
of him. and mm w! [rim (mi. He stood it as lon as
he could, when he blazed amon ‘em, and settin up
a yell, tore right through the w iole pack, smashln‘
a dozen heads, Jist to leave his mark among ’em‘

 3ft”  -fl

V ’ TN

\

I. " ‘ ‘ . ‘5 '
, 3 __ Q ' / \
’ ~;_\ “‘ \ch V \
\Q . -\. _\ ‘ i ,,
\   A35

THE TRAPPER FOLLOWED THE MOTION OF ONE OF THE HORSES FOR A MOMENT, AND THEN FIRED.

yvears, and they'd give me another pile of money.
aghl I told em, jist as perlitely, they might o to
the devil and slingin' my gun over my shouh er, I
step ed down to Oregon and called on Sol who told
me ' ut that gal, and I‘ve staid hyer lookin‘ round
for her ever Since."

“Have you learned anything of her?" eagerly
asked Nat.

“Yes, summat. Them Injins as come so near
wipin‘ you out, I'm gurty sure have got her, and I
.shouldn’t wonder of t a ’s the reason why they’re so
afeard an of the boys should come round hyer.
They smo ed Sol out, and he advxsed me not to sta
here; but I’s bound to find out all ’bout that ga.
Do ypu know how many of the reds war‘ chasin’

on.

“About a dozen, I believe," replied Nat.

“ There war‘ jist eight, and one rifle would ’av’
scattered every one." _

Nat winced under this rebuke. of the trapper, but
with a cunning shrewdness re ed

1

h : .
“ You see the way of it was this: (here the speaker

placed the forefinger of his right hand very impres-
sively in the palm of his left); “ I hate Indians, es-
pecially them that hate me, which I believe include
all west of the Mississippi, and when these eight ras-
cals started after me, made up my mind to shoot
every one. Acco l I ran, so as to make them
follow me, or course. ust stepped over that gorge,
~ hopi they‘d all try to follow and break their nec .
But ey wouldn't, and so I commenced picking them

‘ Fort tIsle a la Crease a  in the Northern De-
en . I

 

 

Nat did so, when the contents instantl absorbed
the attention of Biddon. A long consn tation was
held between the two, in which the latter stated that
he had been in his present retreat but a few weeks:
but from “ signs," he was well satisfied that the In-
dians had a risoner among them of whom they
were extreme y jealous. They decided to remain in
their present quarters as long as they could hold
them, or until definite knowledge of the lost one
was obtained. The authorshi ) of the letter was as
great a myster ' as ever. Bitidon said, from what
Oregon Sol had told him he believed there were per-
sons at the different forts who knew of the strange
captive, and who had conveyed their intelligence to
Nat either to mislead or to guide him—most probably
the latter. Who that person could be. or how he
learned the name of our hero, neither could divine.

“But Sol stated that it was near the canon of some
river “ remarked Nat.

“ J st keep still a minute."

As the two listened, a dull roaring, like the dis-
tant roll of the sea was heard.

“ What does tha mean?" queried Nat.

“ That‘s your kenyon.”

“ We are then in the vicinity to which Oregon Sol

 

"' A canon is a narrow, tunnel-like passage, throu h
which a river forces its way. Compressed with n
these walls, so close in some places as to be easily
lea over, the water rushes with inconceivable ve
loc ty. When viewed from the top, the river often
presents the appearance of one mass of foam and
Whirlpools, from which the mist ascend as if from
a vast waterfall.

 

5:5; ‘
\

v

k

 \ “‘

The rest took after, yellin‘ and screechin' like mad
and for a time thar’ war‘ some fun. But 801 known
how to use his pegs, and it didn‘t bother him at all
to give 'em the slip. He had trap ed selong hyer
that beavers were gettin’ scarce, and some rev. -skln,
that he‘d took a ike to, told him of agrcat place,
where l s‘pose he’s gone by this time." ,

“But he saw this lovely maiden but once, and it
was in another place.“

“ Yas, jist so; it was in anothcr place he see‘d her.
but not fur off and it war‘ the same imps that are
.round b er. hey travel round like turkles with
thar are S on thar backs. I met Sol down towafll
Fort all, and after hearin' of his story I made up
In mind to come hyer.“

‘ But, J erusalem! ain’t you running an awful risk t"

“ Yer qfeard f“

“ But then I’s thinkln'—you know-s
that—that you run the risk."

“ Don't you see the reds see‘d Sol leave, and as he
was the onl teller as has been in these parts fora
long time, ‘ wan‘t noways likely they’d 'spect an.
other chap right off to step into his tracks, and taln’t
likely the 'd ever found i out of I‘d kept shady a!“
let ‘em w pe you out.“

Shortly after this Blddon went out.

 

CHAPTER IX.
IN wmcn wanna 181A HOUSEWARIINO, 4 Vision m
- A ruam. \’

Ir was dark when Biddon returned and after
several minutes' unlm iortant conversat 0n, the two

lay down to rest. In t 8 morning Nat found  . ‘

 

  

unable to walk, owing to the bruiscs mentioned; but

they were not of a dangerous character, and in a ‘

few days he was restored to his usual condition.
The trapper continued to engage, in his vocation,
more for the purpose of supplying the two with food,
and for passing awa time, than for anything clse.
In the meantime t e approach of winter was rapid.
The weather, in the course of a week, set in with the
most intense coldness, and the st rcams f reezing over
seriously impeded the success of the trapper. He

had, however, laid aside enough to supply all neces- '

Bury food through the winter, and, al things con-
sidered, their situation was by no means uncnviable.

One thing was a matter of su wise to both. Not a
sign of an Indian was seen, tlllt Biddon morc than
once stated that he believed the tribe had gone. into
winter quarters in some other section.
that they should follow them, but the trap n-r re-
marked that it might only be a st ratagcni to deceive
them. The Indian village was several miles away,

Nat proposed .

in a sort of valley or depression in the mountains. A ‘

winter such as in our more temperate sections is
rarely Witnessed, was approaching, and the advice

of Biddon that they should “keep out of sight and '

make themselves comfortable," was perhaps the
wisest that could be followed under the circumstair
.ces.

The winter, as may well be. supposed, was most
tedious to the two adventurers. Sometimes the snow
was whirled in blinding eddies through the gorges,
and for a mouth, lay several feet in depth, and the.
wal of their cavern home were as if made of solid
ice; but their abundance of furs, and the fuel with
which the ingenuity of the trapper supplied them,
was Sufficient for a 1
form of the latter might be. seen on the margin of
frozen streams, cautiously searching for beaver-
signs, or setting his traps for thc foxes that lurked
around them. On several occasions, Nat and Biddon

purposes. Sometimes the burly .

Half-Dime Library.

~uough to be on the look-out. I don't s’pose on
care about goin’ under jist now, ef the wipin‘ out ms
to be. done by the reds. As fur me, it don’t make no
(lift‘crcucewwn the last sickness comes, ’though I
should die hard of I thought In top-knot was ever
to hang in the lodge of a red-skin. There ain‘t no
one to cry when Bill Biddon goes. He has hunted a
long time ‘mong the peraries and is gettin’ so Well
‘long that the day can't be far off, and he ain‘t no-
wa 's skeerish about it. IIowsumevcr, as Is sayin',
‘tam’t noways likel ' you‘ve a hankeriu‘ to go under
jist now and so we‘l take. a look ‘round."

“Have you no means at hand to escape should an
attack be made?"

" You hear the roar of that kenyou? Wal, in under
the rocks there I've a canoe, and when the time
comes—cf it ever docs—when we can choose the way
in which we‘ll step out, that'll answer."

“ How, Biddon? I don‘t understand you.”

" ch can go down (he Imogen!"

“ Oh, thunder! that would be sure death.”

“ You‘ve hit the truth there efyou never did afore
though ‘taiu’t exactly the trut . either. You‘d stant
a chance of comin‘ out right—‘bout the same chance
that a painted Crow won (1 afore my shooter, after
I'd drawed bead on him!”

“ Narrow enough chance, in heaven's name! But,
Biddon, what do '011 )ropose to do ‘1”

“ We won‘t un erta ‘e nothin’ to-night but to-mor-
row we’ll s .nd the day in scoutin’. We‘ll find out
of that a ’s hyerabouts. Ef she is, we‘ll make a
dash fur tor; and ef she isn’t—why she isn‘t."

A long consultation was held that evening be-
tween the two friends, and their course of action de-
termined upon. It was decided that the first point

. was to ascertain whether the one. for whom they

ventured out upon these excursions during moou- ‘

light nights, when the crusted snow sustained their
weight without leaving a trail. Their footsteps echoed

with a noise that, in thc intcnse stillness, could be i

heard at a great distance; while, now and then, the
long, dismal howl of the droves of famished wolves
pierced the night-air with a chilling pOWer.

he long nights, Biddon often whiled away the hours

While, in turn. Nat gave many of his own adVentures
in Lubec, including his love-affair

to the reader. Not an Indian trail,
lo , dreary winter, was discovered by the trapper,
an they remained unmolested by man or animal.
Nat was often startled when he reflected upon his
temerity in thus venturinginto the mountains alone.
He had not the remotest suspicion of ever encoun-

’ . cape upon her own part.
During ‘

were searching was in the tribe. Despite the circum-
stances pointing that way, there still was good reason
to doubt this all-int )ortant fact. Were shc present,
however, they coultl hope for no success unless they
should discover some means by which first to commu—
nicate with her, assure her of the existence of hcr
Sister and the efforts being made to restore her to
civilization and thus awaken a natural desire to es-
Could they succeed in this,
there was ever reason to hope for entire success,

_ _ _ _ ; although, as t e iralppor intimated, the suspicion
in relating reminiscences of his wonderful career, ‘

and vigilance of the ndians would be so great as to

. make it a work of the greatest peril.

already familiar I
through all the ‘

In the. morning the two ventured forth, taking op-
posite directions. The vegetation was so abundant
toward the base of the mountains that every facilit

. was afforded for concealment, and they had litt e

fear of detection. Biddon proceeded in awesterly

| direction, intending to pass around and rcconnoiter

tering Bill Biddon again, and had he been left with- ‘
out a companion, he would either have had to perish ‘,

by starvation or cold, or throw himself 11 on the hos-
pitality of the savages, where it is not to expected
1e would have fared any better. ,

But at last, the winter wore away, and the beauti-
ful, radiant spring dawned upon them. The moun-
tains echoed with the sound of a thousand rills and
streams, the rivers burst their icy barriers, with a
shock like the noise of thunder, and vegetation
s>rung forth as if by magic. So sudden was the
c iange that, as Nat step d forth from the cave one
clcarmoming, it seemot as if he were in a land of
enchantment.

The time had now come for action. The warm, ‘

genial climate uns ed 1) ' any in the world, the
exuberant foliage were avorable. Biddon re-
turned, one evc rig, to the cave, from a sort of
scouting ex e'lition with which he had occupied him—
self durin he day. _

“What ve you learned?" asked Nat, as he no-
ticed a )eculiar expression upon the trapper’s face.

“ Wa , I have learnt a little, but s‘picioned a heap.”

“What is it? Let me know.”

" I’s out around takin’ observations, as them fellers
from the settlements say, this afternoon, when I
come onto the Ingin village. It’s down in a valley,
and it’s my opine they've arrove, ‘cause why: I‘ve
been alon there in the winter and didn’t see asingle
loddge. ey’ve wintered further up the mountains
on have jist come back."

“ Do you suppose they know we are here?“

“ I uess they ain‘t sure, but they s’picion it."

“ ygo you think so?"

“I hav come across a dozen trails, and b’lieve
they’re huntin’ fur us. Ef they ha ) n to find one
of my traps, it’ll be all they want. ey’ll be down
on us in a twinklin’."

“ Do they know our hiding-place?”

“This is the same place used b Oregon Sol, you
must mind, and it ain‘t noways ikely they‘ll miss
takin’ the first fiep in h ar to see how things look.”

“Then we‘ll in a ct place before we know.
Suppose they do surround us, what will we do?”

“ tay till we git smoked out, and then make a
run for it.”

“But can‘t we get away from them?”

“ aghl that’s ’cording to how fast your
move ’though I think the chances are good of
your ha’r raised.”

“ My gracious, Bidd on i” exclaimed Nat, in conster-
patio‘n, ‘ we must arrange things differently from

“ Afeard!” asked Biddon, with a piercing look. _

“ Of course not—certainly not. My great objec-
tion Biddon, you see, is this: if the undertake to
lino e as out, it is more than likely t ey will smoke
us to death, and I am sure there is no need of letting
them do that. We won‘t be able to get away from
them, either, with our eyes half bhnded and our
clothes singed off of us!"

The trapper indulged in a hearty laugh before re-

n :
prgu’i-o a trump, you is Hommever, it’s well

gs
giEtein‘

the village from the outside, while Nat concluded to
lie OR in the woods and view matters from a dis-
tance. The latter made his way cautiously down the
mountain, and entered the woods without encoun-
tering any suspicious object. Here the glorious foli-
age and the pleasant air were so tempting that he
wandered through the forest, almost forgetting the
object that brought him thither. Ile crossed small
streams of water, which came down in cascades from
the mountain, and flowed over their pebbly beds like
liquid mountain-air, in which the fish, dartin hither
and thither, resembled flashes of gold ant silver.
The forest-arches echoed with the songs of thou-
sands of birds; the sky overhead, as blue as Italy’s
was flecked bya few drifting clouds; the air ad
that peculiar clearness which renders it doubly ex-
hilarating. Nat wandered onward, like a boy lost in
enchantment, until noon, when he suddenly noticed
that he had passed the Indian village by several
miles. Stat-tied by this discovery, and withal a little
ashamed, he immediately turned to retrace his way.
Having now no fascination to make the mind insen-
sible to what the body was doing, the distance seem-
ed astonishingly great. But a ter a few hours of
hurried walk, he caught sight of the Indian lod es,
nestling down in the valley like a lot of hives, w ile
the bees were swarming around the outside and
through the adjoining forest. Nat now and then
can ht a sight of the warrriors, glittering in their
gau y dress like so many tropical birds, flit-
ting hither and thither in a manner that warned
him to be cautious of his movements as he
approached the vicinity of the village. While
proceeding thus, he stumbled upon a. scene
that made him recoil in astonishment. Several
trees, standing close together, were interlaced and
interwoven by vines in such a manner as to make a
natural arbor. Pressing between these vines, he
found the semblance from within more perfect than
from the outside. It seemed as thou h art must have
assisted at some time in forming sue a beautiful re—
treat—more especially as the interior had the ap-
pearance of being fitted up for the abode of some
one during the su t noont de hours. But Nat had
seen such wonderfi doings of Nature in the wilds of
the North-west, that it would have required a most
extraordinary demonstration upon her part to have
shaken his belief in her potency. The present scene
was so invitin , and the air so cool, that he concluded
to rest himse for a while before continuing his re-
connoiterings—or, more properly, commencing them.
Had he taken the precaution to examine more closely
the network of vines around him, he would have dis-
covered such evidences of the hand of man asto have
made him careful about hesitating long enough even
to view the arbor, much less to trust his body within
it for an hour or two. But no such suspicion entered
his mind; and, seating himself upon a curious-look-
ing object, he gave himself up to the enjoyment of
the scene around.

