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THE. PHANTOM TRAIL; ‘

on,

THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

 

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BY EDWARD S. ELLIS.

' NEW YORK:
BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
98 WILLIAMREET

 

 

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FRANK STARR & 00..

In the oflco of the Librarian of Congteu, at. Washington

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE PHANTOM TRAIL;

om
I‘HE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

 

CHAPTER I.
THE TRAVELERS.

Itwas on a fine summer dnv. in 1850. that Ireined
my horse up. and from my position took a. survey oi the
sum ounding prairie.

Thai warning I had crossed the Missouri Rive' into
what is now Nebraska Territory; and now as the day was
drawing to a close, and as I had placed many a. mile be-

, hind me, I cast about for a suitable place to make my first
“encampment” on the prairie. Wenried as I was with
my long ride. I could but take in all the exhilarating plea.-
sure of the majestic scene before me. The predominant
variety of surface was the rolling or undulatory. so often
compared to the ocean. The scenery, however, was
varied enough to prevent any sensation of monotony.
Looking to the westward, the prairie seemed limitless in
extent, stretching away until earth and sky joined in the
faint blue of the far-off horizon; but to the north and
south, belts of timber, and beyond these the misty outlines
of an extensive forest were visible, and still away beyond,
like a mass of peaked clouds resting in the sky, towered the
summit of the‘Binck Hills.

My horse stood upon a. piece of rising ground, looking

, down from which a river was visible, flowing eastward

into the Missouri. and although of n size that would have
made it of first imnortance in the Old World, still, in the

I

 

  

10 rm: PRAIRIE RANGERS.

vast territory of our continent, its significance as yet is not

sufllcient to win it a name. It was several hundred yards

away, and the murmur of its current, as it glided over its

pebbly bed, was plainly audible. Its banks were partially

fringed by timber, among which the cotton-wood predomi-

nated, and at a point hardly a furlong above me, this tim-
. ber thickened so sensibly as to entitle itself to the name of
' a grove.

While gazing mechanically at this collection of trees, I
was startled to observe a thin, pointed column of smoke
ascending from them, and blending in the clear air above.
It arose perpendicularly until dissolved, and was so faint
that had not I looked directly toward it, it would have es-
caped my observation altogether. Up to this time I was
alone in this solitude, and the sudden discovery that
another human being, at least, was at that moment within
hailing distance, gave me a peculiarly unpleasant sensation
which it is difficult to describe. I had fancied myself to
be in the very heart of the West, when I was thus re-
minded that I was hardly beyond the pale of civilization.

From the slowness with which the smoke filtered up
through the tree-tops, and from the height which it had al-
ready attained, it was evident that the fire had already
been burning several hours. The stillness with which this
manifestation of another presence went on was to me its
most expressive feature. Had I heard a shot, the crack-
ling of the burning wood, or the whinney of a horse, it
would have had a far difierent ed‘ect; or had the vapor in-
creased in density, as though additional fuel was heaped
upon the flame, it would have been a slight relief. Butno

f. such thing occurred, and the most studied listening failed
‘ to detect the slightest sound, save that of the faintly mur- '
muring river.

Among all the emotions that I experienced, I do not
think that offiaar occurred. Despite my fanciful penetra-
tion into the Great West, I knew I had not progressed far
enough to have cause for apprehension from hostile In-
dians, and the idea of a white man in the solitude being
other thans friend and welcome companion, never once

 

 

  

   

 

 

   
 
 
    

    

'rnn PRAIRIE RANGERS. 11

entered my mind. Still the uncertainty made me hesitate
a long-time before riding forward. My own situation was
such that I could be easily seen from the grove, and in the
hope of attracting attention toward myself, I coughed seveo
In] times, and spoke in a loud tone to my horse. It'. in-
deed, a pair of human eyes were gazing at me from the
timber, their owner was so carefully concealed that I
learned nothing of him.

At length Idetermined to ride boldly forward to the
fire, and make myself known to whomsoever was in the
grove. My horse descended the hill, crosSed a small,
open plain to the river bank, and ascending this a short
distance, was soon making his way among the trees. By
this time the sun was just sinking and twilight was already
enveloping the river and prairie. I had proceeded but a
few yards, when the glimmering of the camp-tire was
seen, and in another moment I had risen up and dis-
mounted.

I was not a little taken back when I gazed around, and
saw that I was entirely alone. The fire, to all appearance,
had been untouched for hours, and it was with a feeling of
keen disappintment that I reflected, in all probability he

'who had kindled it was many miles away. However, a

more suitable resting place could not be found, and with
the resolve to make full use of it, I unfastened the girths
of any saddle, and commenced making my preparations ac-
cordingly.

I had scarcely begun thus, when I startled by a deep
bass, and not unpleasant salutation of “Good evening,
friend!"

I turned, and beheld in the dim twilight before me, one
of the most manly and prepossessing figures I ever met.
He approached me, and with a frank, cordial smile, ex-
tended his hand, And warmly shook my own. Of course, I
could not notice every peculiarity of dress and appearance at
that time, but I describe him now as I afterward saw
him. He was a man about thirty yr an of age," rather tan
of stature, apparently. without an ounce of superfluous
flesh, and yet not too attenuated to he graceful,

  

12 rm: mums RANGERS.

He had dark, hazel eyes, a small, Well-shaped Roman
nose and finely-turned head, the hair of which was thin
and silky in texture, and being always combed, and neatly
parted at the back, after the fashion of the present day,
helped to give him the appearance of a man, who, although
beyond the confines of civilized society, still had not for-
gotten its usages and customs. Two-thirds of his face was
covered by a beard of jet blackness, which was kept
trimmed, and not permitted to acquire that enormous
length so often seen in the West. His dress was entirely
a “ civilized" one, and had been made for its present use.
It was similar to that worn by sportsmen, save that, per-
has, it was more durable and costly; the boots, being of
the finest workmanship, rising to the knees, and enclosing
the pants. One thing more should be noted —the man
possessed a fine education, and was a gentleman in the
truest sense of the term.

“Good evening," I returned. “Seeing no one when I
rode up, I was afraid I should be compelled to encamp
alone to-night."

“I sew you approaching, and just stepped behind a tree
to obtain a good view of you."

“And how did the view suit you i" I laughed.

“Very well, indeed.”

“And so I can say in sincerity does mine, especially
when, instead of a. rude, uncultivated hunter or trapper, I
find a main evidently of culture and refinement.”

“ Waiving nll compliments for thepresent, my first duty
is hospitality. Your horse only needs picketing to pro-

vide for him. I have just cooked it good haunch of venison, .

which we will share together."

Taking my horse by the bridle, he led him further into
the grove, where his own was picketed, and after securing
him for the night, returned to the fire, arid replenished it,
Then picking up a piece of steaming meat, which lay a
short distance from the fire, upon a quantity of fresh leaves,
he 30 red it in the middle, and offered me one half. The
flavor showed that he was no tyro in the wsy of cooking.

 

tip

 

 

 
  
 

 

    

 

 

'ma mum RANGERS. 13

and the supper that I ate that night was never exceeded in
enjoyment by anything that I have partaken since.

By the time our evening meal was finished, night had
shut down around us, and the grove was of inky blackness,
save where the red glow of our camp-fire made its way.
our pipes were produced, and rolling our blankets beneath
us, so that we could recline upon them, we stretched out
upon opposite sides of the embers, and looking across to
each other through the volumes of smoke that curled up
from our pipes, I rather remarked than asked—

“ We have not yet reached a point where we have cause
to fear Indians.”

“ N 0; we may make two or three days’ journey before
feeling any apprehension. Should a roaming hand of Pun-
cahs or Sioux come upon us, it might require some vigi-
lance to prevent our property from being stolen. But that
would be all the trouble they would give us"

“And is there no cause to believe such a band in the
vicinity ?"

“Possible, but not probable. It is not the season when
they are engaged in hunting, ‘ and nothing but accident
could bring them in this'section."

“Then you have not seen the ‘red men‘ as yet ?" I
asked, more for the purpose of gaining some knowledge-
of my friend, than of obtaining a direct reply to the
question.

“Do you mean during the present journey, or do you
ask whether I have seen them at all ?" said he, looking me
in the face.

“ Whether you have seen them at all ?"

“ All, my friend,” he answered, with another of his
winning smiles, “if you think I have not met the genuine
North American Indian—not one of these filthy dogs that
infest the border, but the wild savage himself, ——you are
greatly mistaken. It is no boasting for me to say there is
hardly a tribe of any importance west of the Mississippi,
which, at some time or other, I have not met. I have
crossed the plains to California more than once."

 

34 THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

“ And, I trust, found enough of the yellow metal to re.
pay you ?"

“ It was not gold that drew me thither,” he replied with
a serious face.

“Not gold that drew you thither?” I repeated in aston-
ishment. “ What then, could it have been? I beg par-
don,” I added, as I noticed his gravity. “ I did not mean
to hurt your feelings.”

“ No apology is necessary; your curiosity is natural.”

“You have traveled a great deal then in the Far West,”
I remarked, anxious to turn the conversation.

“ Considerably; I have journeyed as flit as the Dalles
of the Columbia, in the N<irtthest, and as far in the
South-West as Sante Fe. Over most of the ground com.
prehended between our present situation and those two
points, I have passed at some time or other. In fact I
think I can properly term myself a Pmiri ' Ranger.”

“ It must have required a number of years to do that.”

“Very true. Ever since 1842—eight years—with now
and then a flying visit to my home, I have been on the
plains or mountains. My wanderings for the first four
years were confined to the territory east of the Rocky
Mountains ; but in the summer of 1847 I passed down the
western slope, and for almost two years ranged through
that wild and almost unknown country. It may no
doubt seem singular to y0u, sir, that so much of my life
should be spent in such a manner, when I state that my
parents are living, and that my circumstances are as com.
fortable and promising as I could possibly wish."

“It most certainly does." ‘

“But during all those eight Years I have had an object
—the same object that is leading me forward this minute.
I will state, howeVer, that, Whether successful or not, this
is the last journey I shall ever make to the Far West."

These remarks of, my friend, as may be naturally sup-
posed, excited in no small degree my curiosity. I felt 9,].
most willing to do anything to ascertain who he was, and
what it was that excited so potent an influence upon his

life. It must have been, something extraordinary in ' thf

i

      
   

 
 

 

 

 
 
 

 
   

 

 

 
 
  
  

 

  

_ catching my hand.

'mn PRAIRIE muons. 15

highest degree, for he possessed a powerful mind, and one
that could not be swayed by trivial incidents. But great
as was the interest I felt, nothing in the world could have
induced me to question him. The respect that he had in-
spired, told me that when he had sufficient confidence in
myself, and when he judged the proper time had come, he
would disclose as much as he thought proper. As yet I
had not even learned his name, nor he mine, much less
had we imparted our destinations and intentions. Believing
it time for this to be done, I said: .

“ My friend, it occurs to me that there should be a lit.
tle more freedom between us. We have met by accident,
and each has professed himself interested in the other. 1
have considerable curiosity to learn your name, and also to
know whether I shall be doomed to part company with
you on the morrow."

“ I hope not. My name then is Preston Kendall, and l
reside in New Orleans. My destination at present is rather
uncertain, but it will probably be the Saskatchewan ot‘ Brit-
ish America. Should there be a larger companionship be-
tween us, you will understand more of me."

"‘ My own name is Warren Mnrewold, and I am a
Buckeye. I have wfather and several brothers living, but
I have no sisters. My prospects in life are not such as to
warrant ease and indolence, even were I o disposed.
There are two causes for my appearance in this country,
with my face turned westward. The first is a desire to
better my wordly prospects ; and the second is a hope of
adventure, either of which perhaps exercises as much influ-
ence upon me as does the other.”

“ Have you any intention of making California your des-
tination."

“ Had I been at liberty I might have done so a year or
two ago. but I have given up all thoughts of going thither
for the present. If you have no objections, I shall be glad
to accompany you."

“ Objections l" exclaimed Kendall, springing up, and
“The last words you should utter to .

me. Oh, how often during my wanderings have I thought

 

  

  

THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

that if I could only have a companion I could thank Heaven
over and over again. I mean such a person as could
be a companion—not a rough, unsoeiable hunter or trap-
per, such as I have spent a few days with, but a man like
myself, with whom I can converse and exchange confidences,
and be understood. And," he added, resenting himself.
“it shall not be a loss to you. You shall be abundantly
compensated upon our return for the time spent with
“la-9|

“ I expect to be compensated," said I, looking him
steadily in the eye, “but not as you proposed jun now.
Your company is what leads me to go with you."

“But Marewold," said he, half rising in his earnestness,
“this isn’t fair. Let me hire you.‘ I am abundantly able
to do it ; and as I count upon your assistance in the ac-
complishment of my object, it is nothing but simple jus-
tice." ‘

“ Let us waste no more words upon the matter.
Although, as I said, I go with you for the sake of your
company, it isn’t that alone I have other objects, which
will appear in time. Say nothing again of hiring me, for
if you do, I shall look upon itas nothing more nor less than
an insult."

“That matter is settled then. . This being the last jour-
ney I shall make, it must be the most pleasant, and if
crowned with success, how Well shall I be repaid for my
years of toil and anxiety."

“ But if not successful why should it be your last jour.
ney ‘1’" -

“ For the reason that I then shall be convinced that it is
hopeless to search—t0 journey farther- I “We Promised
my parents that aflex‘ this I shall remain with them.“

“I fervently hope, then, that your long search (I was '

careful to emphasize the Word he had unwittingly used)
may be rewarded by the discOVGI‘Y 0“ its Object. and not
end in a disappointment at last."

I smoked harder than ever after' saying this, in hopes
that the thick Volumes of Vapor would hide my face frt at
him, furl knew his dark eyes were fixed “POD 1116- A

 

 

  

 
   

 

._, ‘ a...” w... .W »-«—‘——«

 ‘ dab ' ’2: -;

mu PRAIRIE manor-2m. l7

furtive glance through a rift in the smoke showed me that
he was quietly smiling, as though amused at the remark ]
had made.

“ I see. like all our people, you possess your share of curi
OSity. Have patience, and in a few days you shall under-
stand all."

The quiet, pleasant humor of this remark made me
laugh in spite of myself.

“ Don‘t think me vulgarly curious," said I. “ I am
content to wait your own time ; but. I judged you spoke a
word it was not your intention to use, and I repeated it
on purpose to see the effect it would produce. I had hard
work to keep from laughing when you surveyed me with
such a wondering expression. Now, as a guarantee of my
intentions, I promise you that the subject shall not be again
referred to by me until you have introduced it yourself."

“ Such a promise is unnecessary; but as we have had
quite a long conversation, suppose we turn in for the
night."

I assenting. to my joyful surprise, instead of lying dowr
at once, he produced a small pocket Bible, and leaning
forward so that the fire shone upon its pages, he read, in
his deep, impressive monotone, a chapter of the Book of
Revelations. I kneeled with him upon the ground, and
we two joined our prayers together.

CHAPTER II.

3031' LABAMIE—L FAMOUS CHARACTER, AND AN “USING
OCCURRENCE—EN ROUTE AGAIN.

In the afternoon of the next day we struck the Platte
River, which, it will be remembered, the great overland
trail to Oregon follows to its source near the South Pass.
And here, although l‘a'rly out upon the prairies, we seemed
in a thickly populated country, for at that day a perfect
flood of emigration was pouring westward to the Pacific

 

 

  

THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

coast, and I do not recollect that we were once out of sight 0.
some train, and often the trail seemed alive with them.
We sometimes kept them company fora mile or so, but
as their progress was much slower than we wished to
travel, we left them at the end of that distance and hurried
forward. All night their camp—fires could be seen twink—
ling in different directions, and we made it a point to re-
main with some of them until morning. We conversed,
and formed the acquaintance of many, and I made numer-
ous inquiries about “ home,” as we termed the States ; but
in every case, I found that my crossing the Mississippi was
subsequent to theirs, and that instead of receiving, I im-
parted information.

On the second day we reached the “ Fort," which
stands upon the south bank of the Platte, and which has
long been an important station in the West. We found a
great crowd of emigrants here, as the travel was unusually
great. Hunters and trappers too, were lounging around
the outside, smoking, chatting, telling stories and gambling.
Each new comer was surveyed with idle curiosity as he
came up, and remarks freely made about the appearance of
himself andanimal. It was easy to see that more than one
eye was attracted by the superb condition of our horses,
and as we dismounted, a crowd gathered around us.

“Strangers, where might yer be from ?" asked a huge,
burly-looking hunter, leaning on his long rifle, and squint-
ing one eye at us.

“ From the East,” replied Kendall.

“ What might be the news in them quarters?"

“Nothing, I believe, OfimPOl'tfl-nce,” he answered, fac-
lng around toward the crowd, and leaning gracefully against

his horse.
“Fine animile you’Ve got there, Talker," pursued the

hunter.
“Yes, I am quite proud of him,” said Kendall, turning

and looking at him, as though he had never noticed his fine

points before.

“ What might be the worth of such an animile P”

 

  
 

 
   

 

  

m runner: mnenns. 19

“I would not part with him at any price. He has been
my constant companion for three years."

“Gentle ?" asked the huge hunter, slyly approaching,
and looking toward Kendall as he spoke.

“He is, in my presence, but when alone, he will permit
no liberties."

The hunter opened the horse’s lips, took a peep at his
teeth, and then remarked, as he stepped back:

“Six years old, this year. The cussed Blackfeet stole
my anlmile last winter, and I hain’t set eyes on such a
beauty since. Couldn’t induce you to part with him, eh?"

“It is no use to talk about it. A thousand dollars in
gold would not buy him. But as you seem to admire ifim
so much, my friend, suppose you mount him, and take a
turn on the prairie."

Nothing lolh, the huge hunter ventured into the saddle,
and struck ofi‘ toward the north. The crowd stood in
silence until he had gone quite a distance, and then they
commenced exchanging significant glances and smiles with
each other. These smiles soon became broad grins, and at
length, one of the company asked:

“ Stranger, when do you expect your horse back i"

“ He will be back," said Kendall, taking out a hunting-
cascd watch, and looking at it, “in less than half an
hour.”

“ Rather guess not," said another, in a drawling tone.
“ Big Pele has been in want ol'a hoss for some time, and I
shouldn’t wonder if he‘s got him this time."

I turned towards Kendall with an expression of blank
dismay, for I felt he had been duped, and his splended ani-
mal was irrevocably gone. He looked as cool and uncon-
cerned as evm‘, before the grinning faces of the crowd.

‘ “I understand your meaning, gentlemen," said be
“If ‘Big Pete‘ isn’t here before a half hour is up, I will
give him that horse. Had I entertained any suspicior
that it would be otherwise, he wouldn’t have ridden oil‘ at
he did."

“ How’d you hindered him ?"

Kendall tapped his rifle.

 

  

    

 

THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

“ That would have done it, as sure as I could have raise!
it to my shoulder.”

This assertion, I saw, inspired a respect for my friend at
once. but they were still incredulous about the return of
Big Pete. To while away the time, they turned toward
me:

” Don’t you wish some one to ride your critter ?"

“He carries his owner as a general thing, and nobody
else,” I replied.

The time passed away in a few more unimportant re-
marks, and finally one of the men asked, in a sarcastic
tone:

“ You, stranger! Ain‘t that half hour about up 7"

Kendall looked at his watch.

“It lacks a few minutes. but he must be in sight by this
time. Ah! yonder he is, sure enough."

All eyes were turned in the direction indicated, and all,
to their undisguised astonishment, saw Big Pete up-
proeching at a rapid gallop. In a moment he came up,
and springing from the hack of his animal, yielded the reins
to Kendall, who asked :

“What do you think of him 2"

“Fest rate; headstrong, howsumever." .

This time, it Was Kendall who indulged in the meaning
smile. We were told ailerward, that Big Pete really in-
tended to ride 03' with the horse, and was congratulating
himself upon the prize he had obtained, when, to his dis-
may, the animal turned round, and made for the Fort
again. He shouted, commanded, kicked, and used every-
endeavor to bring him back, but it was of no avail; and,
putting on as good a face as he could, he allowed him free
rein, without suspecting that any one knew what he had
attempted to do.

After this, we entered the enclosure of the Fort, which
we found crowded with all sorts of people, busily engaged
in business or conversation. Emigrants Were continually
arriving or departing; and there was a motley assemblage
of hunters, trappers, halbbreeds, and Indians, constantly at
the Fort. We were walking around. when Kendall sud-

  

m mums means. 21

denly paused and pointed to a group, standing apart fi'om
the rest.

“Notice that group perticularly," Illfl he, “and tell me
whether there is anything remarkable in the appearance of
my that compose it."

There were four men in converse with one. The latter
stood several feet from them, with arms folded, and as each
addressed him, he turned asharp, twinkling, grey eye upon
him, and kept it there until he had finished speaking. He
was below the medium stature, with a firm, compact frame,
hair of sandy color, a light complexion, and smooth-shavan
face. He was of modest demeanor, and there was a notice-
able something in his appearance, but what it was I could
not define.

"‘Woll, what do you think of them 2" asked Kendall.

“That small man, with arms folded, possesses an indi-
viduality which I think, would distinguish him in any
situation."

“That is the fellow I wished you to see. Notice him
closely, and tell me what sort of a personage you judge
him to be."

“I should think," I returned. as Ikept my eye upon the
subject of our conversation, “ that he is one of the found-
ers of this Fort, a man of education and refinement, far
superior in mind and culture to those with whom he is
talking." ‘

“ It is little education he possesses, except that which he
has picked up in his wanderings; but 1 will answer for his
noble qualities of mind and heart."

“Who is he ?"

“What sort of a hunter would you take him to be ?”

“An indifl'ercnt one. I judge him to have little taste for
the chase."

“ Marewold, you probably consider me a traveler in the
Far West, and perhaps I am; but if I had seen one-half
that that fellow has, I should be satisfied. He has trapped
and hunted, and fought Indians all over the territories, I
might say; and there is not another man living who has
“19 Practical knowledge of the prairies and mountains welt

 

 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
  
  
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
  

THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

  

of us, that he possesses. He has conducted Fremont
three times across the Rocky Mountains, and is now living
at Santa Fe. I hardly need tell you that that indifl‘enenl
hunter is no less than KIT CARBON." '

At the mention of this renowned hunter’s name—a name
which had been mentioned with admiration probably in

severy city, town and village of our country—I turned

again toward him, and this time I examined his appearance
thoroughly. I could hardly believe that I saw before me
the famous mountaineer, who already had figured in a score
of sensation novels, and I ventured to remark to Kendall
that he was mistaken.

