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"THE CHEROKEE CHIEF; ,

THE WHITE ROSE OF THE SALUDA.

A ROMANCE OF 1756.

BY J. STANLEY HENDERSON,
AUTHOR on m FOLLOWING POCKET Noms:

No‘ 131 RED PLUME. No. 135 KARAIBO.
No. 133 Tm; Los'r CACHE. No. 137 szupmn
No. 149. THE UNSEEN HAND. _

 

NEW YORK: ‘

BEADLE' AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
95 WILLIAM STREET:

Entered mrding to Act of Cong-en, in they” 1% by
BEADLE AND COMPANY, /
In» Clerk’s Office or the District. Court of the United sm- forth
Reuben mama 0! New Yak.

 

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"‘"" new

mmewhat noted as a hunter and woodsman.

‘aaired girl of eighteen.

‘SA'LOUEH, THE CHEROKEE

CHAPTER I.
SALOUEH, ms: man.

In a pleasant valley on the Saluda river, in what is now '
known as the north-western part of South I Carolina, there
lived1 in the year 1756, a family of English descent, named
Crawley, who had emigrated to that region from Virginia.

William Crawley, the head of the family, was a man in the
prime of life, a substantial, intelligent farmer, who lived hap~
pity on his fertile acres, with his loving wife and his two fine
children. His plantation was partly cleared and well culti-
vated, and a substantial and comfortable log house stood upon
it, together with all necessary outbuildings. Within sight of
the house flowed the quiet river, bordered by a rich and bean-
t‘tful7 meadow. ’ Beyond, toward the west and north-west,
stretched the vast forest, on the further side of which towered
the dark masses of the Blue Ridge. ,

‘ William Crawley's eldest child was his son, Matthew, stall,
strong and active young man of twenty-one, who was not only
i valuable assistant to his father on the farm, but was already
The other was
nis daughter, Hester, a handsome, high-spirited and brown-
Matthew’s strength and manly quali-
fies were the pride and hope of his parents, and ‘Hester‘s
oenuty and amiable traits were no less their joy and delight.
TIester Crawley diddnot lack admirers, even in that thinly-set-
led country, but it was understood that her heart had been
'iVen to Warren Stnfl‘ord, the son of a farmer who lived within
‘J've miles of her father's house. '
Beyond the Blue Ridge stretched the rugged ranges of the
lleghnnies. Between the Alleghanies and the Cumberland ,
vgmtains, near theeastern and southern lines of Tennessee,

 

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‘BALOUETI, m cannons.

 

~ ‘30
dwelt. the Cherokee Indians, at large, powerful and intelligent
nation, who were far ahead of most of the aboriginal tribes in
the arts and practices of civilization. The country which
they inhabited possessed great nnturnl advantages, nbounding
in plepsant valleys, fertile fields and immense forests, and girl
In by lofty mountains Their corn-fields were extensive and
well cultivated, and their numerous towns were generally well
built and fenced in. Besides the 'strength of their position,
the Cherokees were so numerous and warlike that they were
able at any time to send six thousand warriors "nto the
field. ' '

Livinér on the frontier of the English possessions, so near
to this formidable community of savages, it might be supposed
that William Crawley would feel some uneasiness concerning
the safety of his property and his finnily, and that. his position
was really n dangerous one. The Cherokees, however, were
a peaceable people, compared to other tribes, and were dis-
ptsed to be friendly to the whites, with whom their relations
had, for along time, been of an nmicnblc character. William
Crowley, therefore, although he could not feel that he was in
perfect security, had cleared his lttlltl and cultivated his fertile

acres us if he did not have the fear of invasion before his

eyes.

But a cloud had arisen in the west, which was spreading,
dark and threatening;toward the zenith, overshadowing the
Cnrolina colonies and the homestead of Willinm meley.
Although the French and English colonists had beeen curry~
iiig on n des’ultory 'wnr' for about two years, there had been no
formitl recognition of the struggle by the home governments
of the two countries, which hnd remained at peace with each
other. But in Mtiy, 1756, war was formally declared by Great
Bl'itnin against France, and the colonies begun to make pre-
parations to carry on the conflict in a regular and vigorous
manner, for the purpose of bringing it to a decisive result.

_ Although the Cherokees were peaceably inclined toward
the Carolininns, n qunrrel had for a long time existed between
them and the Virginians. Their country lay within the region
vwhich was claimed and pnrtly occupied by the French, who,
as was well known, would use their best endeavors to arouse.

their enmity and excite their warlike inclinations against the

   
 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

   

 

  

  

    
 

 

 

    

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English settlers. There was immediate danger, therefore, that
the Carolinas would be involved in the war, in which, as a
matter of course, the people on their frontiers must suffer,
severely. To avert this danger, the colonists had sent deputies
to the Cherokees, to make a. treaty of peace, and to secure
their friendship and neutrality in the contest, if they should
not be able to obtain their aid against the French. The re
sult of this mission was anxiously awaited in the Curolinas,
especially by the settlers upon the border.

This was the subject upon which William Crowley and his
family were conversing, one evening in the summer of 1756,
as they sat under the spreading trees in front of their house,
looking out over their beautiful meadows and the extensive
forest, toward the dark boundary of the Blue Ridge.

“ Suppose this mission should fail,” suggested Mrs. Crowley
with an apprehensive glance at Hester, who seemed absorbed
in the contemplation of the fine prospect.

“I think there can be no danger of failure,” replied her
husband. “ We have assurances that the Cherokees are tavor
ably inclined and anxious for peace with us, and we have
nothing to apprehend, except from the intrigue ol the French
traders.”

“ Those Frenchmen have a great deal of influence with the
Indians, father,” said Matthew Crawley. “ They know now
to manage the red-men better than we do, and I really believe
that the secret of their management lies in the fact that they

‘ treat them better and keep the promises that they make to

them.”
“ Pshaw l my son. No people are more humane thanthe
English, and none are more willing to protect the Indians in

’ their rights and to teach them their interests.”

“ Their disposition may be good enough, but they seem to
haves. poor way of putting it in practice. We know that
the Indians are more willing to live under the rule of the
French than under that of the English, and that the greater
part of them have always, in our former wars, sided with the
French.” .

“ The French are very cunning, no doubt, and have been T
able to [make the Indians believe that they are stronger than
tbo‘English; but you should remember, Matthew, that tbs ‘

 

 

woven,- m ‘eunnoxnn.

Cherokees are difl’erent from the northern tribes, and that they ‘

are not so much under the influence of our enemies. I be—
lieve that Our deputies, by using the proper means, can induce.
the Indians to remain quiet, if not to assist us.”

‘ But the French traders, father, now that war has actually
been declared between the two countries, will set at work in
earnest. They will take advantage of every chance to excite
the Cherokees against us, and I am afraid that it will only be
too easy for them to find such a pretext as they want.” .

“ We must hope for the best, my son, and the prospect ,
nowis, I think, that no present danger is to be apprehended.”‘

“But you have not yet answered my question,” persisted
Mrs. Crowley. “ Suppose this mission fails, and the Cherokees
conclude to unite with the French, what are we to do? We
are very near the border, and will be among the first to suffer,
if the Indians invade our country."

“ If the deputies should fail, I suppose we would be inform-
ed of it in time to make preparations for a retreat to a place
of safety, if it should be necessary to retreat. But it is prob-
able that our governor will send a sufficient force to protect

’the frontier, if not to compel the Indians to side with us. I
think it very likely that we would not be molested in any
event, as the Indians whom we have seen have been Very
friendly to us, and still continue to be so, with the exception,
perhaps, of Saloueh, the young Cherokee chief, who has been
making love to Hester. Do you think that we can depend
upon his friendship, my daughter ?"

“ I think, sir," replied Hester, with a blush, “ that I would
rather joke upon almost any subject than that. He has an-
noyed me greatly, and ’he persists in persecuting me with his
attentions, although he knows that they are unwelcome to
me.”

“ He is a fine young fellow, Hester, and his favor might be
Very important to us.”

, _ “ I knew it, sir, and I have always tried to treat him well.

; He has no occasion to complain of me. I respect him very
much, as an Indian, but I can not feel toward him as I would
toward a white man.” .

“ As you feel toward Warren Stafi‘ord, for instance. It is
plain that 'poor Saloueh has fallen desperately in love with

 

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I ma rouse (mom. ’ ‘ . ‘ ~48
you, and ,the victim of such a hopeless passion is to be pitied.
We must treat him kindly, but. he must not-be permitted to
presume too far."

“There is some one coming across ,the meadow from the
river, and I believe it is Saloueh himself," said Matthew.

In a short time an Indian came riding up the slope,‘nnd ap:
preached the place where the family were seated. He was
mounted on a fine horse, was richly dressed, and his whole
appearance bespoke him a person of rank and distinction in
his tribe. Tall, and of a fine figure, with noble, aquiline fea-
tures, piercing eyes, and handsome face, he was a splendid,
sample of the better class of Indian warriors. 1-Iis limbs,
Well-shaped, sinewy and supple, and his graceful and easy
movements, showed that his physical training had been such
as to correspond with his position and to develop his bodily
qualities. Although dressed in his gayest attire, he was armed
with his rifle, tomahawk and scalping-knil‘c. ‘

“ We are happy to see Saloueh," said William Crawley,
risiugnnd advancing to meet the young warrior. “ Will the
young chief dismount and sit \vith us? How flourish our
good friends, the Cherokees? When did you leave the fair
town of Estates ?" .

" The liiwassee still flows toward the west; the mountains
are as high as ever; and my people are well." replied the
Warrior, as he alighted from his horse. “ Two suns have set
since I left my lodge.” I i

“ You have been riding well, for it is many miles to the
country of the Cherokees."

“ Saloueh would be glad to fly, when he wishes to see the
White Rose of the Salads.” replied the chief, with his eyes
bent admirineg upon Hester.

“ My child should be proud of having attracted the atten-
tion of such a great chief. But we have been speaking of
more serious concerns. Have the deputies who were sent by
our governor yet reached your country?”

“ Salonch has not seen them. There are no Englishmen -
among the Cherokees.” \

“ Perhaps they have not yet set out. If they have, they
travel slowly. What do you think of the prospect for peace?

' Is it good or bad ?"

 

    

smunn, m amount.

“ Attakulla is the friend of the English, and file is a chief
whose voice is always heard," evasively replied Baloueh.
" Oeonostota, the great warrior, advises peace."

“ What are the French traders doing? Will they persuade
your people to go to war with the English?"

“ The French have always been our friends, and there are
many of them among us. They will do what they can; but
we are Cherokees, and not the children of the king of France.

' The Englishmen in Virginia have lied to us, and have treated
as badly; but our 'old men do not wish to disturb any one,
and they tell us that we must have peace ‘3”

“ But what. do the young men think about it ?" quickly
asked Matthew Crowley. ’ “ What does Saloueh say i’ No one
is better able to speak for the young warriors of the Cherokees
than he is”, I

“ SilIOlleIl will not lie l” proudly replied the Indian. " His
heart is open and his tongue is straight. He has no cause to
love the English, and his soul delights in war. But there is.
one thing that would incline him to peace.”

“ What is that?" eagerly asked William Crowley.

“ If my father will give me the White Rose of the Saluda»
for my wife, my voice will be for peace, 2111in will always be
a friend of the English.”

The young warrior, as he spoke, gazed earnestly at Hester,
who blushed and bent down her head. Her father looked at
both with a troubled and anxious expression. /

“ Let Salouel'. ask me for any thing else,” said he, “ and I
will try to grant his request. My daughter is already given
|sway. She has found a mate among her own people." '

“Is this bad news all true i‘” asked Saloueh. “What does
the White Rose say i’"

“ I have already told you," replied Hester, as she raised her
head, and looked her red admirer fearlessly in the face, “ that
it is useless for you to seek me in that way.
your friend, but I love a young man of my own race, and
he, as I hope and believe, is to be my husband. I trust
hat I will hear no moré from you on this matter, and'that

‘-u will not take it unkindly that I have been plain in telling

no so.” . ‘
“ In his blood better than mine because his skin is white?”

I wish to be '

 
    
 

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,him low. Who have you got here?

1 ' hinting about, here i"

  

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ludignsntly exclaimed the Indian. “ Is his heart any truer,
or his soul any greater than mine? Snloueh is a chief and
the son of a chief, and he is honored among his people.
More land is his than your Englishman will ever own. Who
is braver in battle than Saloueh? Who is more active in, the
chase? Who can surpass him with the rifle or the bow?
Who is swifter of foot or stronger of litnh ? The maidens of
the Cherokees sigh for Snloueit, and weep when he leaves them,
but the White Rose of the Saluda turns him away and makes
hothing of him.” ‘

“It is not my fault that I love one of my own race.
I want to treat you kindly and be a friend to you. You
can easily find a better wife among the maidens of the
Cherokees."

“ There is none like the White Rose. Suloueh has set his

.hcsrt upon her, and he will never be satisfied without her.

He can love in) other while she lives, and if she should die
he will follow her to the spirit land. His love soars like
yonder eagle, and, like the eagle, it flies where it. pleases,
and can strike with its strong beak and hold its prey with its
sharp tolons.”

Above the tree-tops, poised by its broad wings, an eagle

was slowly circling in the clear atmosphere; but its leisurely
flight- and the impetuous words of the young warrior were
both interrupted by the sharp crack of a ritle.
' The eagle whirled and fluttered, and fell heavily on the ground
near the group. Saloueh, with a sad 'look at the stricken
bird which he had made the emblem of his love, covered
his face with his scarlet blanket, and turned away’ his
head.

From among the trees at the right of the house steppedtout
a. tall and tine-looking young man, nttired in a hunter’s shirt,
cap and leggings. His smoking rifle showed that it was he

‘ who had fired the shot.

“ I have sent you a present, Hetty,” he said, with n‘ merry
laugh, “ and you see that it arrived before the giver. That fine
fellow was soaring very proudly, but my good rifle brought
Is it another oi those
rascally red-skins, or the same fellow whom I have...»

' “LOUEII, THE CHEROKEE.

‘y“ Speak him fairly, Master Stafford," said William Crowley.
“Speak him fairly and kindly, for he has been a friend to
us, and it ought not to anger you that he loves our Betty,
for how could he help it? It is Saloueh, the young chief of
use Cherokees."

_ “Hus the fellow been troubling Hetty again? It is time
that a stop\ was put; to‘his impertinc‘nce. Look you here
Selbueh, or whatever your name may be, you had better stzty
among your own color and kind, for you are not wanted lure.
Miss Hester Crowley would no more condescend to 'mate with.
you than would a dove with a huzzard. Pack off, I tell you,
and I advise you not to show your copper face in these parts
again.” '

The countenance of the young warrior darkened with anger,
but he controlled himself, silently mounted his horse, with a
last look at Hester Crawley, and rode away. William Crowley

, cast a reproving glance at the young hunter. and shook his
head fo’rebodingly.

“ You did wrong to anger him, Master Stafi‘ord, although
he is an Indian,” said he. “The future is uncertain at the
best, and 1 fear that Saloueh my give us trouble."

“ Perhaps I was too hasty and too harsh,” replied Warren
Stafford; “ but I could not bear that the fellow should come
here and insult Hetty with his offers."

[CHAPTER II.
SALOUEH, THE AVENGEB.

KEOWEE was one of the largest and most important Cherokee
towns in the beautiful valley of East Tennessee. It contain-
‘ed nearly two hundred houses, which were well built, and
neatly and regularly arranged, the whole being surrounded by

a strong fence, which might. serve as a fortification in case of '

attack.

One day in the summer of 1756, Keowee was the center of

I ‘ . ,

‘ , much excitement, and was thronged with representatives-fir 

 
   

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In sum) COUNCIL. ' x 1'!

all parts of the Cherokee nation. The grand point of interest
was the council—house, a large wooden building in the middle
of the town, which was crowded by as many as were able to
obtain admission, and surrounded by those who were unable
to repress their, feelings of interest or curiosity. I

An important question was being discussed in that council-
house. War had been declared by Great Britain against
France. and the war was one in which the American colonies
were largely interested. The Cherokees, living between the pos-
sessions of both parties, upon lands which, although rightfully
their own, were claimed and coveted by both belligerauts,
were certain of being affected by the war,‘ and could
hardly fail to be drawn into the contest, on one side or the
other. \

The English colonists, in the Carolinas, had sent a deputa-
tion composed of some of their best men, to the Cherokees,
to solicit ,their aid in the struggle. On the arrival of these
deputies, runners had been sent through the nation, and
a grand council had been convened at Keowee, to de-
liberate upon the propositions that had been made by 'the
English.

The question of peace or war was being discussed with
calmness and good temper by the council and the commission-
ers. The latter enlarged upon the great power and strength
of England, and endeavored to persuade the Indians that '
nothing but an alliance with the English could preserve
their lands and property, and save them from destruction.
The Indians, on their part, desired peace, butshowed adisposi-
tion to unite with the strongest side, if they should be com-
pelled to choose. Their young men, it is true, were eagerly
in favor of war, allured by the harvest of plunder and reputa-
lion that they expected to gather in the Carolina. settlements;
but they were overruled by the older and cooler heads,
especially by 0conostota, the great warrior of the nation,

' and Attakulla, the influential and unfailing friend! of the

English.

The negotiations had progressed so favorably, and had ap-
parently approached so near to 'a conclusion, that two of ’the
colonists, Henry Derbymore and Elias Wansley, considering V
that their presence was no longer necessary, and anxious

r .

 

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18 \ t > smug, m cannons.

to escape the heat of the crowded council-chamber, strolled
out intp the town, andconversed under the shade of the
trees. ‘ - .
“Really, friend Elias,” said Derbymore, “we have great
reason to be satisfied and thankful with the success of our en-
deavors so far. We have prevailed with the Indians much
more easily than I had supposed we could, and we will
have a pleasant report to carry home, which will glndden
the hearts and allay the fears of many good people in the
Cnrolinas."

“ Do not be too certain," replied Wansley. “ f There's many
a slip ’twixt the cup and the lip,’ says the old proverb, and you
know that the Indians are treacherous and not to be depended
upon, however solemnly they may be bound by treaties. Be-
sides, the question is not yet settled. The young men are hot
for war, and there are emissaries of the French in the town,
who are even now seeking to excite them and to stir them up
. against our colonies.”

“ You are too fearful, friend Elias. The Cherokees are a.
people of intelligence and some pretensions to civilization.
I‘heir pacific declarations may be depended upon, and the
wiser heads will hold in check the hot-blooded youths.”

‘,‘ I hope it may be so, for I should pity the settlers upon
our borders if the Cherokees should turn against us. But who
mines here? What wounded man is it that this crowd is
hurrying along? What is the meaning of their up‘ronr i"

A number of Indians came dashing along the path, shout-
ing, yelling and brandishing their weapons. Among them
were several women, whose screams and howls increased
‘the uproar and confusion. At the head of the thrious moh
was a tall young warrior, whose face was blazing with
excitement and indignation. He held by the hand a nearly
naked Indian, down whose left arm the blood was flowing
’ out of a wound from which the bandage had been partially
torn.

As the young warrior passed the two Englishmen, he
darted savage glances toward them, and shook his totnshawk

threixtenhigly at them, uttering itnprecations in his own'

language. His example was fcllowed by others, and the lives

 a,th Englishmen seemed to be in danger, until the mob

 

 

  

  

 

 
  

     

 

   

 
      
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
   
  
 
  
 

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Mulhtously followed their leader, who hut ried them to the
' council-house. ‘ r
‘ “Here is some great and fearful excitement,” said Drrby‘
more. “I wonder what can be the cause of it. I was
renliy afraid that that young savage was about to murder
 me."

“That is Saloueh, the young chief of Estatoe.” replied
Wnnsley. “ It is he who has been foremost in excitin r the v
warriors against us, and we have tnore to fear from him than , _
from any other man among the Cherokees. I wili be bound
L that he has found some fresh cause of complaint, which he [7

means to hurl into the council of chiefs as a flrebrand. Let
us go to the council-house, and learn what is the mutter.” ,
Wanslesr took the arm of his friend, and led him back into
the council-house, where they found the assemblage in a state of i
great excitement and confusion. ’,

y Saloueh had forced his way in, accompanied by several of
» his followers, and had commenced a speech, abounding in

savage invective and denunciation of the English, still holding '
‘- by the arm the wounded Indian whom he had dragged
through the town. ‘
, “Who will speak of peace now i‘" he wildly exclaimed,
E." brandishing his tomahawk with a menacing gesture. “ Who“ '
” will be somean and base as to send out our young men to , 
fight for these lying and bloody-minded English, against one
friends, the French? Look at me! Look at this man who
stands by my side! Many of you know him, for he is one of
our brothers, and you have often seen him on the war-path or ‘ x
in 1.:3‘ chase. Look at this wound in his arm, and the blood
the, flows from itl That blood was shed by the lying,
Encitsh, who wish to kill us all and to rob us of our hands,
He, cent to the Ohio. to the beautiful river, with a party of
V hit. irionds, to visit the Frenchmen who live in that country
_ j‘. On their return, as they were peaceably traveling toward their
home, they were attacked, without any provocation, h the
English of Virginia, and all were cruelly murdered except
this one man, who has brought his wounds to show you.
Who will now speak of peace with these robbers and murder“
er; ?_ -The spirits of our slain brothers call upon us for ven- ‘
geance. Youcan hear their wives, and children lamenting .. ’ 7

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outside of the council-house, and demanding vengeance at your
hands.

English, will go with me to take vengeance upon the murder-
ers cf our brothers. Let us commence now, for the Great
Spirit has given us the scalps of these English, to hang up in
the empty wigwams l” '

As Saloueh concluded his harangue, he shouted his war-cry,
which was taken up and repeated by hundreds of voices in the
council-house and outside of it.

A tremendous uproar ensued. The council-room resounded
with savage yells, and knives were drawn and tomahaw'ks
were brandished and shaken at the afl‘righted Englishmen.

The deputies huddled together, surrounded by an excited
mob, and it seemed, for a time, as if nothing could save them
from immediate massacre.
with others of the older and wiser chiefs, opposed themselves
to the popular torrent, and finally succeeded in stemming it,
although their voices were drowned by the clamor of the ex-
cited warriors.

, By the exertions of their friends, the Englishmen were with
difficulty got away from the crowd, and were taken to a
place of safety, where they were securely guarded until the
next morning, when they were sent to their homes. accom-

panied, fora considerable distance, by a strong escort of trusty ‘-

warrioxs. ,
Saloueh and his fellow agitators, disappointed at not having
been able tm wreak their vengeance upon the defenseless

' deputies, left the council-house, breathing threats of war and ,
, massacre.
they had prevented the formation of the treaty of peace and
alliance with the English. '

They had, at least, the satisfaction of knowing that

In the evening of the some memorable day, Saloueh,whose
hands were stain‘ed with the blood of the wounded warrior,
and whose clothes were thick with the dust that had been
raised wliilevhe was leading the mob through the town, went
to a spring, which was situated at the bottom of a shaded and

- rocky ravine, a little distance from the fence that surrounded

Keowee. ‘ ’
~ As he was washing the blood from his arms, and bathing“!

Is thisa time to talk of peace? I am for war, and
all who are/not cowards, or have not been bought by the,

But Attakulla and 0conostota, ‘

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 posaion-heated brow in the clear and cool water, he heard a
slight rustling among the trees, and an Indian maiden parted

 

1 not good in'the eyes of the Great Spirit.
V stop and think before he suffers himself to be hurried away by

7 Saloueh.
 warriors, who understand them.
3.1 men of the Cherokees were murdered by the English. Have
5' you not heard the weeping of their wives and children ‘i It
 not this water stained with blood ‘from the wounds‘ of. 