As might be expected, he fell asleep! A half-hour
after enterin , he rolled off his seat upon the leaves
without w ng, and continued his slumbers as

peacefully as if in his own house at home. An hour
passed thus, when he awoke, and gazed with

bewil~

 

 

' \

dered look around. He recalled in a moment this
circumstances b ' which he was surrounded, and was
about to rise ant pass out, when he was startlct'! by
a vision so unexpected, so astounding that we must
digress a moment to describe it in full.

At the opening by which he had entered, stood a
person whom it would have required no great effort
of the imagination to fancy a being just dropped
'from the skies. Her dress was purely Indian in
character, with all the dazzling contrasts of color
and costly abundance that characterizes the costume
of a princess. The hair was black and flowing, and
was surmounted by a wreath, in which clustered
such a number of eagle-feathers of the most brilliant
dyes as to give it the appearance of the plumage of
one of those wondrous birds of the Orient. A shawl
of the hue of blood, spanglcd by all the curious de
vices that an Indian’s ingenuity could suggest, fell
from the shoulders to the feet, and was 0 en enough
in front to reveal a dress of green and b ue, figured
and wrought after the manner which a savage sor-
cerer sometimes evinces. The leg ings were of the
most tasteful kind moccasins sum 1 and ornamented
by beads and trinkets. As she stood, the left hand
was closed over the right shoulder so as to grasp the
folds of the shawl an sustain it in its place, while
the right arm was raised, and the fingers were ex.
tended as if in horror. The eyes were intensely black
and glowing, the mouth partly (ripen, and one foot
slightly in advance of the othcr. ic apparition of a
white man seemed to have tramflxcd hcr with a
species of terror, and she rcmaincd as motionh ss as
a statue. When this being first burst upon Nat s
vision, he started, recoiled, and then gaml at it as
if fascinated. He examined the gorgeous dress. tlw
form and the features. Ilenoticcd the dark cyes and
hair, the nuall, slightly Roman nose, the finely-cut
lips, and glowin throat: and then, as if enthralled,
asked scarccl a ove a whisper:

“ Are you rene Merment?"

No pen can describe the amazement that depicted
upon the face of the girl at hearing her name [To—
nounccd. Looking at ier questioncra moment. as
if her gaze would enter his very soul, she in turn
asked:

“Who are you?”

“ Nat Todd.”

“ Why are you here!"

“ I have come, fair one, for on.”

Irene fixed that burning 100 of hers upon the ad-
venturer until he hit like sinking to the earth.

“What does this mean?” she asked, speaking like
r no in a reverie. “ Am I dreaming, or iavc I lit ard
in name pronounced by one of m ' own race?"

‘It is you, thcn?” raid Nat, ‘and I shallbc re-
wardcd for coming this great distance.”

Then seemingly gaining his usual sanguine feel'
ings, he added, wit a glowing countenance:

‘ And your name is Irene Meiment, is it?”

“It is—and how came you to know. it?"

“ We‘ll come to that by-and-by " he re] lied. “ Bil!
Biddon and myself (more cspccia ly niyielf) are here.
after you.” ' . _ _

While Nat was speaking, the fair girl gared at hn.
as if she doubted his sanity. Several times he no
ticed, too, that she glanced furtively around, as
though she feared the a} 1 roach of itmc cne.

“ But," said she, “ W! hat do you wish of me? ’

It liked to have 51in ((l hat‘s mouth l.cl‘ore he
thought; but it C(‘(lll'lttl to him it was rather early
in their acquaintance to make the all-important an-
swer.

“We want to take you fr(m these outlandish .ras
calsto the land of civilization, wheie you may see
your friends.”

“Me—I have no f1 iends but these Indians.”

“Beg vour Iaidcn, the test fxiuid you‘ve got in
the world stands Lefore you; and haven‘t you got a
sister?” _

“I had once. If she is living, the is, like me. a
ca itive. I never expect to see her until I mect he:
in eaven.”

“You’re all wrong again. I‘ve F( en vour sister
Imogene; the is married to a It llcw I cmcd Relmond,
from down kwaid New Jciuy. He is lathersofb
like, but they’re hau'y for all tint. Han y, most,”
1 expect to l.e \\ hen—”

He finished the sentence by a tuming blush and
cough. Irene iunzed as ale as (hath, but mastered
her terrible (motion, at atlfld:

“Is this tine? L0 tell ne all. But I fear for you.
If the ludians see you. )cu “ill 1e killed.”

“There are vanous (pinicns alcut that,” replied
our hero, tcnfidently. 'H( “cur. the story must
be given. A number of years ago, all of your fami
ly, except yourself and sister, wue muidered on the
plains, by the all-flied savages. hub of you were
taken captive, and married (ff ty different tribes.
Your sister, Imogene, was rescued from captivity
by myself, assisted by Biddon, \\ ho was ‘our guide
at the time cf the massacre, and “1:0 is ere now-—
assisted b him, I say, and Rclmmd, who is gone
East with er and married her. Iheard her speak
of you. and I made a solemn vow to find out your
fate. The Lord directed me here, and I’ve found
you at last. Me and Biddon have been huntingall
over the mountains for you, and here, instead cf
finding on, you have found us. Will you not return
with usll’

“Yes, yes; I could not live here now that I know
my onl. earthly relative is living. I would die—l
e. '

She covered her face and ve wa to her emotion
for a time, while Nat busi himse f with surveying
her wonderful dress, admirin her faultless form,
and conjuring up a hundred w ld schemes of escap

th her. Soon she looked up.

‘ Are you and Biddon the two white
remained in the mountains this winter

“ Yes; how did you know we were here?"

men who havo
9

 

 

b...

“The Indians have suspected it, although they did
not know where it was you remained. Oh, my friend!
you are in great danger.”

“ Where? What is it?”

i should enter and separate the bushcs.

Nat Todd. 7

which he and Nat had concealed themselves afford-

ed them a perfect screen, and there was no dan er

of their being seen by any passer-by, unlliessh 8
c a

“The savages have watched the mountains for you 1 chosen a point so near the canon to avail them in

along time, and they have found, at last, where on
stay, and they are going to kill you. They will 0 it
if you are not careful. Oh! I saw them kill a white
man once whom they found here, and the tried to
get another one. They set a fire all arounr the cave
n which he had hid himself, and tried to make him
come out that way. He set up a yell and ran right
through the fire and got away from them after all.

Oh! I was so lad I spent the whole night in thank- ,

ing the blesser God for it. He was the same man I

once warned of danger several years before. Do

not go back to your cave to-night, for they will kill
on ‘

“But I must find Biddon.”

“ Do not sleep there, then.”

“There’s no danger of my sleeping anywhere to-
night! I’ll go right off and see him now—but hold on,
he exclaimed, wheeling and facing Irene, “ how
about you’re going with us?"

“I must see you again,” she replied, in a low tone,
and with such an accent as to show that it had been
years since she had used her native tongue.

“I have it!” cried Nat, exultantly. “I will see
Biddon, and we’ll camp out in the woods somewhere
to-night, and I'll come around to this place to-mor-
row night, and we‘ll start for home right off.”

“ Have you horses?“

“Not one. I lost mine last fall, and some of your
Indians must have stolen Biddon's.”

“ I will try and get some and bring them here, and
oh may Heaven help me!“
adéjhea trembled like an aspen as she spoke, and soon

e :

“Go now to our friend, and I entreat you to be
careful. Oh! t is can not be reality!——it is—it is!
God grant that I may yet see my long-lost sister!"

The next minute she was gone, and Nat, gazing a
moment in vain to catch a fglimpse of her. turned al-
so and de arted. Hardly ve minutes had ela sed
when the ushes parted within a dozen feet of w ere
the had been standing, and the crouching form of
an ndian rose to view. His face was distorted with
passion, for he had witnessed the interview just re-
corded; and although not a word was understood,
the wily savage read their meaning in their faces
and gestures. He bent his head as if listening, and
then disappeared as stealthily as he had come.

In the mean time Nat made his way toward the
cavern, his heart throbbing tumultuously with his
newly-awakened hope, and. with the numerous
schemes he conjure u to escape the fury of the
savages. It was alreadp growing dusk, andkwhile
yet some distance from t eir rendezvous he heard a
rustlin in the bushes, and before he could divine its
cause, iddon stood beside him.

“ Don’t go any nearer the rocks!” he admonished,
in a whisper. .

" Why, what’s the trouble?" ,

“They’ve found us out at last, and it‘s in private
opine there’ll be some fun to-n' ht. Jist sgep back
hyer a little further in the woo s and we’ll talk the
thing over. Now," asked the trapper, “what have
you seen?"

7 Nat related every particular of his interview with
.rene.

“ Just what I ex cted,” added Biddon. “You
orter knowed more t an to go asleep in that place—”

“ But you see I wanted to find out how the thing
worked, and if I hadn’t I wouldn’t have seen the
lovely maiden—” .

“ I know,” interrupted Biddon, with a slight
chuckle; “it’s happened to come out_right, but on
orter knowed better. I’ve been peekin’ round t eir
village, and soon found out_ by the way things looked
that they's up to some deViltry, and long atore night
I knowed it war our place they’d sot eyes on. As I
said afore the '1! be thar’ to-night.”

“And what’ we do?"

“We’ll lay off. Foller me as still as a snake.”

The trapper led the way further u the mountaln
until he reached a point several hun red yards from
the canon of which we have before spoken, and
about a furlon from the cavern which, up to this
time, had been t eir quarters. Here they halted be-
fore a cluster of buffalo-berry bushes. Both, on
their hands and knees, crept a dozen feet into the
densest ortion, where they nestled down like a
con le 0 rabbits.

“ BVhat is this for?" asked Nat, in a whisper.

“ You see, there’s gomg to be somewhat of a moon
tonight, and when they don’t find us among the
rocks, they’ll make a Search around it fur us, fur
the ‘re bound to either hft our ha’r or skear us out
of t ese parts.” ”

“ But won’t they find us here?

“ They won‘t look so far as this to-night and if we
can lay out of sight till tO-morrow night, they’ll
think we've left for good, and we‘ll have the next

' ht to do the business for ’em.
at saw the meaning of the course taken by the
trapper.

e latter hoped to escape the eyes 0f the Savages
by the very boldness of his stra em. He had
found, during the day, that his tra _3 ad been visat-
ed, and had very good reason to be eve their retreat;
in the rocks was suspected. He knew that a search
would be made through the adjoining forest and
mountains; and where the savages were acquainted
with every nook which could conceal a. human body,
there was little cause to hope they would escape
their vision. They might have made a retreat of
several miles in the manntains, and thus avmded
them until they could venture in the vicinity of the
village again; but the reckless tra er chose a
bolder and more perilous artifice. e thicket in

 

their last extremity should a discovery take lace.

The sat an hour or so conversin ' in w is ers,
when a at felt the hand of Biddon p aced sud( only
upon his shoulder, and heard his whispereaexclama-
tion:

‘5  I”

A bright, lurid glare filled that uarter of the
heavens over the cavern which ha so lon been
their home and a pile of blazing brush, sen ing its
Cinders high in the air, was raging around the rock
itself.

“The imps ar‘ at work, but they’ve missed thar
scalps this time." . .

The. lndians had waited until late at night before
commencing their work. At that. time they judged
their victims would be aslce 1 within the cave, totally
unsuspicious of danger. heir reparations were
made with the utmost secrecy. uge piles of brush
were heaped around the cave unti it was literally
covered with it. The most darin of their number
could not be induced to enter t ie cave in the face
of the two rifles and knives they supposod to be
within it. . _

The torch was apglied to the brush m a dozen dif-
ferent places at e same moment; and, as the
forked flames shot upward, half a hundred throats
rent the air with exn taut ells. From their hiding-

lace the two whites cou d see the shadowy forms
ea ing and tiin ing their limbs, like demons in some
he] ish revel. he savages expected their victims
would either remain within the cave until suffocated
to death, or until the were conipellcd to rush out in
gheir frenzy, when t was intended to tonialiawk

em.

“ B’ars and beavers! wouldn‘t it do me good jist
to make one or two of them imps bounce alittle
higher?" remarked Biddon, Pointing his rifle through
the bushes and letting the g earn of the fire fall upon
the barrel.

“I wouldn‘t try it, Biddon “ pleaded Nat. “ I
wouldn‘t try it at all; it niigh be dangerous—dan-
gerous to the Indians, I mean."

“ That’s jist what Biddon was thinking."

“ Yes—I was goin to say so—but I wouldn‘t do it
Biddon. Let them t iink we‘re in there all the time.‘

“ Oh! I ain‘t such a fool as to fire as the case stands
now.”

The sava es continued dancing and yelling until
morning. he fire was continu. ly replenished and
kept raging; and, when duyli 'lit dawned upon them,
they were satisfied their victims were already dead.
The pile of glowing coals was now raked away from
the entrance, and three Indians bounded within with
drawn knives. Instantly after a bowl of baffled fury
was heard as they saw the whites had escaped. The
a artment was filled with smoke and the intolerable
s ench of the burning peltrics, and it was this which
had been mistaken for that of human bodies. The
savages, overcome by the sickening smell, darted out
again and reported the whites gone. Another search
was hurriedly made by others, which, of course, con-
firmed this fact.

A consultation was now h"ld, and it was agreed
they had been deceived. The two men could not have
eluded them after the cave was surrounded. They
must have discovered the intentions u on them and
fled. The Indian who had witnessed he interview
between Nat and Irene had imparted it to others,
who were thus convinced that the were still lurking
in the vicinity. Just what Bid on predicted too
place. The savages determined to spend the_day in
searchin the mountains and forest, and to discover
and sacrifice them. .