“Iknow him well," he replied. “I spent many an
hour with him in Santa Fe. I will speak to him as soon as
he is disengaged. Ah! here is some sport."

As he spoke, I noticed a. large, verdant-looking fellow,
fresh from the Arkansas canebrakes, who. with his hands
forced deep down in his pockets, and mouth and eyes wide
open, was slowly approaching the group, as though in
doubt about something. Suddenly turning towards us, he
said to Kendall :

“I heern tell some miles back that Kit Carson was at
the Fort, but I hain't seen him yet. I was jest told he
stood out yonder. but I’ll be hanged if I see him! P'raps
you might show me him."

“That small man. Standing with arms folded,” said Ken<
dsll,‘ pointing out the genuine individual, “is the person
youse'ek."

The Arkansas native replaced his hands in his pockets,
and strode away toward the group. as though displeased
with what had been told him- As he stepped up to Car-
on, his head and shoulders towered above him, and he
seemed fully double his size and weight. Placing his hand
on the shoulder ofthe Guide, he asked,

“I say, stranger, be you Kit Carson i”

The latter, with a pleasant smile, replied:

“ That is my name."
,An expression of disgust passed over the face of tin
“tenses man as he surveyed the hunter from head to foot

  

—-v

 

  

28

and from foot to head again. It was plain to see that he
was disappointed. He would not believe that the man of
whom he had heard so much, was the diminutive person-
age before him. No, it was impossible. Stepping up to
him again, he said: ,

“ Look’ere, stranger, ’tain't no use ; you can’t make me
swaller that. You ain‘t the Kit Carson I’m looking for."

Carson understood the cause of this remark, and his fine
eye twinkled with humor, although his face wore a meek
expression, as if afraid to impose upon the powerful
Arkansas man. It happened that Big Pete at this moment
Was passing near by, and, with a significant gesture, Carson
pointed toward him. A_minule after Big Pete was followed
and-dogged bya dozen admiring persons, at the head of
which was the native of Arkansas. He was satisfied that
he had got hold of the right man at last, and he did not let
him go until he had shaken hands with h'un, and heard
some of his wonderful feats.

A few minutes after Kendail approached Carson. He
Was immediately recognized and greeted kindly, and when
introduced, I received a. gripe of the hand which fairly
made me wince. Carson told us that he had arrived at the
Fort a week before from Santa Fe, with a lot of mules and
horses, for. the purpose of trading them with the emigrants
going West. He was accompanied by an old comrade
named Goodell, and added that he expected to remain for
several weeks yet. In speaking of the mistake made by
the Arkansas man, he laughed heartily, and told us that
such incidents often occurred, and amused him very much.
When introduced to strangers, they were pretty sure to
express disappointment at not finding him a perfect Her-
cules in stature. _

As this was the first and last time that I ever met Kit Car-
Ion, and as I believe the reference to him will not prove
uninteresting to my readers, I have introduced it in thil
place. It has no connection with the history I wish tc
record, save as an incident by the way.

We remained over night at the Fort, the greater part or
which was spent by Kendall with two or three hunters. 1

ms: PRAIRIE RANGERS-

 

  

 

  

mi: PRAIRIE RANGERS.

noticed that his conversation with them was earnest and
thoughtful ; and although I did not hear a word he said, I
was satisfied it related to the object of his wanderings in
the West lie was questioning to obtain information, and
by his disappointed air, I saw he had failed to gain it.

That night I dreamed that Preston Kendall was a mono-
maniac—that he had spent his life in following a phantom
which had led him to the frozen regions of Rupert’s Land,
to the far off source of the Saskatchewan. and through the
wildest fastnesses of the Rocky Mountains. I saw him as-
cending dark, gloomy rivers, which “ heard no sound save
their own dashings ;" I saw him wandering alone through
the snowy caverns of unknown mountains, fearless alike of
Indian and wild beast; I saw him engaged single-handed
with the Camanches of the south, and the Blackfeet of the
north, and the next moment he was tossed to and fro in
the California. Gulf, without paddle or companion. All this
time he was lured onward by the same phantom which was
never near, but always fleeing before him. Sometimes it
shone on the summit of a mountain. and when he had
toiled after it, it was flitting in the valley below; then it
was on the mountain top again, and then gliding, like a
shooting-star, up the dark bed of some silent river, and
then one more dancing away over the prairie. All this
time I felt a singular consciousness that the phantom had a
home, a. dwelling-place from which it started, and to which
it returned at long intervals. At length, after years of
search, Kendall found it. It seemed to struggle to flee
from him, but it was held in his place. In a transport of
joy he stretched out his arm to grasp it—it screamed—and
I awoke !

It was broad daylight, and the Fort was all astir. The
fragrant savor of cooking food came from a dozen different
groups on the outside, and everything wore the busy air of
preparation. The atmosphere was clear and invigorating,
and good spirits seemed to reign among all, with the
exception, perhaps, of Kendall. I saw from his appearance
that he had slept none during the night. There was an air
of hopeful resignatiork—it‘ such an appearance be possible.

 

  

 

 
 

me PRAIRIE enemas. 25

and he was evidently downcast at not receiving some
expected information. As we mounted our horses and
rode away, he said-—

“ Our destination now is the Saskatchewan."

 

CHAPTER III.
In mrann’s sronr.

The buffaloes and the buffalo hunt, the grizzly bears, the
vast rolling prairie, the mighty forests an'l mountains, "the
beautiful lakes and streams and enchanting landscapes of
the Far West—all these have been described again and
again by travelers, until they have lost. in a great measure.
their interest. I shall not therefore dwell upon the partic-
ulars of our journey through Nebraska Territory to British
America. It was certainly a long route across this mighty

territory, whose area far exceeds that of all the Western

and Middle States combined. It was a long route, I say.
and it required weeks for us to accomplfsh it. Never
before did I gain any adequate. idea of the vast resources or
our Republic. till I made this expedition. I could not have
believed it possible to travel day after day and week after
week without meeting a white man. Ami yet we (“(1 it.
From the time of leaving Fort Laramie until we had
reached the forty-eighth parallel of latitude, we encm‘utered
no " pale-faces," and not more than a dozen Indians As
we ran considerable danger in the latter case, we were very
careful to avoid them. More than once we saw the smoke
of their camp fires, and made a. detour of miles to has:
‘them, and I remember that, on reaching the Yellowston-
we caught sight of a large war party of Crows going
toward the Blackfeet country, and were in a considerable
trepidation lest we had discovered ourselves to them ; but.
as they evidently had no fears of an enemy in the 1911134“?
escaped observation. We waited on the Yellowstone seve.
ml days. in the hope of seeing the steamer which annually

 

  

    

‘ 26 THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

ascends it, but were disappointed, as we were probably
some weeks too late.

We consumed nearly :1 week in getting through the Big
Horn Mountains. and the network of rivers and canons,
that issue from their eastern slope, and two weeks more,
before crossing the Missouri 9. short distance below the
Great Falls. On the way thither, we shot many a buffalo
and antelope, and had a drawn battle with n. grizzly bear,
which finally escaped us after we had lodged four halls in
his body. While in the Black Hills we were overtaken by
a most furious storm of rain, sleet and snow, and this too
in midsummer. We kept a. fire burning, but for all this, I
once verily believed we were doomed to perish from cold.
Our animals shivercd like aspen leaves, under cover of
their blankets. We were glad enough to get out of this
icy region into the more sunshiny temperature of the
plains.

From the Missouri River we took a northwest direction
toward the source of the South Branch of the Saskatche-
wan, which takes its rise in the Rocky Mountains, at a
point some distance north of the boundary line of our ter-
ritory. This would lead us directly through the Blackfeet
country, and Kendall expressed his belief that we could not
expect to escape an afl‘ruy with those blood thirsty savages,
as they were constantly roaming in every direction, and
waging a war of extermination against the hunters and
trappers that penetrated this region. I made the proposal
to “ go around" them. Kendall replied that it was impos-
sible. They scoured over the Far West for hundreds of
miles on each side of the Rocky Mountains, and were as
likely to be encountered in one place as in another. In
fact, we were already upon their hunting grounds, and
might meet them at any moment. Accordingly we kept on
resolutely toward the Northwest. ,

'One night we encamped in a small valley-like depres-
sion, on the eastern bank of the Marius RiVer, itself a trib-
utary of the Missouri. There was no moon, and the night
was of pitchy darkness. Since leaving the river last
named, we had failed to see any signs of the Blackfeet,

   

   

 

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4...,

run PRAIRIE RANGERS. 27

and had indulged in some hope that their wan-ions were
absent upon an expedition ot‘ some kind or other. Our
situation was such that there was scarcely a possibi.ity of
our fire being seen; and as the night was chilly, we allowed
it to burn. Our horses were picketed within a. few paces
of us. Our supper had been swallowed, and all was ready
for slumber. We sat smoking by the fire, moody and
silent for a long time. ‘-

Finally Kendall spoke:

“ Marewold, I supposo you have thought me silent and
reservec.“

I knew what was coming, and made no reply, but
smoked the harder. He waited a moment, as if he expected
an answer, and receiving none looked up in surprise.

“ You recollect that upon the first night of our meeting,
I promised to give you the cause of my wandering for so
long a time over the West !

“Do you wish to hear it 2‘"

“ Do as you please about it. Remember I haven’t
asked you, and it‘ you have any fears or unwillingness,
please don‘t import it.” '

” After I had talked a half-hour with you, I felt wilhng
to trust my secret to your keeping; but I though there
was no need of it, unless I was to have you as a compan-
Ion. I saw you were impulsiva and enthusiastic, and
would not have been surprised, had you changed your
mind at Fort Laramie, and gone on Westward to California,
instead of continuing with me. But now we have been so
long together, and have come so far that there is little fear
of our separating just at present. And now you shall have
my story.

“ It is a long story, but I shall give it all to you. J us:
throw a few Sticks upon the fire, for I do not wish to cease

, my narration until I have fluishec ."

I did as requested, and Kendall spoke usfollows:

“I am an only son; my parents are very wealthy, and
although now absent from the city, their home is in New
(means. It is there they have resided for the lust thirty
Yea-1'8, and it is there both I' and my sister were born. She

 

  
  
 
 
 
 
    
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

28 THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

is ten years younger than myself, and the name which she
hears is Enoln, the same as my mother’s. \Ve two'Were
the only children my parents ever had, and as Euoln was
a baby when I was a boy, you may well suppose she was
petted and idoliZed by both. She was a beautiful girl, and
as amiable as beautiful, and the love that I bore for her

V would have made me lay down my Very life at any moment

to save her. Hours and hours I have spent playin; with
her, and my greatest ambition was that she should grow up
a beautiful, accomplished, and a good woman. Although
father and mother so loved her, they pOSSessed too much
good sense to spoil her by imprudent kindness and indul-
gence. When she arrived at the proper age, she was sent
to school, and I Went to a Northern college. I corres-
ponded every week with my parents and with Enola; she
made me the confidant of all her childish joys and sorrows,
her whims and wishes. I returned home twice a year,
and those seasons, when we Were together, with our
parents smiling upon us, were seasons of perfect happiness.
My several months’ absence werejust long enough for me
to note the changes in her upon my return. I saw with a
proud heart that she was becoming more bemutit‘ul every
(lay, and that her attainments were unequalled by any of
her age. In addition to this, I noted that she Was not only
amiable and accomplished, but that, as I had prayed, she
was becoming good. She inherited the religious tempera~
ment of my mother, and at the age of eleven years she
was a communicant at the church. And I, 5. mm of years,
who had counted upon the pleasure of instructing her in
holy things, have sat with her upon my knee, and from her
childish lips received lessons that have made me a stronger
and better man. God bless you, Enolu! Ii" not on earth,
you are an angel in Heaven !

“Thus alfeirs remained,” resumed Kendall, after a
pause, “ for a. year longer. . I graduated at college. had
received high honors, and was making ‘my prepara.
tions to return home to my joyous sister and parents. when
a letter from my father reached me, urging me to come at
once, as I was needed. It said no more, and in a lever 01

   

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rm: PRAIRIE masses. 29

apprehension, I started immediately. At the depot another
note was handed me. This was from my mother, and I
saw, as I opened it, that it was stained with her tears. It
imparted what father had not the courage to write. Enola
had been missing for a week, and no one could obtain the
least information regarding her. I hurried home as fast as
express lines and travel night and day could carry me.
Arriving there, I found that Enola's disappearance was
known throughout the city, and that my father had
neglected no means looking toward her recovery. The
most skillful detectives were at work, adVertisements were
inserted in all the papers, not only in those of the city,
but in every place of note through the South. At flrsta
reward of a thousand dollars was ofl'ered for any one who
would give any information regarding her. Shortly after
this was increased to five thousand dollars; and on the
day of my arrival, at my suggestion, it was put up to ten
thousand—this, too, remember, for information and not for
her recovery. In the presence of a company of detective
police officers, I heard my father make an agreementto
give to the one who recovered her, fifteen thousand dollars,
and to every one of the others, a thousand. From these
lavish ofl‘ers, which every one knew would be fulfilled to
the letter, you may gain some idea of the efl‘orts which
were made in behalf of Enola. But great as were these
efforts and skillful as were the detectives, not a clue was
obtained through them. All that the officers could learn
was, what every one already knew, Enola had left her
school at the usual hour in the afternoon. She had been
seen on the street by several children, after which she had
disappeared. There must have been stratagem employed,
for if violence had been used some one would have cer-
tainly noticed it in such a city as New Orleans.

“I doubt whether we ever should have learned anything
more had it not been given voluntarily to.us. About a
Week after my arrival, a letter post-marked Cincinnati,
Ohio, came to my father, in which the writer stated that
Enola had been carried 05 by a band of gipsies. The
letter contained nothing more. and was anonymous. It.

   

  

       
 

30 ms PRAIRIE RANGERS.

was shown to the dectectives, and at their suggestion an

advertisement was inserted in the Cincinnati papers, calling

on the person who had sent the note, to come forward and
claim the reward. At the same time the officers made
preparations to capture him in case he did so. The man

Was too cunning, however, to be thus caught, and their
' hopes in this direction Were frustrated.

“ But a. new turn was given to their efforts. At every
part in the United States from which emigrants departed to
the Old World, an officer was stationed, whose duty it was
'to examine the face of every gipsy who went on board.
80 expeditiously were these precautions taken that it was
tendered morally impossible for her to leave the country.

“ Thus a year went on, during which time not a word
more was gained regarding her. The belief then obtained
among the detectives, that in case these gipsies had carried
her ofl’, they had crossed the Mississippi, and gone ,WesL
To have followed them here would haVe been as useless, in
their opinion, as to search the Pacific in an open boat for
her; and in spite of the great rewards ofl'cred, not a man
could be found who was willing to make the attempt.
This, you must recollect, was before Fremont had explored
the Far West, and it was as a. sealed book to us. At this
time another note reached my father, from the same person

' who had sent the former. It stated that Enola had been
captured by a band of gipsies, as he had said before. and
that this band had ascended the Mississippi to St. Louis.

where they had gone Westward upon the prairies. It con-
tained nothing more, and was also without signature”

“ A detective visited Cincinnati, and spent seVeral
months in searching out the writer of this note ; every
trap that his ingenuity could invent, was employed to
decoy him, but it was of no avail, and my father was
finally told that it was a useless expenditure of means to
search furthen It was then 1 formed the resolution
which for eight years I have been carrying out. Had we
been certain that Enols was dead, our grief would have
been softened into resignatiOn in time; but to know she
Wes living, a prisoner among a race of vagabonds, we!

 
    
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
    
  
 
 
 
 
  

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ma PRAIRIE RANGERS. 3!

more than either of us could bear, and I made the vow to
search for her until I had recovered her or ascertained her
fate. When I acquainted my parents with my determina-
tion, they did not oppose it, for they saw I could not be
changed, and they never could have rested under the
knowledge that Enoia was suffering such a fate. My
father advised me before going to send several experienced
hunters upon the hunt, and to engage one for my own
companion. I paid two trappers a thousand dollars to
spend a year in searching in the Northwest, and two more
the same amount, to search what was then Mexican terri-
tory, but what is now a portion of California ; while,
accompanied by another, I went to the Rocky Mountains,
but did not cross them. The wealth of the Indies would
not have tempted my companion to the effort, and as I
knew that Enola never could have made the passage, I did
not urge him.

“To shorten my story. Upon the return of all these, it
was found that not one of them had gained a shadow of
information. Instead of despairing, I was the more deter-
mined. I knew that the love of gain could tempt no one
to the efl’orts and sacrifices that my afl‘ection for my lost
sister would bring from me. It would require hours for
me to give an account of my wanderings ; and when I have
the leisure I may give you some adventures which befall
me.
“I was absent at this time a year more, and extended
my wanderings to Santa Fe, New Mexico. Here I met a
man known as “ Old Bill Williams,“ who told me that a
year before he had seen a band of gipsies on the head
waters of the Platte. I immediately set out for that
region, reached it, and failed to gain any trace whatever of .
them. I wandered over the prairie until autumn, when 1
went home.

“ When I started again, Fremont had just published the
report of his first two expeditions. These reports were or

t This man was the guide employed by Fremont in his memo-

rable Fourth Expedition, and to whose ignorance and incapam'ty
the disasten of that undertaking are to be attributed.

   

  

 

32‘

great use to me, as I traveled over a vast deal cf the terri-
tory which he describes. At Burt‘s Fort I hired a hall
breed to accompany me, and this time we crossed the
Rocky Mountains, and I saw the waters of the Pacific.
My companion knew every pass in the mountains, and the
passage was made with a great deal less difficulty than I
anticipated. I remained in Oregon until we heard that
son) had been discovered in California, and until that tide
of emigration from every part of the world to the region
commenced. Of hundreds of these, encountered on the
way, I made inquiries, but learned nothing until I reached
the head waters of the Platte, when I again learned that a
bend of gipsies had camped in that region a nnmber of years
before. But the discouraging part of the matter was, that
it was impossible to learn in what direction they had gone.

“,I had been absent from home so long that I returned
there, nearly disheartened by this time. On the way
thither I naturally meditated upon my lost sister. and fell
to wondering as to the cause of my repeated failures in ob-
taining information of her. I felt certain that the words
of the two letters to which I have referred were true, and
that the gipsies were. somewhere west of the Mississippi.
Such being the case, and they being as migratory as the
Arabs, it was incomprehensible to me that I should have
failed to gain more definite tidings regarding them. All at
once the thought struck me that they had gone so for north
as to enter the British possessions, and that they must be
located there or somewhere in the mighty extent of this
Nebraska Territory: and before reaching home I made the
resolve to make a journey of search in this direction,
which, successful or otherwise, should be my last one.

“I remained home until this last spring. I had, 0’.
course, imparted my plan to my parents, and they agreed
that it was best to do as I had proposed. Should I return
to them without our dear Enola, they would give her up
as lost forever to them in this world, and I felt that I
should do the same.

“ And now my dear friend," said Kendall, his eyes
glowing‘with excitement. “ comes the most singular part

THE PRAIRIE RANGERS-

  

        
 

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THE PRAIRIE means. 33

of the story. All this time I had entertained the impression
that these gipsies were somewhere on the Saskatchewan,
without being able to give any reason for such a belief. I
remember how continually I was repeating over the name
of that river to myself, and how I learned all that I could
about it upon my return home. Well, sir, on the very day
that I had prepared to start, came a third letter from Cin«
cinnati, stating that the band which held Enola had been
located on the southern branch of the Saskatchewan for
over five years ! My parents now believed that their 10m:-
lost daughter was to be restored to them. After consult-
ing together, it was agreed that after finding her (for they
said they knew I would), I should employ several men to
accompany me to California. where they would meet me.
They were to take passage in the steamer, and I suppose
by this time, it‘ no accident has hefallen them, they are
awaiting my arrival in San Francisco."

I had remained almost spell-hound during the recital of
the foregoing by Kendall, and when he ceased speaking,
and looked toward me, as if he expected me to speak, I
was at a loss what to say.

“Well, what do you think of my story ?" he asked in a
cheerful voice.

"It is the most remarkable I ever heard,” I replied.
“ It is another confirmation of the proverb that truth is
stranger than fiction. I knew Some poweri‘ul motive led
you to lead this wandering life, but I little dreamed its
true nature. Kendall, you are a noble fellow. Heaven I
know, will reward your eflbrts."

“I feel as if I were about to be rewarded,” he an-
swered.

“There are several points in your narration," I Can.
tinned, “ which struck me forcibly at the time, but of
which I said nothing. as I did not wish to interrupt you.
In the first place, have you never formed a suspicion
as to the cause of your sister's abduction, and as to who
did it. ?"

“I have often thought upon that, but have never
sPoken to any one regarding it. This is the only conclu-

...

 

    

84 mm PRAIRIE RANGERS.

sion to which I can arrive. When my mother was a young
woman, I have been told she had many suitors. When
she married my father. she must have disappointed many
of these. Some one, to revenge himself, has hired these
gipsies to carry off their child, paying them enough to pre
vent the rewards offered enticing them to deliver her up."

“Have you no Suspicion who this person could be ?"

“Not in the least; and I am sure that neither my father
Mr mother has. I say, I have no suspicions, but I have
sometimes thought he might be the writer of those anony-
mous letters."

“ Hardly probable, as he would incur too much risk in
doing so. It may be some party to the affair, who, feel-
ing pity for the grief of your parents and yourself, has
done as-much as he dare to assist you in recovering your
sister."

“My impression that she was on the Saskatchewan, was
eertalnly singular—was it not ?"

“It was, indeed; and can only be a good omen."

“We shall reach the South Branch in a day or tWO, I
‘think, when my anxiety shall be ended. How my heart
throbs at the thought!"