 

 

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the foliage and stood before him.
She was a little above the ordinary hight of Indian wo-

' men, slender and graceful in form, with features that were

regular and really beautiful. Her large dark eyes and rich
red lips well became her brown complexion, in which the

' warm/blood rose and mantled with every change of expres-

sion. The crown of her beauty was her abundance of raven

. hair, which was neatly braided and tastefully arranged upon
; her well-shaped head.

She was dressed as became the
daughter of a chief, and a few ornaments of gold and "silver
showed that she was a favorite child of one who was able to
indulge'her fancies. As she spoke, there was a mournful

7 tenderness in her voice and expression, proving that she had

already tasted of the bitter cup of sorrow.

, “ Has Saloueh been so angry that nothing but the water of
the spring can cool his passion ‘1’” she asked, in soft and
musical tones. “Is he'washing the blood‘of the red-man

_ from his hands that he may stain them with that of the

Englishmen? Why has he staid away so long from Moawee i"
The face of the young warrior grew dark as he lifted itup

‘, from the water, and he was evidently irritated by the words
.of the maiden. '

“ Does not Moawee know," was his petulent reply, “ that

4 Saloueh is nehief and a warrior? He has work to do for his

people, and he can not leave it to sit by the side of an idle
gir ." ‘

“It is because he does not love Moawee that he [neglects
her. His work is a bloody and revengeful work, and it is
The chief should

his passions, or he will commit great crimes, and will ruin his

5, people.” .

“ You talk like a child, very foolishly,” angrily exclaimed
“ You should leave such matters to the chiefs and
It is but a little while since

  

 
      
     
 
 
 
    
   
    
   
   
   
 
   
   
  
   
 
 
 
 
     

  

BALO‘UEH, TEE CHEROKEE.

only one who escaped? I need not be afraid of the English
because Attakulla is a coward.” r— '

“ The English who were here today—the English of the
Carqlinns— have done no such deed,” remonstrated the girl.
“ You have no right to punish the innocent for the crime of
the guilty."

' “ The heart of Moawee is too soft, and her head is
zoo weak. A warrior should not waste his words upon
her."

“ There was a time when Saloueh never spoke so harshly

' to Moawee; there was a time when his words were ulwnys
soft and loving, when he took delight in being near Moawee,
when he never thought that her heart was too soft, or
her head too weak. He has changed, and Moawee is for-
saken.”

“The daughter of Attakulla must know,” sternly said
the young warrior, “that I no longer love her, and that I
consider her father my enemy while he remains a friend to
the English.” ‘

These cruel words seemed almost to crush the heart of
the girl. Her eyes filled with tears, her slender frame shook,
and she leaned against a tree as if for support. It was a
few moments before she recovered her composure sufficiently
to speak.

“ I know,” she sait , “ why it is that Saloueh no longer loves
me. It is not because he hates the English, or because he (lis-
likes Attakulla, but because he has been in the English settles
merits, where he has seen a white rose growing in an English-
man’s garden, and he has wished to pluck it and to place it
in his Wigwam.”

The face of the young warrior flushed with shame and ir‘
dignation, for he could not deny the charge, and he wondered
how the girl had discovered his secret. p

“ It is true,” he said, “ I have seen the White Rose of the
Saludn, and I mean to pluck it and place it in my Wigwam.

_ ‘ If Moawee knew this, she should not have come to seek

me. The maidens of the Cherokees have not been taught to
pursue the young men, and to force upon them love that is not
“new” . —

4; he turned to go, Moawee held up her hand warnincly

\.

 

  
 

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ox rim wart-mm.

“Hear me for the last time, Saloueh 1” she exclaimed.
“ You are going to your destruction; " you may despise
Mpawee, but she will yet triumph over you; you may pluck}
the White Rose of the Salads, but it shall never be placed [in
your Wigwam. I have spoken."

Saloueh was about to make an indignant and taunting re-
“!‘ply, but the girl darted oil" through the trees, and disappeared
from his view.

Within three days after the council was broken up, Saloueh
headed a strong war-party, which invaded the Carolinas,
carrying death and devestntion through .the scattered settle-
ments. Among the homestcads that were destroyed, was that
of William Crawley, who was murdered, together with his
wife. His son Matthew escaped by being absent from home; ,
but Hester was seized and carried into captivity.

CHAPTER III.
Tim TWO RED FRIENDS.

THE war, which had been so violently and rashly begun,
, raged with fury and continued during several years. The
young warriors, K instigated by French emissuries, rushed
down from their mountain fastnesscs upon the frontiers of the
Carolinas, regardless of the counsel and opposition of the
older part of the nation, spreading destruction anti massacre
among the defenseless inhabitants. Houses and fields were
laid in ruins, and neither age nor sex was spared by their
merciless tomahnwks and swiping-knives.

When Governor Lyttleton, of South Carolina, summoned
the militia to meet at the Congurees, for the purpose of punish-
ing the red aggressors, and protecting the frontiers from in-
vasion, the Cherokees became frightened, and a sort of peace
was patched up. It was soon broken, 110WCVL'I‘, and again I
the red torrent poured down up )n the settlements.

In the spring of 1760, the militia of the Carolinas, assisted
"-“  ‘i' ' ' “ “W‘s” "M's" invaded the country

 

  

   
 

 

 

 

  
    
 
   
 
   
  
    
   
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 

    

; ' ‘. -- z,

u.

vj ‘Itrong Keowee and beautiful Estatt e, that we will show no

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M  / moan, rm: canons.

of the Cherokees, and laid waste a portion of it. They‘destroy-
.ed the town of Estatoe and Keowee, and marched to the relief
of Fort George, which was situated on the Isundiga river, on
the, Cherokee border. '

Saloueh and Fiftoe were sworn friends. From boyhood
they had been close companions, and their friendship increas-
ed with their years. Together they had sought the pleasures
of the chase and the perils of the war-path. They had
eaten and slept and hunted and fought together, until they
were almost inseparable. But their strongest bond of union
was their common hatred of the English. On this point,

, more than upon any other, they were fully agreed, and

Saloueh had no more eager and active coadjutor, in his war-

' like designs upon the settlements, than his friend It‘iftoe.

Fiftoe differed considerably in personal appearance from
his friend. While the latter was a light copper-color, the
former was very dark even for an Indian. He was, also, of a
stronger frame, and heavier in limb than his friend, though
not so active and supple. Saloueh, however, was the leading
spirit, and Fiftoe was always willing to follow where he led,
and to aid him in all his schemes. The known bravery of
both, together with the enterprise and intelligence of the one,
and the unyielding stubbornness of the other, made them for.
midable' enemies to the English, and they were feared and re-
spected as such.

/ Saloueh and Fiftoe stood together amid the ruins of Estatoe.
Around them were the ashes of the dwellings which had
lately been the happy homes of many of their people, and the '
sunny fields in which the sprouting corn had been trampled
down and destroyed. ,

Their faces were dark as they gazed upon the sceneo
desolation; but when they looked at each other, the mourn-
ful expression was changed to one of stern determination;
revenge gleamed in their eyes, and hatred burned upon their
lips. '

w“ Let us swear," said Saloueh, as be grasped the hand of
his friend; “let us swear by the Great Spirit, that we will
make the English pay dearly for this work, that we will not
cease to fight them until we have revenge for, the fate of

 

 

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wm'romnmm.

mercy upon them until the souls of our slain brothers are
satisfied 1” '

“I swear it by the Great Spirit r' replied Fiftoe. “I will
follow my brother wherever he will lead. We will follow
and hang upon the trail of the English. Our war-cries shall
rouse them frOm their slumbers, and our tomahawks‘ shall

' drink their blood, until it washes away the ashes of our towns.‘

'VVe will fight together, and Fiftoe shall never be separated
from his friend, except by death."

“Our people are frightened and scattered," said Saloueh.
“ The women and children and the old men have fled to the
mountains; many of the warriors have gone with them,
and there are few left to resist the English who are marching
through theeountry; but those few are enough.”

“ How are they enough? What can we do ?"

“ Much. We will let the English march on toward Fort
George. but theyhhall never reach it. Mountains and rivers
and swamps are in their way, and they must cut their path
through thickets. and lose themselves in deep ravines.”

“ But how will you stop them? If they do not reach Fort
George, they will go to Etchoe, and will destroy the town."

“ No part of them but their scalps shall ever reach Etchoe.
I know a thicket where one man can hardly see another who
steps before him. We will lie in ambush for them there, and
will kill them, while they can not hurt us." '

Fiftoe uttered an exclamation of delight, and shook his ‘

tomahawk at an imaginary foe. ,
“ Saloueh was born to be a warrior and a chief,” he said:
“ He sees all things, and knows how to meet the enemy at all
, times. Fittoe will follow his brother. for he believes in him,
and together we will drink the blood of these miserable En-
lish.”
‘ The two warriors again clasped hands, and renewed their
oath of hatred to the English and war to the death.

They then went down to a spring near the ruins of the yil- ‘.

' lage, where they built a fire, and prepared their evening meal.

Alter thcydmd eaten, a pipe was lighted, which they smoked .

by turns in silence.
“ Have you forgotten the White Rose of the Salads. 1’" 
.hly asked Fiftoe, as he passed the pipe tohis friend. ‘ I j

:

 

   
 

EALOUEH, TEE CHEROKEE.

A'change quickly came over the countenance of uloueh.
His face grew dark, his lip trembled, and he hung his head
dcjectedly. ‘

“ Forgotten her I" he exclaimed. “ I can never forget her.
‘She is always with me.‘ I see her with the inside eye, but I
can never touch her, and she will never speak to me. ‘The

’ heart of Saloueh is sad, and he will never be satisfied with
anything until he can find the White Rose.”
' “ Where is she? What became of her?
not keep her when you had her ?"

“ I do not know how I lost her. I left her in charge of
two of my warriors, and thought that she was safe; but,
when I came to inquire for her, she was gone, and they could
tell me nothing about her. They said she must be a spirit,

Why did you

or that she had been taken away by the Great Spirit, for they ‘

had not slept, and she could not have gone in her own form,
or by mortal aid, without being seen by them, for they kept
strict watch.”

“ It is very strange. Was there no trail ‘3”

“Nothing of the kind. There was not a. track, nor any
mark to show in what way she had gone. I searched for her
very carefully, but could not find her, and since then I have
not seen her, nor have I heard of her.”

“ Perhaps the warriors helped her to escape, or suffered he)
to do so.”

“ It is impossible. I could trust them as well as I could
trust you. They have never lied to me.”

“ Perhaps she slipped away unseen, and went back to her
own people.”

“ She could not have gone away without leaving some sign
by which she could be traced. Besides, sheis not among the
English.” ’ -'

“How do you know ?" '

“The White Rose is very beautiful, and I could not help

caring of her if she was any where in the Carolinas, for all
would speak of her. I have inquired of prisoners, and of all

1 other English whom I have met, but they know nothing of .

her. They say that her father and mother were killed, and
 .hat she wasrcarried off as a captive. They suppose that oh
it still t captive, if she is not dead.”

    

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A VISION.

“Perhaps she went to Charleston, where you could not
hear from her.”
“ When the thirty-two chiefs went to Charleston to try to

‘make peace with the English, I asked several of them to in‘

, shall yet find her.

quire about her, 'as I was not willing to accompanythem on

an errand of peace. They did so, but they could learn noth

ing about her.” ,
“ Perhaps she is dead."
“ She is not dead."

“ How do you know ?” ,
“I am sure of it. I feel that she is still alive. I see he:
often with the inside eye, and I could not see her 'so if she
was dead. I will never give her up, and I feel certain that I
When I do find her, she shall never leave

me.” ,

“ She will not be glad to go into the wigwam of the chief
who killed her father and her mother."

“ I did not kill them. I wanted to spare them, but I was
taking Cure of the White Rose, and I could not restrain my

warriors.” -

Saloueh knocked the ashes from his pipe into the embers
of the fire, and gazed vaenntly and mournfully into space.
Suddenly, he sturted up and pointed with his outstretched

’arm into the forest, his eyes opened wide and glaring, his

: countenance and attitude expressive of ‘wonder and great ex-

citement.

“ What is the matter with my brother? Who is that wo-
man ‘P" asked Fiftoe, following with his eyes the direction that
was pointed out by his friend.

At the distance of about thirty paces from them, dimly seen
in the uncertain twilight, motionless, and looking directly at
the two warriors, stood a young and beautiful woman. She

, was neatly dressed in the costume of the Indian girls, but the

 

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whether she was mortal.

curling tresses of her brown hair, and the clear white and red
of her complexion, plainly showed that she was not of the
Indian race. She seemed to be surrounded by a silvery haze
caused by the reflection of the early moonlight upon the tiny
drops of moisture with which the air was filled, and almost
pay than might, at first View, have been disposed to doubt

 

  

      
      

   
 

\

I and he hastens to take her in his arms,"

I
\

    

g umnnu, m amount.

“ It is a. spirit,” said Fiftoe, in a shuddering whisper. o

" “‘ It is the White Rose 1" exclaimed Saloueh, breaking the but
spell which was upon him. , .pi]

“ She is (lead. She is a spirit,” again murmured Fiftoe. .
“ It is the VVhite’Rose, and she is alive. I have found her
at. last, and she shall not escape me now. Follow me, my
brother 1” l
The young warrior hounded forward, tardin followed by ‘-
his companion, but the girl eluded him, and fled swiftly
through the forest. Saloueh continued the chase,,calling her
- by the name that he had given her, and imploring her to stop, , an,
uutil she_darted into a thick clump of trees, and disappeared f kn

- from his view. ;

‘ “He entered the thicket and searched carefully for the flying f w
sprite, but he could not find her, nor could he see any trace m
by which he might follow her further. . ‘

“She was a spirit, and she has gone back into the air," said to,
Fifioe, as his friend abandoned the unavailing search. .—

' “ She is somewhere near us,” replied Saloueh. “ She has m
slipped away, but she can not have gone far. Come on, and ~
let us search for her l” ,

They left the thicket, and circled separately through the
forest, vainly looking for the trail of the light-footed girl. ‘ ‘ R
“ Here she is l” exclaimed Fiftoe, at last. :
Snlouch hastened to his friend, and eagerly rushed forward ,
to grasp a“ female figure which the latter pointed out to him ; k

but he stopped short in amazement when he found that he I
Was clasping the slender form of Moawee. '- s,

“ What is the matter with Saloueh?" asked the daughter ,

of ‘ Attakulla. “ Has the Great Spirit taken away his mind ‘P ' b

He said that he no longer loved Moawee, but he chases her. L a

r

l

 
 
     
   
 
  
  
 
 
   
   
   
  
 
 
   
     
 
  
  
      

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“ Is it you 1’" asked Saloueh, with an imprecation. “ What 1 t
are you doing here? Where did you come from ? Where is '
the White Rose?" '

V “ The chief speaks in riddles. The ears of Moawee are 
open, but she does not understand him.” ' i
‘ “ Where is the White Rose? It was only a moment ago i
that I saw her, and she ran this way through the trees. Have
, m met her it What have you done with her i" r

l

     
   
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
  
 
  
   
 

A CATAWBA mmAN'. 

  

h “ The words of the chief are music to the ears of Monroe, r
t° but she does not understand them.’ Has Saloueh .seen a
Ispirit?" - ' ‘

l “ It was no spirit. I tell you that, Isaw the White Rose of
m the Saluda. I know it was her, for her hair was light, and
“y her skin was not rec ." i
g “ The chief has seen a spirit, for he killed the White Rm
’y :when be murdered her people in the settlements of the En-
ly 1glish." '
at r “I did not kill her. I saved her, and she escaped from me,
p’ iandI have been seeking her every where. I believe you
3 i know where she is. Tell me about her.”
“ Is it to me that you come to ask news of her? The
‘3 i‘ voice of the chief has always been pleasant to Moawee, but
38 , she does not love to hear him speak of the White Rose."
, “I am certain that you know where she is. Tell me, be-
Ld fore I force you to, for I must. know."
“ The Great Spirit has taken away the mind of Saloueh. I
must go, for I am afraid that he will kill me."
' So saying, Moawee darted away like a bird. and in a mo-
_ ment .was lost to the view of the baflied warrior.
1° “It was not Moawce that we saw,and it was not the White
, Rose, but it was a spirit," was the solemn conclusion of Fifloe,
’ as he seated himself upon a fallen tree. '

d i “It was the White Rose,” replied Saloueh. “ You do not

i love her as I do, or you would be as certain as I am."

e ,1' "' My brother must have seen her with the inner ey‘é, as he I
" says he has often seen her.” ' ,

r i “ I saw her plainly, and I feel sure that Moawce was with

1'  her, and that she knows where she is. When these English
‘ I are killed or driven out of the country, I will find her, or At-
} tskulla and his daughter shall die.”
“ Hist! There is an Italian, and it is not a Cherokee."

’ i The attention of Fiftoe had been attracted by a rustling
, among the trees. Looking in the direction of the noise, he

’ I saw the head of an Indian raised above/a clump of bushes, ;
i ahd two dark and piercing eyes fixed upon himself and his

: ‘ friend. ' '

\

_ " It is a dog of a Catawba,” said Saloueh, hurling his  ;
5hswksttiie‘bush. ‘ ‘ a t ,

  

     
    
 
   
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

IQ, ssmuan, run CHEROKEE.

The Indian, who had started from his concealment, evaded
the missile, and fled like a deer through the lorest, pursued by
the two warriors. Actiig together, they nearly caught him,
but. he ran‘ very swiftly and skillfully, and soon escaped them,
under cover of the growing darkness.

' Saloueh and Fiftoe despondingly returned to the spring at
which they had left their weapons.

0 H A P ’I‘ E R I V.
THE CATAWBA SPY.

UNDER the shade of lofty and spreading trees, on the rich
green grass that bordered a rivulet, sat Matthew Crawle and
Warren Stafford.

These two young men had grown a few years older since
Stafford had so harshly treated the young Cherokee chief when
he came to woo Hetty Crawley, and the appearance of both
showed that they had not only sutfered pains of the mind, but.
had undergone many labels and perils of the body. They
had, indeed, during the last three or four years, passed through
scenes of great excitement and danger, which had employed
all their skill and called forth all their powers of endurance.
The homes of both had been laid waste, and young Crawley
had lost his parents and his sister, the-former having been
slain by the savages, and the latter, as was supposed, having
been carried into a terrible captivity. Since that time——-or,
rather, since the commencement of the war—they had been
actively engaged as members of the militia of their province,
in defending the frontier against the ravages of the Italians,
or in attacking the Cherokees in their own country. They
had acted mostly together, both as soldiers and scouts, and
had acquired an amount of information and experience in
savage warfare which was vc'y useful to their people at that
time. I

Matthew Crawley had developed into a large, strong and,
"1140mm! man, and his qualities of mind were not at. all

-\  ~ ' .L r
m we mum.

behind his bodily abilities. As a soldier and a citizen, he was
admired and respected bye“, and he had been especially re«

commended to the British commander of the expedition

j against the Cherokees, as a man who could be trusted in any

position. ' .
Warren Stafford, also, ha'd greatly changed for the better

- The rashness of speech and action, which had been his chief

fault in his earlier, years, had almost disappeared, and his
judgment and discretion, as well as his bravery, were comic]-
cred equal to those of his more stolid and sedate companion.
The former lightness of his demeanor had given place td
a gravity beyond his years, and his fine features were shaded

, by a gloom which was seldom driven away by brighter

thoughts.
The young men had been friends from their youth up, and

I of late years their friendship had been strengthened, and they
. had been drawn more closely together, by the tie of a great

and common afliiction. They had vowed to assist each other
in endeavoring to rescue Hetty Crawley from the power of
the savages, if she should yet be alive, and to avenge the death
of her murdered parents. All the time that they had been

 able to spare from military service, and from other important
‘ duties, had been devoted to this object, but neither the brother

2 or to determine whether she was living 01' dead.

nor tlfe lover had been able to gain any trace of the lost girl,
I Their ven-
geance had been wreaked abundantly upon the Cherokees,
although it still remained to be executed upon Saloueh, whom

they justly regarded as the real author of the massacre. Num-

bers of the savages had fallen victims to the unerring fire of
their heavy rifles and the sharp edges of their tomahawks,
and they had acquired a reputation which caused them to he
hated and feared through all the Cherokee nation.

They were dressed in the usual homespun garb of hunters,
but they’ wore feathers in their caps, and cross-belts for their
ammunition pouches, which showed their connection with the
militia, who had been called out by the governor of South
Carolina. ~

They were seated, after dusk, near the remains of a small,
fire, engaged in smoking their pipes, the customary solace of

f ’backwoodsmen in’ the wilderness. Their caps and belts- had .

v

 

 

in

’ “nobleman 'emonnn

been taken off, their hunting-shirts were loosened to the even:
ing breeze, and their rifles lay on the ground by their side,
within easy reach.

“ Do you know how far we are from Fort George i” asked
Stafford. ’

“ A good march yet; or a bad one, as I am afraid it will
be,” replied his friend.

“ Why do you say a badfbne ?"

“ Because I am convinced that the worst of our task is yet
before us. It has been easy enough to march up here into
the Indian country, to defeat a few scattered bodies of red-
skins, and to burn the villages which‘ we have met, while the
"greater part of the enemy were engaged in besieging the fort;
but we have work to do now, and I doubt whether our num-
bers are sufllcieut for it.”

“ You say truly that we have the most difficult country and
the worst enemy yet to meet. Oconostota is beyond us with
his forces, and we have not fallen in with Saloueh. When
the former strikes at our head, the latter will surely be biting
our heels.”

“ That is not all. They will have too many chances to
strike and bite us. There are plenty of places this side of
Fort George, Where the red-skins can do us a great deal of
damage, if they know how to take advantage of the ground.”

“ I will be bound for them that they know how to take
advantage of every chance that can be ofl‘ered to them.”

“i There is one valley, in particular, which it will hardly be .
possible for us to cross, if they take the precaution to oppose ~ ‘

us at that place.”

“ You may he sure that they will do it.
ter explain these matters to the commander ?”

“ I have already explained them to him as much as is neces-
sary. It was hardly worth while to do so, except for the pur-
pose of caution, for we are bound to go through to the fort,
or to make the attempt, at all events.”

“ The commander has no doubts, I am sure, for he believes
that the bayonets of the British regulars can force a passage
through any thing.”

“ They are very useful in their way. If we could meet

’ the} Cherokees in an open field, we could soon BIKW (m

I

 

Had you not bet- .

    
    

 

 

 

    
      
     
      
 
 
 
 
    
  
   
  
 
 
 
    
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
      
   

A

/ ,. _ ,‘ ‘ 1“ '
, norms AND mans ’88

dupe‘riority; but, in fighting in this country, I believe that our /
Carolina militiamen can do better than the regulars of King .
George. I wish, indeed, that this campaign was ended, and
‘ successfully ended, so that we might go together through the
Cherokee country, and make a thorough search for poor I'Ielty.