Biddon, in his concealment, read this resolve in
the actions of his enemies, and assured Nat that the
critical time was coming. If they could remain se-
cure until dusk, he was satisfied of success. They
would then steal out and meet Irene at the place ap-
pointed but if discovered—

“ We’ make a. dash for the ken on. My canoe is
there, and we’ll be out of their sifi it in a twinklin‘.
We couldn’t make a run throng these mount
without losin’ our ha’r. ”

So that was determined. Now and then Biddon
parted the bushes with his rifle so as to afford him
a view of what was oing on. t such times he could
see some of the Indians hunting round the rock, and
he right] judged there were others scattered
through t ewood. With characteristic thoughtful-
ness, the trapfier had brought some beaver-meat
with him, whic the peril of their situation did not
prevent from being enjoyed.

The forenoon wore away without any alarming
circumstance occurrin . On three several occasions
Biddon had detected t e presence of their enemies
by applyin his ear to the ground and hear-in their
footsteps; ut all assed awa , and they h good
reason to believe t e crisis h gone by.

“I don’t believe the fools have the slightest
thoiights of our being here,” remarked Nat, exult-
ant .

Biddon instantly started, bent his head to the
ground, and whispered:

“It‘s all up! we must make a run!"

“Why? they haven’t seen us."

“ I heard a red-skin’s step the minute you spoke
and I know he heard you speak. He’s gone to go
the others."

“Jerusa—"

“ Foller me, and use your pegs!"

He crawled hastily to the edge of the thicket and
paused an instant.

“Yonder’s the infernal imp, and he‘s gettin’ ’em

fast. Come, Nat Tod of you go under, ou‘ll have
the pleasure of kno ’ ’twa’n t nobody a fault but

 

11

...V r r _ .. N .. . .. I. 7 . _. _-.--._.;...J

yorIirdown. Keep close, don't make no noise. and d
as 0.“

As he spoke he started on a m id run, his heai
bent down almost to his knees. at followed in th(
same crouching manner. They had gained a dozen
yards when a yell, something similar to the dreaded

‘death-halloo," rose on the air, and a score of In~
dians sprung toward them. The trap er instant!
rose to an upri ht position and darted 'orward wit
the speed of he wind. Fortunately, there were
none of their enemies in their way, and they reached
the water several hundred yards in advance of all
pursuers. The trapper bounded over the rocks into
the boiling eddy in front of the canon. and disap-
peared from view. While Nat stood a trembling,
agonized s ectator he came out from beneath a
ledge of roc s, holdlng1 the prow of a canoe.

“Over with you!" e shouted, making his voice
heard above the thundering din of the waters.

Nat did not hesitate, but leaped out, going far
down into the caldron. As he came up he was seized
by Biddon—who had already entered the boat—and
hauled in.

“Hold fast or you’ll be throwed out!" screamed
the trapper.

The next instant the boat was seized by the resistv
less current as if it were an eg hell, and whirled in
between the rocks. As it dai forward with the
swiftness of a. bullet, Nat heard avoice as though
uttered miles away:

“The imps ’ll lose our ha’r after all thar trouble,
for they’ll never see us come out 0‘ this kenyon."

Turning he saw the trapper’s face glowi like a
spirit’s. All round was a e11 of foam—of ripping
rocks—of deafening thunder—of dizzying spinning
—of oblivion!

When the Indians reached the canon not a vestige-
of the whites was seen.

CHAPTER X.
IN WHICH rr is snows THAT rr is NOT ALWAYS 4
nan 'rnmo T0 “SPLIT rroa A ROCK."

THE canon was over a mile in extent. It wound
toward eve point of the compass throu h a mass
com ed 0 red sandstone and silicious 'mcstone.
Over end the walls almost touched in laces while
in others the fleetest horse could not ave leaped
them. The action of the waters, for untold centu-
ries, had hollowed out such a vast amount of the
solid material as to give it the appearance of a tun-
nel part! burst open at the top. The blindin spray
that con inually ascended from the turmoil 0 water
afforded only an occasional glimpse of what was be-
neath. In some places the current could be seen
niovin with a frightful calmness here and there a
spot 0 deep emerald green visible, while in others:
t e froth danced ga 'ly forward, the particles scem~
ing to repel each 01 er with a peculiar shuddering
motion.

Upon the disa pearance of the twain in this rag-
ing canon the ndians rushed forward and peered
downward at different points hoping to obtain a

llmpse of their bodies tossed from rock to rock.

e stern of the canoe, on! , was discovered as it
shot from sight. Once, a (ark body was seen to
whirl with an awful velocity, and then it was hid
from view by the mist and projecting cra s.

At the point where the canon issue from the
mountains, and spread out into a broad, limpid
stream, were stationed a score of warriors, waltin
to see the fragments of the canoe or the mangled
bodies of the whites. A couple of hours after, a
loud shout was raised as the canoe appeared bottom
upward. A during savage sprung in, and, swimming
until in calmer water, pulled the boat in. A minute
examination followed, revealing the fact that it was
split from stem to stern, and thrust through again
and again b ' the jagged oints of the rocks a amst
which it ha been cast. at no sign of the ras ad-
venturers was seen. The savages waited until dusk,
when, satisfied that their bodies were wedged in the
walls or séiinnln in the vortex of some whirlpool,
they with rew not contented that their scalps
were irrevocably gone, still relieved to know that a
dan erous enemy was efiectually extinguished.

N ght slowly settled over the mountain and wood.
The faint moon, obscured by the driftin clouds,
threw a host! and uncertain 1i ht over 1 e scene.
The Ind an vi age was uiet an motionless. Now
and then a dusky form fl tted into view, and was lost
again in the deep shadows. The continuous, thun-
dering roar of the canon was the only sound that
broke the solemn stillness that otherwise held reign.

Several yards from the commencement of the can-
on, a sha crag rojected nearly across the top. It
was on t is that the most venturesome of Indian
children often seated themselves, to the consterna—
tion of the more timid ones, as it was directly over
the fiercest art, and was ever dripping with the-
water dash a ainst it. Had asavage made it his
dut to watch t is point of the rock through the
nig t, he would have noted something unusual and

min .

Near En'dnight. a dark, circularline, like the coil of
a hoop-snake, shot upward Made this point and
dropped beneath. T is was repeated four times,
when, for the space of ten minutes no furthermove-
ment could have been noticed. At the end of that
time a slight a tation took place, and an instant
after, a human ead rose to view and as uickly dis.
up again. Scarce a minute ela ere it rose
once more, and was followed by a pair of massive
shoulders. Remaining a foot ab0ve the surface, the
bushy head m0ved around as if on a pivot, and
it not been for the deafening roar, the following
words could have been heard:

“ Thar‘ don’t up to be none of the imps around.
ist now and ef e don‘t think we’ve gone under

time, then Bill B ddon never raised the ha'r of a
rod this side of the Mississipp. Wash!"

 

  
 

i
a
i

M. ~" : = 4-")? .15 .‘

 

1.2-...

:‘from t e chasm, and was instan ly extended flat up-
.on the rocks.

‘Todd were visible in t

' washed awa .

....- ..-_~ -. .-,, ..
f \.~T -.

The nderous form of the tra per now heaved up
A minute after, a conical )oint roe?
,8 -

to view, ascending higher and hi her, unti the N
at

ed hat, the dilated egos, and gowing face 0
e pale moonlight.

“ Sure they‘re all gone, Biddon?"

“ Yas—be quick and flop out."

“ it re( uired no second admonition for our hero to
“ flop ou ." Hardly were the words uttered before
his angular legs beat the air and he slid dextrously
backward beside Biddon.

“ Now jump to t’other side and make for cover!“
added the latter, springing over and shooting across
toward the wood.

Nat skurried after him, experiencing that peculiar
’sensation that aillicts one who is momentarily ex-
pecting the prick of several arrows in the rear. The
shadows of the wood reached, they halted for con-_
sultation.

" i tell you what, Biddon, I come nearer to death
that time than I ever did before!"

“ Shoot me ef it wa‘n't as close a rub I b‘l‘eve as I
ever had. Things looked kind 0’ dub‘ous when we
Went into that kenyon."

“How in the name of Heaven did you think to
brin‘glthat rope with you ‘r” ,

“ aghl I told yer it wa’n't mire death to go in
‘there, ’thou h ‘twas next to it. I brought that lasso
with me an laid it in the boat a month 0."

“ Ugh! it makes me shudder to think 0 that awful
:ride, and our stay on that rock, and the time when I
was climbing up, when I dangled ri lit in the midst
of the dashing s ray. S‘posen' that t ong had broke!
Where would I ave been?"

“ Never mind; you're right side up for the present.
I‘ve spent many an hour along the upper part of that
kenyon, seein’ how ’twas built, an what chance a
i'eller would have who was sucked in it. I knowed ef
he ever got twenty yards in it he'd et his last sick-
ness, sure. Yes, sir. I've throwed 11 big chunks of
wood and then watched their capers."

“P aying, as I sup ose."

“It was that playm' that saved iyxclm this time. I
noticed that on an average, three t esout of seven,
each chunk of wood was carried right over a big flat
rock, where, if it onl had turned to stone, it would
have sunk and staid, ing as the water was rather
,mild jist there. Not bein' a stone, howsumever, it
In course I ‘cluded a tailor what was
drawed in t ere would stand three chances out of
seven of bein’ carried on that same rock, whar, of he
was lively like,-he might grab and hold on, and get
breath aforelgoin' any furder. Now, Nat the fool-
ishest notion ever had in in life wasto e a shoot
down that same kenyon, an I made u my mind to
come back here some day and try it. hat extra ex-
pense was saved, as we‘ve jist seen. Our boat was
carried on that very rock where it split in two and
spilled us out. I growed ieavy all at once and stuck
to the rock like a dog to a root, and held you on.
When we got the use of our egs it wa‘n‘t no hard
{ob to keep our places, ‘thoug l we had to stand in a

cot of water and hold on fast with our hands, toes,
accident that cracked the
t was the best rock to split

and teeth. It was a luck
boat jist in that place.
on’lt
“It wasn‘t an accident, Biddon- it was the provi-
dence of God—one of those that lie is forever strew-
dug before us."
S’pose so-but how ’bout Irene?”
" Jerusalem ! I forgot all about that lovely maiden l"
“ You'd better man e to let her know you’re et
kickin' for 'tain‘t like y she has any more s'pic on
we’re labbin‘ above ground than the reds have.
Wa hi that war a ride, down that kenyon, sure!"
The conversation recorded will give the reader an
insi ht into the reason, or more proper] the cause
tha led the trapper to adopt his origin method 0 .
eluding the savages. It was not, by any means, that
it was the only one at his command; for the most
veritable tyro could have retreated a mile or two in
the forest and concealed himself until the search of
the Indians was completed. But it was a peculiarity
-an infatuation—of the eccentric Biddon to attempt
the feat of entering the canon in the very face of
death. His long familiarity with peril may have in-
duced this extraordinary desire in a mind otherwise
so well balanced and cautious—there bein a species
of insane ecstasy in defying the King of errors to
his vet"?v face.
Besi es, Biddon did not lose sight of the {great ad-
vantage gained in case the escaped the ate their
very course invited. The In ians had now no fear of
them, and the way was consequently left open for
the attempts the wished to make. There was one
soft spot in the ol mountaineer’s heart. He loved the
two camans with a yearning, fatherl affection, and
he h morp than once intimated to at that, could
he be satisfied both were restored to civilization and ‘
hzgpmess, his desire for life would be ended. He
:11 no further object to live for—he was well ad-
vanced in years, and the last journey could be as
well taken at once. -
From his remarks at different times, Nat was led
to suspect he had a presentiment of his dissolution.
The religious fear that characterized Nat’s actions——
his repeated conversations of heaven, of hell, and
the reunion of friends beyond the tomb, seemed to
sensib affect the weather-beaten hunter. He dis;
covere many ideas similar to those borne b the In-
dian warrior—often spoke of wandering in t 8 great
Rantinggrounds beyond the setting sun. There evi-
was some hurled love the remembrance of
often saddened his hours. He listened intent-
and, during the winter spent in
than inquired, with the eager sim-
o awofheavenly truths. Our hero

. sow.  ‘

   

 

prove these moment and was
affect his words p need, and

Half-Dime

the increased friendship of his formidable ally. It
would have bee curious, if not sometimes amusing,
to notice how t e trap r leaned upon him in con-
versation, while Nat. w en it came to action, looked
up to him as a child to a father.

On the present occasion he did not hesitate to take
his advice. It certainly struck our hero as singular
that it had not occurred to him before to do this. As
stated, th our was near midnight, and he had lit-
tle fear of encountering any danger on the way. The
distance around to the grove, where he had agreed
to meet Irene, was half a mile and he was compell-
ed to make a detour to avoid the lndian village. As
there was no reason why Biddon should remain in
this; particular spot, the two moved forward to-
ge lel‘.

While within the shade of the wood, the gloom was
so great as to effectually conceal them from an
ni lit-walkers in the vicinity; but there were sma
be ts of clearings to be crossed at long intervals,
where there was naturally some risk run. At such
)laces, one or two long, noiseless bounds carried the

rapper over, while Nat slunk after him with nimble

ste s.

’llhe entire distance was passed without any thing
occurring to excite alarm. Biddon knew the s ot
well enough to reach it from the directions Nat ad
given the day before; and before the latter sus ect-
cd they were anywhere near it, his companion alt-
ed. Our hero was about to speak, when a hand was
laid u n his shoulder.

“ms! 1 downl there‘s somebody besides us in those
pat s "

They were still a number of yards from the arbor,
as it might pro erly be termed, or these words
would not have een added to what was already
sufficient to make Nat as cautious as the prowling

ast.
“Maybe,” he whispered, “ it's her—Irene—the
lovel maiden herself. '

“ alt, and lay low for a while.”

Both sunk noiselessly downward until they blend-
ed with and seemed a part of the ground itself.
Here they remained, silent and motionless for the
space of fifteen minutes, when the ears of th de-
tected a slight rustle, like the footfall of a bird upon
the leaves. Biddon drew his knife from his belt,
clutched it firmly, while he gathered himself, ready
for the fatal sprin as soon as it became unavoida-
able. A suppresse “ ugh l" was heard, and the next
minute the form of an Indian lided by them, so
close that either could have touc led him with their
hands, although the trained orbs of the traplper
were barely sufficient to detect the faintest on me
of the savage, who trod thus nigh to his own des‘
truction.