“ Can you bear a disappointment again i"

“I can hear anything; but I pray God this cup may
pass from me. As I have said several times, this is the
last search I shall make. I have been engaged to be mar-
tied for several years, and it has been deferred from time
to time,on account of this matter.” ,

“Kendall,” said I, taking his hand, “I wish to raise
no false hopes in ‘your breast, but something tells me that
your sister shall dance at your wedding.”

“ And you shall. too," he added, with sparkling eyes.
It was far in the night, and we said no more.

    

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CHAP'I‘ER IV.
'rnn snsnow on THE TRAIL

We were now in extreme Northern Nebraska, within a
few miles of British America. It was early in August, the

' warmest portion of the year; but this climate in which we

found ourselves was rarefied and bracing as that of early
winter in the Middle States. In the depth of the cold
season the temperature of Nebraska has been known to
descend to forty degrees below zero; and I have often
heard the clerks in the employ of the Hudson Bay Com-
pany tell of firing mercury bullets from their guns. Know-
ing this, we were anxious to be in a more southern latitude
ere the polar winter commenced.

The next morning, after Kendall had related the story
given in the preceding chapter, we struck off in a direction
due north, over a level prairie country, interspersed with
timber and undergrowth, and crossed by numerous streams
of clear, running water, of icy coldness. .The passage of
these was the most disagreeable portion of our journey.
Generally our horses Were able to ford them witlxont~wet~
ting ourseIVes: but more than once through the day we
received a chilly bath that made our teeth chatter for a
long time afterward. As we were on the eastern slope of
the great Rocky Chain, the waters of all the streams we
encountered flowed in an easterly and southern direction.
To our joy, the frequency of these diminished, until, by
the middle of the afternoon, we congratulated ourselves
upon our exemption from fording them.

The face of the country now underwent a material
Change; it became more hilly and broken, rent in several
places by deep, yawning chasms, and from the perceptible
change in the temperature, We concluded we were at 9.
811m elevation above the sea.

We had descended a sort of hill, which afl’orded a wide
View of the surrounding country, and Kendall was talking

 

 
 
   

THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

and pointing out the route he intended to follow, when he
uttered the exclamation-

“Yonder is the Blackfoot camp."

Fellowmg the direction of his finger, I saw a mass of
smoke lazily ascending through the tops of a number of
dwarf cedars, and in the light, rarefied atmosphere, settling
in a cloud, which appeared to be borne upward by the tree-
tops.

“What do you think of that prospect? Just follow me
further in these bushes, where we stand less chance of be-
lng seen. What do you think of it, Marewold !"

“ It reminds me of my first meeting with you. They may
oe friends, who have penetrated thus far."

“I wish it were so, but they are not. This is too dan-
qerons territory for them, and the very fact of that camp
tire being visible for miles proves that they are red men.”

“ Have we anything to fear from them?"

“If you refer to the disposition of the Blackfeet, I can
answer that they are the inveterate enemies of the white
race, and have been ever since the two set foot on the same
soil, and they probably will be, as long as a dozen warriors
of them are left. The worst of it is, they are in the very
route I had laid out to follow.”

“We can go around them, as we have done before."

“ I suppose there is no other course left—hello! what's
up now 7" ‘

A dozen Blackfeet made their appearance, straggling
aiong, apparently without aim or object, but taking a gen-
eral direction toward us.

“Are they a war party ‘1’" I asked, turning toward
Kendall.

“ No, they are only a few who have been out fishing or
hunting. There are more in the grove, whom it will not
take long to be a war-party, if we are seen.”

We started our horses, diverging to the right, so as to
give the Indians as wide berth. We had not gone a great
distance, when Kendall rode forward and ventured to say.

“They have taken an observation," said he, “ which
proves that We have not been seen. - It will soon be dark.

  

   

    

 

 
  

 

—«~‘._.-_..\ Man-hm,

 

 

..‘

87

and I propose that we encamp in that clump of trees to the
fight, a good half mile from here, and more than that from
the Blackfoot camp." .

We set out at once for the camp indicated, picking our
way with great caution, for we both felt that the least im-
prudence would be fatal. We had gone hardly half the
distance, when we encountered a broad creek, which we
were obliged to cross. The water was not deep, and it

THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

,flowed very rapidly over a stony bottom, foaming, dashing

and cddying along over the rocks and around the turns in
the channel, with such an uproar that, when we stood
upon its banks, we could hardly hear each other‘s voices.

To our unbounded dismay, as we thus sat talking, we
saw a huge Blackfoot warrior emerge from the cover of
the opposite shore, and step into the water, as if about to
cross. He did not observe us, as his head was bent, and
I observed at once that he had no Weapon .except his
hunting-knife in his belt. The instant he made his ap-
pearance, Kendall raised his rifle, and pointing it full at
his breast, kept it in that direction without firing. The
savage stepped carefully from stone to stone, and when
about half way across, raised his head.- I could not for-
bear a smile at the expression of amazement and terror that
was depicted upon his dusky countenance. He stood as
motionless as a tatue for a few seconds, and then, with
his black orbs tull upon Kendall, he took a backward step.

“Halt!” commanded my friend, as he raised his other
foot.

The Indian, from Kendall’s action, understood that he
had been summoned to surrender, and seeing there was no
chance of escape, he dropped both arms by his side in
token of submission. My friend then lowered his rifle,
and we both rode into the creek, separating so that one of
us was on either side of him. At a sign from my com.
panion he turned, and we all three ascended the opposite
bank at the same moment. Here we halted, and Kendall
undertook to converse with him, but found that it was im-
mssme: as the Blackfoot did not, or pretended not, to un-
derstand the English tongue. Seeing this, Kendall ofi'ercd

2

 

    

 

38 me PRAIRIE RANGERS.

him several pieces of tobacco, gave him a fine pocket
knife, and then signed to him that he was at liberty to de-
part. The astonished savage, from his manner, evidently
considered us insane. He hesitated a moment, mumbled
something which neither of us understood, and then
quickly disappeared in the direction of the Indian encamp-
ment.

“ Nothing would have been easier than to have put him
out of the way." said Kendall, by way of explanation; '
“ and, perhaps, I have run some risk in not doing it; but
I would rather it should be thus than imbrue my hands in
his blood.”

“ Why not have kept him a prisoner P"

“ That would have been impossible, and could have
done no good. I rely solely upon the impression which
my kindness made upon him. I don't believe he will
harm us, or set any one upon our trail. I tell you, War-
ren Marewold, I have never yet met the man, white or
red, who forgets a kindness to him.”

“ Is it not probable that he suspects that your kindness
was feigned, in order to gain the good will of his tribe."

“ I think not, as he must have seen I could have killed
him with the greatest ease. However. it shall not deludo
us into any carelessness. So long as we are in this ter~
ritory. so long both will not close our eyes at the same
time.”

A few minutes later we reached the grove to which I have
referred, where we at once commenced preparations for the
night. In the first place, Kendall made a thorough recon-
naissance of our situation, passing around the outside,
gaining as good an idea of the surrounding country as the'
gathering darkness would permit. Upon his return, he
reported “ All right," and we at once picketed our horses.

The kindling of a fire was out of the question, and as
the grove grew darker and darker, we wrapped our blank-
ets around us, and sat closer together. We scarer con-
versed in whispers even, so silent and listening were we.
After a while, at my request, Kendall agreed to lay down
for the night, While I stood guard. “ Standing guard" on

     

 

 

    

   
  
 

 

 

    

THE PRAIRIE RANGERS. 39

a chilly night, without the liberty of changing your situa<
tion often enough to keep the benumbed blood in circula- '

tion, is disagreeable enough ; and when in addition
to this, your apprehension makes every bush a lurk-
ing enemy, and every falling leaf the stealthy footstep of a
fee, it become a duty Which no one need envy. Never did
a night seem longer, and never did a poor shipwrecked
mariner greet the dawn more gladly than did L'

O

 

CHAPTER V.
In): an» or THE TRIAL.

, The next day we encountered a solitary hunter, who
was as much astonished as ourselves. He was rather
reticent and was disposed to get away from us, as soon as
he exchanged greetings. Before we bade him farewell, he
communicated the startling information that he had seen
a band of gipsies some weeks before, upon the Saskatche-
wan. Kendall proposed that we should travel all night,
and I gladly consented, as it bid fair to be moon-lit and
pleasant.

It was not until the morning had fairly broke, that we
again picketed our horses, and had several hours‘ rest.
This‘was taken solely on account of our animals, as neither
of us had the least desire for sleep. I could but notice a.
feverish restlessness and anxiety about, Kendall, caused, I
suppose, by the consciousness that either a bitter disap-
pointment or a most happy anticipation was soon to be
realized. While our horses were cropping the rich, juicy
grass, we took a survoy of the surrounding country, and
Kendall remarked that it was probable we were in British
territory. Of course there could be no positive certainty
of this until we saw the Saskatchewan; but, as we seemed
to have left the Blackfeet behind, even in the short dis-
tance passed, since seeing them, it was probable we were
in the- provinces of the Hudson’s Bay Company, where

i

    
 

    

THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

there was nothing in fact to fear from the savages as the
latter, in a great measure, were dependent upon the
former for their subsistence and support.

All through the day, as for the last week, we pursued a
direction parallel to the Rocky Mountains, whose snowy
peaks were ever visible on our left. The appearance 01
this mighty chain, as seen by us, was indescribahly grand
and sublime. Their base being hid from view by the in-
tervening country, their upper portion resembled a great
wall of cuinnlous clouds piled up against the sky, such as
sometimes appear during the winter months. They were
of every imaginable shape and combination, and when the
wind came from the west, we had a taste of the eternal

cold which reigns mnonj,Ir them.

When we camped that night, neither of us had any doubt
that we had left Nebraska and were within a few miles of
the valley of the Saskatchewan. We were certain of
reaching it on the morrow, and I asked Kendall the course
he intended to pursue.

“You are aware,” said he, “that this large river, like
scores of others, takes its rise in the Rocky Mountains.
Two smaller rivers, known respectively as the North and
South Branches, join together much in the some manner as
do the tines of a fork; and from their junction to the
point where their waters debouch into the Hudson Bay,
they are known as the Saskatchewan. It is a beautiful
river during the summer months, and the scenery on its
banks is probably unequalled by any north of our territory.

| Of course we shall strike the South Branch first, at a point
near its canon, if it has any. We will follow it down,
until we reach the other branch; and, if we have discov-
ered nothing of these gipsies, we will then separate—one
ascending the northern fork, and the other going down the
main river, until they are discovered."

“Is there no particular locality where you expect to
find them?”

“ You recollect that the note to which I have referred,
stated that they were upon the southern branch. This

may have been a mistake, but I incline to the belief that it

 

 

rnE resume narrows. 41

is correct. Of course our first search will be along this
stream."

“ In case of discovering your sister. (in you apprehen
no difficulty in gaining possession of her ?" ‘

“ That is a matter upon which I have been reflecting
for the last few days, and it is one which, I confess, has
troubled me not a little. There is one method to which
we can resort. and which, I feel, cannot. fail us. It is one,
too, which I would use at the beginning, did it. not require
too much time to bring it into play."

“What is it, Kendall ?" -

“ I will lay the matter before some of the employees of
the Hudson Bay Company, who will settle it for us in a
very short time. I have met several men who have been
connected with that company; and from what I know of
it, I am sure that its influential members are honorable
men, and will give us every assistance in their power."

“ That will be your [rm resort, I understand ?"

“ Yes; we will try milder measures at first."

‘ We traveled a. number of miles further that night, and
resumed our journey as soon as our animals had had enough
rest. The Weather continued clear and bracing, remind-
ing us greatly ot‘ the autumn months of our own clime;
and the scenery presented all the variety of wood, stream,
prairie, and mountain, which had so delighted the eye in
the country we had left.

By noon we rode through a. heavily wooded country—
over hills and throth valleys—and finally, our horses
panting and exhausted, paused on the summit of a. large
hill. ‘

“Look yonder!" exclaimed Kendall, with a start of
toy. i
Following the direction of his finger, I saw, some «lis-
jtance to the nortlnvnrd, the glistening surface of a riVer,
which, after emerging from a mass of timber to the left,
wound across the open cmmtry, until it made a swtreping
W, and was lost again to view in what seemed a forest

9" nodal-s.

 

   

    

12 THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

“'Have you never seen a river before ?” I asked, pretend-
ing not to understand his emotion.

“I never saw the South Branch of the Saskatchewan
before. Hurrah!" -

And swinging his hat over his head, he dashed at full
gallop down the hill toward the river. I followed at a
brisk cantor, but I was soon left behind, and it was over
an hour before I found him, impatiently awaiting my arri-
val on its banks. .

“I think there is no need of going up it,” said he. -
“ We will, therefore, go down stream.” ,

This, we soon found, was no easy matter. From the ‘ ' fi
nature of the country, we were obliged, in the course of g -
the afternoon, to leave the river more than once. “’0 H

    
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
  
 
 
 
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

managed, however, not to lose sight of it for any length of w
time ; and to assure ourselves that there was no possibility
of our having passed the gipsy camp in the course of In
these deviations. Our progress was necessarily slow, and
when night came, Kendall expressed some anxiety as to ul
the length of the search. If the band were located at any 0L-

distance from the stream, it was more thanxprobable we a an
should fail to discover them, unless by accident. To th

 

save time, he stated his determination of repairing to one ‘ }: 1m

01‘ the stations of the Hudson Bay Company, and seeking a? w:

information of the whereabouts of the gipsies, in case we wc

reached the Saskatchewan without seeing them, feeling for

assured that the presence of such a. hand must be known to

many of their employees. .3
We encamped upon a flat rock upon the river bank, and

the light of the fire shone far out upon the surface of the my

stream. The air was chilly, but free from that disagreea- i 1

his dampness which characterizes the damp weather at this ask

 
 
   

 

 
 
   

season of the year. There was an abundance of game 4
along this river, and I think we were never hungry for an ‘
hour, so easily was it procured. ‘

The second day‘s journey was more difficult than the ‘
first, and the entire forenoon was consumed in making a the
distance of five or six miles. After that, however, we tree

       

experienced less difliculty, and were hopeful of recovering

'rnr. rmmm nimnnns. 43

the lost time. It was near the middle of the afternoon
that, after having made a long; detour, we once more
reached the shore of the river. I had turned my head
toward Kendall, and was just on the point of speaking,
when he motioned silence, and pointed to the river. Look-
ing back again, I saw a large Indian canoe, in which Were
seated four warriors, driving it with great swit‘tnesa
through the Waters. At the very instant I discovered
them they discovered us, and their canoe was headed
toward the shore.

“What shall we do?” I asked of Kendall. “Run or-
fight ?”

4 “ There is no need of doing either,” he answered.
“ They are friendly, and are coming‘ ashore to have a talk
with us. They evidently take us for Hudson Bay men."

“You do the talking, then, upon our side, for you are
better able to manage matters than I am.”
A moment later and the prow of the canoe grated lightly

, upon the sand of the shore. Two Indians at once stepped
out and approached us. The others remained in the canoe,
and we noticed that those advancing toward us had left
their arms with them. They were tall, splendid-lookingr
men, and moved with all the dignity of native American
warriors. The instant we noticed their peaceful actions,
we dismounted, and leaving our guns also behind, stepped
forward and met them.

“Good day, brother," said the foremost, in good English,
on he took Kendall’s hand.

“ Good day,” returned the latter. “ I am glad to meet
my Indian brother.”

“ Want heaVer skin, otter skin, martin skin, fox skin '1’"
asked the savage, with great eagerness.

“No, I wish no peltries.”

- “ Want what, then '1’"

“,We want the Hudson Bay men. Where are they?"

“ Way off yonder—good way off—at fort," returned
the Indian, making a gesture down stream. “ Take two——

tree—good'amuy hours to reach ’em on hoss. Go quick
'm'canoe."

 

44 ms: PRAIRIE RANGERS.

“I suppose so ; but we have no canoe."
The savage made no reply to this, and evidently failed

so see the hint. After a moment’s silence, Kendall asked:

“Are there no whites but at the fort '1’”

The Indian nodded his head several times. and answered:

“ Yes, good many."

“ And where are they now ?”

“ All over—in woods and rivers there—there—thcre—
there,” he replied, pointing successively to the four points
of the compass.

“Are there any on the banks of the stream ?"

“ Some—not many.”

“Are they Hudson Bay men ?"

“ No ; live in cabins—hunt good deal—not Hudson Bay
men." ,

“ How far of are they ?"

“Two, tree, twenty miles—see ’em to—morrow.
must go now.” _

We presented them with some tobacco. and again shak-
ing hands with them, saw them step in the canoe and pad-
dle off. '

“ We are on the trail most certainly," said Kendall.
“Providence seems to favor us, and I feel more hopeful
this minute than I have in years. To-morrow we surely
shall see the camp.”

I joined him in his ardent expectations, and our journey
was characterized by a haste and recklessness that, in a
hostile country, would have sealed our fate. We did not
draw rein until the darkness compelled us, and the instant
the round face of the moon rose above the forest, Kendall

Injin

aroused me, and we were en route again, with greater

precipitnncy than before.

Journeying at midnight on the banks of that lone river,
In that fur-off country, with no eye but that of Heaven
looking upon us, with no car but that of the startled ani-
mal tu henr the step of our plunging horses, and with no
Sound but that of the calmly flowing river beside us, we
each felt the influence of the scene, and our lips were

 

silent. I often looked at Kendall, and I remember how

;

 

, 4mg,

 

 

 

 
    
 

   

   

 
 

 

 

run PRAIRIE RANGERS. 45

handsome and noble he appeared as the moonlight lit up
his features. I reverenced him as I reflected upon the de-
votion with which be regarded his lost sister, and the
extraordinary faith that had led him to devote so many
years of his life to her rescue.

Thus, each wrapped in reverie, the miles passed un-
heeded by, and we traveled mechanically, hour after hour.
How long it would have been thus, I cannot tell, had not
our meditations been most summarily interrupted by an
occurrence as exciting as it was unexpected.

Our horses were walking side by side—so closely that:
my foot touched that of Kendall. The bank of the stream
at this point was almost entirely free from timber, as it
probably was for several miles back. We had reached a
sort of valley, and were just on the point of descending it,
when both of our animals recoiled with a snort of alarm.
This aroused me as effectually as a shock of electricity
would have done, and I looked hurriedly about for the
cause of our horses' terror. The valley appeared full of
trees and shruhbery, and was so shrouded in gloom that
the darkness itself was only visible. We urged our ani-
mals to advance, but after they had gone a step or two,
they recoiled again, and nothing would induce them to
move any further forward.

“ Something or somebody is down in that valley," said
Kendall, “or our horses would not behave in this manner."

“It seems to me," said I, turning the head of my beast,
“that we are repeating the absurdity of which the trap-
pers accused us, that of standing out in full new on the
top of a hill, when an enemy is in sight.”

We had retired so far, however, that we now felt secure
from observation.

“It is nothing more than some wild animal, 1 think,"
said Kendall. “Probably a bear, as their sudden appear-
ance often creates a terror in any animal. especially the
horse."

“Let us dismount and find out; it will take us but a
few minutes.”

“Let me do that alone, Marewold. Should they make

 

  

46

a rush this way we might lose our beasts. You stay and
gurtrd them, and I will be back in a Short time."

With this, he dropped lightly to the ground, and moved
stealthin away in the darkness. He was gone twenty
minutes or more, during which I heard not a single sound,
save that of the soft wnsh of the river. I listened intently,
and was still listening, when he suddenly reappeared be-
side his horse.

“Mnrewold,” said he, in a tremnlons voice, “what do
you suppose I found down in that valley '1’"
“I am sure I cannot tell.”

“I/zzwe found that ban! of gipsfes I”

THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

     
   

   
    
         
     
   
   
   
   
   
 
 

CHAPTER VI.

  
 

THE GXPSIES.

 
  
 
  

   
   

 

For a moment neither of us spoke. I saw that Kendall
was agitated, and was trying to overcome it. At length
he said——

“Merewold, it cannot be far from daylight.”

As he spoke, I noticed the grayish light of the dawning
morning :th'endy appearing in the east, and replied that the
day was upon us.

“ Let us move away where there is no danger of being
seen. This discoVery is unexpected, and I must prepare
myself for it."

We Went fuily a quarter of a. mile without speaking.
We then halted, and Kendall‘s first action was to sink
upon his knees, and spend several minutes in prayer. ‘

“ Merewold, my dear friend,” said he, “the action ‘

i from this point devolVes upon you. I dare not trust my-
self within thztt camp. I could neither beer the pain of
disappointment nor the joy of discovering her. I shall up-
set all my plans entirely. Will you assist me ?"

“Assist you? 0nly commend me, Kendall, and I will

6', anything in my power, I am not only Willing, but am

      
     
   
   
         
     
   
   
   
   
   
       
   

   

  

THE PRAIRIE RANGERS. '

anxious to take upon me the responsibility of carrying the
matter through from that point.”

“There must be no haste, then, although my impatience
seems intolerable. Let us select a spot with the intention
of remaining several days in it. We will, then, make our
arrangements and commence operations.”

An hour or so was spent in further search, and finallv
we struck upon a sort of natural cave, several hundred
yards from the river. Here we placed our saddles, bridles
and equipments, and confined the horses by means of la-
riats, where they could crop all the grass they needed, and
at the same time be under the eyes of whichever of 11; re-
mained at home. By this time it was broad daylight.
Kendall proposed breakfast before starting, but us my anti-
iety and impatience were hardly less than his, I had no
appetite, and so informed him.” "

“Be careful, dear Marwold," said he, ‘as 1 was about to
Start: “let the entire object of this venture upon your
part be to find whether Enola is among them. You know
how cautious it is necessary to be. Should you awaken
suspicion as to the true cause of your visit, you may defeat
everything, Return as you see fit, and God be with us
both !”