We have been on the trail a long time, but have yet really ~ I

l done nothing toward the attainment of our objeCt How long
1-; is it, Stafford, since we lost her 1’"
1 _ “ Next October, it will be four years I” .
t , “‘So long! It is a great while for her to remain in cap- —

tivity, if she is still a prisoner. 1 am afraid that she has been
murdered, or that she has died under the treatment of the
.1 savages.”
, _ “I have no such fear. We are not dead, Matth w, and I
'e believe Hetty to be still alive, but it makes me shudder to
imagine what may have happened to her.”
“ What reason have you [or that belief?” ,
“The same that I have told you of more than once. Your
negro man, who survived the massacre, said that she was not
, killed when she was taken, but was led away as a. captive.-
.f He heard the order given that good care should be taken of-
her. Besides, there can be no doubt that Suloueh supposed
her to be somewhere in the province, for he has often made
inquiries concmning her, of prisoners and others. It is evi-1
dent that he believes her to be alive, but that he does not know’
' what has become of her. It is probable that she has escaped
from him in some way." .
V \ “ What you say is very reasonable, and there is still a hope
' that we may find her, but in what condition? lam glad,
what ever has happened to her, that she is not in the power

 

 

of that cut-throat red-skin." ' t
' “ That is a great consolation, surely; but it would be a "
l’ greater consolation to me to have my hand on Saloueh’s th'oat.
ru 1 would never let go my hold while he lived." . ,
“ He has a heavy debt to pay. The nmrder of my father , /
35 . and my mother is not avenged while he lives. for he‘was the . '
3° author of that massacre, if he did not kill them with his own '

_ ‘ hands. If we come across him, Stnfl‘ord, you must. remember
’9‘ , that mine is the first chance at the villain, for mine has been. l
uhfi greatest 1033.".

    

 ,’ shnounn,‘m cunnom ' \ I '~ I

« “ I am not ready to admit that your claim is stronger than
mine. 'If I ever come within reach of him, I am sure that I
will not think of sending for you to take my place.”

“ If there is a God of vengeance, I pray that he may di-
rect our steps to that wretch, and that he will strengthen our

hands when we meet him, for he must die, or I can not'

live.”
“ The Catawba has been gone a long time, Matthew. What
can have happened to keep him away so long ?" r
“ Many things may have happened. Catamarra is well ac~

quainted with the Cherokee country, but it might take him a .

long time to gain the intelligence for which he was sent. It
is likely that he has got on the trail of Saloueh, or of some
other chief, with his party.”

“I wish he would come, for I really feel lonesome without
him. The red-skin loved IIetty so much, that I have taken a
great liking to him.”

“ He might well love her, for she saved his life, and nursed

him, and took care of him when he had no other friend. He 1

is a faithful fellow, and we could have no better man to help
us in our search for Hetty, for he seems to take as much in-
terest in it as we do ourselves. As I feel quite easy about
him, I believe I will lie down ,to sleep, Stafford, if you will
hold the first watch to-night.”

“ Very well. I feel wakeful, and am quite willing to
watch.” ' ‘ -

Matthew Crawley stretched himself on the ground and went
to sleep with the practiced readiness of a man accustomed to
forest bivouacs, while his friend, after examining the priming
of his rifle, paced silently about the little camp.

Cruwley had been asleep about an hour, when the quick

ears of the watcher caught the breaking of twigs in the forest .. '

that lay back of the little stream._ He seized his weapon,
placed himself in an attitude of defense, and was about to
awaken his companion, when Crawley started up, instantly
comprehending the position of affairs.

The cry of a whippowil was heard, three times repeated.
The friends, as if understanding the signal, laid down their
weapons, and awaited the approach of the man who had
nihdelt. '

 
   

  
 

 

‘8.fl_=:: 1w :1 m-..

 

est

 

_ coon NEWS. “ ’

In a few moments an Indian emerged from the forest, and
rapidly approached them. He was somewhat below the com-'
mon hight, small in limb and features, with what may be call-
ed a weasel expression of countenance; but his face was a.

_ good one, and it was evident that he‘was the friendly and
faithful Indian of Whom Crawley'and Stafford had been speak-
ing. .

“I am glad to see you, Catamarra, for you have been gone
a long time,” said Crowley, extending his hand to, the red-man.
“ We were talking about you a little while ago.. What news ~
have you brought i‘” ‘

“Great news," replied the Indian, speaking in good En-
glish. “I have seen the White Rose! I have seen Miss
Betty herself!”

The two young men simultaneously uttered an exclamation
of astonishment and interest.

“What do you mean, Catamarra ?" eagerly asked Stafford.
“ Is it possible that you have really seen the young lady ?
When and where was it?”

“ I saw her last night. She looked as beautiful as she was
when she saved my life on the Saluda-R’

“ Where was she ? Where did she go to ? Did you follow
her? Did you speak to her? Tell me, before I burst with
anxiety.”

“ I must tell you all,” said the Catawba, “and you must be
patient or you will not understand it. I went to look for
Saloueh and his warriors, as you told me to, to find out where

, they were and what they meant to do. I got on his trail and
followed him until I came up with him at a spring near the
burnt town of Estates, where he was sitting with his friend,
the black-faced Fiftoe. I might have killed either or both of
them, but I waited, for I armed to hear what they had to
say. They spoke of some things which I must tell you about
at another time, and then they spoke of the White Rose. The ,
young chief said that he believed she was living, and that he
wanted to find her. She had escaped from him soon after she
was taken, and he did not know what had become of her,
though he thought that she had not gone back to Carolina.
While they were talking, they pointed at something. I look- ,

‘ ed as they pointed, and saw the White Rose standingnm‘a

 

  

 
 

‘ met Moawee, the daughter of Attakulln.
\ had become of the White Rose, but Mouwee said that ‘she did

.-_, .‘

>\ . r y
I », ‘ , A ‘ ,

 ran antagonism.

 '. The moon shone upon her, and I saw her as plainlyal r

I see you. Fittoe said it, was a spirit, and he was nfrnid, but:
Saloueh declared that it was the White Rose, and that sl.e was
alive. He told Fiftae to follow him, and they started toward
her, but she ran like a deer, and le"t them h'ehi-nd. I followed
them as well as I could, but I _dit’ not see her again, for they
stopped at the place where they had lost the trail, and I hid
from them. Then they went about to look for the trail, when
Fiftoe said that he saw her, and the young chief “in up and
He asked her what.

not understand him. He threatened her, and she run away.
I would have waited there until they went away, to hunt for
the trail of the White Rose, hut Fit‘toe saw me, and Suloueh
threw his tomzihnwk at me. I run, and they run after me, but
I turned and twisted, and got away from them when the
clouds came over the moon.”

, “ That is a strange story, and a. long one for you to tell,
Catamarra," said Matthew Crowley. “ I wish that you could
have spoken to her, that you could have tracked her and fol-

lowed her, but I have no doubt that you have done all you '

could. What shall we do about this matter, Stafford ?"

“ Can there be any question about what ought to be done?
It is plain that Het y is livmg, and that she is in the power
of some of the In ions, if not in that of Suloueh.”

“The young chief said," suggested, the Catawba, “that
Moawee knows where the White Rose is, and that Attakulla
and his daughter must die if he can not find her.\”

“ Attukulla is our friend. If we could see him, we might
learn something definite. As we can not meet him now, we
must take up the trai‘ when we can find it. Can you guide
us, Catamaran, to the place you spoke of?”

“ Cutamarra. can go there as straight as the bee flies.”

" Very well. We will look for the trail in the morning."

It was so agreed; but the morning brought other business

‘ for the young soldiers, which prevented them from doing as'

they proposed. They received peremptory orders to join the
main body of the army, which was moving on toward Fort

Gearse- -*

' The English qontinued their hazardous and difficult journey ‘

    
     
       
   
       
       
   
   
   
   
   
   
      
    
  
 
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
  

 

  

   
 
 
    
   
 
 

  

  

  

    

 

uniting the trees and bushes, until she reached the foot of tho/

 

"a tram Manama. 

over mountains and rivers, through swamps and thickets and:

‘ dangerous defiles, until they came within five milesof the Ir»

dian town of Etchoe, Where they were met by a large body;
of Cherokees, concealed in so densea wood that the invaders
could hardly see three yards before them. A bloody contest
ensued, in which the English were exposed to a murderous
fire on their front and both flanks. The Indians finally re- '
tired, but the English had lost about a hundred men,and they
wisely concluded that they had better retreat. They hastened
back to their own country, Matthew Crawley and Warren
Stafi‘ord being carried home with the army, and the frontier
wasagain open to the attacks of the savages.

CHAPTER V.
in Tim MOUNTAINS.

In the southern part of the State of Tennessee. 3' small
branch of the TenneSsee river flowed, and still flows, toward I
the east, taking its rise in the Cumberland mountains. The
scenery about the head-waters of the stream was of a grand
and romantic character. During part of its course the water
dashed and tumbled madly over rocks and precipices; at other
places it glided, deep, dark and qw‘et, between almost perpen-
dicular cliffs. Here and there were small but beautiful valleys,
set like gems in the midst of the lofty and rugged mountains
that towered around them. -

At the edge of ' one of these charming valley‘s, shaded by
overhanging masses of rock and by a spreading sycamore, was

' a deep and clear spring, which bubbled up beautifully among

the stones, and sent its overflowing waters trickling pleasantly
and steadily through the moss and grass (in their way.to the
river. '

To this spring, One bright morning in the autumn of 1760,
came a slender and graceful Indian girl. Down the mountain- 7
side she came, warily picking her way over the‘ rocks‘and ,

 

"r‘t‘ . '...

 

 

i‘ . ’  y r ‘ V’l V.
|

SALOUEH, THE cannon“.

descent, when she tripped lightly and merrily through the
,yrecn grass to the side of the sparkling fountain.-

She felt eompell:d. therefore. to receive him with a. show of
eordiality, and to treat him with as much politeness as pos-
sible, hoping that the other evil might thus be averted, tlimign
she remembered the warninsr of C'tiillllilrl‘il, to be careful not
to give her unwelcome visitor a c.ance to practice his wiles
upon her. '

The French oflleer came alone, as he had promised, thus
far relieving,r the fears of lIetty, and encouraging her to bear
with his unpleasant importunity, in the hope that he Would
not bring upon her what she considered a worse persecution.
But it. appeared that his absence had only increased his pas-
sion and strengthened his desire to possess its object, for he
at once spoke to her of love, and urged his suit as it‘ he had
determined upon success, and felt certain of securing it.

“ I have already told you that my heart is given mom of
my own countrymen," said Hetty, when her admirer became
very pressing and plain-spoken. “How can I listen to you,
when I belong to Warren Stafford, and have no love lett: fox.
another ?” ‘-

“ But he is dead," persisted the. Frenchman. “ You told
hie of this when I first saw you, and 1 assured you that your
lovn' was dead, that he was killed in the battle of Eteliee.”

“ You were mistaken. It must have been the body of some
other man which was pointed out to you,unt1 which you
'caused to be buried." '

' r“ Why do you say this? You believed me readin enough
before, but now you seem to doubt me. Why has your opin-
ion changed 1’”

“,l‘t is not an opinion, but 9 certainty. I know that Wur-
ren Stafford was not killed, that he is still living. and that he
loves me." .

“If Saloueh should 2mm this, he would not allow the
White Rose to bloom lmre any longer.
I i’" t

“ I have heard from him, and I know that he is living and
that he loves me.”

“ Have you seen him ? Has he been here 1’"

How do you know »

      

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

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; to see.
', marks which showed that some one had stopped there to drink.”

l-

     

‘ TWO GIRLS. " ’.-'

one who is far h‘om here.- Come, Moawee; let me help you
carrythis great gourd of water into the hut.”

“ The White Rose would spill it. Her head is not strong
like Moawee’s. I have brought it up the hill, and can easily
Carry it to the Wigwam.”

The Indian girl took her companion by the hand, balancing
the gourd of water on her head with her other hand, and
they walked together through the trees to the foot of the cliff,
where they entered 8. rude hut, formed of logs and bark, that:
was built against the rock. Passing through the apartment
that was thus inclosed, they went into a cavern in the rock, ‘
which constituted the rear and principal portion of this hum-
ble habitation. Here Monwee set down her gourd on the
stone floor, and returned with Hetty Crawlcy to the outer room,
where they seated themselves on bundles of furs. Moawee
proceeded to embroider a moccasin, while her friend, sitting
near her, looked up in her face lovingly but anxiously.

“ Did my sister see nothing as she went to the spring it” she
...ked. ‘

“ Moawee saw the sun shining,” lightly replied the Indian
girl. “ She saw the grass waving in the valley, and the water
bubbling up in the spring.”

“ You see that every day when the sky is clear.
see nothing else l”

“I saw no man—no living being but the birds and the
insects and one lively squirrel.”

“ You have seen something else. It is plain to me that
something troubles you. What is it, Moawee ‘2"

“ It is true that I have seen something that I did not wish
I saw a trail in the valley, and at the spring I saw

Did you

“ Was it an Indian or a white man ?”

7 “ It wns a. man, for I saw where he had leaned his gun
against the large tree, but he wore moccasins, and I could not
tell of what colorrhe was.”

“ Might it not have been Tellikee l’" ’

“ Tellikee did not go in that direction. He went over the .
mountain, toward the sunset.” "
“ Was it a fresh trail f"

“It was made since the dew felL"

 

  

 
   

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“ Some wandering Indiziii, I suppose. I hope: we will not

, I see him. .Do you think he could find us, and that he would

come up here ?” ' .

“ He could easily find our path to the spring; he would be

’ sure to notice it as he passed that way, and :1 Cherokee would
be very likely to follow it, unless he had business somewhere,
else."

‘ I \ “ Who can it be? What can he want here i”

“It might be a hunter; or it might be, as you said, 6
wandering Indian; or it might be some one whom I hope it is
not.”

“ Whom do you mean ‘3”

“ It might be Salouch, the young chief. Since he saw you,

‘ down near the burned village of Estatoe, where you escaped
from him so narrowly, he has been seeking our hiding-place,
and he vows that he will find us.” '

“ Do you not wish to see him? Do you not love
him i’" / ” '

‘ “The young chief is very dear to the heart of Moawee,

and she can never forget her love for him; but it is not he:

I t that he is seeking. He wants to find her, because he thinks
; , he can make her tell him where the White Rose is hid. Can 
‘I wish him to see you, when he has forgotten me because he i

loves you i’" ' l

' ‘ “ No, clear Moawce, and I would fear to meet him! I wish , i,
that God would change his heart, so that he might return to» I a
his old love, and cease to think of one who can never care a
for him. 1am not ungrateful to you and Attukulla and Tillikee

       
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
        
 

for 9.11 your kindness, but I would gladly be in my own in
country and among my own people. Why am I kept here? 1:!
Vt’hy will not your father send me away ‘3” e1:
“ Because he loves the White Rose, and wishes her to live. 301
She could never pass through the country of the Chewk'ees,
, . [Without being killed or captured." , om
., , “ Altukullu is :1 friend of the English, and they would glud- ‘
' ., 'iy receive him if he brought me back." ,’ fly
I “But he could never desert his own people even if they ' “
' would allow him to do so. Neither could he save you from ...is:
\ Saluueh and Fiftoe, who are looking for you every Where, f ’I

  

p /‘ his yoiceis weak in the tribe nowfi’

     

 
  

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“Then I must be kept here as a prisoner until I grow old“
had my friends forget me ?” ‘ . , (
“ The White Rose is not a prisoner; she is only hiding with
‘ her sister, who loves her, and tries to be kind to her and to
 make her comfortable." "
i “ Forgive me, dear Moawee !" exclaimed Retry, burstiuginto '
‘ tears. “ You are very good to me, and I am wicked indeed
to fret and complain as I do. I know that you and your fa-
; ther are doing what you believe to be for the best, andI thank
you for it most heartily. But there is one in my own land
who loves me dearly, and whom I love with my whole _soul,

1, It is very painful to me to be so far and so long away from
3 him. Perhaps he is dead, or perhaps some other face may at: '.
Lé’ tract him."
“ Can your heart be any more sad than that of Moawee.
w whose warrior has forgotten her for a paler face—Who can [ I‘
', never see him without being told that he loves her no longer.
we, but has given his soul to another ?” ' 4
he; . “ I am sorry for my sister, and am sorry that I am in any t I
“k, ' way the cause of her trouble. I wish Saloueh had never » ,
3m,  seen me.” \
he ', “. The White Rose has said that perhaps her warrior is dead.
1 It is very likely that he may have been killed in this war. I
wish  he is dead, she should try to forget him. Tellikee loves he ,
n w.‘ and there is not a braver or more handsome young man ,

care  among the Cherokees. Tellikee has a great soul.” \
“ I know it, and 1 think very highly of your brother, for
he has been kind and true to me; but he is not of my own
awe, and he is not my Stafford. Let us speak of something. i ‘
else, Moawee, for I fear that my heart will break if I can not
, a'orget my sorrow.”

“ Hark! Is it the wind in the trees that I hear, or is some

one coming ?” ‘ ‘ '

“ Some one is coming! Let us hide, Monwce, or let us
"5)?!” I ‘ ‘
I ‘ “There is no danger. It is Tellikee who comes; I know ’
,,.is step."

The next moment the low doorway of the but was darken-
' f ml by the tall form of a young warrior, who stooped as he
-utered, bending under the weightlof the carcass of Idea, ‘.

 

 

 

;  I.

Q, sA'Lo'unn, rnn'enxnoitzx.

which he threw on the floor, and stood erect before the two'
young women. He was a strongflimbed and fine-looking
young fellow, with piercing eyes and a proud hearing, and
Moawee looked at him as if she wns‘ proud of her brother.

' “ Tellikee is welcome," she said, as she rose to meet him.
“ He has returned before he was expected, and has brought
some meat to his empty lodge.”

“ It is not very fat, but good bucks are scarce, and I was
afraid you might miss me," replied the hunter. “ Has the
White R050 nothing to say to Tellikt‘e '5’”

“He is very welcome. and 1 am glad that he has come
alone,” replied Netty, with n pleasant snide."

“ But Tellihee is not alone ; he found :1. friend while he was
hunting, and has brought him to the \\'ig\\".tlit."

“Is he really a friend i" earnestly asked Hetty.
afraid of strangers, as you know."

“ He is a friend to the Cherokees, and he. must be :1 friend
to us," replied ’l‘elliliee. “ My brother may come," he con-
tinued, speaking to some one without, and immedinteiy the
doorway was darkened by another form.

“  

C H A P ’I‘ E R V I.
A SNAKE is THE muss.

To the surprise of both Hetty Crowley and Mottwee,tho
poison who entered the hut was it white man. lie was attired
in the undress uniform ol‘n French ollicer, and his countenance,
18 well as his gttrh, told of his French origin.
finerifle in his hand, and in his belt were twu pistols and a
sheath-knife.

As he come in, he took off his hut, and bowed, after the
manner of a dancing-muster, to the astonished girls, who
were as much displeased as they Were frightened at his ap-
pearance. *

“ 1am, indeed, fortunate this day," he said, speaking in the Ian.
page of the Cherokees. “ Wunderingnloue in the wilderness.

  
      
  
  

Ile carried a ’«

 

   

    
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

   

 

 

 

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having been separated from my companions, I happened
to meet with my young brother,.Tellikee, the son of my old
friend, Attakulla. Learning that I had gone astray, he otfered
me his guidance and the shelter of his lodge, and invited me
to dine with him. Both offers were gratefully accepted, and
I would have been still more delighted, it‘ I had known I
was to be favored with the presence of the beautiful daughter
of Attakulla. I make my salutations to her, and trust that
she will welcome me, although this may be the first time that
she has seen me.” ~

“ The Frenchman is welcome," coldly replied Moawee, “ if
he comes as a frient .”

“ How could it be otherwise? The wise old chief, your
father, knows me well, and he knows that Latinac is a friend
to his nation. How could I be otherwise than a friend to his
charming daughter as well as to himself? But who is
this?" continued the Frenchman, changing his speech to

the English language, and looking with undisgnised admi-

ration at the blue eyes and clear complexion of Hetty Crawlcy.
What fair flower of the settlements is this that has been trans-
planted into the mountainous wilderness? She is not a Chero-
kee, surely, and by her looks I should judge her to be one of
the English race.”

“She is a captive who was taken in Carolina, a long time
ago,” replied Moawee. " Attukulla. has adopted her, and she
is my sister.”

“ She is the White Rose of the Saluda,” said Tellikee.
“ Has my brother never heard of her? She is more beauti-
ful than the lilies; her eyes are bluer than the sky above
us, and her hair is brighter than the brown tassels of the maize.”

“My young brother is enthusiastic; he is a poet,” said
Latinac, with a smile that illy concealed a sneer. “ I am afraid
that he is smitten with the charms of this lily with the azure
eyes. If he has looked upon her with love, it is useless for
other men to sigh for her. I have, indeed, heard of the White
Rose of the Saluda, but this is the first time that fortune has
favored me with a sight of her. I have often heard her
beauty spoken of in the highest terms by Saloueh, the brave
young warrior of Estatoe, who, is very anxious,_l believe to
discover where she is concealed.” - ‘. V

 

 

 

—,j ‘j‘   .’ \ - t V
I

"u _ p IALOUEK,  cmcnomit. / I

“ For'God’s mire do not tell him that I am here I" exclaim-
ed Hetty, clasping her hands. “ I beseech 'you, I implore you
upon my knees, that you will not give him any clue by which
‘ he may discover me.” _
‘ “ What reason have you to fear him? He is not such a
very terrible being, but is a very mild-mannered young man
for a savage, and I esteem ,him highly."

“ He murdered my father and my mother, and he seeks me
for no good purpose.”

“ What can his purpose be but a good one, since he says he
loves you ‘3”

“ The eyes of Saloueh once looked with love upon my sis— '

ter,” said the indiscrect Tellikee; “but he ,saw the White
Rose of the Saluda, and he forgot Moawee. If he should
come here to seek the White Rose, Tellikee will throw him
off the cliff.” , '

‘The Indian girl hung down her head with shame, and Hetty
blushed deeply through her tears.

f‘ I fancy that my youngr brother has a selfish interest in
acting as the champion of his sister in that matter,” sncefing‘ly
{eplied the Frenchman. “ The White Rose is beautiful in his
eyes, as well as in those of others. In truth,she is very beauti-
ful, too fair to bloom on the breast of a red-man, but fitted to
shine in the drawing-rooms of her own race.”

“ The stranger must be hungry,” said Moawee, anxious to
,puta stop to the conversation, which had assumed an un-
pleasant tone to her. “ Let Tellikce prepare the deer that he
has killed, and we will cook some meat." -

The young hunter eontlescended to skin the buck, and to

‘ cut some choice pieces from the carcass. The two girls then
bestirred themselves to broil the dainty hits upon the coals,

and to bake some coru'cakes, varying their culinary opera- '

tions by whispering about the stranger, and confiding to each
' other their doubts and fears concerning him.
\ When the dinner was ready, all seated themselves to par-
" take of it, and Tellikce and the Frenchman ate with the keen
appetite’of tin-esters, while Moawee and Hetty, who weresad‘.
fearful, and occupied with their own thoughts, did scanty jus~
flee to the juicy venison. ‘ ,
' During the greater,part of the meal, whenever he could

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-' - . ' /
A PMTENT FRENCHMAN.