“ The way is clear now i" whispered Biddon, a mo-
ment after.

“ Are you sure that wasn't Irene?" asked Nat,
eagerly. '

‘ Wagh! it was as bloo v a red-skin as e'er clinched
ha‘r or brained a baby in ts mother‘s arms."

“ What could he be doing here this time of night?"

“ Don‘t you ’spicion?"

“ I have not the remotest idea."

“ He war hyer, then, to see us I"

“ How do you know that?”

“Ah! Nat, you’ve got a heap to l’arn yit. The red
has see‘d you when Iyou had that talk with Irene,
and he has been out ere watching for you."

“But if he saw me, why didn‘t he kill me then?
He might for I‘m very sure I didn’t see an thing of
him. And besides, I suppose the Indian be ieved we
were dead, having gone down that dreadful
canon. ’

“Depend on it, Nat. the words Bill Biddon has to
say jist now are as true as gospil. That red has
see’d you, and he has s’pected the truth. He didn’t
want to send his arrer into yer until be war sure
what on were up to, and then you can make it your
mind 1e wouldn’ have been long ’bout it. He asn‘t
been that sure that we‘d wipe ourselves out but
what he thought it wouldn't hurt him an to keep a
watch, and he has been hyer ever since ark. How-
sumever, yen can make up your mind that he won‘t
watch any longer for us.”

It is perha properto state, at this point, that this
savage was e one who had seen the interview be-
tween our hero and heroine, and whose motives and
actions were really the same as remarked by the
tra per. The li ering suspicions he entertained re-
lat ng to the deat of our two friends were now en-
tirel dissipated. '

“ ut maybe Irene is here also," ventured Nat as
the two once more moved forward with much less
caution than had characterized their movements up
to this point.

I: Iago, sir!" replied Biddon, with marked em-

as s.

“ I wish she was; it would so help matters along,
particularilyuilf she should have three splendid horses
and somet g good to eat. ,

"Keep quiet, Nat; there‘s no use gabbin‘ that

we .‘

"yl was only remarking—”

Ere et the exclamation was out of his mouth, a
cold 3 adow brushed b him so close as to make him
recoil and feel the win directly in his face.

“What‘s the matter?“ asked Biddon, who noticed
the 8:31;? exclamatiozil.1 in

you See a

" No, sir, nor you githgil'lg

“llifiy gracious! that was a ghost then, as sure as
you ve.’

“ What do you mean i" asked Biddon, in a tone of
vexation. .

“Something gs cold as .ice brushed by my face

just as I spoke.
“ Wagh some owl or bat.”
“No, it wasn't; it touched my feet, knees, and

Library.

 

 

Every part of me Wonder if It was an Indian, Bid-
on."

“Ef it war you wouldn‘t have time to wonder.
Some bird, I te 1 you.”

" And I tell you it wasn‘t. I can tell a bird; it was
nearly as tall as me, and as black as Egypt. It was
nothing less than a ghost.” .

The trapper uttered an exclamation of displeasure'
for, to own the truth, he was somewhat ilustered
himself. In fact, the occurrences which we have
recorded in relation to the sister of our hero-
ine were never fully explained to his mind. His re-
marks, more than once, had shown that it wore a
supernatural appearance to him; and he was no“
prepared for something similar in regard to Irene.

his impression was slight at present, and he strove
to convince himself that Nat's vision was at fault;
but the positive assertions of the latter made him
doubt and waver, and he by no Ineans felt easy.
As if to upset him more completely, Nat remarked:

“You know, Biddon, how queer Imogene made
her ap )earance to us. and like as not this one is go-
ing to ( o the same. I don‘t care much if she does.
As ion as I'm sure the things ain’t real flesh-and-
hlood ndians, I know they can‘t hurt me, and I ain’t
half as much afraid." .

And just here lay the difference between our two
friends. There wasatinge 0f superstition in our hero
but probably his greatest peculiarity was that of
viewing everythin with a strong common sense.
Thus he was tang t that if in an Indian aflray, he
could get off without giving battle, even though vic-
tot was pretty sure to crown a well-directed effort,
stil the chances of a broken head were infinitely
less; and, consequently, it was best to retreat. For
the same reason if surrounded b invisible spirits,
he could surely receive no tphysical harm from their
hands, and it was utter oo ishness to feel alarm.
Biddon, possessed of the lion‘s courage, shared the
lion‘s weakness. Their only danger was from that
which could not be understood.

A hurried, whispered consultation was held which
ended in both deserting the place at once. biddon
led the way deeper into the wood, proceedin
to leave as slight a trail as possible. A half-mile was
grassed when they reached a deep ravine, in which

hey entered and halted. It was 8. ion time since
they had slept, and rolling up in theirb ankets, they
concluded to gain what repose fhey could. The
trapper trusted to his acute sense of hearing to warn
him of the approach of danger.

When Nat awoke his companion was gone. Al
first be supposed him to be somewhere near him,
and he la still; but, when several hours passed
without br nging him. he experienced some uneasi
ness. Noon came and went and brought no signs of
the fugitive, and he was now tormented by the most
intense fear _for his companion. He was upon the
point of settin out to search for him. when a series
of yells, so “'1 d and dreadful, weie heard from the
village, as to curdle his very blood.

 

CHAPTER XI.
IN WHICH mans Is A nova roawxan.

A MOMENT after, the bushes at the top of the ra
vine parted and an Indian bounded down and ran
with the speed of wind directlv through the gorge,
within a few feet of our hero. ‘he latter, as scon as
the intruder had passed hurried several yards fur-
ther hack and ensconced himself in a mass of under-
growth, where a pair of lynx eyes would have failed
to discover him.

The yells still continued, gradually sounding loud-
er a.nd nearer, as though a body of sav es were ap-

roaching. A fearful sus iciou that iddon bad

alien into their hands c ained Nat to the spot.
Presently, the tram of feet was heard, and a score
of Indians hurrie through the ravine. Several
leaped down at the very spot the first one did, while
the others entered the ravme at the point where our
two friends did the night before. Several whoops
were given in the orfie, which echoed with an ap—
pallin effect throng t e rocky sides. Ten minutes
after ey had passed, an occasional yell was heard
in the distance.

As may be supposed these proceedings occasioned
not a little alarm and anxiety to Nat. What could
be the ob ect that led these Indians through the
ravine? hat meant their yells? It seemed the
met must have been a flying in tive from the
others. Perhaps he had committe some crime-—
perha s a'murder; or, he might be a member of
some ostile tribe, who had stolen into the village
and had been discovered, or a prisoner who had

broken his bonds and fled. No noise or confusion

toward the Indian town told of any unwanted alarm.
Now and then the faint yells in the woods showed
that the ursuit was still maintained.

Not un ll dark durst Nat venture from his hiding-
place. He clambered at once out of the ravine, and
made his way toward the arbor which has been so
often referred to. The absence of Biddon occasioned
him much uneasiness, and he could not rid himself
of the belief that he had fallen into their enemies’
hands. Nat held a genuine friendship for the man,
but let the matter be as it might, be elt he could do
him no ood. If it were within the ra e of human
possibi t to esca , the trapggr would 0 it himself.

When at reac ed the ar r it was quite dark.
Admonished by what he had seen the night before,
he was extremely cautious in his movements. He
made his way within it, and seated himself, in order
to collect his thou hts, which, as yet had taken no
definite form. As 6 mused a n h s erirnces
for the lastda or two. he saw e had sti a cat
risk run. the Indians were firmly conv need
that he was dead, it was reasonable to an pose that
Irene thought the same, and before ‘ho ng to one.
ceeditwasnecessarytoassureherof existence

      

8088‘

 

5W

 

7.
' ‘l
‘5‘,
It:
rm:
b'u‘.’

 

 

mm.—

oy some means or other. Here lay the great dim- 1'

culty. How to succeed was more .han Nat could ‘

tell, and in all probability he would never have suc-
ceeded had not an unforeseen evzen' assisted him.

While. still musing, he heard r. dull stamp 11 ion the
ground within a few feet of him. Nothing e se was
audible and the manner in which it was repeated
made 11 m sure that his own Drcsence was unknown.
ills perplexity was relieve by hearing the faint
whinny of a horse! Net‘s heart thrilled within him
as he reflected that Irene might be within reach of
his voice. He uttered her name in a whisper, re.-
peating it several times in a louder key until he was
convinced Hint she was not there. He now made his
way carefully out of the arbor, and in a few minutes
liscovered two horses standing side by side and se-
cured to the ‘irrb of a tree. An examination showed
that each was furnished with an Indian bridle and
Saddle. Nat instantly vaulted into one of the lat-

er.

“ ‘lur‘olv’, this must have been made for me!
exactly. ‘

It was rather a rash n‘oceeding in him to thus
Venture upon a horse of w iich he knew nothing. lie
was really a fine horseman, however, and it was only
through his utmost skill that he maintained lns
Seat. The animal quieted down somewhat in a
moment, though he still felt uneasy at the strange
rider upon him.

“Now, if Irene was on] here," mused Nat, “we.
Wouldn’t wait, but be 0 in a minute, though I
should like to see old Biddon just now."

The reverie into which he was now falling was
broken by a voice, uttered in a suppressed tone of
caution.

“Illa-eitme Willy/candor“

“Yaw; nix cum arous!“ answered Nat, ravely..

An exclamation of surprise followed this, and in-
lsitalntly the question came in slightly broken Eng-

5

It fits

“ Is that you. my friend?"

“Yes, yes; it‘s me, Nat Todd. Is that on, Irene?
I’m might glad to see you; being it’s so ( ark [can’t
catch the rst glimpse of you; but I’m just as glad.”

“9H1nshi you may be heard. Where is the trap-

]. S

“ Heaven save himi I haven‘t the least idea."

“ He told me he would be here.”

“ Told you that! Where did you see him 9"

“Isaw a signal this afternoon in the woods that
made me ans )ect that one of you, at least, was liv-
ing, althoug no other mortals could have sur-
vived that terrible descent into the canon. I made
my way to it and found Biddon, the man who would
have saved the lives of my dear parents, had they
heeded his advice in time. “ He told me how you
two had escaped and were only waitingfor me to
commence our ht. He asked me to ring three
horses to t 3 place, where I would find you and him.
I did so, and one of the horses is gone! What can it
mean?’

“ It does look queer, but I shouldn't wonder if Bid-
don has taken one of the horses himself. It is just
like him. We will wait until he comes.“

“No, he told me if he was not here I must not
wait a minute for him. He seemed excited about
something, and made me promise to start as soon as

ou came. There is danger in our remainin . I told
him what direction we would take, and he w i follow
us. We will start at once."

“ Go on, Ireny and lead the wa ."

The woman wheeled her horse s head toward the
south. and started him on a rapid walk. The under-

wth and tree-branches compelled Nat to keep in

6 rear, for the present at least. although he had a
hundred questions he burned to ask, and his heart
best so tumultuously with his cat love that he
felt he could not sustain it muc longer. Once or
twice he ventured a remark, but the snapping limbs
ke t his head bobbin incessantly an generally
on ed each sentence th an impatient ejaculation.
Irene seemed to glide like a bird through the wood,

neithe}: halt nor dodging, and yet avoiding every
branc oro motion.
An hour's ridilnIg, and they eme into a more
open count . at‘s horse lea to the side of
Ireno’s, and e commenced his questions:

“What direction do on intend to follow, Irene?
Toward the Or on I?”

“ Yes; that is he one our friend mentioned. God
alone knows where it i take us!”

“ y—why you do not regret this step?” asked
Nat in astonis ment. .

“ o, no; but oh! I am so excited to think I will

- perhaps see my dear sister again. Does she think I
am livmg?"

“No—gracious alive! She has never thought of
you—that is, I mean she hasn‘t had the least idea that
you areliving, or that she should ever meet you on
this earth again. Won't she be glad to see on?"

“1am so afraid we shall be followed y the In-
giains in the morning. They will kill us both, if they

0 ’ ' a ‘
“ Can’t these horses trot any?”
“Yes—th’ere are none swifter in the tribe; still, I

am afraid.

“I ain’t!" exclaimed Nat; “ they‘ll have togo over
my dead body to get you, and I think when it comes
to the iightin part you will find Bill Biddon about.
But, Iren , X: at waswall that noise in the village

bout, th ternoon ’ _
a “ A warrior from another tribe killed two children
of ours, and was seen and pursued."

'This is renounced a little differently from what
‘itis spell . In the Indian tongue in which it was

uttered, it means, “ Is that on, Walgeando?" It
must be remembered that $31) h our hero was

 

N at Todd.

“ Did they get him?" '

“ His pursuers have not returned. I am afraid they
will not, and when they find I am gone they will be
doubly enraged."

“It won‘t do any good, for Nat Todd is around
jus? pow. I just thought, Ireuy, I saw a ghost last
mg l .“

“A ghost! what do you mean?" ash-“d his com-'
paniou, in astonishment.

“ A spook—a spirit.“

“ Where did you see it?“

“ In the arbor, from which we have started."

" Were you there last night i"

“ certainly; Biddon, too. We were looking for

You.‘

“ It was me you saw.“

“ You?" repeated Nat, amazed in turn. “Wh
didn‘t ou speak and let us know who you wore? e
might have started then, and been a long ways on
our Pourney now.”

“ did not know you. I found an Indian was

.' watchin me before on came; and when I heard
8

i
l

 

your voices I thought more had come, and glided out
so as to avoid them. You were directly in my path
or I should not have passed so close to you. I heard
you speak ai'terl passed, and once I thought it might
8 you, but I was too frightened to venture back. ’

“ Why do you think you were watched?"

“ I saw the savage the night before. He kept his
eyes upon me during the day in a manner that ex-
cited my suspicion, though after he had gone last
night he seemed to have giVen over all fear."

Our two friends had now crossed the open space
over which lN'at had been pursued by the savages, as
mentioned in a former chapter. Striking off to the
right. they reached the margin of the river, beside
which they continued their journey. The country
was open, but of a rugged stony character. The
moon was not so full as usua , and objects could not
be distinguished at a greater distance than thirty
yards. Irene, who had wandered to great distances
on several occasions, with her tribe, knew what di-
rection to take to reach the Ore on Trail, and Nat
certainly had cause to remember t.

“If we could conceal our trail," remarked Irene,
“ I would not feel that fear which tormcnts me."