’ I did not look in his face, but I felt his hand tremble as
it convulsiver closed upon mine, and I moved away in the
direction of the gipsy encampment. I determined to do?
feat nothing by haste or precipitation: and further to ac-
complish the object in hand, I resolved that my coamg
upon the band should seem to them as if it were purely ac-
cidental upon my part. Aecordingly, as I approached the
hill where our horses had first taken fright. I sanntered
carelessly along, looking to my right and left as though
upon a. mere morning hunt. When I reached the brow of
this hill, and felt that I was in full sight of the camp, in-
stead of lookng toward it, I kept my gaze fixed toward a
tree on my left hand, as though my whole attention was
absorbed by something in its branches. Keeping my head
in this direction, I went half way down the hill, then looked

 

    

  

48

before me, and abruptly paused with a start of astonish~
ment.

I am sorry to say, however, that the effect of this fine
piece of acting was entirely lost upon my audience, for,
'from appearance, every one of them was sound asleep.
Down in the valley before me were five specimens of hu~
man habitations, each of which seemed a compromise be
tween, or rather combination of a cabin, hut, lodge and
tent. They were ragged and patched, and made of barks,
logs, trees, brush, stone, and everything, in fact, which
could be turned to any account. Each was of a quadrila-
teral shape, about thirty-five feet square, and the five stood
in a semicircle which was faced by myself. In spite of
their dilapidated appearance, they were firm and fully able
to withstand the fiercest storms that ever raged in this re-
ginn. There were sticks, the bones of animals, and por-
tions of clothing scattered about, so that, take it all in all, ,
a more slovenly and repulsive “settlement” could not pos-
sibly be imagined. *

As I stood gazing at these with genuine astonishment,
smoke commenced issuing from an opening in the corner
of one of the roofs of one of the edifices. By this I judged
the village would soon be ustir, and while debating upon
the best means of making myself observed, a door opened, '
and a bare-headed mun, rubbing his eyes, and gaping as
though just awaking, stepped forth. He walked directly
toward me, and continued gouging his eyes until within ten
feet, when he ptused, opened them and his mouth, and
stared directly at me.

“Good morning, my friem ," said I, pleasantly.

He stared a moment more, and then, without speaking
or acknowledging my salutation in any manner, moved on
by me up the hill. He returned in a short time, carrying
a bundle of brush in his arms. I saluted him again as he
passed me, but with no better success than before, and he
soon disappeared in his hut.

The moment he was invisible I turned my back upon
him and walked away, deeming it best to wait until all
his friends were up and doing, before I ventured among

THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

     
   

 

 

 

 

I whom every one would reverence.

49

them. I passed down to the river bank, and seating
myself, I meditated upon the best course for me to pursue.
As this had already been decided, I soon fell to thinking of
another matter.

During the last two or three chapters I have thought it
was time to make a confession. Having failed to do it, I
will now make atonement. The story which Kendall
related, it is hardly necessary to say. was of absorbing inte-
rest to me. The enthusiastic picture which he gave of his
sister, her beauty and goodness, had been constantly
before me ever since, and although my feelings must have
been far different from his, I doubt whether he was more
anxious to look upon the lost Enola than I was. I had
formed my ideal of her, and felt that she must he a being
Even in the repulsive
surroundings in which she had been placed so long, the
lustre of her pure character could not have been dimmed.
I had long reached the first step in the great passion of our
nature—that of interest in its recipient. Beyond that I
could not go until I had seen her face to face, and conver-
sed with her.

I had not spoken of this feeling to Kendall, and I am
convinced he had no suspicions of it, and I further resolved
that he should have none until the proper moment. Often
in riding beside him upon the prairie, or when listlessly
Refining by the camp fire, I had indulged in the most
extravagant dreams of the ideal Enoln. The future were
none but roseate hues to me. and my enthusiasm was such
that it Seemed I could spend a. lifetime in searching for her.
Such reveries as these were so pleasant that I could lose
myself in them at any time; and when I arose from my
seat, I saw from the sun that I had been indulging my fan-
ciful imagination for over an, hour.

1 strolled ofl‘ toward the hill, and as soon as I gained a
View of the huts, I saw the gipsies were all 'astir. Over a
score of children were running about, playing, fighting,
and screaming, ragged and dirty, while the older portion
of the males Were cutting wood, smoking and lounging
listlesst around their cabins. Just as I came up, I saw

THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

 

    

 

    

50 THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

several young men with rilles, and carrying game, approach
from an opposite direction, so that I judged they had been
upon a huntingr excursion. By this means, and that of
trapping during the cold season, they could gain a comfor-
table livelihood. They were in a good fur country, and
could not starve so long as they were not too lazy to exert
themselves.

I had nearly descended the hill, when several of the,
young ones caught sight of me, and with a series of yelps ‘
the whole troop started toward me. In an instant I was
surrounded, and pulled and pinched, until I was barely
able to keep on my feet, I took it all in good part how-
ever, and played with the children till they screamed with
delight. All this time I was on the lookout for their dogs,
but was much relieved to find, singularly enough, that
there was not one in the Village. A shout from a huge
man who Vas seated on a log, smoking, scattered all the
children, and gave me the opportunity I wished.

“A beautiful morning,” said, I, nodding toward this
personage. 1

He looked up at me, with his teeth shut down so
tightly upon the stem of his black pipe, that it seemed it
must be crushed; and, although he uttered nothing, his
expression said as plainly as words can speak:

“ \Vell, what of it ?”

Pretending not to notice his expressive silence, I steppeo
carelessly forward and seated myself on the log beside
him. The instant I did so he rose up, brushed the rear
portion of his pants, turned his bushy head toward me, and
asked: ‘

“ What do you want ?”

' “I have been wandering around the country, and
stumbled upon your place here, so I thought I would just
Come over and take a look at you.”

“ What do you want?"

“Your peoptc are gipsies, are they not. i’"

“ S'imse so—what of it ?"

“Shall I read the future to you?” asked a woman-

    
  
   
 
 
 
  

 

 

ms PRAIRIE minenns.

not an old, bent and withered crone, but a young and
handsome one.‘ I

I laughed, arose, and ot’fered"her my hand, careful that,
at the same time, it should contain a piece of money; and
as she took and examined it, ’I looked down and scrutin.
(zed her f'ace. She had regular features, With light brown
hair, and would have been called beautiful, were she in
any station in life.

She held my hand a moment, and then, without raising
her head, said:

“ You come from a long distance."

This piece of information did not excite much am am-
ment in me, as any one would have known it could not

Well have been otherwise.
‘ “You have seen a great deal of trouble,” said she, scan-
ning more closely the lineaments of my hand.

This last remark was at positive untruth, for, as yet, I
had seen little, indeed, of the dark side ot‘ life.

“But the future is full of hope,” said she, “and there
is joy awniting you.”

“ In what shape will it come ?”

“ In many; you will be rich; and a. friend, long lost, is
about to be restored to you."

This last remark, I confess, startled me. It flashed
through my brain, as . quick as lightning, that she sus-
pected the object of my visit, and favored it, or would do
so, if well paid for it. It must either be thus, or else it:
was simply one of those accidental hits at the Very truth,
for which we are searching, which persons in 1101' Situation
Sometimes make.

“ When is he to be restored to me again ?” I asked, as
uneoncernedly as I could. I

“ She looked up in my face, and with an arch look, said
in a soft voice— '

“It is not he, it is she." -

“Is it possible i” I laughed. “I was not aware I had
ever lost a friend. And pray, when is she to be found
again." ‘

.“Before the leaves of the trees fall in autumn.“

 

  

52 THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

“Quite soon, indeed, for I believe the autumn some:

very early in this latitude."

“ What brought you here '1’” she asked, looking me
calmly in the eyes.

“We—that is, I came upon your village in the first
place purely by chance.”

“You say we—there are others with you then ?"

“Yes. I have a companion.” '

“You do not belong to the Hudson Bay Company 1’"

“No, we are not trappcrs, we are only on a hunt."

“ Are you long since from the States ?”

“Not long. but my companion has wandered over the
Fur West for a. number of years."

“ \Vhat object has brought you two in this section ?"

“I have just told you we are on a [tummy expedition,
3nd we came upon your people here by accident.”

“Very well, I am satisfied. Do you remain near here ?"

Instantly I thought of the trapper Joe’s story, and re-
plied—

“You cannot expect two mere hunters to make an en-
campment of more than several days’ duration.”

“You cannot answer that question, then? lVell, I’m
not particular,” and she dropped my hand, stepped back,
and looked me in the face. I gave a slight start, as though
the idea had just entered my head. and said—-

“ I have replied to your questions, and now I suppose
you will allow me to ask some of you?”

She nodded assent, because she could not well refuse,
and I proceeded.

“ In the first place, you must admit that I have good
reason to be surprised at finding a band of gipsies in this
remote country. I know your people are wanderers
upon the face of the earth, but there are certainly
Borne portions which it cannot be expected they will reach
for a few hundred years yet, and this is one of them.
Some extraordinary motive must haVe led your band to
brew the perils of the wilderness, and travel this great
distance.' What is that motive ?”

“ I can hardly answer that," teplied my fitir t'riend.

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

with one of her arch and incomprehensible looks. Then
she added, as though she thought she had committed her-
self. “Nan nf‘nnr race heing‘ here. is it not natural that.
we should think it inst the place for us ? It is true w > :u'

alone. and we are glad of it.“

“I cannot understand why that, should be so. In such
an extensive country as this, a million gipsies could live
without elbowing each other. Why then 81100.“ you:
hand wish to be alone '1’" I

“Either you or some of your people will learn before
many years why not only we, but others, wish to be alone
on the Saskatchewan.“

I did learn by accident, a few days after, the cause of
their remaining on this river, but I never suspected it whiie
talking with her.

“Do you call the States your home '1’" I asked in a
careless manner.

“Our home ?" she asked, in genuine amazement. “ This
is our home, and has been such for years."

“ I mean you came from the States originally. You are
Americans, not foreigners ?"

“ Some of us are natives of this country, and some are
not. I am an American.”

“ I notice you speak like a person who has an educa-
tion. Have you always been a gipsy i’"

“ Ever since I Can remember."

“You must have some one with you who is capable of
teaching the rest?”

The penetrating look she darted upon me told a“. I
needed nothing more. But I regretted my words the in—
stant I uttered them. They awaked a suspicinn in 1181‘.
and in spite of my carelessness it was impossible to rid her
of it. She at once became reserved, and manifested a re-
luctance to continue the conversation. Deeming it best to
retain her good will, .i placed another piece of money in
her hand, and said, in a laughing manner.

“ I- must go now. Probably my friend and myself may
Remain in this neighborhood a short time, and I may drag

  

54 THE PRAIRIE RANGERS-

down here again. You will let me see you, will you
not ?"

“ Perhaps so, perhaps not," she answered, abruptly,
turning and walking away.

Several things about this gipsy encampment attracted my
attention and excited my curiosity. I saw that, while con-
versing with my fair fortune-teller, every one else, even to
the children, kept aloof from us. But, in the casual
glances I cast around, I observed more than one pair of
dark, glowing eyes lowering at me, and I knew I was con-
stantly undergoing a strict scrutiny.

Toward the latter part of our conversation I glanced, by
the merest accident, over the head of my friend into the
bushes beyond. As I did so, I saw three men emerge into
the clearing and walk toward us. They had gone but a.
short distance when one of them noticed us. I heard him
mutter something, and putting their hands behind them, .
they commenced walking backwards, with their eyes fixed
upon me, until they were out of sight. Shortly after, they
came in View again, carelessly swinging their arms, as
though they were merely lounging about, and, separating,
each wont to a diflerent lodge. Now and then, I also no-
ticed, men slipped off into the woods, each one going
singly; but it was evident they united again after they
were beyond my sight. Had there not been this attempt
at secresy :tnd concealment, I should have thought nothing
of their movements. '

But that for which I constantly sought was a sign of the
lost Enola. I saw none, and I retruccd my steps to where

Kendall awaited me.

CHAPTER VII.

A DISCOVERY.

I found Kendall impatiently awaiting for my return.
He was pacing backward and forward, rather uneasy and.‘
anxious.

 

 

n“;

 

 

-.—...a

 

THE PRAIRIE RANGERS. 55

“Have you seen her P” he asked eagerly, as he saw me.

“I have not seen her, but I feel sure she is there."

“Tell me all about it,” said he, with the same eager-
ness; and, seating himself before me, he riveted his gaze
upon me, and drank in every word I uttered. When I
had finished, he sprang up and said, as the tears streamed
down his cheeks:

“Yes, yes, Enola is there! I shall go and take her
tawny this very day. Let them oppose me if they dare.
You will fight for me, will you not '1’”

I saw he was fearfully excited, and waited for him lc
000] down. He did so in the Course of a half—hour, and
then we conversed rationally. It Was agreed that I should
go again to—mon‘ow,v‘ acting as cautiously as before, and
only seeking to solve the simple question whether Enola
Kendall was with them or not. That determined, we
would then decide how to act. Having settled this ques.
tion, I related to Kendall the action of the three men in
coming in the clearing, and the manner in which I saw
others leave it.

“That reminds me of what I noticed,” said he, starting
up. “I have seen a dozen of the gipsies go down the
river bank, and as many go up. They had no arms of
any kind—but they carried something in their hands——
something so diminutive that it was impossible for me to,
make out what it could be."

“ That explains why the three men threw their hands
behind them and walked backward the instant they saw
me. They had something they wished to conceal.”

“ The question is, what was it ? Now I propose that
We find out, as we have the entire afternoon to do it in."

V “ I am willing,” said I, rising to my feet. “ I have a
horror of mysteries, and was in hopes that I could find
some means to solve this. We must be careful, for if
caught dogging their footsteps, I am afraid it would not be
well With us."

First eating ourcold dinner, and examining the pickets
and lariats that held our horses, We started toward the
riVer, Kendall leading the Way. When within a hundred

 

56 THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

yards, and stealing cautiously from tree to tree, we caught
a glimpse of the very three men to which I have referred.
'They were walking rapidly, and talking so earnestly that
Kendall said there was no danger in following them up,
provided there was none behind us to follow us up. Satis-
fying ourselves that there was no probability of the latter
circumstance, We dogged their footsteps for nearly half a
mile. All this time we could see that two of them held
something in their hands, though what that something was
we could neither tell nor conjecture, beyond the fact that
it was small and flexible.

We were walking cautiously along, keeping our gaze
fixed upon the three men, when they suddenly disappeared
from view. They turned neither to the right nor left, nor
did they spring behind any object, but We saw them with
our own eyes sink down in the ea-th! Had not we both
observed them, We could not have believed it; but such
was the truth, and we looked in each other's faces for the
solution. Kendall shook his head and smiled meaningly.

“ I cannot comprehend it."

“Shall we go on '1’"

“Let us wait till night, when the moon is up. They
will have returned by that time, and we can take a look
around here without being discovered. We might get into
some trap by being too inquisitive at present, and defeat
the object of this expedition."

We remained a short time in the vicinity, and then
retraccd our steps, without seeing anything more of the
gipsies. Near our encampment was a spot which afforded
a. view of a short space of the river bank, over which we
knew these three would have to pass on returning to their
village. We kept a close watch of this spot, and just as
the sun was setting, were rewarded by observing not only ‘
the three, but twice as many more returning—-all of whom,
so far as we were able to judge in the short time they
passed before us, had the same mysterious object in their
hands. I

That night the moon did not rise till very late, and we
concluded to spend the intervening period in sleep. Ken-

 

 

THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

dull possessed that peculiar power of being able to wake at
any moment he chose, so that we had no fears of over-
fleeping- He expressed some apprehension of a visit from
the thieving band so near us ; but knowing they could do
no mischief Without our being awaked by our animals,
there was no necessity of our keeping watch.

I had slumbered seemingly a long time, when I was
aroused by Kendall‘s gentle touch upon my shoulder. A?
I arose, the moon, full and clear, was just visible above
the tree-tops, and our task it was evident would he per-
formed with as little difficulty as in the broad daylight.

“Do not speak above a whisper," he admonished.
“There Is no telling who is on the move beside us."

“Is it midnight yet ?"

He looked at his watch, the figures of whose face Were
plainly visible, and answered—

“ It will he one o‘clock in a few minutes. Keep close
to me."

I did so, and we made our way through the woods and
undergrowth, without breaking a twig beneath our feet.
When we reached the river bank, we took the same direc-
tion that we had during the day—that is, directly up
stream. In due time we reached the spot where we had
pausedst the singular disappearance of the gipsies. Here
we halted.

“It was about three hundred yards from here, I think,
that they went down," said Kendall, measuring the dis-
tance with his eye. “ I will keep several yards ahead of
you, so that if I stumble into a trap, you will have time to
retreat."

We walked side by side until we had gone nearly that
distance, when, at my friend‘s request, I fell behind.

, “Keep a look-out for me," said be, partly turning his
' head, “and if you see anything suspicious, speak out.”

“I will; but, for HeaVen‘s sake, Kendall, don‘t 1,.
'blind. You must look at your own footsteps.”

“ I will; but you can help me. Hello! the ground
looks as though they had been digging in these parts."

w“ Halt, then, till I come up.”

 

58 THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

“ I am feeling my way, but”—————

\Vhat else he would have said was lost to me, for he
went out of sight as quick as lightninn‘.

“Kendall, where are you? Speak, for God’s sake!"
called out.

I thought I detected a faint answer, and moved forward
a step or two.

“Kendall, speak, or” -

Down I went, too. So soon as I recovered from the
shock, I looked up, and saw that I had fallen about tt"l
feet into what seemed a pit, newly duo‘. I again called
out my friend’s name.

“Here I am,” he answered With a. laugh.

1’

“I thought.

I was hurt, but I find I was only frightened at. my original
way of coming down stairs. But where are we? What
does this mean ?” ‘
“ Perhaps they have been digging graves here.”
“If such is the case, we are the only inmates.
take a look, and see what there is about here.” ,
The ground being newly dug, and all of a. rich, brown

color, it was difficult for us to make out the peculiarities
of the pit. Beside this, several large trees completely
overshadowed it, so that we Were eiiVeloped in midnight
darkness: and in the search which we instituted, we were
guided solely by the sense of feeling“. All at once my
hand struck something hard.
dall exclaimed, in a. husky voice, that he had hit upon
somethinyr.

“And here are more of them—in fact, here is a whole “

pile. Ah! I see what they are. They are their instru~
menls ol‘ digging—a lot of roughly-fitshioned shovels."

So it proved upon further examination. It was now
settled that the gipsies must employ themselves delving—
their object in doing so was the mystery.

“This place," said Kendall, a few moments later, “does
not seem to be dug for the purpose of receiving dead
bodies.”

“Strike 3. light, and we shall see."

He succeeded in doing so, after some difficulty, and then

A ,

Let m V’

At the same moment Keu- "

 

TIIE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

we examined the pit. The instant the light lit up the
darkness, I saw something among the earth. It looked
like fine grains of silver, and accrued to have been flung
all around us. Before our taper went out, I stooped and
scooped up a handful, and I saw Kendall at the same mo-
ment pick up something.

“We have learned enough," said he; “let us go."

The light had revealed a sort of inclined plane, by which
it was an eusy matter to Valli out of the pit. It required
a few minutes only to do this, and we were soon quietly
making our way back to our encampment. Arrived there,
we lay down and slept.

In the morning we examined the shining particles which
I had brought away. That examination proved to us that
during the preceding night we had been examining 9. GOLD
HIKE.

CHAPTER VIII.

FOUND—AN ADVENTURE.

Incredible as it seemed to me, such was indeed the case.
Kendall had visited the mines of California, and could not
be mistaken in the particles which we cxmnineil. Besides
this, he llnd picked up :1 small snek, made from the en-
tmils of some animal, which was used to contain the pre-
cious dust. It had evidently been left in the mine by ac-
cident, and it nfl'orded at once 0. solution of the action of
the three gipsies whom I had seen enter the clearing while
conversing mm the thrinue-M”-r, and eXpInined wlmt 0‘.)—
jects they carried in their hands in going and coming.
The Were little sacks of gold dust, and rugged and sqmmd
as appeared those gipsics, we were satisfied in regard to
one matter. If they were not already immenser Wealthy,
they soon would be.

This discovery of the existence of gold on the Silflli‘tt-Cll-
GWfln, although an impirtnnt one, excited but a monlen.
tary interest in us. I doubt if Kendall had found a mind

 

 

60 THE PRAIRIE RANGERS. ,

of retdy-noined money, whether he would have allowed it
to divert him for a moment from the object which had led
him thither. After commenting upon the future results of
this discovery, he said :

“The people must be stirring by this time, Mnrewold,
and the dir'y which you have taken upon yourself awaits
you.”

“I shall start in a moment.
time during' nrv absence ?"

“ You see We have just eaten the last of our meat. I
will go off on a. hunt, getting so far into the woods that
the noise of my gun will not attract the attention of our
neighbors. It' I get back before you return, I may proba-
bly employ myself in watching the gold hunters.”

“ Why not do some prospecting yourself?"

“ I have no desire to do any such thing. My only
object in watching their labors wilt be to pass away the

How will you spend the

time until you return. How long do you expect to be-

:bsent ?"
“ I have made up my mind, Kendall, not to come back

until Ihave learned something definite in regard to your
sister. I shall not follow exactly the same plan that I did

yesterday."

“ I was going to advise you to remain concealed near
the village, where you could watch all of its inmates. Not
suspecting your presence, Enola may be allowed to venture
out, but as they rather expect another visit from you, I
am afraid «he will be closely watched.”

“It would have been better, perhaps, had I not said
this, as it may militate against me. I shall remain around
that gipsy camp until dark if I learn nothing before. At
any rate, Kendall, do not expect me back till the middle
of the afternoon.”

So saying, we shooir heads, and separated.

I picked my way this time with greater caution than
before, for I was determined to follow out the suggestion
of Kendall, and make a secret Visit to the village.

When I reached the brow of the hill, I turned oil" to the
right, and assuring myseli‘ that I was unobsmved, ‘ 1

‘

 

a)

m manure RANGERS. 61

climbed a tree, ensconced myself among its branches, and
commenced my watch. By parting the twigs, I had a full
view of every hut, and of those who passed out and entered
them. I noticed the same listless, lounging air that I seen
the day before. There were men whosecmed too lazy even
to dig for gold, sitting around, smoking and sleeping, chil-
dren employed in boisterous play, and women busy at their
household duties. More than once I observed my fair
fortune-teller passing from cabin to cabin, and others going
out and in, until it seemed to me that there could not be
one in the village but what had passod under my gaze.
But not a sight of the lost. sister! Ah, how my heart
sickened at the thought, that after all she might not be
there. Perhaps she had never been brought to the West,
or, if so, she had died years ago. It seemed to me that
Kendall could not survive such a disappointment.