. Ibstract his attention from the eatables, Lntinac kept his eyes ‘
I ‘ fixed upon I'I'etty Crowley, with a gaze of open admiratior
which caused her to blush, tremble, and endeavor to avoid his

I stare. He also sought to engage her in Conversation, speak-
\ in;r to her frequently with an unpleasant holdness and tinnili- .
nrity of expression, partially vailed under a show of polite- "
 ness; but she was cold in her replies, and answered him \\ ith
as few words as possible.
’  , At the close of the meal he followed her, taking a seat by
’ {/ her side, and his pertimwity was such, that she perceived
fl that she would be compelled to talk to him or to fly from ’
‘him. -
l She perceile that her wisest and safest course would he
"i not to otl‘end him, as this man possessed a power to injure
t or annoy her, which he might he tempted to exercise, it she
I should excite his indignation. It would be easy for him to
V disclose her place of concealment to Saloueh, who, she woll
knew, would leave no means untried to gain possession of her
11 She saw, therethre, that Latinac must be emteiliated, and she
ty - resolved to conquer her repugnauee and he as friendly to him
ds as she could. '
t'l‘ “ The White lose treats me very coldly and cruelly." said l
to the French otlieer, as he seated himself by her side. “ Does
she consider me of less consequence than Saloneh, the young
‘0 chief of Estatoe, or would she prefer to bloom on the paint-
ufl' ed breast of a red-man? If she would, I will speak to the
the youngr chief when I see him, and will tell him that his fair
- flower is uselessly shedding her fragrance here in the wilder- "
1 W t ness." v
the“ “ IIave mercy upon me and do no such thing,” implored " '
roulS, ' EIetty. “I am sure that I do not wish to be cold to you. .
Dem‘ , and I can not he cruel, but I have u great. deal to troubte'
930“ me, and I have been thinking of other things. If you
‘knew how hateful and fearful the name of Svdoueh is to
3 In" me, I, think that you would never mention it in my hear-
; keen l r, mg.” .
resudi v v,“ It is Tellikee, then. who has engaged your affections I" ' 
ty 1‘19‘ ' persisted Latinac. “ He is a handsome young man. for an In- ‘ 1’
p ‘ diam. though he is a. very silly fellow.” 4 r _ ’
co“1d “‘Do not laugh at me, sir. I assure youthat I no not love ‘\ mi

 

   
  

I

       

/

l6 SALO‘UEH, hm cannons.

   
    
  
   
  
 
 
 
   
 
  
   
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
 

, Iny Indian,-nor could I love one, for my heart was fiivsn long
ago to one of my own countrytnen, to a young Englishman in
my own province.“

" Happy fellow l I envy him his good fortune. Where is
he now ‘3”

“I do not know. I have not seen him since the beginning
of the war, for I was captured in that year.”

“ You do not pretend to say that you have been constant ta
him during all those years? Perhaps he is dead, or has for ,
gotten you. VVh‘at was his name ‘3” ; .

“ Warren Stafford, of South Carolina.” , ‘

“ I have heard of him ; he was said to be a brave and in i
telligent young; man. He acted as a scout for the English, anc’
they thought highly of him in that capacity." :

“, You say that he was a scout, and that they thought highly
of him. What do you mean by those words ?”

“It is my painful duty to inform you that he is dead—that
he was killed at the battle of Etchoe.” 5

’ These terrible words were almost a death-blow to poor Betty !
who could hardly comprehend them at first. She had thought." '
of the possibility of Staflbrd’s death, but had always carefully I
banished the idea, as one that was too fearful to be entertained ' ‘
for a moment. Now, the cold and plain communication of ;

A.“ <

I

/'

the Frenchman nearly stunned her. 1
“Dead 2” she murmured. “ What do you mean? How ‘3
do you know it?” 

“ His body was pointed out to me upon the battle-field,” re { in

plied Latinac. “and I caused it. to be buried, as I always have
respect for a gallantenemy.” y“
-Helly burst into tears, and the wily Frenchman, judging

 
       
    

‘:h:n it was best not to interrupt her grief. left her to tho. 3“?
:onuulations ol' Moawee, and walked out with the young 3'."
:‘t‘mtet‘. 3 the
He had little more to say to the sorrowful girl until the 9
next morning, when he prepared to resume his journey, which an"
had been interrupted by his discovery of the but on the moun . '1
t rain side. / . hfm
Poor Hetty, sad and broketrspirited as she was by the new! kmd
the death of Warren Stafford, was none the less afraid of 3:5;

   

'dalm1eh,and had no less dread of the possibility of falling .

 
 

“'9 *

Line
tho.
runs

the
bicb
10D“

new!
rid 0f

lailin! ' -

}

A nnm'mnnn m m ARRIVAL. ' '~ '47
Into his power. She endeavored, therefore, to be very co‘m~
plaisant with the French officer, and begged that he would not
give the young chief of Estatoe a clue to her hiding-place, or
let him know that he had seen her.

“ I shall be very discreet,” replied Lat‘nuc. “ When I have '

found a. treasure, I am not so foolish as to let all the world , I

know where it is bid, and I shall he sure to keep the
knowledge of it from the man who covets it. The White
Rose is too fair a flower to adorn the head-dress of n savage,
or to do the drudgery in his lodge. ‘She was born for abetter
fate than to bloom unnoticed in these wilds. If she will
smile on Latinnc, her smile will awake an answering warmth,
and he will take her out of the power of these barburians,
and will place her in the position in which she is so well fitted
to shina” ' .

“ Do not speak of such things, I beg you," implored Hetty,
who was much troubled by this languge, but was also fear
{ul of of ofl'endiug the officer. “ You have brought me ter-
rible news, and my mind is so unsettled that I hardly know
what to say or do.” ‘

\" You will at least give me permission to come and visit you
if I come alone.” '

“ Why do you wish to come? I would rather see no one.
I hope you will think better of it, and will leave me to my-

Jelfi"

“ Either I or Suloueh must come,” said Lntinuc, in a menac-
ing tone.

“ Let it be you, then, by all means.
you, if you will not betray me to him.”
Having gone as far as he deemed it prudent to go at that
time, Latinac departed on hisjourney, leaving Hctty filled with
grief and anxiety, which even the love and sympathy of her
friend Mouwee could not assuage. \ I
The Frenchman had gone but a few hours, when there came

another visitor to the but on the mountain-side. .
This visitor belonged to I'Ietty, and it was she who found
him. Going out to collects. few dry sticks with which to
kindle the fire for the afternoon meal, she found herself con-
fronted by an Indian, who stepped out from behind a tree and;
Ito-xi before her. ' ‘ ‘

.— ‘ I
u t

I shall be glad to tee

 

 

1.;

\

, Saluda.

' ' to venture so far into the country of the Cherokees.

 

fir, ., W \

" sammm, rm: CHEROKEE/

V ‘ Frightened at the unexpected sight, she turned to fly, but «

the Indian called to her, and was at her side before she‘ had
taken many steps.
“ Don’t run,” he said ;
your friend.”
Recognizing the tone and the name, Hetty turned and greet-
ed' the Indian most cordially. . r

' I
“ don’t be afraid i It is Catamarra,

“ \Vhet‘e have you come from,Catamarra ‘r” she asked. "‘ How I

do you happen to be here? I would never have thought of
meeting you in tl. is place.”

“ Catamarra ha; come from Carolina, from the valley of the
What is the \Vhite Rose doing here in the moun-
tains? Her brother, and another who loves her, have sought
for her whenever they have come into the country of the
Cherokees, but they could not see or hear of her. They were

.afraid that she was dead, until Catamarra saw her nearEstatoe,

when she was running from Saloueh."
“ Were you there, ‘atamarra? Was I so near a friend “with,-

I out, knowing it ?”

l “I was there, but. I could do nothing, and, lost your
trail, as well as Soloueh and Fiftoe. We would have
looked for you then, but there was a battle, and we were
driven back into our own country. Now I have come alone,
to seek for the White Rose, and my heart is glad, for I have
found her.”

“I am afraid for you, Catamarra; it is dangerous for you

know that you are an enemy, and they will kill you if they
catch you.”

“ Their eyes are not sharp enough to see me, nor their ears
to hear me.
for the White Rose, who saved his life when they wanted to

, shoot him as a thief, and who was kind to him when he had

no friend. Statford and your brother would have come with
me, but they were fighting the Cherokees at home, and the

, governor would not let them go.”

‘ killed in the fight at Etchoe ‘8"

“ Stati‘ord! ‘Vhy do you speak of Stafford? Was he not

1

“ He has never been hurt; he is alive and well.
makes him sick but his sorrowfor the White Rose.”

Nothing

They '

o ‘ - u -
There is nothing:r that Catamarra is afraid to do, '

e]

a.

he

i“ ma
4 tell
tllr.
the
keel
f-"I an
A
frien
the c
not 3

: yet H
W)

7 'r Hetty

‘ Latin:
Fatty,
fittest t

amn’s .107, x ‘49 ”

“ Stafford alive! It was only yesterday’that I.was told
that he was dead, and that he had been buried or. the battle-
field of Etchoe.” -

“ Somebody has lied to the White Rose. Stafford is not ,

. dead.” - .

“ Heaven bless you, Catamarra, for bringing me such joyfnr’
1h _’ neWsl Come with me to the lodge, and help me to wild to
‘ Moaweeff

‘ 1 ‘* To what lodge? Who is there ‘1" .
i “ It is our lodge; there is no one in it but Moawee, the
, daughter of Attakulla, and her brother, Tellikee.”
" ‘ “ I will go with you, for Attakulla is a friend to the English,
and Tellikee is no enemy.”

, Hetty led the way, and the Catawba followed her to the
‘ but under the cliff. As Catamarra entered it, Moawee drew
back in alarm, and her brother started up and seized his toma-
hawk.

“ Do not be afraid," said Hctty; “it is a friend that I have '
brought.”

“A friend i" exclaimed Tellikee. “ It is a Catawba. and an
enemy to the Cherokees.”

“But not your enemy, Tellikee; you must receive him as
a friend, for he is my friend, and he has broughtme very good
news. My heart is glad, Moawee, for I know that the French-
man lied to me, and that Stafford is not (lead. Catamarra
1 tells me so, and he has been with Stafford and my brother
V through the whole war, and he would tell me nothing but.
Y the truth. He has not come here as the enemy of the Chero-
kees, but only to look for me, and to carry back the news that
W 5.1-1 am living." .
'lo
to

After this explanation, the Catawba was welcomed as a
friend and treated kindly by Moawee and her brother, although

“‘1 .thc countenaneeof‘ the young hunter was sad, as if' he was.
1‘“ ‘ not so well pleased as Hetty was, to learn that her lover was
the 1 yet living - , ;

_ When Catamarra learned who it was that had brought to
2 Hetty the false intelligence of‘ Staff‘ord’s death, he told her that”
'Latinac was a French officer, an enemy to the English,’ and 8
WW crafty, unprincipled man, who would ,not‘ scruple to use the
finest means to obtain his ends. He‘warned her against him. <_ ‘

n

110

w

 

 

,V\
t

50 ' I samonn,m'cmom

and advised her to beware of him, ashe was even more to be
dreaded than Saloueh.

“ I hope, Hetty, that this Catawba has not come to take
you away from us," said Moawee, when her friend’s excite-
mout had subsided.

“ Catamarra would be glad to carry the White Rose home.
if he could," replied the Catawba; “ but he must leave her
here. She is not a dog, a snake, or a squirrel, as Catamarra
is. She could not crawl in grass, wade through the swamps,
swim the deep rivers, and sleep in the tops of the tall trees,
as Catamarra can. The Cherokees would catch her, and
would give her to Saloueh. Catamarra will tell her friends
where she is, and they must make a. plan to bring her home.
The English will come again with a great army, and the

[Cherokees will be glad to make peace."

“ Then Stafford will come for me i” joyfully exclaimed Het-
ty. “ Then you will let me go, Moawee, and I will take you
home with me, and you must forget Saloueh."

The Catawba remained until the next morning, when he
Went his way, promising to return as soon as he could, so-
companied by Staflord and Matthew Crawley.

CHAPTER VII.
'mn smxn MAKES Hrs ammo.

THE autumn was hardly ended when Latinac came again
to the but on the mountain-side.

Hetty Crawley had passed the time so pleasantly with her ,

friends, that she had almost forgotten him, or only remember-
ed him as the bearer of unpleasant and untruthl‘ul tidings. f
lluppyin the knowledge that a. merciful‘ Providence had i
spared the lives of her lover and her brother during the war, 
and cheered by the hope that she would yet be restored to ‘
them and to her own country, she bore her banishment with

patience, and her health and spirits had greatly improved.

‘ L. Frenchman came to pay her his promisedth  v

l

am

her
her-
age.
had
W at.
;d ‘0
with
(1.
fish

L

i

i .

i’
.4:

I dainty feet, and by those of others, and she looked apprehen-

LATINAC'B mums. \ 51
she Would gladly have repulsed him at once, and would have
sent him away in an angry'mood, had she not been afraid that
he Would disclose to Saloueh lhe secret of her hidinmplacc:

On her head she carried a ealahash, or large boom-shell,
which she set down by the side of the spring, and filled it
with water, humming a low and plaintive melody, and view-
int,r her fair face as it was glussed in the limpid element.

When she had filled the vessel, she replaced it on her head,
balancing it carefully, glanced timidly tot'ard the east? and
toward the river, and returned through the grass and up the
mountain-side.

The path which she pursued was somewhat worn by her

sivcly at the trail she lclt at the foot of the hill. Up she
went, over the rough rocks and crags, with so light. and true
a trend, that she never missed her footing, nor spilt a drop of/
the water that she carried. Now she was hidden by passing
nround a projecting cliff; and again by some clump of stunted
trees that arose'in her path. Still she went on, disappearing
and reappearing, until she reached the top of a ledge, at a
considerable distance up the mountain, where a wooded plateau,
or natural terrace, reached hack a. little way to another rugged
Wall of rock. .

Here she set down her gourd of water, and paused to rest . ‘
n. \\ hilc. As she did so, a. fair face, surrounded by masses of
brown curls, peeped out from behind the trunk of a large tree, .
and the next moment another girl, or young woman, came
running toward her with a joyful cry. This maidcnnalsoh
't'as neatly dressed in the Indian costume, but her features and
complexion were decidedly European. '

“ Have you come at last, dear Moawce 9" she said, as she
ran gladly to meet the Indian girl. “ You were gone a long
time. and I was afraid something had happened to you."

“Did it seem long to the White Rose? Moawee lost no
time, but went and returned as quickly as she could."

“Forgive me, my sister, for my impatience; I am very
lonely when ever you are gone, and time drags slowly‘with
me.” ’ / ' ' '

“It is because Tellikee is absent that the White Rose 1!.
ltd." replied Moawee. with a little laugh. \ " '

    
    
  

‘- ,. ,,- _ .
' (V, . / " y 1
\AI. ‘,. ' g 3 ~ ' 1,

y

 

\' , \
SALOUEE, TEE, CHEROKEE.

“ No,” stammered Hetty, fearful of disclosing the I Act that]
' she had heen visited by Catamarra. “ I heard from aim in-
directly,"

“ Either he has been here, if he is really alive, or y m have
met one of his friends. I would like to know who it is, for
this must he looked to. If Saloueh ‘should find it out, he
would not be as kind to you and as easy in pressing his suit
as I am. He would rely upon the strong hand more than
[upon the pleasant. voice, and would place you where you
would not be likely to waive any more such visitors." ,

Frightened by these words, and induced by her dread of
the tidings that the Frenchman might carry to Saloueh, Hetty
treated him even more graciously than she had hitherto, list-
ened smilineg to his protestations, and only answered him
evasively when he begged her to forget Warren Stafford and
bestowher love upon him. In fact, she succeeded too well in
her endeavors to propitiate him, for Latinac was con/laced
that his wooing was progressing favorably, and went away
resolved to visit her again as soon as possible, in order to com-
plete the work which he had so well begun.

Hetty felt that she had given him a. false impression, and
was'sorry for it, but she was so anxious to be relieved from
her dread of Saloueh, that she was willing to lake the risk of
other consequences. She confided her griefs and fears to her
friend Moawee, and found in her, as usual, a ready sympa-
thizer.

There was another person who had noticed the marked
preference which I-Ietty appeared to entertain for the French-
man, and who was troubled by it. It was seldom that Tel-

likee obtruded his hopeless passion upon her, although, at ,

times, the savage‘ in his nature would assert itself, and he
made his avowals rather roughly. Hetty was very kind to the
hrother of her friend, and treated him as her own brother,
while‘ telling him plainly that he could never be any nearer to
her.

The young Cherokee here this very well, as long as he be-
lieved that Hetty was true to her absent English lever; but,

when Latinac came, and she seemed to forget Stafford, her

. ‘ was'naturally indignant that the Frenchman should be pro
' , _ thrredto him, and he t )ok her to task about it.

— » 1

  

 

 

   
 

 

 

  
 

  

,4 A —....,9‘

'.,§,—-.

3 man ?

r r " I ', 4 * I,
, smx.‘ “rerun. surron.

“You are greatly mistaken, and you have no cause to
trouble yourself?I replied Hetty. “ I love the Frenchman no
better than I has you, Tellikee. and not nearly as well, for
you are the brother of Moaweo and my very good friend,
while the Frenchman is a stranger, and I am afraid of him.
I wish that he “'Ould never come here any more, that I could
never see him again.”

“ If the White Rose does not love that bird with the fine
feathers, why does she make her voice so sweet when she
speaks to him? Why does she tell him so many pleasant
things, and send him awaystniling? She never coos like
that in the ear of Tellikee, and never makes him glad with
such good words.”

“ It is because I am afraid of him that I speak to him in

that way—not because I love him."

f‘Tellikee must make the White Rose afraid, so that she
may speak pleasantly to him. Why is she afraid of the French-
Tellikce will not let him hurt her."
_ “ You could not prevent it, if he should choose to do it
He is it friend of Sztloueh, and sees him often.
tell Suloueh that I um here, and should Show him the way to
this place, the young chief whuld take me away from youund

‘ Mouwee, and would shut the up in his Wigwam, and I would

be very unhappy.”

“Tellikec would not let him take away the White Rose.”

“ You could not help it. I was his prisoner, and he hal
21 right to claim me, according to the customs of the Chero-
kees.” \

“ How did you get away from him ?” ,
m“ He left me in care of two of his warriors, while he went,
us he said, to look after my father and my mother, though I
knew that they had both been murdered. It was near the
river that he left me, among the trees, and the warriors 5.1-
lowed me to walk about, although they kept a watch upon
me.‘ I remembered z, owe, or hole in the ground, which I
lmd'discovered and explored a long time before. The mouth

If he should

of it was grown over by bushes, so that it was not easy to be '

 

found, and I had only stumbled upon it by accident.
ear to that spot, and, at a moment when the Indians were,

ht observing me,I slipped through the bushes, down into the’ s

I walked '

 

 

 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
   
   
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
      
   

.had neither friendship nor respect. He was one of those wily

,chiefs into the contest.

.. H

M V _ V ' samurai, me OEER

}
cue. I was soon missed, and 'my guards searched for me 
every where but in the right place. They must have sup- 
posed that I had run away, for the ground was much trampled, i
so that they could not have found my trail, if I had made
one. * ‘

“I was badly frightened while they were seat-rhing for me,
and when I heard Saloueh raging and abusing them; but I
kept quiet; and laid still until there was no more noise about,
and I supposed that'they had all gone. Then I crept out, and
ran away as that as I could, not knowing in what direction to
go. Igot lost, and I must have starved in the woods. if I had , r
not happened to meet your sister, Moawee. who had been to
the Carolinas with Attakulla, and was returning to the Chero- V
kee country. She pitied me when I told her my story, and i
took compassion on me, and brought me to this cabin with ‘
her.,,

“ It is good. Tellikee is glad tint the White Rose came
here with Moawee. Saloueh shall not know where she is
hid.‘ If Tellikce kills the Frenchman, he can never tell
Saloueh.” -

“ But you must not kill him, for it would get you into a i
great deal of trouble; He is the friend of Attakulla, and he , I
is a Frenchman, one of the allies of the Cherokees, and your 
people would be very angry if you should kill him.” v

“ Maybe Tellikee will not kill him, but he must not come
here and trouble the White Rose. Tellikee loves the White
Rose, and Saloueh himself must not have her.”

It turned out that the friendship of Attakulla and Latinac
was not such as the Frenchman had boasted it to be, for the
old chief, visiting the but on the mountain-side, explained the
matter. - t

'The old chief declared Latinac to be a man for whom he

and unscrupulous Fremh emissaries who had been continually
endeavoriug to, embroil the Cherokees with the English, and
who had succeeded, in this case, by exciting the young and
impatient warriors, until they had forced the older and cooler

He advised Hetty, however, to treat the Frenchman with
conciliation if he should come again, and promised her that

 

 

u . ‘ H fix .,‘. ,

A 'mmn vtsrr, AND ITS RESULTS.“

she should be restored to her home and her friends as soon as
the war was ended.

Latinnc did not forget to come again. During the Whole
of the winter he was busily engaged in supplying the Chero~
kees with arms, and inciting them to war. Vile persuaded

‘ thetn that it was the intention of the English to exterminate
- them, root and branch, to destroy their villages, to lay waste

their fields, and to kill their women and children. as well as
the warriors. lIe declared to them that their only hope of
preserving their lives and their existence as a people, lay in
joining with the French to overcome and drive out the Eng-
lish. ' \

.The weather, also, was so unfavorable during the Winter ;
the streams were so swollen by continued rains, and traveling
was so ditlicult and dangerous. that he did not deem it advis-
able to venture into the mountainous region in which Hetty
Crawley was concealed.

In the early spring, as soon as his business and the state of
the count.ty would permit, he again sought the hut on the.
mountain-side.

Attakulla had gone to the villages, and Tellikee was absent
on a huntng expedition.

Hetty received the Frenclnnnn with an outward show of
cordiality, but with inward feelings of disquiet and trepidation,
for she felt that matters must soon come to a crisis between
her and this man, and she feared the result, whatever it might
be.

Latinth was mild and bland in his manners, and in the best
possible humor, for he had gone away at the close of his pre-
vious visit, impressed with the belief that .‘Ietty was more than
willing to listen to his suit, and this co! thtion was increas-
ed by the pleasant reception which she accorded him on his
return.

He excused himself for his long absence by alleging that
urgent business had detained him.

“ Nothing," he said, " but the most important affairs, and y
the terrible state of this country, in which there areno roads, K
could have kept me away from you so long, for my love has
grown to such «an extent, that it scents hardly possible to live
away fi'om you.”

 

 

I,» f ‘ ‘ V

56’ I v SALOUEE, mm cannons. '

“ You are surely exaggerating, ’Monsieur Latinae,” replied
Hetty. ‘ r \

“ I couicl’not exaggerate. I Could not tell you the half of
what I feel. I love you more than Saloneh, more than At-
takulla's boy could love you, more than any one, near or far
can love you.” ’

“ I am sure that Warren Stafford loves me truly."

“ I think he is dead. You must have been misinformed
about him. If he is reality living, he has doubtless forgotten
you, having been separated from you for such a time and
by such a distance. My love is stronger than his could be, I
am sure, and I can do more for you than he could possibly
do. I can save you from all your dangers and troubles ;, I
can take you out of this wilderness, and can plaee you in a
higher and premier position than the Englishman could ever
give you.”

“If you really love me so much, you will grant the favor.

that I am about to ask of you.”

“ What favor ?"

“ Will you grant it ?”

“ I will, if it is possible for me to do so."

“ Swear to me that you will never tell Suloueh where I am
concealed, and that you will, not return to visit mé within six
months of this day." t -

“ You ask more than I can perform. I will readily agree
‘to say nothing to Saloueh about you, but when you bid me to
; absent myself from you for so long a time, you ask what is
impossible.”

“ It is not impossible, and you have promised.”

“ You might as well ask me to kill myself. But I will
promise to go away, and will never come near this place again
if you will go with me.”

“That is quite another thing.” I

“ It is a matter of the first importance. It is what I have
specially come to urge upon you. I love you so much that I
; must have you with me, and I will not, be denied. The war
t will‘open again in the spring, and it will be impossible for me

to come so far to visit you, and I must take you with me,
' There, is no telling how soou Saloueh might find you
 here, and I must anticipate him. I have been thinking of you

\

v

 
 
  
 

 

   
   

   
 
     

 
 

  

e‘.‘

 

‘ .._~____.-a_.._

 

 

 

 

b .

’  ‘ "1» t

v' I mumbnnmswan.
\ . ..

during the whole winter, and have made up my mind to this,
Its the only thing to he done. i The White Rose must be trans-
planted into the garden of the French. Is she ready '3”

f‘ Give’ me time to think of it," implored Hetty. “It had
never occurred to me that you would make such a proposi-
tion as this, and I must have leisure to reflect upon it.” ‘

" I will give you until this evening; then I will expect your
answer.”