“ We cannot leave many signs in this iiinty earth.“

“ Enough to guide them as well as if they saw us."

“ When it comes to that, as I said before, we have
horses which are surely able to run as well as any of
the tribe.“

“ I know that, and yet I cannot—"

Irene suddenly paused with a gas of alarm.

“ What‘s the matter?“ breathless y asked Nat.

“ Something is following m: I" replied his companion,
in a hoarse whisper. _

Nat wheeled as quick as li htnin in his saddle and
peered into the darkness be ind h m.

“ Do you see anythin i" asked Irene.

“Yes; there is somet ing, but I believe it’s only a
huggry wolf; I just now saw it trot backward out of
s .‘

‘Thank heaven! the rustle of ever, oush disturbs
me. 11am glad that it is nothing more than a wild
an ma ."

“ You are frifihtened too easily: you should—“

“’Shl there is again, in front of us. Looki do
you see it?"

A shadow crossed their. path, making long, bound-

ing lea as if centering in sport.
‘He tprobably hungry, and imagines if be cute
up some ancy ca rs for us, we‘ll make him a pres-

ent of something eat.’

“ He surely acts strange. I should think he would
make some noise."

They conversed still, their horses walking rapidly
and breaki into a cantor when a level portion was
reached. c an posed wolf kept pace with them,
sometimes whisk ng so close to he r horses‘ heads
as tostartle them, and then disap ring down the
river bank. Nat regarded his act ons as eccentric
and had no objection to them so longaa he refrained
from brin ing an of his companions to him. He
could not elp no icing the alarm of his fair com-
panion. When the wolf appeared unusually close
she started as much as her animal, and Re t her
gaze wandering continually as if searching or the

readed brute.

“ What time of night do you supplose it is?“ asked
Nat in hope of diverting her thong ts.

“ I wish that thing would keep away, " she replied,
without heading his question.

“ Are you alarmed? ‘

“I do not feel at ease as
around us so strangely."

“I will set you at ease in a minute, then."

Nat cocked his rifle and held it ready to fire the in-
stant the thing ap cared. In a moment he saw it
tumbling like a dar bundle a few yards in advance.
He brought his gun to‘his shoulder, took as good aim
as sib e, and fired.

6 su posed wolf instantly rose on his hind legs
gave ven to a blood-chillin yell, at the same secon
that a tomahawk whizze within a few inches of
Nat’s eyes. Then it shot away like a meteor and dis-
appeared in the darkness.

‘ That‘s the nearest wolf I ever fired at. Who
knowed he ca ed concealed weapons about him,"
remarked Nat, after the first anse of astonishment.

“It was the Indian who wa hed me. He has fol-
lowed us,” whis red Irene.

“If I had had the sli htcst idea that wolf walked
on two 1 8 instead 0 four, I‘d taken more pains
with my than I did, and done somethin more
than just to lame him a bit. But, Irony, at‘s a.
 way for an Indian to do. What do you make
0 19

“I know not why he did it, unless he intended to

long as that is wheeling

acquainted with several of tongues; he wait until we stop and then hurry back for some
. ' knew nothing of this one. *' of his coxnpanionspifi‘il attack no."
t  ‘ ' } - ' I ' I i \
.- 3‘45, ‘ x V W, p.53}.  i  73;. g;  j i ‘ '3: ‘44.

 

 

3.3

“ My gracious! he might have shot.mc a dozen:
times, and I never knowr-d it until he hit me. (la ly
think how he has been sneaking round us, and one
talking all the time and not dreamin who he was!

“ He had nothing with him, or e would han-
shot you. His object was to watch us. I guess he.
was hurt."

“ Not enough to prevent his gettin back and.
bringing a lot of imps on our trail. Ite you, Irene.
we must get over ground faster than this. I wasn‘t
scar‘t lunch before this wolf affair. I didn‘t believe.
the dogs had any idea that Nat Todd was still abow
the ground. The way that one throwed his toma
hawk at my head showed he was pretty certain )'
wasn‘t there yet."

Both horses struck into a canter, which gait wasL
kept 11 until daylight. Only then they ceasei
throng i fear of being overtasked. Nat reined in
close to the river-bank, just as the sun rose OVer the
prairie. Their animals Were magnificent ones of
wonderful. speed and bottom; but the long ride lad
sensibly fatigued them, and it was a Wise course 1m
give them a couple of hours‘ rest. Dcsp 2 the re
mantle situation in which Nat found hun' lfwwnl’
the care of the being who had visited lus dreams for
over a year—the happy owner of a love so great as.
to bring a scorni‘ul augh when he thou ht of Burni-
Almina in Maine happened to come to tim—the VK':
tim of a tormenting fear of pursuit—despite all
these, we re eat, the most pressing trouble was his
ap )etite! i e had fasted a long time, and remarked,
to us companion that he must secure something

u'ett soon, or he should be tempted to eat heri‘
.eavmg her with the horses, he wandered down the
river-bank, and was fortuna‘ e enough to bring down
afat duck that rose from the water‘s edge.
this he hastened back to Irene, who, with his flint and
steel, had already kindled a fire. The duck was
soon picked, dressed, skewered, roasted and eaten—~
he, good-naturedly, compelling his fair charge to-
feast her utmost upon it. During the halt the horses
had cro )ped their full, and were well prepared to
resume t ieir toilsoine march. The two rcmounted
and struck off toward the south, hoping to accom~
plish a long distance ere nightfall.

hen about five miles further upon their journey,

Nat‘s horse trod upon a rolling stone, and stumbled.
As he recovered himself he limped badly and drop.
ped into a painful walk. Nat d smonntcd, and upon
examining it, saw, with unfeigned alarm that the
ankle was s )rained. The horse could be of no fur-
ther use to hlm.

“ Let him rest- moment,“ said Irene, “ and we will
ride slowlv,"

Hoping he might be deceived, Nat let the horse
res! a short time; out, upon starting him, the injuret
leg was found to be still worse.

“It‘s no use,“ he said, “the longer he stands the
worse he will get. He must be let alone to himself
He will be able to get enough grass to keep him alive,
He can’t do us an more good. Go ahead, Irene,
and I will walk besi c you.”

This misfortune affected his companion greatly.
She urged Nat to take her own horse even offering
to dismount herself if he deemed the 0110 too great;
but, of course, this offer was declined the excuse
being that the entire strength and wind of her am»
mai would be needed for her own safety.

“ But if pursued?" she asked.

“ You can get away, at least."

“ And who will become of you?"

“ Heaven bless sylour sweet soul, I wouldn‘t mind
dying for on to ow you how much I love—I think
0 you. ut don't be frightened, Irony, for I tell you:
that trapper is about, and will turn up somewhere at
the right minute.“

" “y horse surely is able to carry us both."

“ ell, my dear, when it comes to the worst, pen
haps I‘ll mount beside you and try the bottom he
seems to possess; but as it is I‘ll t walking a while.
I declare, I shouldn‘t likeanything tter than a torn
mile tramp, net for exercise. Such a walk ought to
have been on before."

Thus fled, Irene consented to N at‘s plan, keep.
ing her orse on a walk, in the face of his u out re-
quest that he shouid roceed faster. Ho eft his
horse where he had f ed, his tra pings with him.
He had some hope that, if pursu , the chase would
be given n as useless when it was discovered how
we -moun the fu itives were. He knew, how-
ever, that if the disab ed horse was found, their ene—
mies would press on with renewed diligence. An-
other probab lity, upon which be based‘ . , perhaps. his
stron est hope, was, that the start obtained would
affor them line to reach Lewis river, along whose
banks there was good reason to expect emigrants at
this season of the year.

We mi ht, with justice, say that the time passed
pleasant to h' at. There. was just cnou h excr-
ciso to gKre a zest to his conversation, an he ke t
up‘a continuous stream of talk. went over t e
w ole history of his adventures since leaving Maine,
not omittin a promise he gave a New York publisher
to furnish im with an account of his travels, upon
his return to civilization. He believed his ex rience
was worth givin the world, and expressed h as deter-
mination to do if as soon as he was settled down and
married. As he uttered the last word, he stole a sly
glance from under thecorner of his but at Irene t'
see the effect reduced. She appeared interestedi
what he said, ut not beyon that.
iatcd a long sto about rah Alumina. in Lu
di emphati that he never thought any t
of or, and she was only fit for such a follow on B
Hankins. Hod Irene ement been educated in av.

the
heart of Nat Todd and comprehended “mg:
situation in which he must have once stood wi
latdavethat so excited his ire; butthe
ll dreamt the truth. The pain

 

    

.14

of admiration—in fact, of love—from him, were en-
tirely lost ugon her. Her silence was taken for acqni‘
escence an Nat grew bolder and bolder. until he
found frene staring wonderingly at him, totally at a
loss to understand his meaning. Fearful then, that
he had gone too far, he blushed finely. coughed loud-
ly, and staminered foolishly. It might have been
that she had an inkling of what lay at the bottom
of his words, but she betrayed it by no word or ac-
tion.

At intervals, Irene swept the entire horizon, on the
alert for any sus )icious sign, and it was not probable
That her train egos would fail to detect the ap-
proach of danger. he excitement of her new situa-
tion, the thrilling hope, the agonizing fear almost
unnerved her. For a orig time she would calm down
and listen attentively to N at‘s words, and then sud-
deiin start and glance around her, alarmed at horre-
missnes. of duty.

At noon, when they halted for a short rest she
took a searching look, as usual, behind her, and Nat
noticed that she started, and continued her gaze an
extraordinary length of time.

“ Do you see any thing to alarm you?“ he asked.

“There is a buffalo or horseman in the distance.
Look away yonder, where the sky seems to touch
the prairie."

The slight elevation she had, aided by her pOWer-
ful vision, gave her a better view than Nat; but the
latter, after following the direction of her finger, and
straining his orbs, detected a small quivering
speck, in relief against the blue horizon. It was like
a star seen at noonday difiicult to find in the field of
vision, but erfectly distinct when discovered. It
was certai y approaching, as it visibly increased in
size and clearness.

“ What do you make of it?" she asked.

“I can’t see an thing but a s ot.“

“It‘s a man riding on a ful run; and, I fear, the
Indian who troubled us last night.”

“ My gun is loaded pretty near to the muzzle," re-
marked Nat, shutting one eye and squinting into the
barrel, “ and if that wolf in Indian‘s clothing, or that
Indian in wolf‘s clothing, iets within hailing istance,
he’ll imagine a tliun er olt smashed against his
forehead and exploded. No danger of any missing
this time."

“ Be ready, for I cannot see how it can be avoided.
He is fearless, and does not slacken the speed of his
horse in the least."

“ Don’t be frightened, Irony, for I'll fight till death
for you. "

He gave her a look of honest, devoted love, and
for the first time Nat saw a deep tinge sufl'use her
face to the temples. His heart throbbed wildly, and

. he felt able to vanquish a whole tribe of screaming
Indians.

Meantime the horseman was rapidl approaching,
and the gaze of our two friends was xed u n him
with the most intense anxiety. Nigher an nigher
he came, until Nat cocked his rifle and held it ready
for instant use. Suddenly he smiled, let the ham-
mer down again, and remarked to Irene:

" Bill Biddoni as sure as we are alivei"

 

CHAPTER XII. ,
wmcn arms THE 1mm.

Tris trapper approached on a rapid cantor, and,
when within hailing distance, shouted:

“ What you waitin‘ for?“

“Why, you," returned Nat.

“ 213eer no time to «top! the imps are on your

“ Where? how do you know this i?"

“ I need ‘em gittin‘ ready, and I started out ahead
of ‘em last night. '

“ Will they overtake us? What will be the end of
this, Biddon?" asked Nat, in a lower tone, as the
tra er rode up.

‘ here’ll be some ha‘r-raising done, sure."

“Jerusalem l“ yelled our hero, springing in the
air, “ why don‘t you et ripping mad, Biddon? I
never swore in my life,
lief to now. What is going to become of that lovely
maiden there ?"

“She needn‘t be tuk—her horse can’tbe cotched
by any four- god animal." .

During this rief conversation Irene sat Silent.
Her agitation had 'ven way to a settled calmness.
She was pale and b oodless, but a stron resolution
seemed to sustain her soul. Biddon, as at uttered
the last remark, glanced at her a moment, and then,
leaning over his saddle, motioned for Nat to come

ni her.
ESee er, Todd, get on my boss and ut with that
gal. I‘ cover your trail and keep t em painted

mps behind till you’re out the reach—"
I  ti

" By droppin' it ill among 'en:3 and ef it comes to
clus quarters, pitc in and go un er in glorious st 16.
Come, Todd, you’re young and love t at 8.1. 3
days for sich feelin‘s has passed with B’ Biddon.
Come, hop on and be off."

“ NEVER!" replied Nat, stepping back, and uttering
the sentiments of his vorE soul. “ You’ve saved my
life more than once, Bill iddon, and if I ever take
advantage of you, ma the Just One above strike
me dead i y tracks! ’

It may in a contradiction to our readers for us
to relgresent Nat Todd, at the commencement of his
5:11) hed career, as guilty of timidity, if not some-

nes cowardice, and to picture him as guessed of
the most genuine courage, as we have a ve, and in
other instances in these es. But, in doin so, we
are confident we have one no violation to is true
character. It is a question with many whether he
who lacks in bravery can ever rid himself of his defl-
ciency—many affirming it to be a defect which being
inborn. will ever cling to a person. is ereis

ut it seems it would be a re- ~

 

‘ strong reason for this view of the case, it must be

remembered that the bravest have manifested
fear at the dawn of danger. The man who
turns pale at the commencement of battle is
the most valiant soldier. It is the newness of
danger that alarms the courageous. Could a man
who is known in civilized society as a true hero be
removed to the midst of a vast wilderness where he
had the wily Indian to encounter, his timidity would
be mistaken for the most contemptible cowardice,
and get, in all probabilit the same man would after-
war distinguish himsel by his deeds of during. At
the first ap arance of ii], Nat Todd was apt to
shrink an as long as it was not criminality to re-
treatz he would do so. There was a 5 ice of shrewd-
ness in his character, and, while sti a tyre in the
western wilds there is no disguising the fact of his
timidity; but his long acquaintanceship with Indian
life, together with his love of adventure, made him
in some cases even reckless. The inagnanimous con-
duct of Biddon had strengthened his admiration into
the sincerest friendship, and there is no sacrifice that
Nat would not have Willingly made for him. This
was why he repelled his offer most em‘phatically.