After a couple of hours, I noticed that the fortune-teller
entered the central cabin more often than the others, and
that when away from it, she was continually glancing
toward it, as though guarding something within. Her ac-
tions were such that I judged she was fearing a visit from
me, and was preparing against any surprise. This led me
to believe that the prisoner was in this central habitation.

From time to time the men entered and left the village,
always carrying their tiny sacks with them, and it was
plain they were procuring large quantities of the yellow
metal from the earth. At noon most of those outside
entered their respective cabins, and. I suppose partook at
their dinner, as they issued forth again in the course of a
half hour.

I now looked for some demonstration that would tell me
something of the captive. When the fortune-teller made
her appearance, my anxiety to see her movements was so
great, that I came within a hair‘s breadth of losing my bal-
ance, and coming down from my perch. To my utter
chagrin, she went ofi’ with two of the gold-hunters, and I
saw nothing more of her for several hours. While I sat
watching, waiting and complaining, I heard three faint

reports of Kendall‘s rifle in the distance. This circum-

62 run PRAIRIE RANGERS.

stance prevented me from obeying my first impulse of -'
descending, and telling him that it was impossible for me I
to learn anything more.

About the middle of the afternoon, the fortune-teller
came in from the opposite side of the clearing. It flashed
across my mind instantly that instead of going to the
gold mine, she had been searching the w0ods to see
whether I was in the vicinity. And such was the case.

She paused a few moments on the edge of the clearing,
gazed carefully about her, and then gave a. call, the exact
words of which I did not understand. As she uttered it,
she looked toward the central cabin which I have men-
tioned, and I fixed my gaze upon it. In a. moment, the
rude cabin-door was swung open, and a man—he to whom
I had first spoken on the morning of the day before—-
came forth. He stopped, exchanged glances with the for-
tune-teller, and then turned and spoke to some one within. ‘
The next instant Enola Kendall stepped into View!

How my heart throbbed when I saw her ! There could
be no mistaking her. She wasjust as I had pictured her—-
rather small in stature, of a petite figure, and graceful
beyond description. IIer dress was neat and becoming,
despite the circumstances by which she was surrounded.
A scarlet colored shawl, whose superiority in beauty I had
never witnessed, enveloped her shoulders, and her head
was bare. Her hair, of jetty blackness, parted over her
forehead, and being .neither gathered nor braided, it fell
down in luxuriant ripples that glistened in the sunlight, at
the slightest motion of her head. Her features, I could
see from my position, were as her brother had described
; them. Perhaps both of us were incompetent judges, but
they seemed faultless to me.

I saw her cross the clearing to the fortune-teller, and
they conversed together for a few moments. All this time
the latter kept glancing about her, and resting her head
upon Enola’s shoulder, as though she feared the approach
of some one. It was evident enough that my visit had ex-
cited suspicion, and a closer survoillanee was kept upon the
prisoner.

 

THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

I debated with myself a moment, and then I determined
to step boldly forward and address Erwin—satisfied that
this course Would accomplish as much as anything else. I
slid down from the tree, kept concealed until I was within
a few yards of the two, and then stepped forward.

“Good afternoon; I meant to drop down here before,
but was prevented.”

A look of the most intense vexation passed over the
face of the fortune-teller, as she replied—

“You were not expected at this time.”

“I suppose not.”

I then glanced at Enola, as though I expected an in~
troduction ; but my look was disregarded. The fair cap-
tive stood silent and sorrowful, her dark, lustrous eyes
fixed upon me with n. wondering expression.

“ Well, what is your business?” asked the fortune-teller,
with a sneer.

“I came to see that lady,” nodding towards Enola.

“ To see her!" she exclaimed, in astonishment. “ What
do you want with her .3"

“ If you will withdraw, I will tell it to her."

The fortune-teller raised her eyes, and an expression 01
mingled scorn and hate settled upon her face, that made
her beauty terrible. She possessed a terrible temper, and
must have been provoked beyond endurance, at having al-
lowed herself to be outwitted by me.

“ I shall withdrew, and she will, too.”

“ Why not hear what the gentleman wishes to say ?"
laid the captive, in a low voice.

f‘ No gentleman Would do as he has done," replied the
other in u. spiteful tone.

“I am not aware that I have been guilty of any rude-
ness in your presence. If you will explain in what I have
offended, I will make amends." ,

“You can make amends by leaving at once, and never
fihowing your fith again? .

She took 1mm of Enoln’s bane, as if to move away,
but the latter stood and looked toward me, as if to invite

 

64 mm: PRAIRIE RANGERS.

me to speak. The other noticed it, and turned sharply
around.

“Why do you wait? What can he say to gipsies that
can benefit them ?"

“I beg pardon. I wished to speak to one who is not a
slimy!”

A thunderbolt could not have startled the woman more.
She did not stir, but her eyes seemed to blaze with hatred.
She was silent a moment, and then she gave vent to a
scream that would have startled a panther, and which
brought several men at once around us—the bushy, heavy-
browed fellow, my first acquaintance, being at the head.

“ What the devil is to pay now P” he demanded, bust—
ling toward me.

“ Kill him! shoot him! don‘t let him live I" exclaimed
the fortune-teller, bursting into tears, from very excess of

madness. The man raised his fist, I drew my revolver, ‘ I

stepped back, and cooked it.

“Be careful, all of you i" said I. “I have not touched or
insulted one of these persons, and I will not bear a blow
from you."

“He is after her! I—know he is! he will have her.
He would like to kill me, I know he would 1” fairly
shouted the woman, stamping the ground and becoming
hysterical.

“ Young chap, ef you take yourself ofl’ quiet, and don't
show your face agin, you can go. But, ef you comes
poking 'round here anymore, you'll never see another sun
rise,” said the burly gipsy, impatiently motioning me
away.

“'I am going," said I; “but before I go, I should like
to ask what you' are doing with that person. She is not
one of your people.”

“None of your business. Now go.”

“I know,” said I, holding my rifle in one hand and my
revolver in the other. “ You stole her, years ago, in New
Orleans. Her name is Enola Kendall, and, by Heavens, if
you do not restore her, you will sufl'er for this!”

I new Enola start as I uttered her name, and I saw the

 

THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

_ ominous expression that flitted over the face of the one I
addressed. It was fearful, and it meant devillry. I had
spoken in the heat of passion. and regretted the words the
instant they were spoken. I had revualed the cause of my
being there, and must now prepare for the consequences of
that revelation. It was too late for regret, however, and
without another word between us, I moved away.

“ When about halfway to our place of encampment. I
again heard the report of Kendall‘s rifle—this time as far
away as before. Not wishing to return before he did, I
concluded to take a stroll in the woods for an hour or so.
The moment I made up my mind to this, I wheeled round
with the intention of taking a direction parallel with the
river, but not to approach it, as I should encounter the
gipsies. As I turned, I caught a glimpse of a man as he
dodged behind atree, at a point several hundred yards
from me. I only obtained a mere glimpse of him. but it
Was enough to convince me that it was the bushy-brewed
gipsy following me. I was certain of another matter—he
had a rifle in his hand!

If he watched me, as I had every reason to believe he
did, he certainly did not suspect from my actions I had
seen him. I sauntered carelessly forward, as before;
sometimes whistling, and sometimes singing snatches of
song, and contriving now and then to throw a seemingly
accidental glance behind me. I was satisfied in my own
mind that this gipsy was only seeking the opportunity to
put a rifle bullet through me. I determined to keep my
eye upon him, and the instant he had made any step to-
ward it, to shoot him as I would a dog.

My sensations were certainly uncomfortable as I reflected
that at any moment he might be levelling his gun at me. I
walked over a half mile in this state of mind, and then I
began to speculate upon the probable termination of this
adventure. I certainly should not walk aill night, and it
was not to be supposed the assassin would wait, much
longer before he tired. I become so wrought up at length
that I wheeled anund, stepped behind a small tree, and
waited for him to come up. The sun was just setting,

 

  

66 run PRAIRIE RANGERS.

and as there were but few trees surrounding us, the hot
izontal rays lit up the place like the light of a conflngra-
tion, but I could see nothing of the gipsy.

I stood some twenty minutes, my ritle cooked, and in a
tremor of expectation, until it occurred to me that, after all,
he might have returned to the village, thinking I had taken

‘ my final departure, and was not willing to shed any blood.
I had just reached this conclusion, when the sharp crack
of a rifle awoke the stillness, a bullet whizzed toward me,
and I fell to the ground I

My fall, however, was perfectly voluntary, for I was
not wounded in the least. It seems incredible to myself,
that simultaneous with the flash Of the rifle, should come
the thought that by falling my fee would believe me dead
and not trouble me further. But such I know was the
‘case, and such was the sole reason that brought me to the ..
ground. I lay a moment, and then cautiously looked up,
but saw nothing of my enemy. The twilight was already
settling over the place, and it would soon be dark. Finally
I arose to my feet, carefully keeping behind the tree, and
looked about me. A hundred yards away, I saw the gip—
By walking leisurely from me, his back offering a tempting
mark.

“ Now, my fine fellow, it is my turn !" ' I muttered, as
I raised my weapon. g

Three times the aim was perfect and my finger pressed
the trigger; three times it was lowered, and then raised
the fourth time. Long I held it thus, but it came down
again.

u Go,

 

” said I, “it is not for me to take vengeance.”

CHAPTER IX.

TEE HUDSON BAY TRAPPERS—RE-UNITID.

 
      

Kendall and I returned to the encampment at the same
moment. He was laden with enough game to last us a

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
     
    
      
       
   
   
        
       
   
 
   
  
 

THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

. week. I saw his eager anxiety in his face, and immedL
ately related all that has been given in the preceding
chapter. 

“I have been hasty and imprudent,” said I, in conclu-
sion; “but I trust no evil will result from it."

“ You have been hasty, dear Marewold, but I cannot
see that it can injure us in the least. On the contrary I
believe it will be a benefit. It seems certain they sus-
pected your object, and will feel no further concern about
you. There is but one plan for you to pursue.”

“ What is that ?”

“ I shall obtain the aid of the employees of the End-
son's Bay Company, as I said I should do in case of
difficulty. Single-handed we can do nothing. The gipsies
must be met byran equal force, and compelled to give up
Enola.” .

“ But where will you find these employees ? It will be ,
some time yet before the cold season sets in, and it is not
probabie that any of the brigades are on the Saskatche-
wan, and it is along distance to the Red River settlement."

“ It is; but ifI find no friends this side 0f it, I shall go
there. Nothing but death shall thwart me now. We

, shall start down the river in the morning.”

“ It will take a large number of men to overcome them,
Will it not 2’”

“ A dozen well-armed men are sr'npiy sufficient.
Besides, they are in the territory of the Hudson Bay Com-
pany, whom they would not dare to ofiend. There is a.
greal deal about that company, Marewold, that people do
not understand. It has been in existence nearly two hun-

dred years, during which time its dominion has been
extended over a vast portion of the continent. Its territory ‘

- is divided into four large departments. We are in the
Southern one, I believe, as we are still east of the Rocky

'Mountains. These departments are divided into districts,
and sub-divided into establishments, forts and posts, so that:
you-gm there is system in the managament of their afiairs.

‘The highest grade in the service is that of chief factor, or

shareholder, which is never reached until twenty years at

 

68 THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

least of faithful servitude. Below this comes the office of
half-shareholder, clerk, postmaster, interpreter, and trap-
pers. Thd majority of the men in their employ are
Scotchmen and Orkney Islanders—all broad-shouldered,
sirong-limbed and rugged. Give me a dozen of such fel-
lows, and those gipsies will come to terms in short order."

“ It will require a long time to make the journey to and
from Red River settlement, and I am really afraid this
dreadful northern winter will catch us before we have
finished."

“ I know the summer season is very short, but I am in
hopes we shall get through before it closes. If not, we
will try a winter’s sojourn at Fort Garry, although," added
Kendall, in a grave tone, “ I promised my father and
mother that I should meet them in San Francisco this
autumn, and it will be a sore disappointment to them if I
fail to do so.”

At daybreak we were mounted and riding down the
right bank of the Saskatchewan. We had made a long
circuit so as to avoid the gipsy village, and by noon had
placed a good many miles behind us.

The same rich, varied scenery met us at every turn.
The river was fringed with dense undergrowth, and, in
many other places, a few trees only were scattered along
its banks. Large stretches of rolling prairie were visible
on both sides of the river, dotted with swamps and groves
of timber. Overhead, the different varieties of water-fowl
were constantly screaming and circling, while we were
never out of sight of the larger game of the forest.

When it was so dark that it was unsafe to travel, we
built our camp-fire near the margin of the river, cooked
our dinner, and sat down to our pipes.

We had smoked but a few minutes when Kendall started
up, and exclaimed—

“As sure as you live, Marewold, yonder is another
camp-fire—two of them together 1"

He pointed up stream as he spoke, and turning my head
I saw two bright fires, apparently within a few feet of
each other. Their situation was such that they seemed in

 

THE PRAIRIE RANGERS-

the very centre of the stream, which reflected their light as
distinctly as a mirror could have done.
“Who can they be ?" I asked.
“ Not enemies, certainly. acme, let us mount, and be
“6.),
“But are they not upon the opposite side ?"
“No; did you not notice before dark that the river
7 bends to the north as short distance down stream ? That
accounts for the distinctness with which we see their fires.
Nothing but the surface of the river interposes before our
view. They are either Indians or Hudson Bay men, and
we have nothing to fear from them in either case. They

' must have noticed as also. Hark! they are signaling to
us'ii

A long, tremulous whistle came with great clearness
over the water, and was instantly followed by a faint
halloo. .

Kendall arose to his feet, and repeated both signals. A
moment afterwards came the words, uttered with great
clearness, and with a full breath after each.

“ Who—are—you 2”

“Friends.”

“ How—many '1’"

"Two."

“ Come and join us.”

“We will."

Kendall‘s face was radiant.

“They are white men, certainly. How Providence ls
favoring us!”

A minute later we were plunging along the river bank,
speculating upon the number and identity of our newly-

‘ discovered friends. Little did we dream who one man
among them was, whom we were to meet and have for a
companion.

An hour brought us to the camp. We saw figures pass.
ing to and fro before the fire, and just as We came up,
Kendall said in undertone:

“They are all Hudson Bay men, every one of them."

80 it proved. There were fifteen, among whom were

8 ' \ ,

 

70 m gamma muons.

several clerks and a postmaster. The latter, by right of
his office, was leader of the party. He was the first to
greet us, and it required but a few minutes for us 'to dis-
cover that he was an educated gentleman in every respect.

We exchanged the courtesies usual on such ocoasions,
and then joined him in a pleasant smoke, after which we
began an interesting conversation.

The postmaster, Mr. Sanglid by name, told us that he
was on his way, with his men, to establish a fort or post
near the headwaters of the South Branch, the stream upon
which they were encamped. He was direct from Fort
Garry, and, as we supposed, had had absolute command
of all his men. ‘

Ere he had talked a half-hour every one of the latter,
with the exception of two clerks, were stretched out by
their respective camp-fires, and soundly asleep. The lat-
ter seemed to be conversing of their far-off homes in Eng
land, and were evidently home-sick enough. When these
were unconscious, Kendall related his story to Sanglid, re-
vealing all, and asking his assistance.

He was silent for several minutes, and then said :

“ Your experience is the most remarkable one I have ever
known. The gipsies, to whom you refer, have been lo-
cated on this river for five years, to my certain knowledge.
They are the only band, I may say, that has penetrated
the Hudson Bay Company’s territory. When their pre-
sence was first reported to us, it was proposed to order
their removal; but, as they could do no injury, it was
finally decided not to disturb them. During the winter
months some of them do a little trapping, and our brigade
calls for their peltries in the spring. They are alwayl
very humble and meek in the presence of our employees,
but will suffer no interference from others. A trapper
once told me of a surpassineg beautiful woman, whom he
had seen there on one occasion, but I never gave the
story credence, and it never oceurred'to me until this mo-
ment. I promise you that your sister shall be restored to
you. I shall receive no compensation for such an act of

simple duty, but I shall require you two gentlemen to give,

 

 

.- -

  

 

..'i-\‘\-,. 5",

 

   

5“ ~1‘i‘

 

. 'rnn menrs RANGERS. 71

._me your word of honor that you will keep one matter a

secret."

“And what is that ?"

“From what you have told me, I see that you are
aware that gold exists along the banks of this river. Sin-
gular as it may seem, this fact has been known to the com-
pany for years, but every measure has been taken to keep
it a profound secret with the few, and thus far we have
succeeded. Not a. dozen trappers among all our men
know anything about it, and such as do, could not be
bribed to reveal the localities where it exists. You see
our resonrces are the furs and peltries. Should it become
known in the United States that gold exists in our terri-
tory, we should have an influx of emigration that would
result in inculculnble injury to us. I do not believe there
is a. great quantity of the precious stufi‘, but I suspect those
gipsies are getting wealthy upon what they find. The
pledge that I require of you is, that, upon your return to
the States, you will keep this fact a. secret from all.

“ I pledge you my honor that I will," said Kendall.

“And you i” said Sunglid, nodding toward me.

" I promise you the same."

_ “ I am satisfied. I do not expect that it will always
remain a. secret. In the course of time a discovery must
be made. After that, of course, you are at liberty to tell
what you law. It is now getting quite late, and as we
are early risers, perhaps it will be best for us to turn in for
the night."

“ Do you set no watch ?"

“There is none needed."

Before retiring our friend piled more brush upon the two
fires, whose warmth Wes enjoyable on these cold nights. .
Lying down with our feet toward the fire, Kendall and I
soon joined the trapper-a in the land of dreams.

They were early risers indeed, for there were no signs
of light when we were aroused by the bustle and noise of
the camp, The early morning air was cold. and I was
half disposed to lie 3 while longer wrapped in my comfor.
table blanket, but it was impossible to sleep in the confu-

72 THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

sion around me, and it was very plain that the trapper!
had no intention of waiting for laggards. It is the custom
of such bodies of men as these to travel several miles
before taking breakfast, so that in a very short time they
were ready for moving.

Having animals, it was decided that we should keep
along the river bank, joining them at their meals, while
they would proceed by water, until near the gipsy village,
when they were to embark and approach in a body. It
wasjust getting light as the two canoes shoved off from
the shore, and propelled by the powurt‘ul arms of the stur-
dy trappers. shot rapidly up stream. A couple of hours
later they headed into land, and when we came up Were
busy with their morning meal. This required but a short
time, when they were under way again, and Kendall was
already impatiently looking for the gipsy village.

But we did not reach it that night, although we were
within a mile of it. Sanglid deemed it best to approach
the place in broad daylight, in such a manner that no
chance would be given any of them to play any trick with
us. Kendall, I am satisfied, did not sleep a minute during
the night. I was restless myself. and slept little. Every
time when I opened my eyes I saw him pacing backward
and forward before the camp tire, talkingr and muttering to
himself, uttering the name of Enola, and at. other times
earnestly praying that no cup of disappointment might
await him.

Morning um, and again We were under way. The
men rowml slowly until within a quarter of a mile of the
village. III-re the canoes approached the shore, and were
pulled high and drv upon the land. Sanglid had acquainted
them with what he intended to do, and every one had
manifested an eagerness for the adventure bar'ore them.
After breakfast the guns of all Were examined, and the
men given their instructions. Under no case were they to
fire until they had been assaulted, and were in imminent
danger. In such a case, Sanglid himself was to give the
order, and they were to shoot only the offending miscre-
Ints. The postmaster remarked to me that he had not the

 

TIIE FRANKIE RANGERS.

least idea the gipsies would show tight under any circum-
stances. I was to accompany him, but the whole affair
was to be conducted by himself.

The preliminaries being settled, We moved forward at
an early hour in the forenoon. the men walking; in double
file, and with the regularity of soldiers. I could not help
looking toward Kendall as we drew higher and nighor to
the village. His agitation became more marked and more
painful each moment; and when we caught a. glimpse m'
the cabins through the trees, he turned pale, and stopped.

“ Marcwold,” said he in a whisper, “ I can go no
further. You take my place—I must see her alone."

I nodded assent as he turned off in the woods, and
Banglid, with a sensibility that did his heart credit, pre-
tended not to see. his agitation. The next moment the
trappers, with a firm tread, entered the clearing, and ap-
proached the cabins.

The surprise manifested by the gipsies at the spectacle
of a band of armed men marching up to them, can hardly
.be iinagined. The children set up a. terrific streaming,
kept 11 until awed into silence by the greater fear of their
parents. The women at first ran to their hats, and peeped
out, and seeing us halt, came out again. The men, about
a dozen in number, stood sullenly awaiting the words of
the leader

“Who is the chief or ruler here I" asked the latter,
[looking around him.

The bushy-browed gipsy, still bareheaded, stepped
forward.

" Are you the head man here P" asked Sanglid, calmly
surveyingr him from head to foot.

“ There‘are several heads here, but _I’m about the big-
gcst toad in the puddle, and am ready for business, ef you
have anything particular.”

“ I have something particular. Do you know me ?"

u Ca,“ my um I do," returned the gipsy, Scratching

his head.
“My name is Sanglid. I belong to the Red River Set-

 

1.4.- THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

tlement, and these men are all mine—all trappers, who
will do what I command them.”

“ S'pose so. ”

“ Do you know him ?”

> Here I stepped forward. The lrripsy glanced at. me, but
did not start or betray any feeling at my appearance.

“ Seen him before," he returned, in the same sullen
manner.

“I shouldn’t wonder. I believe he has seen you be-
fore. To come to the point, then, we come on his ac-
count. You hold, against her will, a friend of his."

“Who i" asked the man, with a stupid expression of
Wonder.

“ Enola Kendall, of New Orleans, stolen by you several
years since.” ‘

“ No such a gal here,” said the fellow, turning to move
away.

“Hold!” commanded Sanglid, in a voice of thunder.
“ She is here. He has seen her and addressed her. If
she is not brought forth in ten minutes, we’ll batter mul-
old place to the ground, and run you out of the country.”