Hetty was greatly'troubled. She had not asked for time
because she thought it possible that she might accept the .
Frenchman’s proposition, for she had immediately resolved to',
reject it in as decided terms as she dared to use; but. because
she hoped that Tellikce might return from his hunting, or that
something might occur to support her in her refusal of this
man, of whom she was now really afraid. ,

She confided her trouble to Moawec, who advised her to be
firm] with the Frenchman, so that there might be an end to his
persecutions. She said that Latinac would not dare to en~
deavor to use forec, and that they might seek some other hid-
ing<place as a refuge from Saloueh. '

Evening came, and Latiuac pressed YIetty for an answer.
Nothing had been heard from Tellikee, whose hunting excur-
sion might. last during”r several days, and Moawee had gone to
the spring for water. The Frenchman, who had not annoyed
IIetly by referring to the subject since she asked for time
to consider il‘, said that she had reflected long enough, and-that
she must make up her mind at once.

“ I had already decided, as soon as I heard your proposi-
ticn," replied IIetty. “I could not think of such a thing; I
will not leave my good friends here until my own people come.
for'me, or until I can rejoin them. I do not love you, Mon-
sieur Latinac, but I have feared you because you might die-
close my hiding-place to my greatest enemy. I love war-
rcn Szafl‘ord, whomI believe to be alive, and who still loves
me truly, and I can love no one else. I hope now that you
will leave me, and will never persecute me any more. ‘1',
beg, also, that you will not tell Saloueh that you have seen
me.” '

“You have been trifling with me, then 1” exclaimed Latiuac',
m flashes of anger and malice shot from his eyes; f‘you,

 
    

  

  

  

y ‘Indian bore him toward the precipice.

)

‘ rumours, 'rnn (ransom
have been playing with me, and deceiving me with false ex
pectations. I feared as much, and came prepared for it. I
mean to take you with me, by fair means or foul. Will you
go willingly, or will you compel me to use force?” ,

“ 1 will not go,” Hetty stoutly replied, and turned and ran
out of the hut.

The Frenchman pursued her, and caught her by the arm be-
fore she had gone far.

Hetty screamed, and called wildly upon Moawee, who was
just coming up the hill with a gourd filled with water. The
Indian girl dropped her burden, and ran to the relief of her
friend, seizing the Frenchman and compelling him to relinqulsh
his grasp.

“Do you expect to resist me—you two girls?” sharply
asked Latinac. “I will soon teach you better; I will tie you
both, and then we will see who is strongest. Pierre!”

In answer to his call, a stout Frenchman jumped up from
under the ledge, who quickly seized Moawee, and hound her

, hand and foot.

“ Let her lie there, Pierre,” said Latinac, “ and help me to
carry this one down the hill.”

As the man stepped toward his master, the crack of a rifle
was heard, and he staggered, and fell heavily to the ground.
A hole in his forehead showed how his life had been sped.

The next moment Tcllikee burst through the trees, with
his smoking rifle in his hand.

The Frenchman, loosing his grasp on Hetty, turned to con- '
front the new-comer; but he was not allowed time to make
any effectual resistance, for the young Indian bounded upon
him like a tiger, pinioned his arms in his strong embrace,
lifted him up, and bore him tow‘ard the edge of the steep
cliff.

" Is this the way you treat my sister and the White Base 1’”
he exclaimed, shaking the Frenchman as if he were a child.
“ They opened theirlodge to you, and gave you food and shelter,
and you pay them by trying to kill them. I will kill you, '
you cowardly dog! I will throw you down the mountain, and 
the buzzards shall pick your bones l" 1

“Spare me! help me 1” shrieked Latinac, as the enraged '

    

    
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 

  

urn-Au

’ cowardly cheat !

' ‘ A man. U ‘
“ Do not kill him ; we do not fear him now. Let us have
no more blood on our hands!” implored Hettyl

Moawee joined her entreaties to those of her friend, and
Tellikee at last setdown the Frenchman, and released him.

, “ Go l" he exclaimed, “you snake l you forked tongue i you
If I ever see your face here again, you
shall die 1"

With a last and spiteful glance at Hetty, Latinac turned
away, and walked down the side of the hill. Before he was
out of hearing, he looked back, and shouted to the group on
the plateau : r

“ When I return, I will bring Saloueh with me l”

“We must Seek another hiding-place,” said Moawee, re
straining her angry brother from going in pursuit of the French
man.

“ Yes,” said Hetty ; “ this is no longer a safe place for me.’

CHAPTER VIII
A DISCLOSURE.

Tan spring of 1761 opened with greater efforts on the part
of the English, and renewed excitement on the part of the
Cherokees. The former had been continually losing ground
since the disastrous battle of Etchoe, and the latter were pro-
portionately encouraged by the advantages which they had
gained. A ,

The English still held Fort George, but Fort Loudon had
been starved into a surrender, and many of the garrison had
been massacred, in defiance of the terms of the capitula-
tion.

Information had been brought to the Cherokee country, '
that a large army of English, together with a number of
Chickasaw and Catawba Indians, was being collected at Fort
George, under the command of Colonel Grant. In view of
this exigency, a. general council of the nation was called and

' held at Etchoe, one of the principal towns of the Cherokees. ‘ V

 

 
     
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
    
  
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    

. t

’ or pretext to excite them against the English.

t

BALOUEE, THE CHEROKEE. ’

, ., .

The councii was largely attended, and the veices of the
young warriorswere enthusiastic for war. The French emis-
saries had not been idle, and had neglected no opportunity
Lutinac was
there with a large supply of arms and presents, which he
lavishly distributed among his friends and those whom he
was desirous of convertingr to the cause of the French.
When the war excitement was at the highest in the council, he
rose to his feet, and made a speech to the assembled chiefs
and warriors. . ‘

He recounted, in forcible and stirring words, the wrongs,
\both real and imaginary, which the Cherokees had sulfered
at the handset the English, charging the inhabitants of the
Carolina provinces Willi all the aggressions, provoked and
unprovoked, that had been committed by the Virginians. He
declared that it was the purpose of the English to utterly
exterminate all the red~men, so that their own people might.
occupy their lands. He pointed to the wars of New England
and Virginia as witnesses to the truth of what 'he had said,
and added the testimony of the burned towns of Keowee and
Estatoe, and the memory of many slaughtered \i':ii't'iors.

The king of the French, he said, had always been kind to
his red children, and they had never suffered any wrongs at
his hands or at. the hands of his subjects. The English, on
the contrary, were aggressive, bloodthirsty and tyrannical,
and would never be satisfied but by destroying the Indians,
or driving them from their lmnting-grtmnds.

He pointed to the advantages which the French had gained
over the English in the nortlit—suppressing the later news

which he had received—and boasted of the successes of Etchoo

and Fort London He reminded the Cherokees that arms had
been placed in their hands, and that more were ready for those
who wanted them. When properly armed, their people were

superior to the English, he said, and only needed to make a. '

united and vigorous effort, to drive their enemies into the sea,
and repossess the lands which were rightfully their own.

/ He wound up his exciting speech, in which there was
enough truth to leaven a large lump of falsehood, by striking

his tomahawk into a log, and asking who' would take it up.
. (2:: the kinzef

Lhe. French. ' '

  

th

 

 
  
 

   
  

. mmemn snows ELOQUENT.,,' I

Thts'vms the time for Saloueh to play his part—the moment
VWnigh had been agrecd upon between him and Latinac.

he wrung ibrward into the midst of the assembly, grasped
the tomahmvk. and drew it from the log.

‘ “I Wl‘J take it up 1" he shouted, brandishing the weapon
:with furiou gestures. “ I am [or war, and always have been.
‘1 hate the English. and want. to destroy them, as they at
seeking to denroy Us. I am: not one 0t~ those cowards who
lit down and eml For neace, While the ground is wet wilh the
blood of our buvest warriors, and the air is hot and thick
with the fire and snorte of our burning villages. Let those (let
stroyers of childreu and conquerors of corn-fields come on!
They will find us rbny. Let them gather their young men
and send on their «warms of sneaking Chickasaws and
cowardly Catawbasl we will sweet) them from the land like
flies, and will burn than with their own tort-hes. Let the
old men stay at: home whit the ohlwomen, and nurse the
it‘hildreu who are brave: than they are. Let them shudder
when they hear our watery as we go forth to battle, and
knock their knees together when our scalp halo tells them
’that we are coming back victorious. Saloueh is a warrior;
the sight of blood dous not. scare him; and he is for war.
rAll who are young, who boast of being warriors, who are not
‘weak old men, will follow me. He is a coward, and no better
than a. woman, who will not follow me. The spirit of the
slain call upon us for vengeance, and who will refuse to hear
them? There is an end of talk. All who are for war will
follow me. All who are cowards and old women will stay
at home.” -

t Again the young warrior brandished the toxnahhwk, and
uttered his war-cry. The etl‘ect was instantaneous and electric.
Willi fierce yells and ferocious gestures, nearly all the assembly
rose to their feet, and clamored to he led against the enemy.
The voices of Attahulla and the other cool-headed old Chieftains
Were in vain raised against the tumult. _ They were In t listened
to, or were drowned by the popular outcry: Even ()conostota,
the great Warrior, was again carried away by the war current,
lnd there was no possibility of staying the tide. ‘
Saloneh and Latinac met in the evoning,—in‘ a retired place,

 

to congratulate each other on the result of the deliberations ~

  

   
  
 
 
    
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
  

  

  
  

4

' WUEH, THE- CHEROKEE.

  
     
       
      
      
   
   
      
   
    
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
   
   
  
 
  
 
 
  
   

'of the day, if the stormy proceedings of the council mightbe
called deliberations.

“ My brother is a great warrior,” said Latinac. “ He is the
first man of his tribe. They all follow him and look up to
him. There is no man like Saloueh among the Cherokees.
IIe acted his part well to-day, and roused up the people to war
in a splendid manner.”

“They are all ready now,” replied the young warrior.
“ The sealps of the English will be plenty in our wig-warns
this summer. 'We have lost many warriors in battle, but their
places will be more than filled by those who were for peace
last season. My heart is hot, and 1 am in haste to go on

the war-path.” _ l
“ Saloueh will be the chief of the nation. He will be its a
leader in fact and in name, as he now is in spirit. He will I
be second only to the king of France. Let the warriors fight * c
the battles and win them. Ours‘wili be the glory and the '
substantial gains.”
“ What does my brother mean? Would he not have me
tight, as well as my young men ? They need me to lead them
on, and I hate the English. My heart is hot, and I must a

fight.”
“ Saloueh is too brave, and he overlooks his own interest. ' I
Among the French and the English, the great chiefs direct the ?
battle, without exposing themselves to danger. They gain
the glory, without losing their lives. If Saloueh should be
slain in battle, he would be no more a chief and a leader, but
Would rot and be tin-gotten."
“I um afraid that you want to counsel me to be a coward. . “I
I can never be a coward. All the- warriors would point their . 1"
fingers at me and cry shame upon me. They would not know , m
how to fight, for they have always seen me in the front of the ’0
battle. I hate all the English, and want to destroy them, ,0“
whether I live or die." ‘ u“
“ Do you hate them all? You should except the White 13],,
Rose of the Saluda."
“ Ahl the White Rose l” exclaimed the young chief, sud- . mt
 . denly changing his tone. “ I love the White Rose, and would 4 1 t
. - ‘ give up every thing if I could find her. My heart will navel. [to
:1 be satisfied until I can get the White Rose." ‘ in.

 

 
   

 
       
   
   
   
   
   
       
  
   
    
   
   
  
    
   
    
  
 
 
   
   
   

 '1 fl\

“You shall have her, Saloueh. If you beat the English. '
v you shall have the White Rose.” . ’

“ Does my brother tell me what is true, or does he speak '
‘ with' a forked tongue ?” Y

“My tozgue is straight, and I speak nothing but ‘the
truth.” -

“ What do you know about the White Rose? What have
you to do with her i”

“ I have seen her.”

" I have seen her, too, but it was long ago.’

“ I have seen her since the war commenced—since she was
captured and escaped.”

“ So have I. I saw her once, but I lost her as soon as I
W3 saw her. She stood before me like a spirit, and she fled from
in me like a spirit. She must have melted into the air, for I
M could find no trail.”

he “ She is not a spirit. She is alive. I saw her lately.”
“ How lately ‘2"
“3 , “ Hardly two moons ago, and I know where she is.”
3|“ “ Where is she? Tell me, Latinacl Tell me, my brother,

113‘ and there is nothing you can ask of me that I will not do.”
, “ Not now. You must first conquer the British, and then
1‘3"- ” I will take you to her." , -
the ; “Why not now? Tell me where she is, and I will go and I
“in seek her."
be “ My brother must not think of such a thing. The people
bl“ are ready for war, and there is no time to be lost. The
enemy are gathering their forces, and we must pounce upon
“‘1' them as soon as possible. You must strike while the iron is
he“ -v hot, for this war-fever may cool, if it is let alone. The war- ,
‘OW ‘ riors are impatient to be led to the fight, and in a few days &
“1° .you will he in the midst of the battle, when you will have ’
mm: iothcr things to think of besides the White Rose. Beat back
lthe British, and then I promise to take you to the place where ‘
bite ".she is concealed.” \
l, “ Is she concealed from me Y Is she far from here? Tell
“‘1‘ glue, Latinac, what you know about her.” _
ould ! v The Frenchman proceeded to state how he had happened
not .to and Hetty Crawley, without giving a clue to her hiding-‘ . . —
place. He also gave a partial account of his interview with " ~‘.

 

 

'momm-mfiom ‘ ; V, ‘

 

her, as ,it‘ he had but one interview, carefully concealing the :I
fact that he had fallen in love with her, and that he had tried ‘
~ to take her away from her mountain retreat. He also sup- '
' ,: ‘ ' pressed the account of the manner in which he had been igno-
‘ miniously driven away by Tellikee.
’- “ It is Attakulla, then,” said Saloueh, “ Who has taken care ‘
of her.” I
“Yes; and the son 0! Attakulla is there, as a watch-dog
to guard her.” ,
“ Tcllikee is a dog, and Attakulla is a. traitor. Why did 4'
you not tell me this before?” ‘ I t
“ It is not long since I saw her, and I have been very busy.
Besides, I was afraid that it might trouble your thoughts and _
make you less eager for the war. There is time enough. The A"
White Rose is safe. She will not go away. I promised her
that I would not tell you where she is hid, but I only made
the promise because I wished to quiet her mind and to keep ,1
her there. You have lived a. long while without her, and 1
r you can live a little while longer. When the British are

 

‘ driven out of the country, we will go and bring her to your '- “
lodge." - d‘

“ I was sure that Attakulla had something to do with her, to

for she was with Moawee when I saw her. I then said that I"

I would find her, or Attakulla and his daughter should‘die. ' 311‘“

‘ I have not kept my word, because I had many other things 
\ . to think about, and I had mercy upon Moawee, for I used to w“
love her, and Idid not wish to hurt her any more than I 10,1“

had by ceasing to love her. If I had known of this sooner, 

I would have denounced the old chief to the council as a .
traitor.” - km

. . . . dc '
“It is not too late now,” suggested Lntmac rejmced at the 
tr. > \ opportunity of harming a man who was so strongly opposed

, “tang

\
ii

to the French alliance, and to the war.

fir

“ Perhaps it is not too late. It ought to he done, for he is , ‘m -.
a friend to the English, and of course he is a traitor. He has ~ it U

hid the \the Rose, and he Would conceal any English enemy ~ of 
who should come to him for succor. The White Rose is my, and 1;
prisoner, and she belongs tome. I captured 1101', and no on garde‘

can keep her from me. Yes, Latinac, I will denouneelt '3 had ‘
,, Kalle, but ,wi say nothing about Moawee.” ' \ n

I

   

I - f « ‘r I. ‘ ‘ ’

v

   

AMAKULLA - DENOUNQBIiJ. 1'

I 5 .e- 'SalOueh was as good as his word, for he was inclinedvto be

» suspicious concerning Latinac, and wished to compel Attakul—
' " la to reveal the hiding—place of his (langhtetyand Hetty Craw-
(x' lcy. He was more than lialf-eom’ineed that the Frenchman \

had nottold him the whole truth in regard to Iletty, and he -

did not‘relish the idea of beingr held in leading-strings by him ‘

or by any man. Savage as he was, he had sense enough to . '

'pereeive that Latinac was endeavoring to malte a tool of him.

He had no objection to being used as a tool agaith the Eng-

lish, for his feelings. and his interest prompted him toloppose

them and to fight them; but he was always ready to work

 

 

 

woe to the man who should attempt to cross him in his love. ,
’ : I If he could force Attakulla to tell him where Hetty was con- , ,.
l x; cealed, he would feel indepemlent of the Fremdimmi, and W
a ' : might go and claim her whenever it should suit his desire and
r his convenience. a I
‘e’ ‘ He ea;in persuaded Oeonostota to call together the warriors
5p ‘ V,‘ on the morrow, as there was(:onsideralde business to be trans-
‘d V‘ acted before they could go on the war-path. At this meeting,
re . " while Attakulla was present, he made a speech. in which he ' v
“r  denounced the old Chief as a I'rientl to the English and a t1:zti- ‘
tor to his nation, recounting various instances in which he ' ’ ‘

“3" had not only opposed the war-smtiment of‘ the nation, but “
hf“ ’: 7 had given aid and sympathy to British prisoners and others.
the" x The young" warrior also stated the circumstance connected
“gs with his capture of Hetty Crawley and her escape, and de-
l w clared his belief that she was Cont-caled and protected from
m 1‘ him by Atmkulla and his son. She. was hia prismier; he
me" had a ritho claim hetwvherever he could find her. Atta- ' K
as 9‘ knlla was responsible to him for her, and should be towed to ’ r

I ' deliver her up to him, or to disclose her hiding-place. 'l
t the » Attakulla spoke in reply, using temperate and conciliatory ,‘
Posed,"-lnnguage. He said that he had opposr-d the war with the »

I. ‘ 'Engiisli heenuse he believed it to he wrongr null tlflffllllSl tlm . 1
he w 'lnterests of the nation ; but that he had done nothing, since /
[e “"4 it had eommeneed, which cotdd he considered asavhetrayal » ._
anem‘ of his people. He had raised his voice in byler of peace,_‘ - iv
is "

 

1 19nd had urged them to make peace, but that was all. As re-r . " "
“,0 0“ “filed the white prisoner of whom Saloueh had spoken, he \
B M   nothing to do with her, and had no control over her. Sh? ..

, \

     

  

I:

' jammy“ 03mm

1.007

had been the friend and guest of his daughter, Moawee, and r 7‘

might be so yet, but he had no reason to believe that she was
a prisoner, or that Saloueh had a right to‘ claim her. As for
making known the place of her concealment, he would not
disclose it to any person who sought her with evil motives,
and he was sure that he could not be forced to do so.

The voice of the council was decidedly against Attakulla.
The war excitement was then so high, that they were ready
to listen to almost any complaint against one who ran counter
[to it, especially when the complaint was preferred by such a
warrior as Snloueh. Without pronouncing any definite judg-
ment concerning the more serious charge, they at once decided
that the old chief was responsible to Snloueh for his prisoner,
and should be compelled to render her up to him, or to dis- v
close the place of her concealment. For this purpose, he
should be given in charge to Snloneh, who should he empow-
ered to use reasonable means of forcing him to abide the judg-
ment of the council.

The Cherokee nation, then, witnessed the strange spectacle
of an old and influential chief, whose years and services should
have caused him to be universally respected, being placed in
the custody of a younger and less worthy man, to be impris-,
oned or otherwise misused, for the purpose of serving a private
interest.

\

Although Saloueh had gained his end thus far, it was not 3 

so easy for him to squeeze the secret out of Attakulla. He
caused the chief to be closely imprisoned, and told him that

he should not be released until he was willing to deliver up, '3-
Hetty Crawley, or to point out her place of concealment; but _'

the good old mun, prompted by sympathy for the helpless and
persecuted, as well as by the natural obstinncy of his chnreo
tor, which rendered him averse to being forced into any thing,
positively refused to make any communication on the subject.

Suloueh went away in a rage, declnring that Attakulla.
should be kept in confinement until his stubbornness was
subdued, and that he would learn what he wished to it it cost‘
the life of the old chief.

 
  
  
 

 

   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 

 

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CHAPTER IX.
SINGLE COMBAT. '

   

THE condition of the Cherokees, toward} the close of the
summer of 1761, was very different from that with which they
had commenced the campaign in the spring. No longer were
I were mass of disciplined and enthusiastic warriors, “burn-

ing with high hope” and eager for the fray, but a crowd of
' broken and miserable fugitives, flying with their almost starv-
' ing families to take refuge in the mountains from the victori-
» ous enemy whom they had so wantonly provoked. No longef
was their land dotted with well-built villages, surrounded by
pleasant and fertile fields, but a “ waste of ruin ” laid upon
every side, showing that the incensed invaders had ruthlessly

   
 
 
    
  
 
 
 

5 ; pursued them with fire and sword. There was no prospect
1 before them but submission or starvation, 01 both.

‘1 , On the 7th of June the English ,had commenced their
3' - march, and a. decisive conflict had taken place near Etchoe,

 

“ at the same spot where they had been so roughly handled in
r the battle of the previous year. During three hours the fight
3‘ " 1 raged furiously, the Indians being posted in the woods and
[8 _‘ under cover at the bank of the river, entirely surrounding the
M , English, who were Worn out by a long march in rainy weath-
flP ier. Both sides frmght with great skill and gallantry, but the
“1‘ FCherokees gave way at last, and Were pursued by their victo-
nd E'rious antagonists, who pressed their advantage as far as their
30‘ ‘exhausted condition would permit them to. ‘
“gr ‘ When the force of the savages was thoroughly broken and
9c“- !cuted, the invaders commenced the work of destruction,
“11"‘which they carried out 'in the most complete and ruthless
W“ Manner, as if they really wished to make true the words of
W‘ithe French etnissaries, and exterminate the Cherokees from
- :‘he face of the earth. Nearly all their towns were given to y
, j he flames, and the fertile fields which surrounded them, evi-
flencing how far the nation had progressed in civilization,
 Were destroyed and laid waste. The broken-spirited Indians,

 

J».

  
 

 

 

 

   

  

 
  

 
 

. _ i . .J, .

" "C \ meta,  émnoxm.

     

 
 

I 7 ‘ with their wives and little ones, hid themselves in the moun-
‘ talus nnd mornsses, where their only subsistence, for a long
time. was game, wiltkroots and berries, and horseflesh. The
triumph of the English was absolute, and the p’unishment of
‘ , the Cherokees complete. ,

" A few days after the battle, Matthew Crawley and Warren
Stafford were resting by the bank of the river, near the ruins
of Etchoe. They were sunburned and wom by the Cumpnign,

i and their clothes, which were badly tattered, gave evidence of

‘ the hardships which they had undergone. The former wore
his left arm in a' sling, his hand having been wounded during "
the action.

“I am right glad that this fighting business is finished,"
' said Stztll‘ord. “ It is exciting, and there is a sort of pleasure ‘
in it, but I am thoroughly tired of scouting nnd trnmping, and
am anxious to be about the real business which brought me
V here, to which all this fighting and marching is merely pre-

       
   
   
       
 
      
   
        
      
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

liminary." ‘
“ The fighting is finished, true enough ; but there is much (

. more to be done,” replied Crawley. “ We have whipped tho\
red rascals splendidly, and it is not likely that they will try 1
\ to make head against us again; but our Work is not ended 'n

y _ yet.”