The trapper, after this decided re usal, dropped
his head a moment as if in meditation.

“ Are we not losin time?" ently reminded Irene.

“Yes, we ar’. Na , I’d like 0 walk some. Jist get
on and ride."

“Ishan‘t do it, Biddon; so don’t say any more
about it. I would as lief walk or run a dozen miles
more as not. I understand what you are at, but it
won‘t do."

“ Ef you had a hoss—“

“ He give out, several miles back.“

“ I knOW' I found him and feared the imps would
come onto 'm. So I led him down to the river ut
a bullet between his eyes, tied a big stone round is
neck, and tumbled him into deep water, whar‘ you‘ll
have to hunt a while to find him.”

“Let us fin, Biddon, for every minute seems a
mile lost. at do you ropose to do?"

“Thar‘s no use cuttin round the stump; thar‘s
got to be a fight made. ‘Bout two miles further
ahead thar‘s a lace whar' we‘ll strike camp and
make a stand. he al might get off, while we staid
to fight, but it won] n‘tdoto trust her. Ef we should
go under, she‘d be distracted and wouldn‘t know
what to do. Ef she had a rifle we’d stand a better
chance. Howsumever, it‘s no use talkin‘; so let’s
move."

Our friends moved forward at a rapid walk, Bid-
don convorsing, and imparting to Irene and Nat the
course he intended to pursue. He had left the latter,
it will be remembered, in the ravine. In doing so, it
was his intention to convey to Irene. by sorno means
or other, his presence in the wood, and return to Nat
by the time he awoke. But he was compelled to
maneuver the whole forenoon around the Village be-
fore he succeeded, and it was only then by a most
fortunate accident. Near night Irene found oppor-
tunity to steal to the wood for a moment. But this
movement, guarded as it was, did not escape the
e e-eyes of the Indians. Such a step upon the part
of rene at any other time would have been scarcely
noticed; but, after what had trans ired, the sus-
pected everything. Irene was ste tliily f0 owed,
and it was only by the most consummate skill that
the trapper avoided a collision with them. Their
watchfulness did not esca him, and it was for this
reason he remained behind. The confusion, occa-
sioned b the discovery and pursuit of the Indian
scout, orded Irene an opportunity of getti the
horses mentioned to the rendezvous. Just at usk,
Biddon visited this spot secured one of the horses,
and withdrew into one o the recesses of the forest.
Ho lingered in the rear until nearly morning, when
he saw unmistakably, that her flight had been dis-
covered and a pursr t was preparing. He started on
the trail of the two fugitives at once, and by dint of
hard riding, overtook them, as mentioned.

“Yonder,” said Biddon, gginting ahead, “is the
place whar the stand must made. Yes, sir.”

A half-hour‘s ride brought them to the spot; and
as it is necessary (in order to understand what fol-
lows for the reader to have an idea of the situation of
our riends, we pause a moment to describe it.

The 3 0t chosen was on the open rairie, a quarter
of a m le distant from the woode bottom of the
river which they had hitherto followed. loca-
tion was selected b the trapper in order to avoid
any concoahnent w ich might shelter their enemies.
They could only approach over an o n plain, where
they would be targets for two miles. Here our
friends commenced at once to construct a fort. In-
deed, from the a pearance of things, it was not at all
improbable the. the materials they used had an-
swered thmurpose before. There were some
twenty or t y huge bowlders lying in an irregular
circle. The best ideaof their location and size can
be given, by supposmg a bu to (a. vast, towerin
rock) to have split into over a score of pieces, wit
force just sufficient to lay them twenty feet from
the center.

The prodigious strength of Biddon, assisted by
Nat, soon corn letod the circle. The rocks were roll-
ed together, t e chinks filled in with smaller frag
ments, so as to afford no entrance for a stray bullet
or arrow. When the fort was com leted. it was
found that a breastwork averaging a at four feet
in bi ht was afforded. Behind this they could kneel
and with deadly aim. The rocks whose immense
weight prevented their lifting them to the to were
rolled against the base, and, viewed from t e out-
side, the little citadel presented no insignificant ap-
pearance.

The tragper’s next was to take the two horses
and leadt em far out on he prairie, describing an arc
of a vast circle, and then up roach the river-bottom
at apoint below the fortatha is toward the mouth of ,

Half-Dime Library.

 

 

777v... i...— _._.~_‘

the river. Here he rode one into the river, leading
the other, and waded them several hundred yards
down-stream, when he came ashore, and, securing
them-both, made his way back on a run. The object
of this movement was to preserve the use of the,
animals to themselves. If their trail should be fol-
lowed by the Indians, it would mislead them at the
point of entrance into the water, and the presence
ot.the whites would prevent any extended search
bcm 1'. made. Biddon did not forget to fill a small,

ecu iar canteen, which he ever carried about him,

win the river.

“Thar‘s n0 tellin’ how lon we‘ll be cooped n
thar, b’ars and beavers efi ere is, and the stut
can‘t do no hurt," he remarked to himself.

_As be bounded over the bowlders before Irene and
hat, who were conversing rather earnestly just then,
his e 'e flashed with the fire of youth, and his heart
throb ed faster than was its went; for he felt he was
shortly to engage in one of those strug les of life
and death in which he had so revelef in years
agone.

“Biddon,” observed Nat, rather thoughtfully, “I
can not help. thinking we might have improved our
time better in flight. We could have made a long
distance, it seems, and reached a point where these
savages would not dare to fall on us.“

“Todd,” re lied Biddon with a uiet half-smile
“ when I first nowed you I used to ca you ‘ Greeny,
and I sometimes thinks it‘s yer best handle yit.
Howsumever, it’s as plain as that ha’r on yer 11 per
lip—which can’t be sce‘d very well—that you on‘t
understand the ways of Fed-Sme yet. They‘d have
follered us for days, and Overtaken us at a lace
whar we wouldn‘t have had a tree, rock or um
of earth to cover us and they would have wipes
every one of us out. cm im} 5," added the trap
per, speakm in a whisper, and fixing his eyes upon
hose of our ero, “ them imps, sir, will be in sight in
less nor a half-hour!"

Nat recoiled at these words, and they did not es~
cape the ear of Irene, who only turned a shade paler.
and compressed her thin, bloodless ii 3. It was now
near the middle of the afternoon an the glances of
Biddon toward the west showed that he expected
the appearance of danger every moment. At inter-
vals e mounted the rock wall of their fortress
and shading his eyes with his hand, looked long and
searchineg in the distance. Some twenty minutes
passed thus, when, while standing upon the wall, he
urned toward Irene:

“See yer, my little duck, them peepors of cum
can take in a bigger stretch of prairie than Bi 1 Bid-
don’s; so ist come this way and take a squint off
mger. har's ‘sign,’ of I ain't most powerful mis-

. He stooped and lifted Irene in his brawny arms as
if she had been an infant. He then seated her upon
his shoulder with about as much effort as he would
have raised his rifle there, and said:

“ Now take a squint, sich as you kin."

“ Isn‘t she lovely?’ remarked Nat, in an under
tone. “Just view that white face, them black eyes,
gazmg way off yonder, them magnificent plumes
and her black hair risin and mum in this soft win
——jest see her sitting t ere Nat odd, I say, like a
heavenly bird that has perc ed on the old trapper’s
shoulder. Is it not worth a journey to Oregon to
rescue such a being as that?"

“ Let me down," she said to Biddon.

“ See nothin’i’

“They are coming!” she replied.
see them. ”

“ y-a- s—i-ri” slowly repeated Biddon, as he looked

am. ‘Them's 1hr 11), sure, and they’re i'idin’ as
though they didn’t know the war hastenin’ to de-
struction. See yer,” he adde , removing his gaze to
his two companions, “ it's time we understood how
things is going to be managed, so I’ll make my
speech. You see the upper art of that rock stickin’
out thar, my little duck? a], as you hap us to
have no shooter about you, and will be in t e way.
you me. crawl in under than and kee snug and
clus. one of thar arrers or bulletsw 1 be apt to
touch your purty noddle."

Irene hes tated a moment before complying; but,
as it was glamllly the best course she could adopt,
she obeye . at and Biddon had ely ar-
ranged a corner of their fortress so as 83 s elter her,
and it answered its end admirably. The added, as
an extra caution, that she should not loo out or ex-
pose herself until told to, and of course to all this
she romised a wrlhng obedience.

“ ow,” added the trafaper, in a bus voice, the
nearest approach be con make to a w isper, “ we
must ‘understand the case,’ as they so. down in the
settlements. Ef there‘s to be any h ' 'n' or talkin’,
I‘ll do it. Ef the make a dash for us, we‘ll blaze
away together an draw knives and at them. But

on must never bark With your shooter at the same

ime I does, or the ’1] ride in afore we ken load. I’ll
pick out each mar for or, and you mustn’t shoot
any ipe-stems or score my ear ag‘in."

“ ow do you knowI shot my gun that time?"
asked Nat. .

Biddon gave his usual qFlet smile. and replied:

“I didn’t know it then. odd. or I’m afeard M W
scorched you. But after I got up among them Hud-
son-Bay fellers, I got to thinkin’ ’bout it, and won-
dered how I was such a fool as to think any of them

‘a done it. Howsumever, that ain't byer nor
t ere: we’re in fura knock-down fight this time. As
I said you must never fire till I tell you' don’t show
your head, and kee your peepers led. Them red-
skins are comin’ 9. mg purty well," he added. in E
matter-of-fact tone.

That they were coming along pretty well was self
evident. ey were only a mile or two away, and

“ Look, you can

were riding pmmiscuously, their rincipal ob ect be-
irg to get  as fast as possig '1

le. Their plumes

 

  

TI"WV ' "I ' “v 'I' 

could be seen risin and falling, and their gaudy
dress daunting in t e wind. Nat and Biddon were
crouched in under their breastwork, their rifle-muz-

zles just rotruding from the loo )-holes, and their
eyes watc ’ng every motion over t e gleaming bar-
rels.

Onward alloped the Indians, without abating
their speed n the least until within a furlong, when
the suddenly reined up at si ht of the curious
loo 'in fortress before them. T eir looks and ges-
tures s owed their suspicious to be aroused concern-
ing it. Their hands were fret uently extended toward
it, and their guttural wo s could now and then
be heard. As they stood thus, Biddon carefully
noted the ap arance of each. There were seven
well mouiitetrtwo of whom were furnished “'lth
rifles, which weapons they rendered as conspicuous
as ossible. The Indian who seemed to take the
lea was furnished with a flowing mantle which
streamed over his horse as he careered over the

rairie. Each was daubed in war-paint; and, take
hem all in all, they were a savage, Villaiiious-look-
ing set whose inalignity shone in their basilisk
eyes. They surveye the rocks a few moments
and then scattered in different directions over the
prairie, carefull shunning to approach any closer.

“Slip to t’o or side," whispered Biddon, “and
keep our shooter ready, but don’t pull the trig-
ger ti I tell you." I _

The Indians now commenced circling around the
little fort, separating and wheeling till they had
com letely surrounded it.

“ ow many do you make?“ asked the tra r.

“I haven’t counted them,” replied Nat, ‘but I
should suppose there are about seventy-five."

“Waghi jist seven; ef we hadn’t the gal with us,
I wouldn‘t like better fun than wipin’ them out.
Kee docile, and I'll draw head on ‘em soon."

Allfhough the fugitives had carefully concealed
themselves, the Indians were not to be deceived.
Their wheelin s and turnin were like the gym-
tions of birds in the air, an finally a con le of ar-
rows were sent into the fort; but i broug t no re-
s use from those within. A couple of savages
s rted at full gallop, as if to ride over the breast-
work, but were careful to hold up before they
reached it. _

Suddenly they came together in a knot on the east-
ern side, and, halting a moment, dashed away With
aloud ell.

“God’dl” exclaimed Nat, “they think we ‘ain't
here and have gone on. We will et away yet.

“ ou‘re green yet, Todd. Dont you understand
thar deviltry? They‘ve purtended that, jist to, draw
us out. It riles me consulerable, I allow, fur em to
take Bill Biddon to be sich a fool. I’ll .dro orie of
’em for that insult ef they don’t do nothin‘ e_se.

All at once their enemies wheeled, and, giving an-
other yell, came at full gallo toward the fugitives.

“Another trick,“ admonis ed the trapper. Keep
your tire; they’ll sto in a minute."

So it raved—the dians reiuing up while still at
a ood ' ance, and re ting their maneuvers as
be ore. This was con inued for nearly an hour,

when, losing patience, the war was commenced by
the red-skins. Coming up within several hundred
yards, they again separated and commenced riding
backward and forward at different points, display-
ing, while they did so some of the finest horseman-
ship in the world. They leaned over upon the side
of their animals opposue the whites in such a man-
ner that nothing but the int of their feet was visi-
ble over the horse’s bac and in this position dis-
i-ha‘ ged their arrows and t e two miles, either under
the animal‘s neck or belly. As the latter turned in
their circuit, their skillful riders dropped to the
other side as quick as thought.

“ ’Tis an old game, but a dangerous one remark—
ed the tra per. “I’ve seen the Comanches of the
south use e same trick, and say what they Will, We
a nasty one. Thar‘s so many of ’em at it, we must
stop ’em. Yas, sir.” . .

A perfect storm of arrows rained in upon. the
whites and their situation, at most,_ was a perilous
one. t was by no means imposs1ble that they
should be struck rotected as well as they were.

“ Todd!” called iddon, in a whisper.

“Well, what do you wish?” , ‘ ,

“ "l‘is an old ame, as I said afore, they re tryinu,
and must be 5 pped. I war in sich a scrape at this
when I was summat younger not now. ’Twas down
in what they call In ’in Territory. Me and a chap got
cooped up, with t e heathen firin' thar pizened
arrers at us, and never vivin’ us a chance to see ’em,
loppin‘ over that losses ' e that. Howsumever, we
.come 11 to ’em. That’s two or three spots in a boss
what t ' rifle of mine will send a bullet through
slick and clean, and give the imp his last sickness
on t’other side. ’Tain‘t every one as can do it,
’cause they’re purty sure to strike a bone. But hyer
goes.” _

r followed the motions of one of the
hoTrgees tg'rpgemoment and then _ The frenZied
beast with a wild snort, bounded high in the air
fallin backward and crushing his mortally- wounde
7 h]m_ I
Aq‘eIr baggy: forgot the spot” Biddon remarked,
with an exultant sound like the chck of his gun iu
his throat. “ I haven’t forgot the spot, and 11 try
the same thin a sin. . . .