,The gipsy stood for a moment as if irresolute. He
looked behind him at the women and children clustering
there, and then said——

“I guess she isn’t here now, but will be pretty soon."

“That won’t answer. If we don’t see her in five
minutes, I shall set my men to searching for her, and,
boys,” said Sanglid, facing round toward them, “ you
needn’t be particular about what property you stumble
upon."

I 'The gipsy scratched his head harder than ever.

“There is such a gal here, but she has lived with us so
long that she won’t be willing to leave us."

“She shall decide that. Your time is up I"

The threat of Sanglid had been heard by the women,
who, satisfied that he would put up with no trifling, had
gone into Enola’s tent, and at this moment we beheld her
walking towards us. Not one of the gipeies spoke a word,
but they made way for our leader, who advanced to meet her.

 

 

rnn mmuus mxn ms. 75

“My fair friend," said he, gnllunlly, “ after this long
and cruel separation from your parents a couple of your
friends have come to restore you to them. Need I ask if
you wish to return to them."

She turned deathly pale, and endeavored to speak, but
her voice fniled her utterly. Snnglid saw her condition.
and taking her hand, walked with her back to the head oi
his men The willingness with which she accompanied
him answered his question. Nothing more could be
needed.

“She goes with us,” said Sanglid, addressing the gipsy.
“Take warning from this. Another such it crime upon
.yonr part, and you shall be scourged out of the country,

' without chance, too, of taking your Wealth with you.”

Thus we left them, not. one of them uttering a parting
word, and none but Snnglid speaking upon our side. The
men wheeled and marched out of the clearing, he walking
at their head, and Enoln leaning upon his arm. Thus we
proceeded, until we had reached the spot where Kendall
had left us. Here Sunglid gave me a meaning look, and
yielded Enola to me, moving on with his followers. I
stood in silence until they had passed out of sight and
hearing, and said :.

“8th here a moment, and be prepared for a great sur-
prise."

Sho was already surprised at the course taken with her.
I moved away with a meaning smile. A few yards away
I called to Kendall. He instantly came up, pale, trem-
bling, and nearly beside himself.

“ She is yonder,” said I, motioning toward her.. “ You

9 will be alone with her. When your interview is finished,

follow the track of Sanglid and his men, where they and I

will be waiting for you by the river bank."

As I said this, I hurried on after the trappers.

. Such a meeting required no witnesses: neither could
m pen properly portray it. There are some scenes too

gag-ed for the eyes of any but the participants. This re-

union of Kendall and his sister W88 of this nature; We Jrop

[- __ the veil upon it-

 

IKE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

 

CHAPTER X.
BOMEWARD Bonnn.

I found Sanglid and his trappers seated on the river
bank, engaged in discussing and commenting upon their
late adventure. The former motioned me to take a. seat
beside him.

“Now that your friend has regained his sister, what
course do you intend to pursue ?" he asked, with great
earnestness. -

“Your winter is close at hand, I suppose, and Kendall,
I know, is anxious to get out of the country as soon as
possible.”

“After establishing the post of which I have spoken, I
intend to return to the settlement with several of my men.
Your best plan, I should say, is to aeoomptny me. The
journey to St. Paul from that point can be easily made,
and you know the rest of the distance to New Orleans can
be accomplished at your leisure.” >

“Such, I am sure, would be my friend's wish, were his
parents in that city; but they are in San Francisco, where
he promised to meet them this autumn."

“ Ah, that alters the case then. Still I can do some-

thing for you. You will, then, cross the mountains, and

go down the coast to California ‘3”

“ I believe that is Kendall's intention, although it seems
to me a desperate undertaking to attempt the passage of
the Rocky Mountains with his sister.”

“ It can be easily done before the winter sets in, if you
have a. guide. There are numerous passes in the chain,
which are safe and available. Now it providentinlly happens
that we have a man with us who is on his way to one of
our posts in the Columbia Department, being sent there on
business for the company. This man has crossed the
mountains several times, and you will find him an anon
getic and faithful companion.”

/

 

 

 

 

rm; PRAIRIE RANGERS. 77

" Your kindness to us really“--—

“Tut, tut! Julian, this way.”

A small, thin-nosed, nervous-looking personage stepped
briskly up to us, and took the attitude of attention to
Sanglid.

“ The two gentlemen whom we have just befriended,"
said he, “intend crossing the mountains to California. If
you are willing, they would like to accompany you to
Oregon-17

“I shall be very glad to have them do so," said he,
frankly offering his hand to me.

There was something novel, amusing, and withal pre-
possessing in this little man, that attracted me toward him
at once. After again expressing the pleasure the intelli-
gence gave him, he withdrew with a very polite bow, and
left Sanglitl and me alone.

“ He is a singular fellow," said my companion. " He
acts as interpreter and messenger for us, and is one of the
most useful men in the service. He speaks a dozen dilfer-
ent Indian dialects, and is as shrewd and cunning as tht
most wily Blackfoot."

“ He favors a. Frenchman in his manner."

“ He is generally taken for one, but he is an American,
of French descent, and, by the way, he has spent several
years of his life in New Orleans. He is brave, honest and
faithful, and will stand by you in danger until death. He
has made the journey to Oregon and back again, several

v times, and on each occasion entirely alone. He was cap-
tured once by the Blackfeet, but he asserts on his honor
he purposely permitted them to do it, in order to get an
insight into their peculiar institutions. At any rate. he
made his escape, and I should like to see the band 0.
Indians that can capture him again.”

“ What is his full name 1’"

“Julian Martin.”

“I am gratified beyond expression that he is to be our
guide, and I am sure that Kendall and his sister will never
forget your kindness." ,

“ I have done but a simple duty, and the less said

 

78 THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

about it the better. But is it not nearly time that your
friend returned ?"

“I should think so," Ireplied, looking at the point
where I expected his appearance.

We had been an hour together, but as much more time
elapsed before Kendall and his sister made their appear—
ance. They came slowly, walking arm in arm, their
heads bent, their demeanor serene and quiet, but their
faces showed traces of the feelings which had stirred their
hearts at this memorable ic-union. The trappers respect-
fully made way for them, and they approached Sanglid
and myself. The former, in a few words, explained the
arrangements which he had made for their journey across
the mountains. Kendall, with that graceful earnestness
which always characterized him, thanked him and his men
fervently for himself and his sister, and gave his solemn
promise to every man of the company, that in case he ever
could finer or befriend them in any way, he would do so.

There was no cause for remaining together any longer,
and the trappers shoved their canoes into the water. Mar-
tin, Keudall and I agreed not to ride unless disabled or
sick, while the two horses were reserved exclusively for
Enola. We then shook hands all round with Szmglid and
the trappers, exchanged farewells and kind wishes; they
dipped their paddles in the water with a cheer; we stood
watching them as they headed up stream, then waved a
silent salute to them, and we parted, and never met again.

Turning our fame southward. we began our journey to»
California. Our course was nearly due south, Julian tell-
ing us that the pass through the mountains was in Ameri-
can possessions, a long distance south of the boundary line.
,This path leads directly into Washington Territory, and I i
believe is now extensively used by emigrants to that
region. Our journey, it will be noted, led us again through

the Blackfoot country. When Kendall became aware of I ' ;

this, he expressed his fears to Julian.

“Never fear, never fear," he returned, cheerfully. “ I
will take you through safely.”

The surewdness and cunning of this man I have never

 

3",“... ..... ...- s. -V. .

 

THE PRAIRIE RANGERS. 

been equalled in the most renowned hunters of the “Met.

Placed in the midst of a dangerous territory, swnrmim
with hostile Indians, I belieVe he could live for month;
without being entrapped. He remarked to me one day
that he could “ scent a Blackfoot" a mile away; and
from the consummate skill which he displayed in avoiding
their parties, I was sometimes half tempted to believe he
spoke the truth. What was perhaps as noticeable in um
man, he appeared to possess a good education. This
aroused the curiosity of Kendall so much, that one day he
questioned him,‘ and this remarkable conversation took.
place : ‘

“ I understand you have been in New Orleans, J ulmn,
How long since was it ?” ~

“ About eight years."

“You Were there in. 1842, then 1’"

“Yes.”

“Do you remember the abduction of Enola ?"

“ Yery Well, indeed; and I remember you and your
father.” ‘

“ You do ! And you have not forgotten the eiforts
made to recover her ?"

“Not at all, for I was engaged in the hunt myself."

“‘ You were i’ I am sure that I have no remembrance
of you."

“ I guess you have," said Julian, with a curious look.

“ I am certain I have not," repented Kendall, after
thinking A moment.

“ Did you ever get a letter from Cincinnati ?” he asked,
in a low tone, and with a meaning smile.

“What i” exclaimed Kendull, “ did you write there ?"

Julian nodded. .

.“ Who would ever have suspected this? Why, Julian,
explain yourself.”

“ Don’t I remember," said he, with e. laugh, “ the
measures you took to find me out? How you sent detec-
tives to Cincinnati—how I walked and talked with these
ume ofllcers—bow I met and conversed with yourself and
your father in New Orleans? 1 have not much to explain,

 

80 THE PRAIRIE RANGERS:

Kendall. I told you all that I know. I suspected the
gipsies had a hand in the mischief, anl a ter much inquiry
found it was true. The instant I did so, I let you know.
I then tracked them to St. Louis, where, of course, all
trace was lost. ’

“This, you will recollect, I also made known to you. I
then went in the service of the Hudson Bay Company,
which had employed me before. Some time since, when
I heard that a band of gipsies had been eucamped for sev-
eral years on the south bank of the Saskatchewa l, and
learned that your sister was among them, I wrote you
another note, which, after several months, [found an oppor-
tunity to send down Red River to the States, instructing
the bearer to drop it in the Cincinnati post office. This,
from what I see before me, I judge has been done."

This intelligence, I need hardly say, filled Kendall and
myself with wonder, and awakened a greater respect “9n I
ever for our guide. As Sanglid had said, he was a faith-
ful, honest fellow, upon whose assistance we could always
count, and whose presence was a host in itself. _

For the first Week or ten days, Kendall and his sister
were together most of the time, and Julian and myself
took pains that it should be so. We generally kept so far
ahead that their words Were inaudible to us, and we never
purposely interrupted them.

One day we came in sight of a small, rocky peak, which
rose several hundred feet from a valley. It was here,
Julian told us, that he was taken prisoner by the Black-
feet, and to preVent such an accident occurring to the rest
of us, he proposed that he and I should move ahead, and
make an examination of it before allowing Kendall and his
sister to come any further. The latter remained concealed
in the forest, while we set tin-ward.

'l‘he mount was about a qu-tr:er of a mile away, and we!
reached by us in the course of half an hour. We passed
arounl it seVeral times, and finding nothing to excite sus-
picion, commenced climbing it. We ascended it, foun'l
the “coast clear," and was coming down again, when I
stepped upon a rolling stone, and ms precipitated about

 

.tn....-_..lr.,...-,_s--v;...:,.‘r ._., . , r

 

l

THE PRAIRIE namnns. 81

twenty feet upon the rocky earth below. In an instant

‘ Julian was by my side, and had me on my feet again; but
I was so injured as to_be unable to walk. In this state of
affairs, he signalled for Kendall 'to come up, and I was
placed upon my own horse.

And to—day, as I sit down and recall that accident, I
thank God that it occurred. It was surely a blessing in
disguise, and the most blissful days that I ever spent, were
the three during which I was compelled to keep my horse.
Our situation being such that constant caution was re~
quircd, Kendall and Julian occupied themselves with this
duty, while Enola and I were left to ourselves. On the
first day, our journey leading us owr a mountainous enun—
try, and there being;r a natural restraint in our conversa-
tion, but little passed between us. But on the second day,
we had another wide stretch of prairie, and were more at
ease.

“Miss Kendall," said I, “have you any remembrance
of ever having seen Julian before this?"

“Yes; I remember his visit to the gipsy village some
years since, and recognized him when I saw him again.
He says he has seen me in New Orleans, but I have no re‘
collection of having seen him there. He is a fine man."

“He is. indeed. and an invaluable acquisition to our
party. You must pardon my curiosity, but there is one
point in relation to you which has greatly puzzled both
your brother and myself. If not impertinent, may I ask
you the cause of the gipsies stealing you, and holding you
a prisoner so long ?"

“Certainly. It has been a. source of wonderment, I
know, to my brother, as I suppose it has to my dear
parents. I did not know myself until about a year since,
when the fortune-teller whom you met, satisfied that my
life would be spent among her people. revealed it to me.
,She said the leader of the gipsies, when near New Orleans,
was offered twenty thousand dollars to steal a certain child,
and immediately go West with her. The man who ap-
proached him with this offer was some sixty years of age,
and was once a suitor of my mother's. This step, I um

 

.71.? . ._.

 

82 I ma PRAIRIE RANGERS.

convinced, was taken to revenge himself upon her. I re-
member, in going home from school, that a man met me,
took me by the hand, and told me that he was going to
take me to see my brother. I willingly followed him, sus-
pecting nothing wrong, not even when he rowed me across
the river in a small boat. But when I was taken in the

_midst of the gipsy camp, all my fears were aroused, and I

begged, entreated and implored them, on my knees, to
take me to my home again. That dark-looking man, with i
whom the leader of your party conversed, stood over me
and threatened to kill me if I made the least outcry or
trouble. That very night the whole party embarked on a
steamer, and went up the river to St. Louis. Terror kept
me silent all the way, and when we got out upon the
prairies, I was given liberty to do what I pleased, as I
could do nothing at all. From that time until the present,
you know for yourself what my lot has been.”

“Yours has been an extraordinary fate—Throughout
your long captivity, have you been buoyed up by the hope
that you would be restored to your home ?”

“ It may seem strange for me to say it, hut it is the
truth. All through these eight years—and long and
weary indeed they were—I never for a moment gave up
the belief Ihat I should return to my home. I had no idea
in what shape my salvation would come, but I knew that
it would come s loner or later. My faith in God has never
been shaken.”

“ It. must have been a strong faith to sustain you
throughout that long period."

“ No stronger than we all should have.
seemed hard and cruel that I, who had injured no one,

should suffer thus ; but I knew there was a' Providence in .
it, and after the first shock was over, a word of complaint '

never passed my lips. The gipsies really believed I was
willing and content to remain with them, and I know
when our leader said the same, he was certain I would not
go with you. But how sadly was he mistaken. Little
did ha know how ardeutly for years I had prayed for that
day."

 

At first, it |

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE PRAIRIE RANGERS. 83

“ Were you compelled to endure the same imposition:
u the others ?"

“The gipsies have always been kind to me. and I wag
never forced to do anything to which I could object.
Thinking that perhaps I was to remain among them for
several years, I tlmught it my duty to.- do them all the
good I could. Mos: of my time was employed in touch.
lag, and impressing them with the truth that they were
accountable to God for their thoughts and deeds. I
sought to break up the wicked and absurd custom of for-
tune-telling among them, and succeeded so far that only
two out of the entire number continued to practice it.
They. however, (lid it only on rare occasions, and always
sought to conceal it from me. A dozen among that people,
I believe, are Christians. These were with me in the
cabin, and when I came out, and was received by Mr.
Snnglid, I had just hidden them farewell. The older por.
tion of the men are very hard-hearted, and would rarely
listen to my words. Since they made the discovery of
gold, they seemed to have been entirely absorbed in its
pursuit.”

“ Was nothing ever said to you of your return to your
home '1’”

“ Not a word. You know our situation was such that
it was impossible to learn anything of the rewards offered
by my father. Had the gipsies known what they could
have gained by returning me, I am convinced they would
have home me back."

“At any rate, your day of deliverance, I trust, has come."

She turned her face, all aglow with hope and joy,
toward me, and anmvered :

“It has; and oh, how thankful I am I"

“Not more so than I am.”

I meant that speech for a piece of gallantry, and gave a
furtive glance to see its effect ; but she received it as she
would have received any kind wish.

"I am gratified to hear you say so. You have been
very kind and disinterested in my behalf, and I 511;]!
olways hold you in grateful remembrance."

 

84 mm manna amazes.

“I shall ever seek to be worthy of your remembrance;
for the consciousness that you deigned to think of me,
would be the greatest joy of life.”

I never dared to declare my love to Enola at that time.
She seemed too far above me, too pure and good to be
reached by me, and beside this, I had a consciousness
that. it would be taking a dishonorable advantage of the
confidence which her brother reposed in me. And yet she
must have known or suspected my affection at least. I
could not avoid showing it in every look, word and action.
Kendall and Martin both saw it, and more than once did
I detect the meaning smile which passed between them, at
some absurd speech or manifestation upon my part.

Kendall certainly manifested no displeasure at this. I
often found mySelf alone with Enola, and I was foolish
enough to believe it was sometimes done purposely. Once
I heard him speak my name when they were together for a
time, and looking toward them, I saw her blushing and
laughing, while his face wore a. quizzing, mischievous
expression. How my face burned when Martin told me
one day, in Kendall‘s presence, that he had heard me
speak her name a score of times in my sleep the night
before.

After three days’ horseback riding, I was fully able to
go afoot, and I took my place with my two male compan-
ions. Shortly after our passage through the mountains
commenced, during which time we kept consmntly
together. Then it was that Julian Martin displayed his
wonderful skill and knowledge of these remote regions.
Day after day, we picked our way through that vast divi-
ding ridge of our continent, he walking before us, some-
times leading Enola’s horse, and always directing us, and
never once did he falter or make a blunder. Down in
those deep, gloomy deflles our camp-fire twinkled like a
tiny star far up on some towering blufl‘; we moved like
insects, while we took our mid-day meal on the rocky
bank of some icy mountain stream.

While on the Western slope of this chain, we suddenly
met a grizzly bear, face to face. Julian was some distance

 

 

rrm PRAIRIE nmosns. , ' 85

ahead, and when he and the brute halted, they were not
fifty yards apart. Instead of retreating, the courageous
fellowcocked his rifle, and brought it to his shoulder.
The henr stood silent a moment, and than, with a low,
threatening growl, moved fiH'WflTd. (lirer'tly toward him.
The latter remained as rigid as a statue, with his gun
sighted and pointed at his enemy‘s head, while we, breath-
less and terrified, paused and watched them both. Neural
and nearer came the beast, and Julian Sllll resethed his
fire. My blood nearly froze as I saw him still motionless
and silent, while his foe was not a. dozen feet away But
at that instant, when a collision seemed unavoidable, we
observed the flash of his gun. heard its sharp report, and
to our surprise, saw the colossal brute full dead in his
tracks!

We hastened forward, and were congratulating Julian
upon his narrow escape, when he replied, as he rammed
home another charge :

“ It wasn’t a narrow escape at all. A 000‘ llcadhnd a
steady nerve will do the business for one of these creatures

any time.” .
“ But I thought a. rifle-bullet was not fatal to them,"

said I.

“If notlrightly aimed, it isn’t ot‘ course. You might
put a dozen bullets in his body without his paying the
least attention to it; but just do as I did—send it plump
through his eye into his brain, and see whether he wonv;
give up the ghost."

“ He is a courageous animal, at least."

“ Sometimes he i5, and smuclimes he isn't. 'I‘hat fellow
was not frightened. that’s certain, but I have seen just as
fierce-lonking ones us he is, who would run like a calf. I
mke it that grizzly be:th and men are just alike—some are
brave fellows, and others are cowards."

We encumped near this spot, and during the evening
Julian cut OK the claws of the bear to preserve as memen-
toes of his easy conquest These Claws Were over six
inches in length, black and glistening, With the ends con-

 

 

  

86 ' rm: PRAIRIE RANGERS.

Iiderably blunted by contact with the stony surface We:
which the brute had ‘constantly traveled.

We were now within what was then known as Oregon
Territory, and several hundred miles distant from the sta-
tion or fort which was the destination of Julian. We took
a direction due west toward the Columbia river, he having
agreed to accompany us to some settlement from which
we could make our way without ditfl vulty to California.

It was about noon when we reached the upper portion
of Clark river, beside which, Julian informed us, our journey
would lead for some distance. We were on the right
bank, and ascending the stream, which here takes a north-
erly direction. It was somewhat passt the middle of the
afternoon, and we were journeying leisurely along, Julian,
as usual, some way ahead, when he suddenly raised his
hand above his shoulder as a signal for us to halt. .We
did so, and he crept forward in a stooping position a huh:
dred yards further, where, rising cautiously to an upright
position, he at length motioned for us to approach. As
we came up, Kendall inquired the cause of his alarm. He
pointed to a sort of belle or pile of rocks, the top of
which, from our position, only was visible.

“Blackfeet are there l”

“ Have you discovered them ?”

“ I neVer pa=secl this spot 'without seeing them. I know
they are there."

“Why did you take this direction, then? Could we
not have crrtssed the river below '1’"

Julian shook his head.

“That pile of stones must be passed. If we should try
it. in bread daylight, we would all be snapped up in a
twinkling. Their is no moon to-uight, and we will do it
them],

The rocks to which he referred were an irregular pile.
on the right bank of the river, and not quite half a mile
distant. We ourselves were concealed from View by a
rocky ledge over which We were gazing, so that, as Ken-
‘ dell remarked, we were not setting ourselves up to be all-
mired, as we had done in a similar case before.

 were! on »  .

 

 

   
  
 
 
 
 

 
   

 

.-

87

“But, Julian,” said he, with some impatience, “you
Say that Indians are there, and yet you have not seen
them. Now how do you know such to be the case with
any certainty ?"

“To speak candidly, then, I cannot tell on what I
base my conviction, but I am sure that we have enemies
among those roeks as I am that we are standing here. It
seems to be in the air! I believe I smell them!” he
replied, with a smile.

“You are more competent to judge than we are, and
the matter of course is in your hands. Would that we
could have your advice and direction until We reach
California."

“ That cannot be, and there is no need of it. Perhaps,
if you watch that place yonder until dark, you may dis-
cover something that will satisfy you that things are not
exactly what they should be."

“I know not what to watch for.
camp-fire ?”

I “You will not see that, neither wil an Indian make
his appearance, but something else—I cannot tell what—
may present itself, and make you open your eyes."