‘ “ What is left for us to do here?” I ‘ m
“ The Cherokees must be punished in such a way as wil - w
teach them not to dare to molest us again. The command W‘

i has been given that the towns are to be burned, the growing

crops destroyed, and the people driven out of the country. It gm
was joy to me to carry the torch through the town of Etchoe, )8
end to see the red tongues of flame licking up their houses hm

and wigwmns. I shall not tire of the sport until the work is ‘ swi
wmpiete.” t

 
 
  

 

 
         
 

“ Like the boy and the frogs, it was sport to you but death he“
I to them. It is just retribution, doubtless; but. for my\part, 0ft
4!“ ' I take no pleasure in such deeds of‘ destruction. Should not
"N ' eve destroy the women and children because the men have. om-
. offended us ?" I ‘ V ham
~ A “ They burned my home." / gt
’ ," They burned my home, also; but. I can easily build an 5m

 
 

aha.”

  

.‘t.,t ‘r

t ’norromxmno.. .,  an,“

“ They murdered my father and mother, and carried 011' tny‘
listen” ’ v ’ _
V' ‘ , “ You have taken ‘21 bloody and ample revenge for the mur~ “
ders. Your sister is still alive, and it can not be a long timé ’
‘ before we find her.”
“ My vengeance is not satisfied, for I have not killed Sa-
loueh. He escaped alive from the field of battle, where he\

a had thrown himself into the thickest of the fight with a des
., peration that looked much like bravery. Several times I

had him fairly covered with my rifle, but I could not hit
'e' ‘ him.” - '

g; " ' ' "‘ It seems destined that he is not to be killed by you. As
he has escaped, there is another reason why we should quit
t," ‘ ' this work of destruction, in which we are not needed. Salou-
,re ‘ eh will fly to the mountains with the rest, and he might hap-
nd pen to hit upon the place where, as Catamarra told us, IIetty
me ‘ -. is concealed. Let us hasten to find her, and to bring her
.rc— home. Think what a long and wearisome captivity she has
endured. There are men enough to burn houses and destroy
ach - corn-fields, and we are not under orders now.”
the ~. “ You speak well, Statlbrd. We are not needed here, and
try, ‘ Hetty has waited for its too long. If they have dared to ill- I

tded ’treat her, they shall sufl'er terribly for it." t

“You are very bloodthirsty, Crawlcy. It is to be supposed
' that she is safe and well, for Catamarrtt told us that she was
will ' with the son and daughter of old Attakulla, and that they
nand [were friendly to hen”,
wing “Attakulla is a good man, but I know nothing about his;

It son. We will set out to-morrow morning, Stafford, it"\\the
choc, Catawba returns to-night, and will lose no time. When we
muses have found Hetty, I will go on the trail of Saloueh, for I hate
ork is ‘ sworn that the villain must die.” ‘
“That is settled, and I am glad of it. I will leave you
death, here in charge of our camp, while I go to the head-quarters
fipart. of the commander, and inform him of our intention. It is
Should not necessary to ask leave, I suppose; but we should SlluW
3 have our respect by telling him of the business which we have on

 

 

hand.” ‘
Stafford accordingly set out for head-quarters, a few mil“
tilt! It gaunt from the place where he left his comrade. , t ‘
tr . . »

 

 

mum, rim mnomf, \

'7 Hereceived'the thanks of the commander, for himself mt!
his friend, for their services during the campaign, and his best
.wishcs for the success of their expedition. He offered to send
some soldiers with them, if they wished an escort; hut Staf- ,
ford replied that he considered Crawley and himself-sutficient
for the occasion, w ith the aid and guidance of Catamarra, and
he took his leave, after procuring a. supply of- ammunition and
provinions.

He had gone about half the way back to his friend, when
he concluded to go down to the river to get a drink of water}
At the point where he stopped, the ground was nearly desti-
tute of trees, and the bank was high and shelving; but it
Sloped away more gently in one place, leaving a narrow but
easy pathway to the edge of the water, which lay in a deep
and dark pool below. '

The young soldier laid his rifle on a stone, and walked to-
ward the pathway, with the intention of descending it to the
river. V

At the same moment, a tall young Indian, with the plume
of a chief towering over his scalp-lock, came upon the ground,

, leaned his rifle against a sapling, and started in the same di-
rection. '
Both were fairly out in the open space, and near the edgo~
of the steep bank, when they simultaneously perceived each
other.
The eyes of both glared with hostility and.deflance, for
. Stafiord recognized Salouch, his enemy, and the young chief~
tain recognized his English rival. '

For a few seconds they gazed at each other without speak-
ing, each inwardly execrating the too great carefulness which
had caused him to leave his rifle h’ehind. Then, as if by one
scoot-d, they rushed back to get their weapons.

Saloueh was first in this race. He seized his rifle and
filed with a quick aim, before his antagonist had fairly
. brought his to his shoulder. The shot missed, and the bullet
only severed a lock of hair from the young Englishman’s
head. , ,

“I have got you now, you blood-dyed robber l” shouted
Word, as he aimed deliberately, and pulled the trigger.

The gun flesheddn the pan, and the young man, with an

 

     
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 

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Ir : .- ' f . - . _ , I t
 ’ ‘ “wan cam mom" « fl
 Imprecstlon‘ on the failure of the weapon, coolly took his
 . powder-horn to renew the priming, while Saloueh raised his
I;  tomahawk, to throw it.
' He made a few rapid passes, to distract the attention of
his adversary, and then sent the glittering ax whirling rapidly
 through the air, full at the forehead of his foe.

_ Stafl‘oi'd threw up his rifle to meet the blow, and the tom-

 aliawk struck the lock of the weapon, rendering it useless.

' The soldier uttered a derisive laugh, which was followed

 by a. yell of rage from the Indian, and both rushed forward

"1 with clubbed rifles.

' It was possible that Saloueli, by retreating and loading as
he went, might have got another shot at his adversary; but
he might, also, have lost his victim, and he scorned to at-

m tempt to take such an advantage. The tomahawk, on striking

“‘ the lock of Stafl'ord’s rifle, had glanced ofl‘ and fallen into the

1, river, so that both were left without weapons, except their

_ hives and their useless guns. .
g * The shock was terrible as they met, and they rained blows
, A -. upon each other like a couple of young thunder-storms; hut
.. neither was seriously injured by this mode of fighting, for each
was as skillful in warding ofl‘ blows as he was active in giving

;e\ ' ” them. They continued the contest until their guns were shat»

;h i. tered to pieces, when they were compelled to pause by lack
,, of breath.

’or - The temporary truce lasted a moment or two, during which

ef-  time they panted and gazed defiantly at each other. Then,
' - ,throwing down the remnants of their rifles, they drew their

ik- Knives, and again rushed to the onset.
tan They had made but a few passes, when, with yells ofl defl-
ane ' nice, they closed in for a death grip.

The struggle now was one of thews and sinews and skill in
and wrestling, in which particulars the combatants were quite
.irly\ ' evenly matched. Both, also, were so wearied and blown by
illet “their previous exertions, that the wrestling required all their
nm'I I attention, and they seldom had a chance to use their knives. '

At last they fell on the ground together, near the edge of
mod _ the bank, and each. forgetting all other considerations, endea-

Vored'to push the other over into the river. —
in am. » Each succeeded in his attempt, for the ground soon sure

      
         
     
   
   
       
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
     

        

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Way beneath them, ‘and they rolled together down the slope

“int'o’the dark water. '

Finding themselves submerged. they also discovered that

, they were too much bruised and" weakened for further hostile

_ efforts in that element, and each contented himself with pad-

dling wearily to the shore. , They had lost their knives in the

lust struggle, and had no weapons left but their hands. They

V scrambled up the bank together, and sat down to rest.

As Stafford looked at his antagonist, mid saw the draggled I
plume and the iiinp condition of the half-drowned chief, the

t sight so struck upon his sense of the ludicrous that he burst

‘ into a. laugh. Suloueh‘ was at first angry at his tnit‘tli;.but ~ v

when he noticed the appearance of himself and his foe, he ‘

, caught a touch of Siafi‘ord’s humor, and his mouth spread out ' "
, into a grin.

I “It seems to me, redsskin,” said the yonng Englishman,
“that we have had enough of this. Suppose we let it drop I
now.” '

“It is good,” replied Snioueh. “Warriors should not' fight
like children. The Great Spirit has said that I shall not kill
the young captain.” '

, “ I suppose he has said, too, that on are not to be killed
' ' by either Mat. Crawley or me, though{ve have heavy accounts ' ‘ J
against you, and. though we hhve tried our best to settle them.
We had better go our ways.” I

“ The young captain has spoken well. We are both seek- u

ing the White Rose. who is lost/ to us both. Let each of 13

‘ us search for her in his own way, and let him tinddrer to 5 'c

whom the Great Spirit shall send her.” ’

, “ Agreed; but you know well enough, chief, that you have 
_ no business with her.” n
' , ' , ‘ The late antagonists rested themselves a. while (m the bunk”

' ‘ and then arose, and silently went in difi‘erent directions, look— ,0
ing much the worse for the combat in which they had been - m
engaged. 5‘ -

Both were satisfied with their agreement, for each supposed - 

' that he alone possessed the secret 0A the hiding-place of\ {m

Hetty Omwley. . "

/ . e

 

 

 

led

me"

 

 

CHAPTER X.
, m semen non HETTY.

WHEN Warren Stafi'ord returned to the camp where he had
.01! his friend, he saw that Catamarra had arrived, and found
the Cahwba engaged in preparing supper for himself and

A Crowley. ‘

This sight was a pleasant one to Stafford, who was so
weak and weary that he wished only to get something to eat
and to go to sleep. It revived his flagging spirits, and he
walked up to the fire with as pleasant an air as if he had
had nothing to trouble him, but was returning from a brisk
afternoon’s walk. .

/ But the disorder of his garments, and his used-up condition
generally, were quickly noticed by his friend, who rallied him
upon his appearance.

“’Where have you been, man ?” asked Crawley, surveying
him with looks of amazement. “What is the matter with I
you?”

“Nothing at all. I am well and hearty," replied Stafford. -
“I have been to head-quarters, to see Colonel Grant, and I

find that every thing is right in that quarter. He sends his

; 'compliments to you, and wishes us all sorts of good fortune.

Ie offered to send a squad of soldiers to accompany us,
~ut I told him that I did not think we would need any assist-
nee.”

“ come, come, old fellow, thatnnswer will not do. I have
no doubt that you have been to see Grant, but I want to
mow what has happened to you by the way. You look as
. ,3 you had swam all the rivers, Scrambled over all the moun-
tains, and scratched yourself with all the brambles in, the
; ‘. herokee country. i

. »_ ,“'Looks as if he been walking home with wildcat,",sug~

A [gamed Catam arm. I

 

, t '. “ I should think he had fallen into a nest of them.

, an . '
5i. dfe is gone, too, and he hasn’t brought his rifle home. Where L

.\

 

  

  

   
   
  
 
    

1.74 , ' _ ' newm,m cmom

- a wildcat or something worse," said meley.

army, and get another rifle.

w ‘you' «Papons, Stafi‘ord? Speak the truth, and shame
the devil. What has happened to you ?”

“ I have met a wildcat, or something worse, if you must
know. I have seen Saloueh.”

“ It must have been a terrible sight, to put you in such a
predicament. Did you leave the red rascal alive 3’"

“ I left him as he left me. We were both living when we
last looked at each other." .

“ It must have been like the meeting of two bullets in the
air, by which both were smashed. Tell‘us about .it, Staf-
ford, for I am certain that you have nothing to be ashamed
of. It will give you an appetite for supper to relate your ad-
Venture."

“I don’t need any more appetite. for I am as hungry as a

wolf; but I will tell my story, and will leave you to decide I

which of us got the best of the encounter."

The young soldier then related the manner in which he
had fallen in with Saloueh, and gave a detailed account of his
combat with the young chief, and its singular termination.
His story elicited the keen attention of his listeners, as well as
their laughter at the conclusion.

“ You spoke the truth when you said that you had met with
to decide which of you got whipped. So you have made a
treaty of peace with the fellow.”

" It is a truce at least. I was very glad that he consented

,to it.”

“As I am not included in the truce, I shall feel at liberty
to measure my strength with Snloueh when I meet him.”

“I advise you to let him alone, for I have come to the
conclusion that he was not born to be killed by either of
us." i

V“ It seems so; but it will not be safe for him to cross my
Path. Will you be ready to start in the morning ?" '

“Ready and anxious; but] must go by the camp of the
I have engaged a supply‘ of
powder and bullets, as Well as of provisions.” 1

“ You ought to be thankful to Suloueh for giving you per-
mission to go out and search for Betty."

, ,

“ I am unable '

   
   
    
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 

3921’ch

 

“It is no than than I gave him; but I am ahead of him '
/ l ’ I l

  

 
 

   

Inthet, for I can find her, thanks to our good friend Catat-
marra, while Saloueh stands but a poor chance, as he has
been so long seeking her, without success, in his own
country." ' t

“Muiy God give us good speed! Sit down on the grass,
and let us see if you can eat as well as you can fight."

Notwithstanding his hard usage, Warren Stafford was astil
at an early hour in the morning. and set out with his com
panions on their journey to the mountains that loomed up to
the westward.

After stopping at the general camp of the army, they passed
through the ruins of Etchoe, where their attention was at-
tracted by a stout log building, untouched by the fire, which
‘ t f ' stood a little apart from the sight of the village.

,  “ What is this it” asked Matthew Crawley. “How came this
" ’ house to be left. while all the others are hnrned ?”

 
 
  
 
 
 
  

B > “ It was probably overlooked by the soldiers,” said Stafford
“ Come on, and let it stand there as a monument.”

L ' “ I shall do no such thing. I am not yet well of my burning

,5 fever, or my fever for burning. I must try flint and steel

_ on this pile of logs, for it would never do to leave it as

m a nest-egg. There is an Indian in it," said Crawley. again,

’18 ' es he looked through a Chink ot‘ the logs. “ Shall we let him

a ‘  burn with the building, or shall we take him out and try him
by court-martial ‘2" .

ted “Don’t talk so cold-bloodedly, Crawley,” replied Staf-
ford. “ I know that you are not as cruel as you pretend
my IO M.”

“ It is Attakulla,” said the Catawba, who had also applied
the his eye to the crevice. , .

_ of “Is it possible? How came he here? The Cherokees
have doubtless been ill-treating him because he was afriend
"my 'to the English. Let us force an entrance and take him

; out. '

f the The stout door was speedily burst open, and Attakulle,
7‘ of weakened by confinement, and half dead with hunger, was led
‘ out into the fresh air by his friends. t I
l per; i As soon as he was sufficiently revived by stimulants, and re-
V/ "bashed by the food that was prepared for him, the [chief told
{I hm:th story, relating how he had been denounced before the

 

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‘ , concerning her. ,

"Harv". '
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‘ enuncitat Etchoe by Saloueh, who had subsequently ’im‘

prisoned him, and had threatened him with death unless he

should disclose the hiding-place of Betty Crawley. 'During ,

several days—probably since Saloueh had gone forth from
Etchoe to fight the English—he had been left alone, with
nothing to eat, and had fully expected to die of‘ starva-
tion. - 1

When he was told what had happened—how the Cherokees
had been’beaten and'scattered, and how their towns and
fields were being burned and devastated, the old man ‘wept,
but said that he had warned them of it, and that they had
willfully brought the calamity upon themselves. .

Stafl'ord impatiently asked him when he had last seen Hetty
Crawley, and whether he had given Saloueh any information

His persecutor might have kilde him, but would have
learned nothing, the old chief replied. He had too much
. pride to yield to force in any thing. and he loVed the White
Rose as well as if she was his own child, and the sister of
Moawee. It was more than three moons since he had ‘seen
her, but she was then well, and he had no doubt that she was
still safe.

As Attakulla was anxious to go and visit his children, and
as he was too old and weak to make the journey on foot, Cata-
marra was sent to the camp of the army to get a horse for
him, and when he was thus provided, the little party hastened
forward in search of Hetty.

The journey was a tedious one, but they at last reached
the'vallcy at the foot of the mountain, and rested near the
spring to which Moawce had been in the habit of going for
Water. ' '

Warren Stafford, who had been excited and exuberant in
spirits since they started, heCame quite enthusiastic when he

knelt and drank at the sparkling fountain.

“ It is here,” said he, “that my Hetty has often drank
since she has been a prisoner in these wilds. To this spot she
has often strayed. Her lips have been moistened by this’clea:
water, and her feet have pressed this green sod.
tnres she must have sufi‘ered—her parents murdered, and her-
self separated from all those whom she IOVed, unable to has!

What taro '

g-

 
 

   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
  

 

        
       
   
          

  

     
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
      

 

,.,=

Use, and she has always hoped to see them.

Ivsun is setting, and it, will be dark before we can reach the

/ “but I am afraid that the old chief is too weak and weary

were desirous of doing so.

‘menced to'elimb the mountain, by the path which led up from
’the spring.

V , Although the hut was still there, no signs of habitation,
'~ Icould be seen. The grass had grown up before the door,
‘. time. t V I ,

‘ Attakulla wentfire A"; .mlled Moewce,‘but there was no 

v enowmammm. ‘34P:
'hom them, and uncertain whether she was ever to see them
, again.” '

“She has not been‘ a prisoner, and she has been very
patient? said Attakulla. ‘ “ I promised her that I would res
Btore hen to her friends as soon as it .was possible to do
My son and
Moawee love the White Rose very much, and they have taken
good care of her, and have tried to make their lodge pleasant
to her.” \

“I am sure of it, old chief. We owe more than thanks
to them and to you, for she would have been lost to us\»
if you had not protected her. Is the lodge far from here 1’”

“ Only up the side of this mountain.” “ ‘
I “‘Let us go there. I am impatient to see Hetty; it is years ~ ~
since we were separated.”

“ I am afraid that it is too late,” suggested Attakulla. “ The I

lodge. They might be frightened if any one should go there

at night." '

' “ We can easily calm their fears. They know your voice,

and you can go first and tell them who we are.” ,
“I am anxious to go and meet my sister,” said Crawley,

to accompany us.,

morning.”
Attakulla declared that he was able to ascend the mountain,

had that he was willing to go forward to the lodge if the rest

Perhaps we had better rest here until ~ . ,.

Attakulla’s horse was tethered in the valley, and they com-

.Statl‘ord was so eager to press forward, that it was not yet.
darkarhen they reached the plateau where Hetty had been
glad to find a refuge, and they hastened to the hut, which they
could see standing against the foot of the clitfi'

and the path appeared, not to here been trodden in a long

   

  

mum, m cmonn.

. ‘ t ' '
_ _, answer; Be retnrmd to his friends, and said that he feared
~ / that something had happened—that. there was no one in the
‘ lodge.

“ What can be the matter 1’” asked Stafford, suddenly be-
coming down-hearted and fearful. “Have we come so for,
and with such great hopes, only to be terrib‘ly disappointed ?
My God! is it possible that Saloueh has been here, and that
he has carried off the prize, while we have been lagging by
the way ?” ,

“ Perhaps they are only sleeping, or taking a stroll,” suggest-
ed Crowley. “ Let us enter the lodge, and wetcan easily tell
whether they have left it.”

They went into the hut acccordingly, but found it, as Attay
kulla had feared, empty and deserted.

“ She is gone i" moodily exclaimed Striford. “ There can

' be no doubt that Suloueh has been here and. carried her
- ofi."
“ I think it is not so certain,” calmly replied Crowley, who
,' had been carefully exmnining the hut and the cave. “ It seems
probable to me that they have moved away quietly and de-
liberately, of their own accord.” /
, “ You speak very coolly about it.
’ m?”

“If Hetty had been taken nwny, it must have been done
forcibly, for you know that she would not have ccnsented to
go with Suloueh. If she was taken forcibly, there must have
been a struggle. Moawee was with her, and probably the son
of Attnkulla, and there would have been some signs of their
resistance; but we can see nothing of the kind. Besides, their

: cooking utensils, and other articles of furniture, have been re.

moved, as if they had taken them somewhere else. I am in

,‘ cliued to believe that. they have feared some danger, and how
Sought another hiding-place.”

 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  

What makes you say

{.10 be consoled by it, and the party passed the night in the

ut.

, I ‘ “We will find her yet i” joyfully exclnimed Stafford in tho

’ , ~ ornmg, as he returned to the hut from an early walk on tho
.oteau. “» Catamarra. has found a. trail, so slight that I would

hem havemoticed it. It is the print of some moecmined

    
 
    
  
 
 
 
  

 

     

 

As the others concurred in the opinion, Station! was faiv ‘

  

 

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, that was set in a rude wall of stones.

\ \\.

 

«mummy! '  fl

1 feet on the son ground, Hetty’s tracks would be smaller, I

think; but the trail may have been made by Moaweo.”

This intelligence caused the party to set forth hastily, and
they followed the slight trail, with Catamarra'as a leader.

It led them higher up the mountain, across rugged ridges
and deep gullies, until they lost it in a narrow valley, through
which flowed a little stream. The location of the valley was
hardly half a mile from that of the hut, and its sides were
rough and precipitous. .

“ We have lost the trail,” said Staflord, “ and I doubt whether
it would be worth while to follow It any further if we could
find it, for it is not likely that that trail was made by any of
our friends. They would not havu gone in this direction, if
they had considered the other place dangerous."

“ I am not so sure of that,” said Matthew. “ For my part,
if I was driven from a hiding-place, I should be more apt to
seek another near it, than to go far away. That is just what
has been done, and we have come to the right place; for,
look, Stafl‘ord l there is a woman waving to us .l‘rom‘tbe cliff
yonder. As I live, it is Hetty herself l”

Stafford looked, and saw Hetty Crawle standing on a lodge,
a little way up the rocky side of the valley. She was waving
a branch, and beckoning to them.

“Come on! It is she l" he shouted, as he hastily com-
menced to climb the rocks. Catamarra followed, supporting
the old chief up the incline, and Matthew Crawley brought up. ‘
the rear.

They soon reached the narrow ledge on which Hetty had
been seen, and again they saw her, standing in front of a gate
An Indian man and
woman were looking over the wall from within, and Betty
was waving her branch more vigorously than before. '

_ “ Hurry 1” she shouted: “ There are Indians coming upon
the other side l" , I ,

Stafi‘ord hastened forward and entered the inclosure, fol-
lowed by the Catawba and the old chief; but Crawley, who
‘was a little way behind them, was startled by feeling a hand
laid upon his shoulder. He stopped, turned around, and
band himself in the grasp of a stalwart: and black-faced

muse

 

    

  

CHAPTER x1.
’ ANOTHER SEARCH.

 

BALOITEH, after his encounter with Warren Stafford, had a
'friend to ask him what had happened to him, as well as his»
antagonist.

He had not walked far from the scene of the combat, when
he met Fiftoe, who advanced eagerly to meet him.

“ What is the matter with my brother?” asked the dark-
featured warrior. “ Has he had a fight? Has he been in the
river?" L

f‘ I have had a fight, and I have been in the river,” answer-
ed Saloueh. “ I have seen Stafford, the English lover of the
White Rose.” , '

“ Have you met that dog to-(lay? Then you have killed
nimuand the White Rose need not think of him any more."

" I‘lmvc not killed him.”

“ It is plain that he has not killed you. Why did you let
him live ?” - ’

“ It was not I who let him live. It was the Great Spirit,
who said that I should not kill him, and that he should not
kill me." i I ‘

“ It is strange. Where is your gun i” \

“It is broken."