His wea ongwis reloaded m an incredibly short
space of time and pointed through the same 100p-
~hol . But this unexpected demonstration made the
Indians mire cautious. They immediately retreat-
ed, leaving their fallen comrade and horse doubled
up together. Before they had reached a safe dis-
tance the fatal rifle of the trap _.r sounded a ain as
whitish“? we}. digit“ “‘1 ‘ ° W”
' ea ong rom

“Five left." he laughed, as he proceeded to load

l!

 

 

Nat Todd.

.10

 

his gun. “Keep quiet, Todd, and you‘ll have a
chance."

“It’s getting along toward night, Biddon; what
will on do then?"

“ ’ait till sundown comes.”

The Indians, after consulting a few minutes, rode
away a half-mile, when they disappeared in the
river-bottom.

“ What does that mean?“ asked Nat.

“ They're goin‘ to lay off till dark and fix on some
devilish trick. You can talk awhile to the gal, for
thar's no fear of thar showin’ themselves in reach of
this shooter for a while. Hold on now Biddon, on
do ,” muttered the trapper to himself. “ Thar s :1
sp eiidid ha‘r-raise for yer."

Dropping his gun and drawing his knife, he leaped
over the breast-work, and ran out 11 on the prairie
to the spot where the first sava e ha fallen. Here
he stooped and scalped the dew savage, and while
thus engaged, the re )ort of a ride was heard in the
river-bottom. The Ill( ians witnessed this deed which
they could not prevent and fired at him. The ex-
ulting trappengave a eflant yell, and, holding the
gory troH{hy aloft, made his way back to shelter on a
slow wa .

“ L‘f they hadn’t toted off t‘other varmint I’d have
his top-knot too,” he remarked, as he stepped into
the fort- again.

Night was slowly settling over the prairie, and a
few clouds were rolling up from the west. There
was to be a faint moon, which was already in the

sk .

X I hope ’twill be as dark as a wolf‘s month," said
Biddon; “ ef it is, we‘ll outwit the heathen sure. Yas,
Sir."

“ If those clouds out yonder sail across the moon's
face, you‘ll have your wish, Biddon, I think.”

“ How does the. little 'al stand it?" he asked, look-
ing down at Irene, who ad withdrawn from her con-
cealment, and was seated near him.

“I am not much fri htened, but I do dread fallin
into their hands ag n. I am sure they would ki
me if I did.”

“ Don’t be scar’t—don't be scar't, in little one,
the ’11 have to trample over Bill Bid on, and, I
rec on, another chap, afore they reach your purty
little ictur’.“

“ T e truest words you ever said," responded Nat,
warmly.

Three hours passed without any incident occurring
worthy of being mentioned. By this time it was
well into the night. The clouds s ken of were
slowly floating before the moon, rcn ering the dark-
ncss exceedingly variable—sometimes so great as to

revent our friends from distinguishing each other‘s

orms; at other times a partial view of the rairie,
for twenty or thirty yards, was obtained. iddon
had occupied himself in passing stealthil around

the interior of the fort, to prevent the illSllellS ap—
proach of his enemies. A detached conversation was
continued for a time in undertones, but the ap re-
hensions of each flnall 'keptt] all silent. Before n ght
set in, Biddon propos . ma 'ng no attempt to escape
until the second in 'ht; but from some cause, chang~
ed his mind. He a nned that they must get off that

' ht, or their case would be be 0nd hope.

nce or twice, when the iii“,r it favored, a dusk
horseman was seen carefully rcconnoitering their

sition; and, by placing the ear to the ground, the
gotfalls of their animals could be heard. They were
evidently circiinor around the fugitives, to prevent
their making 0t? in the darkness. This was con-
tinued so steadily and so long, as to satisfy the trap-
per that their enemies intended to keep them be-
sieged until nature would compel them to give in;
an as they would naturally expect the whites to re-
main in concealment as long as possible, their watch
would be closer each succeeding night. This was
why Biddon came to the determination to make the
attempt upon the present night.

Nat, havii ' I‘CCf‘lVed permission to fire at any
thing that o cred, dist-bar ed his 11 at adusk
obJect which fitted to wlew u. the dis ance; but wit
what effect he could not tell, 7 i no ell or tramp
of feet succeeded i". L half ' \ur at r, the moon
shone through a ri. i the ( .uds, and revealed to
the astonished gaze m our frimds a solitary horse,
iicing them, Wt more that fift yards distant. He
stood hkc 9.. us, and was wit mm. a. rider. When
the moonhght was obscured again, his outline could
be distinguished, standing as motioult-s as before.
B' ldon was .unable to fr y comprehend the mean-
ing of this singular apparition, but it only served to
render him doub'v cautious. While still wonderihf
he felt a touch upon his arm, and, looking aroun ,
distinguished the pale, terror—stricken face of Irene
looking up in his own.

“There is some one just outside the fort!" she
whispered. “I heard him move.”

The traegper nodded, and motioned her to regain
her conc ment. On his hands and knees he passed
round the area of the fort, listening at every inch,
until his wonderful skill enabled him to locate his
enemy. A savage, he was satisfied, was crouching
under cover of one of the bowlders on the outside.
Wavin his hand for the amazed Nat to maintain a
perfect? silence, he laid his rifle soft] upon the

'ound, drew his knife, and gathered is stren th
ara spring. His leapl was similar to that whic a
deer makes to passa ’ h fence—a sort of sidelong
bound with an agility t at carried him over like a
cat. is calculations were incredibly exact, for he
literally came down on the shoulders of the unsus-
pec Indian. A pe—a short struggle—a groan
and a gasp and the rapper bounded bac again into
the fort With another g astly scalp at his girdle.

“ He’s done for ” he chuckled.

“ Isn‘t that his horse still standing yonder?" asked

a .
Biddon looked toward the point indicated, and saw

 

 

that the animal remained in the same motionless
attitude. Ho paused an instant, then stepped li 1rhtly
on the IEairic again, and ran rapidly toward the
horse. ie animal probably mistook him for its
Indian master, for he made no resistance or motion
to flee. Biddon seized his bridle and led him forward
to the fort.

“ Todd!" he hurriedly called, “ step out yei;
quick!"

“What‘s wanting?" asked that person, bounding
beside him.

“The time to travel ar‘ come. That Injin I jist
now rubbed out is the one with that big blanket fly-
in‘ over his shoulder; this ar‘ his horse. Git on him
throw his blanket over yer neck, take the 'al behind
yer, and cover her up with it, and put. T e ‘11 take
yer fur that chap stifleued out thar, and w ien ou

et cl‘ar of ‘em go down to the bottom wharl eft
r’other bosses; you'll then have. one apiece, and put
like blues; and you‘ll give ’em the slip."

“ And you Y"

“ Never mind me; I‘ll foller you soon. Irene, this
way, quick!“ '

'l‘he maiden was by his side in an instant. She had
heard his plan and understood it. Nat was iven to
rebel, at first, at leaving his companion in t ie rear,
but the latter was iin )erntive, and threatened to
shoot him if he hesitated.

“ Hug him close,“ he continued to Irene, “and let
that blanket swing over yer' and Todd, make a few
circles round like, so as to blind tbar eyes, and when
yer git cl‘ar of their sight, do what you war told to.“

A moment after Nat Todd was caiitering over the

rairie on the dead Indian‘s horse, with Irene cling-
ing to him. He distinguishl (1 several horsemen, ri ~
ing on a walk, after getting out of sight of the fort,
and, to deceive them, followed Biddou’s advice—imi-
tating their movements, and gradually edging away
from them, until, seeing the coast clear, he made a
straight line to the river bottom. The whinn of
Irene’s horse, as the entered, guided their search to
the two animals le t there by the tra per. Irene
mounted her own animal, leaving the ot er for Bid-
don, and she and Nat once more struck to the east-
ward on a rapid gallog.

The trap er listene to the receding steps of.
horse whic bore the two away from the fort, an
did not change his osition until the were be-
yond hearing and, as iewell Judged, hat succeeded
perfectly wi h the strata rem.

“’Twas a good trick,’ he muttered; “but of i!
hadn‘t been for the gal, Bill Biddon wouldn’t have
allowed ‘em to do it. It would have lost too fine a
chance for a ha’r-raise. B’ars and beavers, it would 1"

He commenced debating his own chances of es-
cape. Now that the others were safe, his greatest.
care was gone; but it would not have been charac-
teristic of the man had be neglected his own. A few
minutes’ thou ht decided his course.

The dead In ian was lifted in his arms and carried
to the spot where his horse was first seen. Here he
was stretched flat upon his back, and his limbs
straightened. Biddon, deeming Nat had gone far
enough to risk a discovery, gave a loud whoop and
retreated within the fort.

In a few moments two savages rode cautiously to-
ward the spot from which the sound had emanated.

The reconnoitered the dead body a moment, but
fina y approached. A careful examination followed
revea hig the alarming fact that their comrade hat
not to] en by a bullet, but by the knife of their ene-
my. To have done this of course the. struggle must
have occurred at this s ot upon the prairie, and the
white man must have ed after committing the deed.
They raised no yell but rode in a body to the fort,
and, after several feints, entered it. The whites Were
gone!

Now ascended a ell, such as a score of demons
mi ht be supposed 0 give, and the baffled savages

oped away toward he river bottom. When fair-
lz out of sight one of the bowlders on the outside of
t e breastwork pitched forward, and the form of
Bill Biddon rose to view.

“Reds is reds, and fools is fools, and of ever they
war takin in bootiful, that at" time is jist about now.
So Bill Biddon thinks. Wagh i"

DrOpping his head, he ran rapid] in the direction
of the river bottom, intending to nd his horse and
follow our hero and heroine as he had promised.
This required a longer time than he expected; but
be secured him at last, and as he emerged from the
bottom he_struck into a fnl run, and set up a shout
of exultation. Hardly had the echoes died awa ,
when _four mounted Indians buist after him, (1 s-
chargin two rifles at.tlie same time. Biddon an-
swered he shot, and its effect was told by a fren-
zied ell and a fall of one of the horsemen.

“ ome on, all of you!" he shouted: “cf on have
shot Bill Biddon he can draw head on 'ou ylt!”

In less time than it takes us to w to i , his rifle
was reloaded, but before he could flre, his enemies
were mVisible. Reduced to three, and convinced
that capture was impossible, they had withdrawn
and given up the pursuit.

Away flew the tra per like a meteor burstin
across the rairie. HE knew that he was not fo-
lowed, and it was not fear that led him on.

“I must cotch ’em!“ he muttered, putting his
horse to the top of his speed. “You must travel,
boss, ef it kills you.”

Not a jot of the terrific rate at which he was going
was abated. Mile after mile flew under his fee ‘
hair streamed in the night wind—his face wore a
strange, unnatural look. His lips were tightly com-
pressed, and at intervals he muttered brokenlyto

imself, or shouted hoarser to his horse. Final] ,
fhekli ht of day appeared in the east. The trappzr

00 up. .

“I must be purty near up to 'em. They can‘t ham

rode as fast as me.”

 

 

16

 

... ..
._ __. .-.. .—_.s-.._......_. ...._.._.._____.__

 

The sides of the horse were steamy and frothy, his
nostrils dilated, and he breathed short and quick.
As the prairie was illuminated by the sun‘s rays,
Biddon looked carefully ahead.

“They;3 ought to be in sight; I’ve rode a long
ways. ‘ars and beavers! yeiider they ar‘ 2“

()n a distant swell of the prairie he saw his two
friends. He swung his but over his head and shout-
ed. In a moment a faint halloo was returned. He
was seen, and they were waiting for him.

Onward thundered hie trapper, as if riding for
life. A half-hour, and his panting horse was beside

Nat's.
“ Yer safe,“ he remarked. with a deep sigh. “ I
dropped another, and they give up the chase. You

can trike yer time now; none of ‘em will foller you
more. ‘

“ But, Biddon, why have you ridden so fast? Your
horse seems jaded to death. The Oregon trail is but
a few miles awa ', and you needn‘t have hurried.
We. were waiting or you. What makes you look so
strange? You are deadly pale. I see b ood on your
breast! My God! Have, you been shot?"

“ Todd, ill Biddon has got his last sickness at
last!" replied the tra per, in a voice whose hollow
depth was awful. “ wiped one of "em out, and the '
blazed away with both tliar shooters~one of the bu —
lets wen! dean. [loot/(m ma’"

N at and Irene were horrified, and almost beside
themselves.

“ Is it a mortal wound? Can you bear up till we, find
assistance? Oh, Biddon, you are not going to die
now?“

“ No—no—let me dress your wound,“ plead Irene,
dismounting and approaching him. The irappcrino-
tioned them back, and alighied himself.

“I‘ve wt to go under in less nor an hour," he
said, in t ic same hollow tone, as Nat assisted him to
a seat. “I didn’t want to do it alone, that’s why I
rode so hard to come, up with on. Don‘t feel bad
aboutit," added Biddon, languidly opening his eyes,
as he heard the suppressed sobs of ioth his friends.

“ Oh, Biddon! this is terrible. I‘ll never for 've
myself for leavin you alone to carry on the batt e,"
walled Nat, knee ng beside him.

A shade of vexation crossed the trapper‘s face: his
brows com reSsed slightly as he replied:

“It 8&V6( you and the gal, and let‘s hear no more
about it. It won‘t do no good,” he added, as he felt
them examining his wound. “It’s past tioctorin’.”

Irene had uiislung the small canteen which he wore
about his neck, and was bathing and dressing the
wound to the best of her ability. A glance showed
her and Nat that the man‘s words were true. A bul-
let had passed through his body in the nei hborhood
of the lungs, and life was fast ebbin out. is indom-
itable determination had sustain him up to this

int. He knew no earthly power could ward of!

s dissolution, and his 0 wish was to die in the

rcsence of the two whose lives he had saved. Now
that he had reached them, his will gave way and he
sunk with fearful rapidity. Nat an Irene saw that
the most they could do was to soothe the dying man’s
moments and no time was lost in lamentations. His
hunting-shirt was opened. so as to allow the air to
mach him, and the flow of blood partially stop .
His head was pillowed in the lap of Irene, who ad
removed his cap and brushed back the shaggy locks
from his brow. In this position he lay, Breathing
heavily, and occasionally gasping, sometimes open-
ing the eyes whose electric litter was now dead-
ened, and looking from Nat‘s ace to that of Irene,
where it seemed to love to linger. Once or twice it
was noticed that his lips appeared to move, and it
was with gratified astonishment that Nat heard the
words of pro. or passing his lips.