“ They are already opened with wonder to understand
why the Blackfeet should occupy that particular spot."

“I can tell you the reason for that. If you will no.
tics, we are following a new path, but not a trail—one
that has been traveled by others. Many a band of men
has gone before us, and many a one has not passed that
pile of rocks yonder. If you are incredulous, look out
upon the prairie there, several hundred yards to the right,
and tell me whether you see anything that resembles
bones.”

We did as requested, and now that our attention was
called to it, we did see what had first escaped our notice.
Yes; there was bones scattered in every direction, as
though a caravan had perished there long years before,

“ That explains matters. I need not tell you the mean-
Ing of what you see. The first time I passed these rocks,
some years ago, came near being the last time. I could

run PRAIRIE RANGERS.

Is it the smoke of .

 

88 run manna RANGERS.

never understand why, after avoiding every trap for I
month, I walked right into that, and was only saved by an
accident, or Providence, as I understand your faith allows
no accident in the occurrence of things," said he, glancing
toward Enola. “I halted here, just about this time of
day. took a leisurely survey of the place, and then rode on,
for I was on horseback. Before I was abreast of the ‘
rocks. my animal made a shy to the righv, and in spite of
my endeavors to bring him back, kept getting farther and
farther away. I was engaged in tugging at the reins and
kicking his sides, when crash, crash, whizz, whizz, went a
dozen rifles, and as many bullets all around me, and look-
ing to my left, I saw a whole band of Indians pouring pell-
mell after me. I didn’t try to bring my horse around after
that, but let him take his own course. It was a race for
life between us ; but my animal was a. splendid one, ‘and
carried me safely off."

“Ah ! I saw something else i” exclaimed Kendall, in
an excited undertone, he not having removed his eyes
from the rocks, while J uiian was speaking. ‘

“ What was it i" asked the latter turning his gaze, in
that direction.

“ A boulder just now came rolling from the top to the
bottom, crashing through the bushes .and undergrowth
with a racket which you must have heard."

“ Hal ha! the Indians had nothing to do with that.
Look now!"

There was an open space of perhaps ten feet in length,
near the upper portion of the balte, and, as we looked,
we saw a Blackfoot savage stalk boldly across it, and dis-
appear on the opposite side.

“ A good sign,” said Julian. “If they knew we were ‘
in the vicinity, they never would have displayed such care-
lessness. We need have no fear.”

This mass of rocks and stones, I may remark, by way

,of explanation, was of several acres in extent, and was
covered with luxuriant trees and thick undergrowth, so
that it could easily have afforded concealment for a large
force. As Julian stated afterward, it was much visited

/

 

 

 

 

 

'mE PRAIRIE mom. 89

during the spring and autumn by the Blackfeet, and was
the scene of many sanguinury conflicts, but in the Mme]
Ind summer months there was little danger in passing it.

We kept up an unremitting watch of the rocks until
dark, but discovered nothing more of the Indians. How
many there were of course it was impossible to tell, but it
was certain at least there were more than we could afford
to engage, even if not encumbered by the presence 01
Enola. She manifested not the least alarm, and was for
more cool and collected than either her brother or myself.
When I asked her the cause of this, she replied:

“ I have no fears but what we slmll puss safely. It
does not seem to me that God would bring us thus far
upon our journey, and abandon us to our fate. No; no
will not do it."

She spoke as if she had no doubts. Heaven bless her!
her faith never wavered.

“I have confidence in the skill of J ulian,” said I.

“So have I, but I have greater confidence in Him whc
always watches over us. Without His protection we can
hope for nothing. ”

“I do not deny what you say, but beside that we must
possess a self-confidence in moments of danger—2t faith in
our ability to overcome difficulty. Without such feeling
on our part, I should have little hope of ultimate escape."

“ I agree with you perfectly. We should avoid both
» exu‘eines. It never becomes us to be idle and impotent.
In fact,” she added, with a laugh, “I feel pretty certain
that if I had a rifle, I should do some service myself in case
of an emergency demanding my efforts.”

“ I could feel certain of that, but trust the occasion will
never arise."
“ I trust not, because I haven’t the weapon"

By this time it was so dark that the outline only of the
r rocks could be seen looming up in the distuuCe. A half
hour later they were entirely invisible, but about this time
we observed a star-like point of light glimmer among the
leaves for a moment, and then suddenly disappear. Shortly
after it appeared near the summit, flickered to and fro like

 

90 THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

a fire-fly, and finally went out in the darkness. Nothing
more was seen, but it was not long before signals, imitating
the call of birds, were heard out upon the prairie, and
were answered from the rocks.

This was certainly alarming, and could not be explained
by Julian, save that it proved we had more enemies to
pass than we suspected at first, and the routes before us
were either between them or through their lines, in case
the two parties united. Some project, too, was on foot, or
else the signal lights would not have been seen, neither
would the calls have been heard. The latter ceased, and
finally all became silent.

The night fortunately was very dark, there being no
moon at all, and the sky being continually swept by heavy
clouds. Julian had set the hour of eleven as the proper
time for starting. When be judged that period had arrived,
he asked Kendall to examine his watch. The latter did.
so by flashing his tinder over its face, and saw that it was
five minutes past ! Julian walked first, leading the horse
which held Enola, which in this case Was mine, Kendall
followed with his, while I brought up the rear.

Our progress was slow, for our guide may be said liter.
ally to have felt every step of the way. Our great fear
was from the horses—that they might neigh or stumble.
But they proved as sure-footed and as silent as ourselves.

We had gone I cannot tell how far, for the distance
seemed interminable. but we must have been nearly abreast
of the rocks, when Kendall’s horse suddenly paused. As
I looked up for an explanation, a low “ 'sh 1” met my ear,
and I, too, became motionless and quiet. I endeavored to
pierce the deep, inky gloom, but could neither hear nor
see anything, save Kendall's animal in front of me; but I
knew Julian had some cause for this, and I remained rig~
idly silent. All at once I detected a footfall, faint, but
with that peculiar heaviness of a weighty body, similar to
what an elephant would make in passing over a velvety
carpet. Tramp, tramp, tramp, it came nearer and nearer,
till suddenly the plumed head of an Indian glided by me,
not ten feet distant. I now understood the cause of the

 

 

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9,

 
  
 
 
  

 

 
  
   

 

  

m PRAIRIE RANGERS. 91

curious, tramp-like sound—n body of Blackfeet were going
past in Indian file. The head was followed by another,
and another, and still another, until twenty-two had passed
like a. midnight panorama before me. And the tramp,

I trump, went on fainter and fainter, until it Went out in the

darkness.

During this exciting moment, had one of us whispered,
coughed, or moved, hnd our horses stamped 11 foot or giv-
en the faintest neigh, it would have sealed the doom of us
all. I shnll never forget the heart sickness I felt when
Kendall's horse raised his head and looked off at that.
dark, shadowy line as it tramped past. I expected every
moment to hear him whinney, but Kendall himself had no
fear of him. He had been in similar situations before, and
had never betrayed his master. The Blnckfcct were gone,

and we were safe!
CHAPTER XI.
A NIGHT ADVENTURE—THE LAST or can some.

We stood several moments nfter the trnmping of the
Blackfeet had gone out in the darkness, and then Julian
moved forward, we following as silently and stenlthily us
before. I kept close to the horse before me, seeing only
him, and hearing nothing of the others. A minute later
nnd something soft and cold struck my hand, and then
several feathery particles drifted in my face. Julian turned
his head and Said:

“Now We‘re in for n snow storm. Hold a minute, and
let us get ready for it."

Enola was wrapped up securely in a large blankv ,
which had been furnished for her benefit by the trappcrs.
while we did the same, pulling them over our ears, and
could we have been seen on that stormy night, we would
have been taken for so many Indians walking to meet
their doom, with their head covered.

” -511: to the left I” Whispered Kendall; “ we have

come back to these rocks again 2"

 

  

92 . THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

Such was the alarming fact, and we were probably right
among our enemies. It was with a beating heart that I
followed the rapid footsteps of my companions, expecting
every moment to see those spectre Indians glide by us
'again. ‘

“See that your gun is ready for instant use," whispered
Kendall. “I believe the rascals are moving somewhere '
around here. Here the devils come ”

Some one struck both of the horses a violent blow, for
they reared up, and then with a wild plunge Went off in
the darkness. Several forms flitted by me, and then came
the sharp crack of Julian’s rifle, follOWUd by that of several
others, sounding no louder than the snap of so many whip-
lashes in the snowy air. I was seeking out an object
among the confused figures before me, when a body struck
me like a thunder-bolt, and I fell backward to the ground.

I was not stunned, and rising to my knees, looked about
for the cause of my full. The snow was falling so rapidly
that I could see but a few feet away. Thus it happened
that, although the sound of the afl‘my was so nigh, I could
see nothing of the combatants, but cam-hing a glimpse of
what I supposed to be an Indian, I fired and rushed for-
ward. But I saw nothing more, and the noise of the con-
test ceasing, I was as bewildered and as much lost as if in
the midst of the Pacific Oct-an. ,

A few 1ninute< later I noticed that the fall of the snow
had ceased. The air aesumed a metal-like clearness. and
objects became discernible at quite a distance. While
debating what step to take, I heard the muflled step of a
horse, and the next moment discovered him coming directly
toward me. I raised my rifle, and as soon as the rile!
Was fairly visible, aimed it full at his head.

My finger was pressing the trigger when something in
the appearance of this rider arrested me, and I lowered the
muzzle of my gun.

“God be thanked—It is Enola !” I exclaimed. as she
rode up, followed by the other horse. \

“ Where are they—my brother and Julian?" she asked,
_ the moment she recognized me.

\

 

THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

“I know not dear Enola. I have been separated from
them."

“ Can it be that they have been captured or shot ?” she
asked, in the most painful anxiety.

“ I think not—I am certain they are not," I answered,
feeling that it was morally impossible for an Indian to lay
hands upon and retain Julian.

“ How shall we find them again !"

“ I cannot answer you, Enola. There is too much
danger in signaling, when it would be as likely to reach
the Indians as our friends.”

At this instant we both heard a low, cautious whistle.

“That is from my brother," said Enola, with suppressed
joy. “He has often made that sound before."

80 had I heard it, and assured that it came from him, I
answered it.

A few minutes later, to our unspeakable joy, Kendall
made his appearance.

“ Are you hurt ‘2” he asked of his sister, as he came up
breathless and excited.

“Not in the least, thank Heaven."

“And you i’" turning toward me.

“Bruised somewhat, but not injured."

“ Well, Julian is a prisoner among the Blackfeet, and
our danger is too great to stand here a moment. They
are hunting for us, and I am afraid there is a —long chase
before us. The river lies off there to our left. and our
proper course is to go up it, so turn your horses heads to
the right and follow me."

“Yes, Julian has met the Blackfeet once too often,"
said Kendall as soon as he dare venture to speak. “ Bit
he fought like a tiger, and if my eyes are good for anything,
I saw him finish up three of the rascals."

“ And what did you do ?"

“I must say that there will be three more of them mis.
sing when they are counted to-morrow. Would you
believe it, Marewold, when I drew both my revolvers, I
snapped every barrel without a load going olf ! I remem-
bered, when it was too late, that I had removed the caps

 

94 THE mums: RANGERS.

and forgotten to replace them. Finding them useless,
after discharging my rifle, I drew my knife, and used it as
I felt was my duty. But how about yourself ?"

I related what is already known to the reader, and said:

“ It was a singular attack, Kendall—so sudden and un-
expected. The flrst notice I had of it was the shout from
Julian, and the running 011‘ of our horses. Why did the
Indians strike them ?”

“That was Julian‘s work He saw we were in for a
fight, and giving Enola a warning, so that she might be on
her guard, he struck both so violently that they went off,
and Were saved from falling into the hands of the Black-
feet. It was a goodidea of his.”

“All of his ideas are good; but he has got himself into
close quarters at last.”

' ‘If he is not killed pretty soon by his captors, there is
still hope, for his shrewdness and skill cannot be surpassed.
He is too dangerous to keep on their hands a long time."

Here we noticed a curious fact. The ground was free
from snow, while not a flake was drifting through the air.
This showed that the storm had been purely a local one,
covering but a few miles of . the country, and in keeping
with the singular phenomena so often witnessed in the Far
West. By this time, too, we were well usedup. Kendall
had struggled fearfully in his encounter with the Blackfeet,
and could not conceal his weariness.

“ I am looking for a resting place,” he said, after
awhile; “and as soon as I find a spot that we can make

, answer, it shall do so." 7

“ I will bear up as long as possible, which will be a.
very short time indeed," he added.

“ Mount my horse and ride awhile."

“Marewold, you are as tired as I am, and I shall not do
t. Beside, the horse can barely carry himself forward."

This was evident to all, and after going a short distance
further in the bed of the stream, we halted in an open
space, intending to remain where we were until morning.

The night passed without anything occurring to cause
him; all of us, including our animals, sleeping soundly,
with perhaps the eXCeption of myself. My bruises made

 

'ma mums RANGERS. 95

me somewhat. feverish, and I first awoke : and the first
object upon which my eyes rested was J uliau Martin, calm-
ly surveying us !

“ I admire the vigilance with which your sentinels stand
guard." said he, with a smile. “No wonder the Black—
feet have not dared to approach. Come Kendall, wake
1p," he added, nudging him. The look of amazement
with which the latter regarded him was so ludicrous that
he burst into a loud laugh.

“ But it’s no laughing matter, " he added, with a serious
air. “There is no telling how soon the thieves may be
after us, and you see my rifle is gone. We must cross the
river at once." I

“But where, in the name of all that's wonderful, did
you come from ?” asked Kendall, rising to his feet.

“ I have been here an hour or so, and came from the
Blackfeet, of course."

“ We thought you were killed, or a secure prisoner."

"I am not, at any rate. I will explain all when we
have time, which we haven’t just now. We must dispense
with our breakfast, for a few hours at least.”

Enola was placed upon her brother’s horse; and Julian,
signaling for him to follow, strode 05‘ toward the river, at
I. rapid walk. Reaching the margin, he ascended it a short
distance, and then plunged in, followed by us all.

“A brisk day's travel, and we shall be free from that
party," said Julian, turning from the extended survey he
had taken. “ The Blackfeet have some war-scheme on
foot. They are all in their war paint, and are concentra-
ting in large numbers to march upon some of their enemies.
From what I saw and heard, I judge they are 30mg ‘0 9‘"
tack another tribe.”

“ As you are at liberty to speak." 53“ Kendall» “ 5119‘
pose you let us know how it is we see you among us,
when we had not the least expectation of it ?"

“ It's a short story,” said our guide. “Just as you got
away, and I tried to do the same, I found that I had rather
too large a load to carry; and it really seemed to me at
once that I had got the whole pack upon my back. Such
Iwing the case, I collapsed, and gave up for the present.

 

96 THE PRAIRIE RANGERS.

Would you believe it? they never offered to harm me, or
even to mind me, so that I felt as comfortable as if housed
in one ofour forts. There Were enough of them, uowever.
that hung fast to my arms and legs, to keep me from
getting off; and I found it best to keep quiet for awhile.
Well, I was led, or rather shoved, up among those rocks,
my rifle taken away from me, while I was made as com-
fortable as could be expected under the circumstances.
From what was said, I learned that other Indians were
expected to come in during the night After they had
chattcred awhile, and smne more savages had made their
appearance, the chance came for which I was waiting.
They were on the point of binding me, when I made a
jump and run for it, and got off in the darkness. I supposed
you had gone up the river, and I took that direction,
although I had to wait till daylight before I could find out
your encampment." _

After crossing Clark's River, our course was southwest,
the station toward which Martin was journeying being in
the northeastern part of what now is the State of Oregon.
While we were partaking of a rather late breakfast, Julian
said: “ In two days more, I am sorry to say, we shall
part company." We looked up in surprise, and Enoia
asked the cause of his saying so.

“ We shall be where there is no danger from the Indians,
and there will no further need of my services. Your route
south will he plain and easy to be followed."

On the morning of the third day, after we had travteled a 7,

few miles together, Julian turned around, and with a smile
stopped the animals. We knew what was coming, but we
'waited for him to speak. '
“ There is no need of my telling you what this means,"
said he. “ Every mile that I go with yon from this point,
takes me that far from the fort ; but did I deem I increased
your danger by leaving you, I would go with you to the
mines and settlements of California. But this is not neces-
sary. All that I could possibly do, would be to caution and
advise you. So that we must part company. In the first
place,” pursued Julian, “ if any of you are going to turn
Women. I won’t stand it."

 

THE PRAIRIE RANGERS. 97

“ You will allow me that privilege, will you not ?”
asked Enola.

“I can't deny it very well to you,” he laughed; “ but
what I meant is, that ifany of you intend making a fuss
over this, I shall be off on a run.”

“I am not aware,” said Kendall, “that we are going
to make any foolish lamentutions over a separation that is
necessary and cannot be avoided. You do not need to be
told of the regret we feel at parting with as faithful and
true-hearted a man as yourself. Our companionship has
been limited, but long en6egh for us to discover the worth
of your character."

“ Well, that's enough, then. So here's good-bye to all."

He took my hand, 'gave it a cordial grasp. did the same
to Kendall, and held Enola‘s so long that I was foolish
epough to feel a pang or two of jealousy.

“‘You have proved yourself a splendid woman,” said
he, “and I am sure you will be restored to your parents
and home. I suppose, in the course of human events, you
will get married. All that I can say is, to give you my
wish that. the fortunate one may be worthy of you—some
such a fellow as Marewold there, for instance."

Enola, with a deep blush, thanked him and said—-

“All that I can say is, to express the prayer that we
shall see you often again; but if we are prevented from
doing so in this life, oh. Julian Martin, let us meet above!"

The impressive tone in which this was uttered. thrilled
every one of us to the heart, and I am sure I snw some-
thing sparkle in the eye of the guide. For a moment not a
word was spoken by either of us; then he exelaimed—

“ Good—bye l” and ere we could reply, he was running
at full speed over the prairie. * " “ "'

After the departure of Julian, his place naturady fell to
Kendall, who had been in this portion of the country be
fore, and who exhibited no hesitation about the proper
course for him to pursue. We were not guided now by
any emigrant path or trail, but knew that by keeping along
the branch' of the Lewis River, to the source of the
Owhyee branch, We would eventually reach Utah, from
which it would be a matter of small diificuity to make our

 

98 'mn Pmmrn RANGERS.

way to California. It was getting well along in the su-

tumn of the year, but the weather. day after day, con~
tinned pleasant and exhilarating, while the journey itself
was unvaried for n time by any incident worth recording.

While on the Owyhee, the equinoctial storm set in, and
we spent a wretched week. At the end of that time
the storm abated, and we resumed our journey. We ate
our dinner on the top of a. broad hill, between which and
the Sierra Nevada proper a plain of two or three miles in
extent lay. Suddenly a suppressed exclamation from
Enola attracted the attention of Kendall and myself.

“ When are we to be free from the Indians 1’” she asked,
with an expression of alarm.

“What’s the matter, now '1’" said her brother. “I see
nothing of them."

“J ust at the foot of the mountain yonder," said Enola,
pointing west. “I am sure I saw human figures moving.t'

“Pshaw! some miners or emigrants,” laughed Kendall.

“ I hope so; but they were dressed like Indians.”

“Can you now see nothing of them ?” I asked.

“ No; it was an acoident that revealed them to me just
now. If I am not more deceived than I ever was, three
Indians appeared on the edge of that line of undergrowth
the base of the mountain,but in an instant they disappeared."

“You and Enola remain here while I go forward and
make an examination of the place," said I.

After a few minutes further conversation, this was
agreed to by Kendall. He and his sister were to stay
where they were while I made my way across the valley
for a reconnaisance, and were not to move until they had a
signal to do so from me. In case there was cause for
fear, I was to ascertain the extent of the danger and re-
turn at once. If it were difl’erent, I was to kindle a fire,
the smoke of which was to signify that all was right, and
to invite them forward. With this understanding, we
. parted.

I found the valley considerably larger than I expected,
and when I reached the base of the mountains. the after-
noon was halt‘ gone. As I had no desire to camp alone
that night, [I made a. hurried reconnoisance, and this must.

 

m mums: RANGERS. 99

explain why, as it afterwards proved, it was Imperfect. I
ranged through the undergrowth for several hundred ro is
on each side of the spot where Enola fancied she saw the
Indians, but without discovering any signs of them. I then
ascended a tree some distance up the mountain, and tool:
a survey of the country below me. To my gratification
nothing suspicious in the least degree was visible. “There

v certainly is no need of delaying them longer," I reflected,
as I descended, and commenced collecting the fuel for my
signal fire. I started it some distance up the mountain
side, and piled it up with damp leaves, so that the heavy
smoke could not escape the eyes of Kendall.

‘ As the flames caught, and the dark, quivering column
rose straight upward, I looked out expectantly over the
plain for the appearance of my friends. So many objects
encountered my gaze, and not recalling the exact spot
where I had left them, I failed to discover their approach.
But this caused no apprehension, as I was confident they
had seen my signal, and Were crossing the valley as rap-
idly as possible. I gave them two hours as the greatest
' amount of time they would need to accomplish this; con.
sequently, when over three had passod, and twilight be~
gan to envelop the mountain and wood, I began to grow
impatient. This, I well recollect, was my first sensation,
to which was soon added that of vexation.

It occurred to me that Kendall was dissatisfied with
what I had done, and his delay was caused by the caution
with which he was proceeding. Then, as I looked up,
and noted how rapidly the darkness was increasing, a feel-
ing of vague alarm took possession of my mind. I reflected
that perhaps I had been too hasty in signaling that all was
right. It was hardly probable, after all, that Euola could
have made such a mistake; while it was not only peasible,
but extremely probable, that hostile Indians were between
my friends and myself; and I had failed to discern their
presence.

Half sick with apprehension, I made my way up the
mountain, and climbed the pine-tree again. By this time
it was so'dark that the valley was shrouded in gloom, and
the flame onlv of tho fire was Vlsible. I looked carefully

/

 

100 run PRAIRIE nsuonns.

around in every direction, and, with a shock that sent 1'
thrill through me, caught the glimmer of another camp-
fire !