“ Where is your hatchet ‘2”

“ It struck his gun when I threw it at him, and glanced of!
and was lost." ‘

“ Where is your knife 1’”

“ In the bottom of the river, with his.” I

“You have had a hard tight, but neither of you are killed
[I do not understand it. Will you tell me about it ‘8"

Saloueh gave it. description of the combat to Fiftee, who
listened to it with more interest than his Indian training would
allow him to express. . J

I ' “ The Great Spirit did not mean that you should kill him,"
laid 118- “ But you can seek for the White Rose as well M ‘

 

r

f

/

I , filings that I asked for ?”

 

( , r . \

I , K p ‘

  ..

.sALounn nnrsmme omens. ,

he can, and you will be more likely to find her, for Lntinaq
can tell yon’where she is, and can take you to the place." '

“I must go to him and make him do so. You will go
with me to the mountains, Fiftoc, and we can pick up a. few
scattered warriors, for. we might need help. The White Rose
is somewhere in the mountains, but I do not know where.’
Attakulla knew, and I tried to force him to tell me the secret,
but he would not. If I could have got it from him, I need not
have asked any thing of Latinac." ‘ '

“ What has become of Attakulla ‘2”

“ I left him Shut up in a log-house near Etehoe.”

“ Had we not better go and let him out?”

“ It 'is too late. The English are all around the place. I
suppose they have burned the house with the rest of the
t0wn.”

“ Let. us go to Latinac, then."

“ I will. If the Frenchman has lied to me, I will kill him.
We have been beaten by the English; our people are broken
Ind scattered; our country is destroyed; and I have nothing
left "to care for but the White Rose. If I can not find her, I
do not care to live.” V ~

Saloneh did not stop to rest. He only washed the blood
and dust from his person, furbished up his soiled and torn ap-
parel, replaced his broken plume with a feather suitable to the
dignity of a chief, and went with Fittoe in search of Latinac.

They found the French officer engaged in preparing to leave
the country, and intending to start for Fort Toulouse in the
morning. He received his visitors politely but coldly.

“I have come to ask you for a rifle, a hatchet, a knife, and_
some powder and bullets,” said Saloueh

“ Do you intend to turn hunter, now that you have ceased.»
, fighting ?” asked Latinac. -

“.l have not forgotten how to fight, nor have I forgotten
how to hate the English. You know that I can fight."

“ Your people got terribly beaten, and they are anxious to v
make peace with the English,” sneered the Frenchman. ' “'I
suppose you have had enough of fighting for the present.”’ 7

“We are not able to fight any more now, but the time may ' r
come when we will be able. Are you going to give me the‘  ‘ ‘

 

 
  
 

1' i! mom, m cmom

  _ “ There they are," petulently replied Latinac, as he handed
the young chief some Weapons and ammunition. “Do you
want any thing more of me Y” Y
i‘ Yes. I want you?
“ What do you mean by that ?”
“ I want you to go and show me where to find the White
Rose.”
“ You are joking”
“ I never joke. I mean what I say. You promised that
, you would tell me Where snc is, and would take me to her."
7 “ You are mistaken. I promised that you should have her
when you had driven the British out of the country. Have
you done so ‘3”
“ I have not. The Great Spirit was against us, and we lost
' the great. battle. Many of our warriors have been slain for
the king of France.”
“To gratify your own passion and ambition, you should
say. You have gained nothing for the king of France.”
“ We are talking too much. I want you to take me to the
White Rose."
“ You speak as if you expected to command me. As you
/ have not performed your part of the agreement, you must
know that I am not bound to perform mine." ‘
“ You know where the White Rose is, and I do not."
." That furnishes no reason why I should tell you. Why
did you not make Attakulla tell you? You would not trust
in me. Go and find out from him.”
“ He is dead. I lert him shut up in a house at Etchoe, and
the English have burned the Lowr " '
I “ That is one good deed that may have done. You have
nothing more to do with me, Saloueh. There is no reason
, why I should help you find your English girl."
I . “ But you must."
“ Must i’"
“ Yes. You must take me to her."
“ Do you mean to try to force’me to this ?"
“ I must force you to it, unless you will do it willingly. I
4 Ml! deSperate, and I am determined in this matter. I have

nothing else to care far, and you must take ma to’the W’hm
, . V will kill you.” ‘

     
   
    
   
   
   
   
   
   
  
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   

' /

 

 

 

 

  

conscm'rme A ransom. , 88

“'Do you think you are able to do that P"

“ If he is not able, I can help him,” said Fiftoe, scowling
savagely by the side of his friend. ‘

Latinac was no coward, but. he was a. man whose prudence
“as sufficient to cause him to yield to superior force. He
felt that he must do what the young chief required of him,
and inwardly resolved that he would be revenged for the in-
dignity.

“ I perceive that you are in ca nest,” said he. “ I had not '
tupposed that your passion for that white-faced girl was so
throng. Very well. I will go with you, although it is in-
:onvenient for me to do so at present, as I had made ar-
cairgements to go to another place. When do you propose to
dart. ‘t”

“Before the sun rises.”

In order to make sure that their unwilling guide should not
give them the slip, Saloueh and Fifloe passed the night in his
lodge. They amused him early in the morning, and set out
on their journey.

They fell in with three straggling warriors, whom Saloueh
easily induced to join them, and they passed on until they
reached the valley from which the path ran up to the but on

’ the mountain-side, where they made arrangements to spend
the night. ‘

It had been the object of Latinac, when he made his or.
rangcments to leave the country of the Cherokees, to pass
through the mountains with a sufficient escort to seize Hetty’ '

‘ Crowley on the way, and to carry her to Fort Toulouse,
where he would have her safe from both Saloneh and Staf-
ferdy ,

This plan had been defeated by the demand of Saloueh,
backed up by Fifloe, to which he had been obliged to yield;
but he was quite unwilling to abandon the (reject, and was
ehafed at having been compel'hd to make a journey for
another, wh.ch he had desired ’to undertake on his own ac-
count.

119 resolved to make an effort to change the position of af-

7 fairs, and saw nothing for it but to attempt to win over Fit’toe
, to his side. He knew that the dark-skinned warrior was the
sworn friend of Saloueh, but thought that he could make him

 
 

  

      
    

' 'can we keep her from the chief?”

    

BAILOUEII, m cmom. ;; ' ,-
 sifch promises, as would be someient to tempt him fromlhis 111'
legio‘nce: 4 _

He opened the subject to Fiftoe that night, when he met him
near the spring in the valley. He told the indinn how he
had fallen in with Betty Crowley, how he had conceived
a violent passion for her, and how he desired to gain pos- --
sessizn of her, and how he had formed n- plan for the ' ‘
attainment of his object, which had been frustrated by Se,
loueh.

“ The white maiden does not love Soloneh," said he. “ She
hates him, and it would be wrong to let him have her,- for
she would never make a wife for him, but would run away
as soon as she could. If you will help me to get her, and
to carry her to Fort Toulouse, you shall go with me, and
I will do great things for you. I will give you rifles, and
lmtchets, and blankets, and beads, and medals, and whatever
you wish, so that you will be a great man among your own

people." '

“That is good," replied the warrior; “Fiftoe is nobody
among his own people now, and the English will kill him if ,
they catch him; How can we get the White Rose, and how

 

‘ “ If you will help me, we can kill Saloueh, or can slip out
of his way, and then we can easily find her and take her with
.v us."
“ Suppose we get her first, and then steal her from Saloueh."
. That will he the easiest thing to do."
f‘ Very well. I shall rely upon you to help me.” 4
VLatinuc went to sleep with his mind relieved, chuckling -
over the thought that he W0u..i yet be more than even
~with Saloueh, and that he would attain the object of his de-
sires.
, ' Fiftoe immediately went to Saloueh, and gave him full details
' of the conversation. '
I I “ It is good,” replied the chief. “ The Frenchman is foolish.
Let us first find the White Rose, and then 'I will speak'to him
. about the matter.”
Early in the morning, SalOueh and his party ascended the ,
mountain,lreaching Tellikee’s lodge a short time after Stanford
ahd'Cleey ha_.d left it. ‘

 

   

/

  

' " nmsfrom'mb.‘ . ' 85

_ “That is the place,” snid'Latinac, pointing to-’t’he hutstthe
foot of the elifi‘. “ Shall I go first?” ’

‘ “ No; I will go first,” replied Saloueh; f‘ but it isuseless, for

L‘ in one is living there.”

'4 “Why do you say so?" ‘

‘ " “ Because I know it It is plain enough that thnt lodge is
empty. Come and see." ‘
_ ‘ The chief opened the door and entered the lodge, followed
;. by Latinac nnd Fiftoe. They no ind it indeed empty, Witlrno
signs of occupancy remaining.
“ What do you say now ‘2 Where is the White Rose ‘1’” asked

Saloueh, turning to the Frenchman.

— “ She has gone away with her friends, I suppose. Probably
they are only taking a stroll and will return directly.”

I “ They will not, for no one is living in this lodge, as I just
told you.”

“ It is certain that some one has been here lately, for the
signs are plain.” ‘
“ The signs are those of men ; there was not a woman
' among them. I am now sure, Lntinnc, of what I suspected
before. I suspected that you were telling me what was not
true, and making a promise which you could not perform, in
order that you might use me for your own purposes. I said
to Fiftoe, before I went‘to find you, that you should sufi’er for
,it if you had lied to me. You were to bring me to the White

Rose. We have come, but she is not here, and there is noth-
ing to prove that she has been here,”

7 “Do you think that I have deceived you 2" I
“I know that you have deceived me in some way. Where '
, is the White Rose ‘2” ' ,

" She was here, with the son and daughter of Attukullu; butI
she has gone, and I know nothir; about Der now.”

I “ If she has been here, you ‘mve sent her away, or have
taken her away." , '
h “ I assure you that I have not~~-1hat Iknow nothing about

; er.”
’ MI’hen you’ have lied to me.”

“ What do you say ‘1’" ~ “I
I r “ You: an ave: menti/ Do you understand me whenI speak‘
‘10!!! own language ‘3” ~

 

   
 

 

   
 

    
  

“21

ssmuzn, m cmom.

 

f‘ You shall repent of this.” ,
_,“ Yen will not live long enough to make me repent of
it i l

“ What do you mean ? Have you brought me here to mur-
der me ?"

“ Why should I not? You have plotted to murder
me.”

“ Who says so ?"

“ Last night you tried to persuade Fiftoe to kill me, so that
you might take the White Rose. You have deceived me ; you
have lied to me, and you must die. Latinac." ,

The Frenchman quailed before the fierce and determined
looks of the young chief. He was unarmed, while Fiftoe and
SniOueh and their companions held their tomahnwks ready
in their hands. The force was too grout for him to venture
to oppose it, and he thought only of flight; but that, too, was
hopeless.

He turned, and ran across the plateau, but the right
hand of Saloueh was raised, grasping his tomalmwk. With
a yell the chief hurled the shining weapon. It whizzed in
circles through the air, and its sharp edge sunk into the
brain 'of the fugitive just as he reached the brink of the preci-
pice. At the some moment a bullet from Fiftoe’s rifle passed
through his body,

'The Frenchman uttered his death-cry, as he fell over the
tedge, and was dashed to pieces on the rocks below.

“ He deserved to die, whether he lied or not,” said Saloueh,
as he took the hatchet which an Indian brought back to him
“ If the White Rose was in that lodge he has taken her away
or has frightened her away.” '

f‘That was the lodge of Tellikee, the son of Attakullu,” 811‘»
one of the warriors “ I know where to find him.”

“ You do? Why did you not tell me so before ?”

As the warrior knew nothing about the White Rose, and did
not know for whom the chief had been searching, his answer

I was easy and satisfactory.

“ Lead the way, and take us to Tellikee,” ordered Saloueh

“biomebody has been here before us, and we have no time to

“the man hastened to obey, and the party proceeded, aI'

 

   

RACE.

  

\

 

- l

     

rapidly  possible, through a narrow gully that led up the
mountain, until they reached a point overlooking the little val-
ley which had already been (liSCovered by Warren Stafford and
‘il his companions.

“,We shall not find the White Rose here," said Siloueh;
“ she could never have travrled the path by which we have

Ycome."

“ There 15 another path, blu'uus was the nearest way,” re-
plied the warrior. "

He led the way down the steep mountain-side, followed by
the others, until they rested on a. narrow ledge, about half way
clown toward the valley.

“ The lodge of Tellikee is just beyond us," said the guide,
,pointing along the ledge. “ Is not that a woman there, who
is waving a branch '2”

“ It is; it is the White Rose! To whom is she waving?”

“There are some men down below. Two of them are
English.”

“I ee Stafford and Attakulla and the brother of the White.
Rose l" exclaimed Saloueh. “She is waving to theni,.nnd
they are running up to meet her. Come on, or they will get
there before we can reach her 1” I

All the Indians sprang forward, Fiftoe in the advance, and
ran along the ledge, toward the place where the girl was
standing.

The others hastened their steps, and reached a gate in
a wall of stone, before Snioneh and his friends could come
up with them. All had entered the gate, except one tall
Englishman, whom Fifloc seized ly the arm, and held in hi!

iron grasp.

   
 
 
 
 
    
  
    
  
   
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
   

 

l

, \

I

' that which they had formerly occupied.

   
 

    

CHAPTER XII.
THE rinsUL'r.

Hem CRAWLEY could not rest after her adventure with
Latinac, until she persuaded Tellikee to find another hiding-
place, and to leave the hut on the mountain-side.

The threat of the Frenchman, that he would return and
bring Saloueh with him, still rang in her ears. She felt sure

, that he would come, and was every day in dread of his making

his appearance, together with the chief, whom
than any other man. ‘

Maawee shared her fear, and the young hunter was glad to
comply with the wishes of his sister and her friend. It was

she feared more

not/long before he announced that he had found a suitable

place, where they would be in no danger of being molested
by either Latinac or Saloueh. They imediately deserted the
but, exchanging it for the place which 'I‘elliliee had picked out, w
and Betty again felt comparatively at ease.

Their new abode was certainly one which no wandering

hunter or‘ passer-by Would be likely to hit upon, or which any

one who sought for them would be likely to find. Up in the
mountain Tellikee had found a. little valley, not far from the old
hut, surrounded by tall clifi's. About half way up one of its
precipitous sides, was a cavern in the rock, the entrance to
which could not be seen from below, even if any one should
venture into the valley. He had easily cleared it out and made
it habitable, so that it was almost as pleasant a dwelling a's
Across the entranc

he had built a stout wall of stones, with a heavy gate 'of oak
logs, makin a fortification which he would be able to defend
in case of ecessity. In front of the cavern was a level ledge

. of’rock, about a rod wide, which diminished to a narrow palh~
/ way as it ran toward the north and south.

’They had moved to this place just before a rain-storm, by
which their trail had been entirely efl‘aced, and only one trip
had been made back to the hut, when Moawee went there for ‘

homethiug which had been forgotten,

I

/

 

\\
ti.

 

9,5

t?

4 y t V  mm, norm.
In this wild and secluded retrt’at they felt quite safe, and
.11: months of spring, and summer passed away pleasantly.
Their only trouble Was with regard to Attakulla, whom they
were all anxious to see, and who would not know where to
look for them, when he should come and find their hut empty

He had left them before Latinac had made his last visit, and ,

had not since come to the mountains. Indeed it might be a

long time before they would see him, as he considered that his ,

presence Was continually required among his people, during /
those times of war and trouble. :

From the outer world, also, they heard but seldom and
scanty news. They knew that important events were tran-
spiring in which they, in common with many others, had a
deep interest, but they received no particulars of what was
going on.

Tellikec, whose rifle was their only dependence for subsis-

tence, had twice met with Cherokees in the course ofhis hunt:

ing excursions, but he had not brought them home, in ohedi
enee to the wishes of Hetty and Moawee. He had learned
from them that the war was again raging, and that the English
with a large army, had marched into the countr of the Cherc
kecs, who had gone in force to meet them. Toward the last.
of/July, he fell in with a straggling party of runaways, with
their wives and children, who told him that a great battle had
been fought, that the Cherokees had been defeated, that Sa-
loueh and Fii‘toe had disappeared, and that the English were
laying waste the country'with tire and sword. ,

0n the morning after the day on which these last tidings
were received, Moawee and lIetty Crau'lcylwere seated on
the ledge in front of their rocky home, enjoying the fresh air
and the pleasant breeze that blew from the valley. The In-
dian girl was etnhroidering a pair of leggings for her brother,
and her friend, with her head leaning on her hand, was con-

« ,telnp‘iatively gazing down into the valley.

“This is great news that Tellikee has brought home," said
Moawee. ‘

“ I had expected it,” answered Hetty. “ The 1'ed.men can
not fight always against the white men. The EngliSh send
.‘mall armies at first, thinking that they have [little to do ; and”
when the Cherokees beat the small armies, they'think they are.

)

 

 

    

sanctum, m cannome
a, great and war-like people. Then the English get very angry,
and they send a big army, with a good general, and the In-
dians are so badly beaten that they can fight no more. It is
always the way, Moawee. The red-men can not stand before
the white men.” ,

"My sister speaks truth, and therefore they should try to
live in peace. It makes my heart sore to hear that my people
have been killed, and that their country is being ruined; but
they ought not to have made war upon the English. Atta-
kulla told them so, and he is very wise. ' He told them what
the end would be.”

“ I have expected this for a long time, Moawee. If I had
not expected it, I could not have lived, for I should have had
no hope of returning to my friends. The war is ended now,
I 'think, and my brother and Warren Stnfl‘ord will search for
V me, and will take me home, if they can find me; but I fear
that it will not be easy for them to find me.”

“ The White Rose need not be troubled about that. If there
is peace, Attaltulla will do as he has promised, and will take

‘ her to her own country. Then her sister will be alone, and,

Tellikee will be very sad.” ,
“ You must go with me, Monwce. Tellikee will be more
happy in the forest, and among the young men of his na-
‘ tion."

A very unscntimcntal grunt from the young hunter, who

was leaning sadly against the walled entrance of the cavern, ‘

interrupted the colloquy. ‘

“ I smell a smoke; it is the smoke of tobacco," he said, as
he stepped forward and snuffed the air'that came up from the
valley.

The scent, which was imperceptible even to the delicate
nerves of Hetty, became more apparent. to the practiced sense
of the young Indian, who stood near the edge of the rock,
and gazed earnestly down into the valley. Soon'he uttereda
alight exclamation, and called to Hetty.

, “ Let the White Rose look,” said he. “ There are English-

men in the valley, and Attahulla is with them.”
‘Hetty hastened to look in the direction that was pointed

(out by the finger of the Indian, and directly she burst hip

tears of joy. ‘ _ -

 

 
   

   

  

 

  

 

r
/

A Bum-mnm “cesium ‘91

 

" Merciful God 1” she. exclaimed; “ I can not be mistaken. I
set. ‘Wnrrcn Stafl‘crd and my mother I” g

,“ :me are looking abtu‘, as it searching for a path. Shall
I go am meet them ?”

“ No, lelnkee ‘ It is not w‘mth write Hand me a green
branch, and i will Wave to them.”

The young lumen gave her a Linnea which she waved un-

U til‘she attracted tne attention of those below.

“ They have seen me, and are coming up the hill,” said
she.

“Come back i" exclaimed 'l‘eliikee, whose quick eye had

caught sight of something else. “ Come inside the wall, both
of you. for there are enemies about l"
. Hctty looked to the right, and saw several Indians on the
narrow part of the ledge, and among them she recognized the
well-known and dreaded form of Saloueh. With ashriek,she
threw down the branch, and hastily followed Moawee into the
lnclosure.

After a few moments, Hetty, trembling with fear and anx-
lety, wns clasped in the arms of her lover. The next mo-
ment Catamarra and Attnkulla were at her side. -

'I‘ellikee stood at the gate to let them in; but Saloueh and
his party came up almost as soon as the others, and Matthew.
Crowley, who was the last of the Englishmen, was too late to
enter with his friends, for Fittoe rushed forward and seized
him by the arm before he reached the gate.

7 'l‘ellikee was compelled to close the barricade and seize
his rifle, calling upon Attnkulln and the others for assist-
ance.

Suloueh and his friends drew back out of the reach of the

_ Niles, and Matthew Crawley and Fiftoe were left grappled in

front of the cavern.

Although the young Englishman had been startled by the
sudden attack of Fiftoe, he had not lost his presence of mind.
He was a little taller than his antagonist, but was not so
stoutly built or so heavy, As he leaked down .on the dark
form of Fil‘toe, he felt that his life was staked against that of

_ the Indian, and that strength and skill must decide the con-

uIL I ,
The opponents were clinched so tightly that they could not

 

 

 

A r ,

smnnn, TEE 

~13; , ' /

think of using their knives,and each put forth his best. en-
deavors, and’eXerted all his strength. to force the other to the
edge of the precinice, and throw him over;

The friends of each witnessed this fearful struggle with at-
most breathless interest and anxiety, wailing under cover, with
weapons ready to he used if the slightest chance should pre-

' sent itself; but the combatants were so closely "interlocked in
each other’s arms, and their turnings and twistings were so
frequent and furious, that a bullet would have been'as likely
to hit one as the other.

\Vul‘ren Stntlord and Saloueh would gladly have rushed out
from their cover to the assistance of their respective friends;
but either of them, if he had made the attempt, would have
been instantly shot.

' Hctty Crawlcy, as pale as death, and trembling in every
nerve, griped the stone wall until the blood started from her
fingers, unable to turn her eyes away from the terrible scene
that was being acted before her. '

At last, Matthew Crawley tripped up the left l‘eg of the In-
dian ; but his foot slipped at the same time, and both fell to-

gethtfi, so close to the edge of the cliff that a. shudder ran
through the frames of all the spectators in the cavern.

II’etty shriekcd, and fell forward on the stone wall, clasping
her hands in prayer. I

With a violent effort the men sprung up, still locked in that
deadly embrace.

As they rose, Crawley happened to look around, and saw
his'sister. He smiled; his eyes flashed fire, and he suddenly
jerked loose his right arm, and struck Fit'toe a terrific blow
on the forehead. ' ,

The savage loosed his hold, tottered back, and fell over the
precipice into the craggy depths below. , '

Crnwlcy sprung toward the inclosurc, and went over the
stone wall with a bound, amid a volley from the Indians.

Suloueh and his party, after they had vainly fired upon the

victorious Englishman, uttered a howl of rage and disappoint? I

file“; and sought shelter from which they might direct their
fire upon the entrance to the cavern. ‘
When Matthew Crawley had rested himself, and had ré‘

eeived the welc'omc of his sister and the congratulations of

 

 

 

 

 

    

 
 

.—.-n-r1

 
 

  

 

 

 

/

,t W ' _ , ‘
his friends, he'Wa‘s anxious to go out and measure strength

' I.’ with’Salouch. *

“ Come, Stafi'ord,”-said he; “let us go and thrash the rest
"of the red-skins. We have, no business to stay cooped up
here. That devil, Saloueh, is among them, and it is a good
' . time to settle the grudge that I have against him. We arp
four to their four, not counting Attaknlla."

“ We do not know how many there are behind those foul-f
said the old chief.
they will go away when they see that they can not hurt us.”
, “ Do not go, brother l” implored Hetty. “ I can not bear

to see you fight again, after that awful struggle, in which you.

, hardly escaped with your life.”

As no one would accompany him, the yoimg man was
forced to content himself within the barricade, and he soon
.-found occupation in watching the savages outside, who, Shela
tering themselves behind the rocks, kept up/a desultory fire
upon the cavern, which was occasionally answered by the be
sieged. , 7 '

This sort of warfare hurt nobody, and Saloueh, growing im-'
patient, loudly called 'upon the Englishmen to come out and
, light. As they would not be provoked, he directed his taunt-

ing defiance to Tellikee.