“Todd, ’ a length he spoke, as if waking from a
dream, “ you and I’ve hunted together a long time,
but we‘ve got to part. I've s'pected this all through
the winter, and am not sorry for myself. You‘ve
flothe gal at last, and ar' fur eno h to git her

ugh to the States. Thar‘s a be t ‘round my
body, jist below the hurt. Will you take it off?"

Nat did as requested, and found he held in his hand
a broad, thick and exceedingly heavy belt.

“That’s full of gold," he said, speaking at inter’
vals. “ I‘ve been gatheriii‘ it u for thirty years.
Some of it came mm the Ru son Bay Company,
though it‘s little they give in that way besides
trinkets. Thar‘s agood 0t thar; take it, use it. It
never Clfin do me good. and I‘ve no one else to give it
to. Wi {ou promise 1?”

Nat loo ed at Irene, and the two answered that
they would. He then continued:

“ Bu-ry me in my clothes, my shooter, knives, and
eve hin with me."

“ halli be done here?“ asked Nat.

“Yas; you‘ll have some trouble to dig the
but it needn‘t be deep, and a few stones rolle
it will keep the wolves and varmint away."

He ceased speaking for a while. During the disar-
rangement of is dress, Nat noticed a ribbon around
his neck, concealed beneath his hunting-shirt. He
examined it, not through any vulgar curiosity, and
found it contained a small locket in which was an
exquisite painting of a young and beautiful girl. He
was on the point of asknig the trapper‘s will respect-
ing this, when the latter spoke:

‘ Tliar‘s a pictur‘ you‘ll see ’round my neck—bury
it with me. She was buried lon years ago. It was
her that made a tra r of Bill Biddon; but the stor
can’t be told now. meant to have told you, Tod ,
but the time has passed.”

Another lapse of silence passed, during which the
trapper’s dissolution became more and more a par-
ent. His face was of unearthly theness, an the

rav ‘
OVBI‘

aim of death was already visible over his half-closed
so . His lips continued moving, and after one or
attempts, he spoke aloud:

 

“ Todd. you have talked to me 'bout what you call-

 

ed raligion, and I remember how a mother used to
pray fur me when I was young. Bill Biddon has led
a quar life. He has taken man a seal , and wiped
out many a red-skin, and whet er the. Being will
take him after all this I cannot tell. But I‘ve thought
about Him a good deal, and have tried to pray to
him fur a good while to come. Would ou ray?"

Nat uttered a short, earnest prayer or t e dying
man, and he seemed much comforted.

“I feel better," he added after he had finished.
“ I think, Todd and Irene, I’ll see you ag’in, and
Relmond, and t ie little an el of his wife. Don‘t for-
get to tell them about old ill Biddon, and—"

The tra per paused as a cloud swept over his fea-
tures. His emotions were so singular that N at, fear-
ful the last, moment had come, spoke:

“ What is the matter, Biddon? ’

“ The [Iii/ms ar‘ oomm‘ I“ he replied, in his husky
whis ier.

“ i ()—--llO, you are mistaken; none but your friends
are around you," said Nat, fearing his mind was wan-
dering. The trapper knit his brows, as if with pain,
and added:

" No I don‘t mean you.
[hear file red-skins, I 
animals.“

Nat, thinking perhaps there might be truth in what
was said. sprung to his feet and swept the horizon.
The view on the east was obstructed by a range of
hills, but there were no signs 0‘ any human beings
besides themselves. He repeated this to Biddon.

“ [Item- the (ramp of [losses /“ reiterated the latter.
“ It‘s hard to let my top-knot fall into thar hands af-
ter gettin’ this far. Todd, will you do the last favor
Bill Biddon will ever ask you?"

“ Yes—ves—anything you wish."

“ I would die hard, as I said, ef I thought the ' war
to get my ha‘r. Jist take my knife then, Tod< . and
lilflt ‘t yersell’, and the imps will be cheated, after
a l"*

“ Oh, God! don‘t ask me that, Biddon,“ groaned
Nat. “ I‘ll fight over you as long as I can stand, but
no power on earth could induce me to harm a hair
of your head."

‘ I s'pose it isn‘t your edication, Todd; but I don't
want my topknot to hang in an Injin’s lodge. Can‘t
,0u__71

“Surely, surely, Biddon, you're mistaken. There
are no sava, es near us.“

Irene touc ed Nat’s arm and pointed toward the
river-bottom. Some eight or ten horsemen had just
emer ed from below them and were approaching

“ T e ' are not Indians—they are not ndians, id-
don. T ey are friends—white people—whose horses
you heard. They are here-cheer up i”

“ I suppose so; I knew ‘twas the trampKOf animals
I heard. Git up. Irene, pray for me, h e an angel
as ou ar‘.”

at arose to catch the attention of the horsemen,

I know wliat I am about.
I hear the tramp of thar

while Irene complied with the holy request of the

trapper. When our hero looked toward his com-
nion again, he saw that Bill Biddon, the hunter and
rapper, was dead!

The horsemen were a party of hunters, who had
diverged from the Oregon trail to continue their
operations in this direction. Two of them had been
acquainted with the trappfr several years before, and
mourned his death Wit sincere sorrow. Several
hours were 8 nt in di gingagrave, broad and deep,
in which to p ace his y. heir knives were the on y
instruments employed, and when the body of Biddon
was carefully lowered into the earth it was high noon.
He was buried in his clothes, his faithful rifle beside
him, and the locket. which contained the picture
probably of some love that had exercised a potent
influence over his life, still remained around his neck.

The grave was wet by the tears of Nat and Irene
who mourned him as a rou h but true-hearted an
brave man, whose loss coul never be replaced. No
slab or stone marks the lonely spot in the Far West,
where all that is mortal remains of the tra er. It
is on the bank of the Malheur river, a. few mi es west
of the Oregon trail; but the feet of wild animals and
the lapse of time have so obliterated all traces of it,
that today even the eye of affection would fail to
recognize it.

A few more words and the tale is finished. Nut
and Irene accompanied the hunters down to Fort
Boise. where they found another party upon the
mint of starting to California. As the present of

iddon furnished Todd with an ample supply of
money, he concluded to take the steamer from n
Francisco instead of risking another tedious and

erilous journe across the plains. This course he
ollowed out. n this cit , he encountered the trav-
eler with whom he ha passed several days at
Brown’s Hole.

It was he who had written the note which occa-
sioned so much wonderment. His information was
derived from a hunter; and, believing) it to be relia-
ble, be withheld his name, fearing t at Nat might
wet it to be only a piece of pleasantry, as he
. quite a reputation for his jokes on his compan-
ions.

The particulars of the homeward voyage need not
be (given. The storms and sunshine—the tem sts
an calms—the glorious moonlight nights an the
delightful hours spent in communion With each oth-
er—the gradual growth of the tender passion—the
all-important question and answer—the thousands

 

*This request of the dying trapper ma seem in-
credible; but there are well-authentic». instances
in the histo of our frontier in which a. ranger or
scout has sea ped his comrade, at the latter‘s pr'tityer,
to save the disgrace of his enemies securiuinif it. eir
romantic fear, in this respect, seems eq to that d
the Indian himself.

-. - .5 Half-Dime Library.

 

 

 

of. air-castles that arose in the enchanted future—e)!
these, and many more, the reader can imagine.

Todd, when he arrived in New York, iele raphed
to Relmond who, accompanied by his wife. immedi-
ately visited him. For the first time since childhood.
the on -lost, the long-separated sisters and orphans
met. ut time had onl sanctified their love; and
the friendship between linond and Todd remains
uninterrupted to this day.

Nat. in the magnanimity of his heart forgave his
old flame, Sarah Ahnina, now Mrs. Hankins, and she
and her husband both liel . to celebrate the wed-
ding. At the present writing, Nat resides in Maine,
where he and his strangely-found wife are bounte-
ously sup lied with all that goes to make life serene-
ly happy in this world, and that fits them for the en-
joyment of the World to come.

THE END.

 

Beadle’s Halillime library.

BITF‘FALO BILL NOVELS.

BY COL. PRPINTISS INGRAHAM.

1052 Buffalo Bill In Disguise.

10-16 Gold l’luine, the Buy llandlt,; or, Buffalo Bill, the Pony
ExpresA Rider.

“‘42 L litle Grlt, the Pony Exprefl Rider.

10-10 ltuffnlo Bill‘s Pony l‘utrol.

1015 Buffiilo Blll'n Tn xuu 'l‘q-ulll-

1007 Buffalo Bill‘s Sure-Shots.

1000 Bulfulo Bill's Decoy Boyu. _

995 Buffalo Blll‘u Drop; or, “HULSlIH‘. Ntd ,the Kanns K141

9S5 Bulfqu Bill's fun-so Throwers.

9%] Buffalo Blll'u Flgllfluu' Five.

97?. Buffalo Bill’s lilllefihotl.

96% Buffalo Bill‘s Bun-II Bide; or, Sure-Shot. the lllgh-Flyer-

SHE-l Bulfqu Illll'u Decoy ; or, The Arizona Crack Shot.

95h Buffan Bill‘s Miizep )ll-(‘llule.

94H Buffqu Bill‘s Snap-5' rot : Ur. Wild Kid's Texan Tally

942 Buffqu Bill‘s 'l‘ou h Tin-ale.

936 Buffalo Bill’s Boy .luseot; or. Joe .llll’VlI' Hold-up.

929 Buffalo Blll‘n (‘ruck-nliot I’m-d.

650 Buffalo Bill‘s Boy Part]; or, Butterfly Billy.

910 Blllou Blll. the Prince, oi the Reina.

$22 Blnou BIlI’II Clue: or. Grit, the Binvo Sport.

BY BI’FFAID BIIL.

55 Deadly-Eye. the Unknown Scour, or, The Banded motherhood
03 Border Robin llood : or, The Prairie Rover.
15R Fancy Frank of Colorado: or, The Trapper’l Tmt.
1029 ’l he l’huntnm Spy.
1088 Kansas king; or, The lied Right Hand.

BV CAPT. ALFRED B. TAYLOR, ll. 3. A.

If” Buffalo B “y. the Boy Bullwhnckor.
194 Buffalo I III I Bet: or. The Gambler Guido.

 

BY COL. PREN'I‘ISS INGRAHAM.

108? The Artist Detective.
1084 The Gold “'ltch’s Hhadower.
{93' ii? I“? "Fifi" "l ' tibia
l? ‘e‘owoy a enn II
1025 The Flying \ ankee or, The Ocean Outcast.
“33 1:13“: Cigu'bp‘y (ilanIlnLCI: n.
6 he 0' Inger n‘lla.
982 N Yor Nat‘s Dro : or, Ex-FemtSyhu’ Bold Gan.
:i'ork gut and t-lied'l‘rnltor Ferret.
'ork . at ‘rappe .
914 New York Nat‘l 'Ihree of a Kind.
'ork Nat‘a Double.
903 . ew "ork Nut'i- In Colorado.
'ork Nat in Gold huggct Camp.
{oi-k Nut’a Deadly llenl.
'ork Nnt’l Crook-Chute.
fork Nat’n Trump Curd.
'ork Nut and the Grave Ghouh.
fork Nnt’u Mal-lu- anot.
'ork Not. the Gnmiii Detective.
town’- Kidnap er Knockout.
wnswtm-
com I u- an .
loom’n Death-Grip; or, The macaw,» My.
Joom’a Dentin)"; or, The River Buckle: I Toner.
Iloom; or. " he Sharp; and Sharks ol New York.
loom in Boston; or, A Man of Many Masks.
k ii°°"' i" hma‘i‘i’ii ‘Went.
on n e
298 "k. "tom'l (‘lenn Sweep: onl'lvo link-in aCluo.
808 Dlek Doom’a Death flue.
NIB Dlek loom’l Diamond Deal.
H19 Dick lloom’n Girl Mascot.
9‘3 Doom:- g‘lpullolw Illulit.
l Doom: g on . '

l nhln (‘lmrllex or The Kentucky'l‘endnhotal’lnt'l‘nfl.
 llgn Mil: (‘hnrlle’n Dov-Iluy: or,’l‘ho Ronmdo'u Captivs
rem Dina-hing (‘harlle’l Pawnee Part].

766 Dal-Mug Charlie, the Rescuer.
m it”: We» transients... .
787 no ay or. a _ . .

'1‘; low: Bo g; 01,1he Re Ridenoilh Rio Grands
748 Buck y And i‘ifly Others.

NEW ISSUES.

Dlek Deco ed. By Robert R. Inmui.
 gu‘r-ed hot Seth, my; Boy Riflemnn. By Oll Coomet.
1066 (‘0 boy Chi-la, the Des—rt Centaur. R W. W. Wild".
106? You Bet Rob’s-Ian le. By Arizvna 
1088 The Cruise of the ca Wo f. By Co . lust-ham.
1009 (in Lam: and $1130.? 3y {Binzrg‘ulgccfi;lsag. B, Em‘

' . e I 0 II In

"no N.“ Tm d. or B Rain. 3 lumen.
gnarl". By 011 Coomn.

I

a

a

z A

O

a
AJAAAA

C I
fl {:1
N 9
s z
1

RS

712 lllck
1'2"? Dick

 

 

0 l D d Dlek’i Decoy
io-io thnylinlf’e, Prince crib.

JUST ISSUED. E

055' It d Raven’s Red-Lin Rune. By Col filming
i055 Ciswboy cum in Cinnabar. Bv Wm. w. Wilder.
1057 con] mu... m. Sharprliootor._ as Ed. L.Wheeler.
1058 Boderlek, the Rover. By T. Flanagan
1059 Ned Wylde, the Bow Scout. B
1060 Marlo. the Renegade. By
1081 IIllvei- Star. the Boy Knight.
106 Leftdland Athlete.
1068 Wild Blll’a Weird Foe. y in G

A New Issue Every Tuesday.

The . Libra ll for sale by all modal-I, In
OI.- causal; 2.0:: by mung reed» oi oi: «nu-uh.

BEADLE AND ADAMS. Publishers.
92 William Street. New York.

Tvxnl Jack.

0]. Prentlu Ingrahun.
By Oil ('oninu

By Brat-abridge Hamyn'.
B W Patton.

(9

'-l

I‘
a