It was at the base of the mountain, several hum‘rel
yards south of" me. I instantly descended the tree, anl
the moment my feet touched the earth, I glanced at the
fire I had kindled, and saw several forms pass before it!
Walking between me and the blaze, they were brought out
in such strong relief that there could be no mistaking' their
identity. They were all Indians, and I had accidentally
saved myself by leaving the fire as I did. This had been
discovered by them, and they were searching for me. I
sloalthily gained a position where I could obtain a glimpse
of the other fire, and a sort of tent which they had
erected. It required great care to do this, but I finally
accomplished it.

My worst fears were realized! The first object upon
which my eyes rested were our two horses, secured near
by. Searching awhile longer, I discovered Kendall him-
self. He was standing near them, his head bent, and his
arms folded, as if in a gloomy reverie. Around him were
scattered a score of Indians, some passing to and fro,
others smoking, chatting and preparing their supper. But
I e'ould see nothing of Enola, she probably being within
the tent. Oh. what would I have giVen to recall the last
few hours! What remorse I experienced at my remiss-
ness. How I hoped against hope, when I tried to believe
the savages were friendly, and would not retain my
friends!

I waited there all night; and in the morning, as I gazed
stealthin out from my hiding-place, I saw those Indians
" fold their tents like the Arabs," and turn their faces to-
ward the prairie of the East, and pass away—pass away,
till lost to my view forever! " * i ’

We here leave our characters on exceedingly unsafe
grounds. The narrative of their adventures. sufi‘erings,
rescue and final restoration to their homes, will be given in
Dime Novel No. 848. *

 

 

“

 

{S 1' A N

DARDxp 

EMEJDIALOGUES

For School Exhibitions and Home Entertainments.

Noe. l to 2i inelueive. “to '15 Popular Dialogue

I and Dramae in each hook. Erich volume 100

"mu pugee, uni lIOIIApIIiIl, un rewiyt of price, tun cente.

Beadle & Adams. Publishers, 98 William St... N. Y.

 

Theae volumes have heendprepnreii with elperlnl rt'rcrllnl‘e to their evaliehiiity («r Exhibition-l

hing min ted |0 arlvmla an union with or with
ARE AN YOUNG I‘EUP

(wit, ynthoe, humor Ind eentiment.

DIME DIALO
Meeting 0 the Menu. For nine young lllllul.
Felling I he Bllxliehmln. For tune hoye.
Tueo'a Cornnetlnn. For e and Iemele.
l'uehlon. For two ladlen.
The Reheareai. Fur nix be e.
Which will you Cllooeel ‘nr twobn
The neen of Mav. For two littiegille.
The eevl’erty. 'F'or lnurlediee.
Three Seenee ln Withllll Life. Mnleend female.
Mn. Sulfllee' Confeulnn. For mele nnri lemnle.
The Minion o! theSplrltI. Five young lullet

DIME DIALO
The Genllle o! Llhert . 9 melee and l femele.
Cinderella or. The {lttlo Gluee Sin-pen.
Doing Goo uni Suing llnrl. Several rhernetere.
The Golden Rule. Two ninlel enil two lenmiee.
TheGift of the l-‘niry Queen. Sevanl femaloe.
Teken in end Done For. For two giant lure.
The Country Annt'e \ it to the City. For nev-

erel cherertere.

The Two Romnne. For two melee.
Trylnf the Charactere. For three melee.
The l a py Family. For eavernl ‘aIIi nele.’
1' how. For eeveni elinrlck‘re.

DIME DIALO
he 'May Queen. For an entire Ichool.
Dreu Refvnll Convention. ‘ur ten (amnion.
Keeping llnd Com any. A Force. For five mules
Courtin Under l) fllenitlee, 9 melee, I {mu-in.
Netiona ileprauntutivee. A Burleeque. d mulee.
leaping the Drelt. For nunlernut melee.

DIME DIALO

The Fmt King. For ten or more renown.
Martin: in Lilo. 'l hree melee and turn lisl'lllflv
'elth, l-in nnd Chitrity. For thn-e little girie.
rh en .lonn. For two mole: and mm foinnie.
The ey. A Finral France. For all liil. e girin.
The Enchanted Princeee. 9 malee,eeveml {OHIan
Honorto Whom Honor Ie Duo. '1 mule-,1 female
The Gentle Client. Fureeveral mniea. one female
funnology. A Diecuellon. For twenty mnlvl.

 

of every epeflzoih mule nml fern-lo. it is (air to naeuma ihnt '1
their book: in the Innrknt, at nnv price, contain no umny ueeful null evlllulale dielo‘uee “ddlwi

out the furniture ni‘ e etugu,nmi united in sum;

 

GUES, N0. 1. - 
llohnnhhing. For five Tub".

The Sin-rot n! Succeee. 'ur three epeakrre.

Your- Alnerica. Three melee emi two iemaiee. ‘

Jone ln-i'e Deetlny. Four Iemalea, onemnle.

The ally of the Dual. For three inaleepeILel'lr

Dogmntlem. For three main Ipealtere.

The] nor-nt Col-founded. Fnr two hnye.

The net Ynnn Mull. For two ninlu.

The Year'e itec nnlniz. I? female. eml 1 male

The Village with One Gentlemen. Fur eight 1.-
malee end one mule. I

SUBS N0. 2.

ow to Vrite ‘ l‘u nlar’ swm. The melee.
The New Illll tho (lld. For two male; i
A Sun-Minn nt Lint. For two melee.

The (ireenhnrn. For two Inflle

The Three Men 0! Srienm. For {our male.

The Olll Lnrly’e “'1”. For {mu mnlol.

The Lillie I‘hil en ill-EI'I. For two lle title.
How in Find an l eir. For five ninlee. '
The Virl ee. For 1%: young lmllen.

itl Ecinguu. ‘
The Pub ir meeting. Iivemaiee and enehmeh
The l-Iugi'uh Treveier. For two melee.

GUES, N0. 3.

The Gnnteel Conk. For two I'll-lee.

Masterpiece. For two main: end two fem-leg»
The Two Romnne. For two lllltll'l.

The Same. Second eeene. For two Melee. ‘
Showing the White Feather. e innit-e. I female.
The Buttle Cell. A Recltutive. Fue one mid;

(“128, N0. 4.

The Stnbh'etown Volume". 7 melee, i 'emd.
A Srrne from “ l‘nul Pry." For luur melee.

l'ue Cherme. For thrue mnlel end one tenmle.
Rea,Clm-k Ind Broom. For lhn‘u little girle.
'i‘im llizht “'ay. A Colloquy. For two we.
\l'het the erL’t‘f Snye. For two main. ;
The (‘rimel nl' Dre-e. A Colloquy. For turnkey...
The Rewnrd e! Benevolence. kor (our melee.
The Letter. For two melee.

 

  

DIME DIALOGUES, N0. 5.

'The Three Gneeeee. For enhooi or arlor.
lentiment. A “ Three Pennne’ " e re.
Behind the Curtain. For male- Irul {smiles
'l'lte Ete Pi Society. Five bays end A teacher.
lkaminetlan Day. Fonevemi lemala char-cm
Tmlin in “ Turn" Fnreoveral males.

The School Baye Tribunal. For ten boye.

A Loon Tongue. Severnl melee and female].
How Not to Get en Anew". For two familial.

DIME DIALO

go Way'l'hey Kept e Searet. Mule enrl lam-lee.

O Poet under Dlmtlllllll- For five melee.

'llllem Tell. For a hole eehool.

Women’e Right-I. Se¥en fern-lee end two mil".
ii in not Gold that Gilttere. Meie and iemelee.

 

Ynttlnz on Alre. A Colloqny. For two malee.
The Straight Man. For neverel lit-l1.

Two hie-e of Life. A Co‘lnquy. For ten Kirk. )
Extrert from Mnrlnn Feiiero.

Mn-lrv-lllonay. An Auiuz Cheratle.

The Slx Virtuee. For nix vnnng indire-

The iri-hmen et Home. or two melee.
Fe-himinhie Requiremente. For three glrll.

A Bevy of PI (Eyee . For eight when little girl.)

GUES, N0. 6.

The Two Cnnnaeinre. Far three maiee.

The anerlee ol‘ Folly. For A number oilemll“
Aunt Bet-y’l Beenx. l‘nur femelee end two melee-
The Llhel Suit. For two females eni‘l one and»
Santa Clem. Fora nnmher of bore.

 

 

"r (Er-newt“. .lI‘r-n l‘rv' I'v Mule-i.
‘ mum... r‘- r l .m. l...tlell‘ .. t. an: 'emele. l

’“Tlalmnl Fe'rioe. "v I’W'W‘l huh-11"..
in. tum in“... I've tr. um...

 

Dino School Series—Speaker- and Megan.

 

DIME DIALEGT SPEAKER. No. 28.

Maw-Vs do mnter, All about shoe, Latest Chinese outrage, My nelghhor’lh?
The Mluiuippl uiirucle,chnndnl, The manifest destiny of Combined Myth 0“
Van in kids room. in, A dlrk alle View, the Irishman, chm,

Dune hm: vol. Mary haf Te «user vay, Peggy Mchn‘ The Neraidel,

 

my: 0n earning German, Sprnyu from JOIII Bll- Legend-01AM“
Put d’Flnherty on wo- Mnry’uhmnllvitelmb limp, The stove-pi a “and,
man’s righu A lmlthy dilconru, De circumflancu ob de A dokewr’l rubblon,
he heme rule", how Tobias m to speak, I slliwniion, The coming mun .
they “spakel,” Old Mrs. Grimes, Darla nufliu new under The lllimmt .fl’nlr ‘
Hezekiah meuon on A parody, de um, Muldoou’l,
Molhen-in-law, Mum and me, A Negro religion poem, Than. Hula h-by m
HA didn’t Hell the farm, [bill Underwood, pilot, Thu! violin the corner,

The Irue ntory of Frank. 01d Granny, Pianlc delightn, A genewine infers:
lin's klle, The pill peddler'l 0111- Our cundidate’u vim, An lnvitntitm w a
B

‘ would I were a boy lion, Dundrenry'l wdam, birdvfhbnfly,
again, Wldder Grm'n 1M! Plnln lnnguqeby truth- The crow,
L padlock nary, war I, i {ul June, Out we“.

BIKE BEADINGS AND RECITATIONS, No. 2L

l‘he I'll-human gun- “: dlm old forest, When the cows mm Death of th’ owl-«1m
rlmn, Ruhar at home, home, Meir: tog Shuald,
The lightningdrodtgent The Sergenm’l story, The donltion puny, At Elberon,
l‘hu trngedy at {our see David and Golinh, Tommy Tun, Tbecry ofwomm
nt, Dreaming at fonmorl, A Michl‘wder in The judgment day,
Ruth and Nmml, Rum, Frame, The burn bubble,
Carey of Conan, Why should the rpa'rlt Not one to lle, Curfew mutt not lb]
Rubies of mortal be prom" Mm. Brauy’l plnk w-nighl,
John lined, The coming must-the, lunch, The null,
The ankem-n d The engineer'u nary, Rock oflgu. '
church, A cnndidate {or preli- J. lenr Pompey
Pulun Moolh’l lur- dam, Squuh’l lemon,
mount, Bull cull, Analo’l ticket, Clarity,
Arguing 1h. question, , Au M'calllon to tho The newnboy, An my“ out.
Jinn Walla and due um, family, PM}. earmpvmdeioe,

mm: DIALOGUE! No. 31. »

um’l burden. For "don: chlrncun. Naming like tmlnlng. for I rumba «ash.
A llvely u‘ternonn. For fix in en. l'hc bubble. Fur two mm with.
A new mother huhbnrd. For le little glrll. Medlclrl’e for rheumntlz. For two “on”!!! p.

Bread on the wan-u. For (our {emalom was,
Fornlmt tho eclentlm. For two males. Thu. book agent. For three mulel Ind one .-

Sloman’a Angel. For two male: and one lam-lo. mule.
Wlmt euh would do. For nix little girll. The well taught lemon. For fin mu. Myl.
Twemy dollm I lesion. For eleven mules. A turn of the tide. For three male ad .00

Aunc Beuy’n rm. For three femnlu und m fem-Jo chlnclerl.
male. A true carpal-bugger. For three fistula.

The :lisconcerted aupernntnnlm. For one nnle A plled mvtlphyslu. For six main.
and nudiunce “ voiru." Jhflmpw did. For five mul- uul “I.
u.

Grandma Grnmblem'n mu. For a “mud.-
m" and neural girl grzudchildnn.

{’1' The Above book- Ara Iold by Nome-Ina nerywlun, at will be ms, pm-ydgh‘
» ma. on mix» of prim, 10 came nah.

3mm m Anna. hill-hen.” mun-n.3,?

 

 

 

DIME POCKET NOVEIJS.

PUBLISHED SEMI-MONTHLY

80 The Boy Planner.

8" Canon, the Guide.

38 The Heart Enter.

40 Thu Huge Hunter.

41 Wild Nut, Trapper.

fl Lvnx-cnp.

43 Thu White Outlaw.

M The Bag Trailer.

45 The Elk King.

(6 Adrinn, thr. Pilot.

41 Th. Mun-hunter.

48 Thu Phnn tum Tracker

49 Moccnlin iiill.

50 The Wuli’ Queen.

51 Tom Hawk Trailer.

52 The Mad Chiai.

51 Thu Blnck Wolf.

H Arknnau luck.

55 Blukbelrd.

[6 The River Riflol.

51 Hunter Hum.

.58 Cloudwood.

n The Tun: Hawkl.

60 Mercilcu Mai.

61 Mid Ant'nuy'n Scout!

6? Luckiun Trnpper.

63 The Floriii: Smut.

64 The Illlfld Trapper.

$5 WolFCup.

66 Rnttling ick.

C7 Sharp-E31.

68 Iron-Hund.

69 Thu Yellow Hunter.

'10 Thai Phantom rider.

'1] Dalnwnra Tom.

72 Silver Rifle.

72! Thu Skeleton Scout.

74 Little Rifle.

75 The “Mod “'itrh.

76 Old Rui‘l'. Trn per.
Scarlet Sllnllh era.
Border Riflemnn.

. Outlnw Jnck.
Tiger-Tail, Seminole.
Death-Denier.
Kcntnn. the Ranger.

83 S rclar Horseman.

MT", Threa 'l'rnpperl.

85 Knleollh.

86 The Hunter llerrulea.

137 Phil Hunter.

88 The Indian Scnut.

£9 The Girl Avengnr,

90 The Red Hermite“.

91 Stnr-Fnce. the Sluyar.

92 'I'h. Amulon Buy.

’3 The Phuutuui Hunter.

 

94 Tom Pintle. Pllvt.

95 The Red Wiznrd.

96 The Riul 'I'rnppern.
97 The Squaw Spy.

93 hunky Dick.

99 Colonel (.‘rurlmtt.
100 (lid Bunr Paw.

101 Rutllllw.

iua i'hr- liiiliiui Spy.
1H7 Juli Dunn.
iux Tim Wood King.
109 Thu Si-nlporl Hunter.
110 Nick the Scout.
111 The Tuna Tiger.
ll? Thu Crossed Kniru.
113 Tiger—Heart.
114 Mnxkeil Avenger.
115 The Pearl Piratel.
116 Blnnk l’nnther.
117 Alulicl the Avenzrr.
ii‘l I‘ntn. tlie (‘rreprh
119 Two-llnnded MM.
1‘10 )Inrl Trnii Hunter.
171 Black Nick.
1‘)? Kit Bird.
1‘13 The Specter Riders.
1‘14 Giant PM».
Tha Girl Cuplnin.
Ynnker Eph.
siivorumr.
Sqnntti-i' Dirk.
.. The (‘hlld Spy.
1150 Mink (hint.
lit-d l'liiiue.
ClVIiQ‘. the Trnilrr.
'l' I" lmnt I‘m he.
Thi- (‘nnuilvnl ('liief.
Knrflihn.
Srarlox Mnrcnsin.
Kiiiunlrpuli.
Maid of the Moun-
tniu.

. The Srintn Srnuts.
Rnrder Reiiey-ido.
Thu Mute Chief.
liiinne, [hr Hunter.
l‘ltlllnlflln Knte.
The Red Sniper.
Thu Lone Chief.

145 The SiIu'r liuzlv.
147 ('liiugn. (‘hm - Hut.
118 Tin- 'l'nnglril Trail.

145

 

N9
150
151

153
154
15.")

AT TEN CENTS EACH.

Thr I'uuru llnnd.
The Lorie lndinu.
Th. Branded Chief.
Billy Bmvlrgu.

The Valley Seoul.
Red .Inriiet.

The Jungle scum.
(Tlieriiheu- Chief.

The liuluiii Hermit.
The l’uirivt Scout!

. Th. “'«wi Rniigerl

Tim Rrri i'w.

limui rui i‘hinmrn.
(unwhrhim MHM'.
ll:|l1l(,1llr (.‘uirir.

4 Th» linrvie-r Nout.

“'ilil NM.

Maid of “'Vxnnilnz.
The Thrrr (‘lpiiveh
The Imrt llunter.
Bi-rder linw.

Thr- Lifted Trnil.
Tini Trader Spy.
'I’hr Fons: Spotter.

. The liordvr Fun.

iunlrr “which.
had" hm».

’l‘iw Sonl m Lilirriy.
The 1/... Bride.
erlwn.

. 'lhr ‘l'uuhnwn Spv.

The I‘rnirio- Srnuyge.
lii‘il Lightning.
llim't iirnri.

Muiii llnwi. Kit.
Miutnng Sum.
Iiurricnuo 1111].

Th! I'mi Oiitiuw.
Thv qump Smut.
Thu Flinwiin'l For.

. Mohawk .Vlt.

01d .lupr,

Thu I‘rnirio Rifln.
(lid K}19.Tn\iier.
liiiz PM i, ih’ Guido.
Rrul lirivihrrhmvd.
The Mun in (Green.
Glass Eye, the Grvnt
Shut.

Thr I‘lnirioTrnppcrI
ill-wk John.

‘. Kowu-Knii’o.

Mud supp".

'i'ho Ymniz Spy.

'1 hr [rulinn Awnzrr.
Iiivnl Lieutenauil.

904 Thu Sl'nnip R16!‘

‘105 Tue Bnih-nn Scrub.

906 IlncutnhSi-ourxe.

907 The Twin Fcoutl.

1'08 Huck-kin Bill.

90‘) Border Areiigerl.

‘210 Tim Bumbie‘n Chum.

?11 Tl e Shlwnoo Scout.

2]? Th . lr-m Sinyer.

91.5 The Prnirio Quun.

‘214 The Huckvmodlmen.

715 The I‘risuner of I.-
Viutrelse

916 l’rley Sniiih.

‘21? Th? \\ iirh o! the
Wnllnuish.

71R Thr Prniri' Pirntu.

219 Thu Husrnr Cnphill.

2:0 The Red Spy.

m Did. Darling.

1‘2? Mulinnz llnniorl.

M3 Guilty or Not Guilty

‘1‘): The (iniinw Rang".

‘ 3‘15 thll)hlll Range".

‘ 9% (in the Deep.

1 WT lrona.

i m Th. Mnuniainecr.

i m 1h.- llunter'n Eat-p.

1 9:10 'I he Golden Belt.

931 The Swain Iiidori.

if?! anrl llnw .

i 933 erunlnll'anuzhkl

i 1'84 Tim Mud llunier.

9.15 The Klein n! "16.

l m Anti-lope Ahr.

717 Thr Huntor‘l "Mr.
I 9391 Th! llunu-r‘n Pledg-
. 939 Rnillwpiitr.

i '24“ Th» I‘rnirie Bride.
1 241 mu firmly.

i '14? Du hing Drum".
i m ‘Villvi-‘rlhe Wisp.

’44 Duhinirl‘irk.

i 24.5 0111 (‘rwufirm

745 Ben Brnnihlr.

i 947 Brimui Captain.
‘ an 0M Strnicgy.

N9 urn} "air. tho Chief.
750 Tiw I‘rniriv Tigers.
’51 Th; Riri-l Hunters.
25‘! Tim Tnxnn Scout.

‘ ‘25:; Zrhrn erk.

754 )1anrd Manager.

‘ 25.5 Ti r Brethren o! the

‘ Count.
I 156 The Boy Spy.

THE FOLLOW‘ING WILL 11E ISSUED IN THE ORDER AND ON TILE DATES INDICATED:

257
2651 The Boy Chief.
26
861 fitclla. the E y.
962 The

$68 The M
:69

ad.“

871 On the Trall.

on your, (96 Not), $7.50.

Tahle. the Trailer.

259 Tim. the Trailer.
0 Red Ax. The Indian Giant.

'hlto . vengcr.
263 The Indlnn King.
264 The Long Trail.
266 Kirk. the Guide.
266 The Phantom Trail.
267 The Apnch Guide.
_ lncr.
keen Eye. the Ranger.
70 Blue Bvlt. the Guldc.
By Edward 5. Eiiiu.
878 The Specter Spy.

By ou charm.

in N. C.1rnn.

By Edward s.
liy tho niill’inr of
By inrry rimmi.

in Major Lewi- w.

liy C. Dunning Clark.

RV N. “'ii inm Iiunteoil.

By Suelin Robins. Ready April Nth.

Rundy May isih.

Reniiy May 77th.

By Paul Blirbl. erli‘ Juno loth.
non-h Juno ‘Nih.
By ,\1u'nr Lewis w. ('nra- n.

. Ready .liil\ PM.
By Edward 5. Ellis. Rendy Auglili “11.

By Mrs. Ann 5.51. hm... Emu- Augiiri 1m.
11'

Rand) Sepivnihor 1d.

uh Jvurr."
Rendv Srr-ierhhn :mh.

‘ Remi} Ortoher Nib.
Rvmiy Hui-her 93th.
um)- November iiih

arson.

B\ Lewis Jay Fuii‘t.
n..- .ihm... L. anvn.

Rnul)‘ .luly 5th.

Emil» Fepvcmbw 16th.

Reilly Novnmber min.
For nie by :11 Newsdenlerl; or sent post-paid: single numbers, ten rrntl; nix mnnthl, (13 Not), .135,

BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publllhern, fig “'illlnm Street. N!!! York.