“ Tellikee is a dog, and the son of a dog," he, said. “ He
. is worse than a squaw, and is afraid to fight any thing-but
squirrels and young deer.” .1 ’

The young Indian laid down his rifle, whispered to Moawee,

and quietly slipped out of the inclosure.

V With the stealthiuess and agility of a cat, he climbed up 
 and along the steep face of the rock on the outside. until he

came just over the spot where Saloueh was concealed, Then,
suddenly dropping down upon the astonished chief. he pros-
tl‘ated him by a. blow, then lifted him up bodily, holding him'
so as to be a shield from the bullets of the other Indians, and
ran to the inclosure, where he quickly entered the gate, which
was'held open for him by.Moawee. He threw his burden on
the floor of the cave, and (bound him, before Saloueh could
7 hardly comprehend what had happened to him.

‘“ Is Tellikee a dog and a coward 1’” he asked, triumphantly; ‘

‘ . J‘ I.“ “stoueh answer!”

arm: mac'msmmmfi, \ ' Toni"

“ It is not worth while to fight them, for,

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V 'f‘There is your man._Crawley," said Stafford, pointing‘to
the prostrate chief. ' “ Are you ready to kill him?”

“ Not now. I could kill no man who is bound and help-
1855. Besides, Moawee loves himI wreleh as he. is.”

The Indians outside, surprised and dismayed by the capture
of their leader, set up another how], and discharged their
guns harmlessly at the barricade.

Their howl was answered by yells from below, and directly
9. large body of Cherokees came ruShiug up the ascent, and
collected on the ledge in front of the cave.

“ What does this mean ‘!” asked Crawley, seizing his rifle.
“ Stand to your guns, my friends, for here is another swarm
'ot‘ red-skins!"

The movements of the new-comers Were inexplicableto
those within the cavern. Instead of showing any indication!
of hostility, they immediately seized and bound the remain-

ing companions of Saloueh, and advanced with signs of friend?

ship.
Attakulla went out to meet them, and, after a brief talk, in-
vited the principal men to enter the gate.

     

CHAPTER XI’II.
CONCLUSION.

I'll soon appeared that this party of Indians had come in
Search of Attakulla.

The Cherokees, Completely broken down, and fearful that
their country would be ruined, and that their nation would be
exterminated by the enraged and victorious English, were very
anxious to make peace with the conquerors. As the efl‘ortr
of their warriors had failed to secure the desired result, they
resolved to send for Attakulla, who was known bythe Eng-
lish to have always been their faithful and steadfast friend,

. and to ask him to sue for the peace which they had been nn-V

able to obtain, . ,
A deputation was sent to seek the old thief, who learned

  

 

 

 
        

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 , that '_he had been seen in company with some Englishmen,
, going toward. the mountains. They got upon his trail, and

carefully followed it until they reached the valley in the midst
of the hills.

They heard, on the way, that Saloueh and his friends had
also been seen going in the same direction. Conlecturing his
object, they put a party on his trail, and found that it joined
the other in the mountains.

When they came to the valley, they soon found that some
kind of a contest was going on up the clifl‘, and rightly con-

' cluded that Attakulla and his friends were besieged by Saloueh

and his party.

Here, they thought, was a fine opportunity to gain the
friendship of the old chief, and to induce him to grant their
request, by going to his assistance, and delivering into his
hands the man who had been persecuting him.

The challenge of Baloueh to Tellikee showed them that
they had rightly guessed the position of affairs, and they ran
up the clifl‘ just in time to see the young chief captured and
carried into the cave.

The object of the deputation was soon explained, and their
request was readily granted by Attakulla, who lamented the
condition of his people, and was as anxious as any of them
to conclude a lasting peace with the English.

Then the Cherokees, like many other people who have been
vanquished in wrongful wars, sought to lay all the blame on
their leader, and to ofl‘er him up as an expiation for their

' crimes.

“Where-ls Saloneh I" asked the principal chief among
them. “Where is that dog who lied to us and made us go
to war, and who has been abusing our father, Attakulla?
Let us have him, and we will punish him as he richly do

. serves.”

The other Cherokees, imitating the example set them by
this time-server, became clamorous that Saloueh should be
given to them, and Attakulla looked around for the young
chief. ' '

“ Saloueh was here," said he, “but I do not see him hm

“He is gone. You can not find him,” said Moawee.

  

been ordered by our Father ahove.

,   ;_ w . - g H v . I ‘44..

i  m omom
 ,Jr. was true that the young thiei‘ had 'escapc l.» Thequiék- .
,witted daughter of Attakullu, perceiving that,he would be
inquired for, hnd quietly cut liis‘bonds, thrown a blanket
over him, ’and allowed him to slip through the gate. He had
gone out unobserved,- and had hastened to get away from the
valley. '

When it was ascertained that Saloueh had really given
them the slip, Attakulla directed the Cherokees to release their
three captives, and prepared to accwnpuny them on their re-
turn. '

The next morning he set out, together with his son and

daughter, and his English friends.

When the old chief reached the camp of Colonel Grant, at
Fort George, he at once addressed himself to the task of ar- .
ranging :1. peace, and made :1 speech to the commander, which
has been recorded as follows:

“ You live at the water-side, and are in light.‘ We are in '
darkness, but hope we will be clear. I have been constantly
going about doing good; and though I am tired, yet I am
come to see what can be done for my people, who are in
great distress. As to what has happened, I believe it has
We are of n difl‘erent-
color from the white people. They are superior to us. But
one God is Futher of us all, and we hope what is past will
be forgotten. God Almighty made all people. There is not
a day but'tlmt some are coming into, and others going ottt of,
the world. The at King told me the path should never
be crooked, but  for every one to pass and repnss. AB

.wctall live in one hand, I hope that we shall live as one pet»

p167” ,
Peace was made and fornmllyxatified. The English :9-

turned to Cnroliua, and the Cherokees to their desolated

country. Attukulln, who had again become the leader of his

. people, counseled them to go to work and repair damages, adv

vising them not to attempt to strive against the English any
more.

Matthew Crowley and Warren Stafford dccompanied the

them.
"Happy in. the society of her lover and her brother, the

,army when it went beck tn the provinces, taking Betty with .

 

 

V . . “ i '1 v . ,’ , . .
.- 4 ' y: :- I I “J "
w’ , e ' ti \ ‘ I \

Hi; ’ ‘ ~ I "'itonflwafib BOUND-m.  ' ', t,- W 

id“ . h: '/ Whfie‘mm’irished others to be happy, and she most ear-

he ._ nestiy entreated 'her friend Moawce to go with her to Cart»
ke: ’  lina ., ' ' ’ ‘ | ‘
:ad ,| '3';  “ No,” sadly ansfiered the Indian girl.‘ “ Let my sister go,

be ‘  and be happy. She is good, and she deserves that the Great
Spirit should bless her. She will live pleasantly among her ‘

 

an  people, but Momvce would be 'a stranger there. Moawee is ,
51' . not selfish, but it would {nake her heart Sore to see the thitc _
e- r t " Ruse happy with her lover. Moawee must not go with her.
’  sister. She has something to do in her own country, and
d  , 'umong her own people."
 “Are you still grieving for Saloueh?" asked Hefty. .“I
i ‘ am'afraid that he is not worth the trouble that you give your-

self about him.”

“ My sister should not say so. It is no time to speak ill of
him when he has been defeated, when he has been driven forth
from his people, and when he is abused by those who were so
lately full of his praises.” . ’

“ I would not. willingly hurt your feelings, Moawee; but I
can never forgive him for having:r tbrgotten his love for
1‘ You.”

“ Moawee has forgiven him. Her heart still clings to the
young chief, and she can never forget how brave and llfll’ld‘,
some he is. Farewell, my sister. Leave Moan-cc alone with
her grief and with the Great Spirit." \ ’ '

Hetty also bid a friendly adieu to Teliikee, who shouldered
his rifle and gloomily stalked oil‘ into the forest, after taking
1t last look at the White Rose, who was soon happily united'
 , to Warren Stafford.

, )—

It was evening, about a month after the conclusion: of the ‘
treaty of peace with the English, and Saloueh stood alone by

g.

C? . the side of the shaded spring. near the ruins of the burned .

.l', town of Keowee, where he had spoken to Moitwce those.

" “harsh words, in which he told, her that he no longer loved
her.

He was plainly (lreSsed ; there was no warrior’s ‘paint upon
his face,’or any part of his person, and the plume of avchief’.
no longer waved, over his scalp-lock. /

He'stood with folded grins and dow—neast‘ looks, grain“, ‘

   

 

 
 

f” ' ‘.  ’ \v

mournfully into the clear fountain, and sadly meditating on
what was, what had been, and what might have been

He was shorn of , his power and his glory, and was alone,

separated from his people, and deserted by those who had so
eagerly listened to his words and so gladly followed him to
battle.
‘ 'His bosom friend, Fiftoe, was dead, and he had lost his
own prestige by having been ignominiously captured by the
' youthihl son of Attakulla. No longer considering himself a
warrior, he had discardedhis paint, and had thrown away his
crest of feathers.

He had lost the White Rose, to gain whom he had risked
every thing, and he had rejected the true and earnest love of
Moawee, who was the most beautiful among the maidens of
his nation. No one was left to care for him, and he had
nothing to live for. .

As he thought of these things, his heart was sick, his
hands dropped to his side, and he leaned heavily against a
tree.
V There was a light step, which was no more heard than the
signing of the evening breeze, and a light hand was laid upon
his shoulder. -

' He turned, and saw Moawee standing by his side.

There was no shade of reproach or complaint upon her
countenance; but her" dark eyes beamed upon him as fondly
as ever, and her accents were low and loving.

“ Is Saloueh alone and sad 1’” she said. “Let Moawee re-
main with him and comfort him. Is he in trouble? Let
him tell Moawee his care, and she will share his trouble with
him.” 7 ’

“ Why have you come to seek me i" asked the young chief,
shading his face with his hands. “ I was alone, and I wanted
to die.” ' -

“ Saloueh must not die while Moawee lives. He has been
absent from her a long time. Has he forgotten his love for
her i’,’ ‘ ‘

“Can Moawee love me now, when I have treated her so
badly ?"

“Mawee has always loved her warrior. He was absent
. hum her a long time, and she is glad that he has return "

  

r

 

 

 

-‘\ "'- f' \~ .- _

U“But I am no longer a warrior. I was taken prisoner ly
a boy, Attakulla 'is angry with me, and the other-chiefs are
glad to do as he does, and to say what he says."

“ Tellikee took you by surprise. and there are few men
stronger than he, although he is young. My father will love
you because Moawee loves you, and your people will be glad
to welcome you back.” 7 o

“If Moawee can love me now, my heart will be strong
again ; but I do not deserve her love.”

“ Moawee will always love her warrior and her chief. Let
us go to Attakulla."

The girl took lier repentant lover by the hand, and led him /
to the lodge of the old chief. '

“ Hereis your son, my father,” said she.
back to his people, and you must Welcome him."

“ My son is welcome," heartily replied Attakulla, as he took
Baioueh by the hand, fl led him into his lodge.

“He has oom'e ’

\
‘ ,

/

-.  .\'  / gsfifip   ,-
.- D m E. “D I“A L 0 GUE‘
' P01: School Exhibitions and Home Entertainments.

I ht! I"! Iul‘lvo. lsmf'SPny-ulm Dialog“: :14 Drum“ ln'nch book. Buchwalan lO‘J
Hmo'pnzon, non; pen-pad, an null» ul‘ price, tan cams.

'gncne 4:; Adams. Publishers, 98 William St., 25. 3:.

Thu volume: has been prepared with special referanee ‘0 their lvnlhhlllry for Frhlld‘lnu.
/ 2 mlu ml to H‘hnuh nnd mrlnu wth or withouuhu furniture «I nlL and nqu ":1 hi
6' AN$ YOUNG PROP 0! evary namklh mhla nnd femal). It alrtu umma HI I 1
y mks ln um nmrLal, M. nnv price, wnmlu somuuy unsqu MJAVIHAINA dialoxuen uuddrx,:n.:
‘h, pathos, humor nd umlmem. '
Q ,

DIME DIALOGUES, N0. I.

hung of the Mural. For nine young Indian. Hobnobblng. Fnrfive a enknrs.
Quin; A Live Engli|hvnnr,. Fur t wee bnyl. 'l‘hu Secrezol Suntan. ‘or three weaken. -
may Conunthm. Fun 1 And {annhh Yaun Americm ’l‘hreu males nml tum lumalll-
nil-31m. fur Lwo hall-9. 1018p in-:'l Dutiny. Four Demnlea, onunmls.
ha Rum-Maul. F‘ r six have. The Fully 0mm lulul. For thrru )nnlnpaflcll‘
.v'hlulu will I. an (21. Llu’ Fur twn‘mya. Dngznnxlsm. For Ham- mqu sprain-rs.
The quen Hf M'n‘. Fur tin mm g.rli. Tho lvnurlmt ('nnloumlcd. Fnr lwu hnyl.
Tue Tun-Putty. l-‘nrlnnr lmligu. The  t Y- unu M n. )‘rrrlwu mall-I.
Thrmg Sewn in Wedded L‘ Mnleanflfrmnlr ’ he Y nr’s lh-clmniuz. 1-2 famflluluml l mnlw.
Mm. lelm-n’ Conlnu hula. hllll remulc. ho Village with 01m Gentleman. ll'or elgl.‘ [A
fun Minion 01' L11: A . 114. Fire yuuug Indian. | males and 01.6 umlc.

DIEM DIALOGUES NO. 2. ,

The Gen!" n1 Uharlv. 9 main and 1 fannlo. How to ‘rlu ‘ P-mnlnr ’ Starla. Two union.
L'i :deralln or; 'l‘hu Hula UL.“ Slipper. The Nawmnl the ma. For two mnlu.
[7 ' qun nndSinnz bud. Sauna-rum. .\ Sunlnliun m Lair. Fur lwnnmlu.
Tim \1 Men Rulu. 'l‘u‘n mulu nm' two lumnlun. The Un-onlmrn. l" lwn males.
Th: Gift. 0! the Funky Queuv. Several femnlus. Thu Thruu Men 0 inn-w. For four malai-
i‘nk n i v and D In Far. Far ,wn ell-rulers. Thu Old Lmly’s \ . For four mnlm.
The Co mlry Aulll‘i Via t 1.0 tug Clty. For uv— Tho Lime l‘hll snplmrs. For two Hula glrlu.

eral «harm-tern. Haw :0 Find an lluir. For five u nlul.
Thu Tum R-mmnl. For two halal. The VII-Ines. H r yuuLglndhs.
Trying than (Thurm'ters. l-‘ue three mnlu. A (‘hnnuh‘ml Erlr _ .
I‘hu fly-Pm FaurilV. Fur several mm The l’uhll.. 1mm .t 1:. Flu mnlu nml nnofahalu
The Ember-I. For wverul CL‘I’M'NI'I. l‘ha Englimh Thu 4 r. l-‘ur two mm.

DIME DIALOGUES, K0. 3.
Ho Maw Queen. PM In enllu uhool. The Gu'hel Cnnlx. For (M mnlu.
Oran Ref rm (‘nnuntlum 1“ rr Len fumnlm. )llm'qrpiuru. For “M malen lunl two fumlll. ~
Kn lug: Bud Cmnpnm'. A Furla. Furllvenmlon. Two llnmnnl. For two mnlu.
Courtlnz Undcr Dilfleulliuu. u mnlnl, l fumalm  It, imme. Smmd want. For nvn mnln.
Nation-l Rnprv-enutlru. A Burluqua. 4 unch

 

mung 21.9 mm limp". t mum, \ (mum;
heaping the Dun.- Fur nuuuroul lunch '{E‘l’u llullla (full. A Hucltulvu. 1"" 0M 11ml...

' DIME DIALOthES, N0. 4.
‘11. M King. FM (an arm’s rennin. Lu Ftnhh‘mowu Vohmvau. 9 mnlos, l (and.
‘utiugin ll. . 'l hm» mnch AM twu (cm-mo : Stu-nu from “ l‘:ml Pr) " Forhvur nudes. '
cm], Hva nuJ Clmmy. For thruelillle (has ‘ .a Cl nrma. Fur three lulu Inflow lexrnln-
ufifinu Joan. Fur lwa mnlal nn-I mmhmnlo ~a, Cl wk and B’nnm. F4) three lilllualrh.
I ny, A F'lnrul Fancv. For nlx lit: uglrla, ‘ Inn 1 u x. W. - ACullnqny. For (we Loyl.
fiEuehnnteti Prim-m. ‘ maletnvord (mum-r What the L- d " Sun's. Fm ("0 31:11 h.
‘nno Whom Hun ‘rh no. 7 males, 1 'emnlu- Thu (‘rhm-a : (l a. A Coltoquy. Fur (wavy.
ahulleClinuo. Faravnml ("thy-mm remnll T1 ‘ ruul of lmxmvolnluco. bur Lu halal.
" why. A Drum-ion. For twenty mrlus. firm, Lulu. Fur two umlun.

DIME DIALOGUES, 170. 5.

Jared Guam. For Iehnol or nrlor. Putting on Mn. A Cnllhqnv. Pr {"0 mnlm
uncut. A " 'I‘hre- Purwnl’ " §n re. The Sunlng M wk. Fornuver-l lmu. ' '
I‘d the! Curt-in. For male. mm found». Twn ill-tn: of “In. A Colloquy. For Inn gala.

‘ ' Flvo 1mm and a teacher. Exhaust from Marina Fallen).
l-wnevurul female ehuncumlelrv-Mnmr. An Ar'l'fl China‘-

(l‘ha SI! Virtual. l'br rll vmmu Ind-u.

The lrln'nmnn II Home. Fur an mull-n.
- 710'“ Tanzuo. Swwnl mules Ind finial”. Fuhlnunhle quuiramnh. For ll“. glrlu

flow Nan to Gm an Amour. For two fermlu. A Bevy of 1‘: (Eyen). For alglnorhu mu‘am

’ DIME DIALOGU : 5. N0. 5.‘
' herThrv KvMaRarret. Male and frmnlon. T‘he Twnf‘nuurlm FI-rfimm malt-I. .
ar Difficulties. For five nulu. T‘hs Vullflul wf Fully Fur u number :hmnl‘
“:r n whola nlmni. A unt My'l Ban-x. Fm" {unmlunml Hm hula.
B. W Stun {cm-la! Ind lwnmnlu. Th. Llth Sun hr two {cm-In And on malt. ‘
knot Golthu Gum". ‘Illlo and fund... Rank Claus. Pk a number 0' bays.
Jaw. For H: MI‘II. Chrlnunu we“... I" 'r l-ruul link girls.

manqude lm’l'naowgi; tumour-ul-

5'56 School Boy: ' For ten bum.

 

 

' I . .

/!'ln Cum begun. For rum (gun-MU
TH. curmuthl LA [dry-la j. liar girls. .
Twain, yuan henna Tm.) lulumufi, m... mug.

‘ The “my, 1.0 Windham. For No mule/i. I
Wumm. A paella mum;qu war-la. Two ‘uoyl,
Thu 'Olugiu. ,A bulluqu) .' F .1 mo nmlcu.‘

. How [,0 ‘65 rl.l ol'n mne. 'bnr usverhl ‘lu‘ys.
Bonrding-schml. ‘l‘wn limb-n ‘IH‘ Mu luuml“.
Plu I l'ur Hlu plmgu. I‘vnr lwuy mulls.

The llls uf drum-drinking. ‘Ilur three '0 ‘
True pride. A mlluquy. l‘ur m . {mu ‘
an: maluulunn. Fur “Hui-nun lulu“

l

; 13m nmwuzs Ra. 'rr.

, .  _ w ’

:l‘w. [Mal 1m. ‘Collnquy. For two hull
l‘h- nghu of Inn-Io. For two lemmu. v
A llulmlesa emu. A qmryju vmu. Twoglrlu
Thu Wliuld‘hv Sclwol-wuclldr. For two must.
(1 due to life too Inc". For thug umlu.
Eight. 0 Cluck. For mo Ixzzlu gsrll.

Truve dignity. A collwguy. Fur two boy!-
Glliul’two ugxplsufivu. lu-r two “ml-l

I mule! mm u plum. For mo 0 .
Link: mJ ri‘llllx mmd. Fur two mall-,2...
New x\',:1vliunl.l«)ll ufm ulul ruln. Buys mm girlfi
Uulared comm; A wlluqny. For two undead

’ DIME DIALOGUES No. 8.

PM a nu-uher nl‘u'lrls.
'l nrw girls uud twn hcys.

. uu busy 51” animal It. For lure“, lm.\';.
The ail-I m we periml. Fur Llnw girls.
The fuwl relyelliun. 'l‘wu mlllws ml 1 mm I'mnnle.
Sinw but MIN. rhl nnluu null lwa females.
(:fllldlfi’i vulocipmluu . a run! out. lemme.
Tl» mamas. For seveml s. . hi1 urn.
Tm trial of Pater Slayer. l'ur .uvuu bop.

Culling n )vlln..grflph. Males and (amulet

'l‘nu Society for u “and luxpmvmuem. h‘ur zlrlQ
A Imblu‘ll'lu in disgu'ue. 'l‘nrw Kirk, nlx. hay;
(in u: expecmlimh l-‘nr [Wu bm-n.

l'lnylm: xulwul. Five lawn!“ and Raul-Mules.
Clam“ l'nr tlz mmmx. Une male, une {rum}...
A ll-ud mm). W lhm: to s. ‘

ulna-h. For ten humlul and can mle

DIME DIALOGULS No. 9.

Advorllulugfw lml . For n nmnm-r of (willan.
Awur' ‘n w Hugh”: ,“ruwnln; l-‘ r nvu lmy..
Then my! the now. Fuur uulu um unle.
Choice nl'tmdes. For Lwalvr Hula buys.

The lap-dug. For um lnnmlah.

The victim. For {nur I'uumlu mt! ans mn'e.
The (luv-ll“. F r qu 1: Wu.

Tlm Hm: pullusuplly. l" -r (Numb-1 and "1415!.
A. 3.1.51 «Amman. For mu thumb.

'1'") 5 ln v of hmnnn klmh at. War two fem-II.
Spnllml Cblllll’fl". For a mind uhoul.
Brutus “Illl Causing.
(furlulmun :ml Aulldl-x:
Thu nun avhnlnr. For n .‘m'r‘lmr a! z'rll.
" ndu nmn. lI‘Iv lhrmq malel.

Huge“ (Nu 1‘.) Fur u .mlmul.

mul'u mummy. 4 My: mul 3 girl-

{maul-l wuuwu be given the Min” For ho”.

DIM l DIALOG'JES No. 10.

Mrs. M wk Twnln'n Ilym', Om m lln. om, feumla.
Tn. nlu thug. Suhwl fuuiml. Fur mud boys.
The calm of l..lly Fur muny girlh.

G en; livu. For le buy» nu-I nixulrls.

"do! Fur nnnwmm males and («mules
Tin. light. ol )0" Fur twu In. .

The ll uv ~r chil For 1w tlvu glrll.

The danl unclc. Fm three Inuyl.

A dluwlun. For twu Ln) 3.

DIME DIALOGUES No. 11

A purl-Mn Ira very duvrilful. For six huvu.
1‘ mnumlrum [um ly. .ll‘or mnlu anal {sum 6.
Curing: may. anuu mulm llbrl [our femalel.
Jnck um] um bemuthlh. For lira alumna”.
all. In In nlo it um] my:' to do it. 3 feman.
mv m acume l|unllll)’.cl1'. Mnlewd lumdo.
The oxly lnu lira. For two xlr‘nl.
Clmin aulloquiu. Fur two I10)"
. I. Gmlnvun Vnn nml Criniuu.
fill. 'l'umnrl-uu uud Unjnul.

.‘hku nun-mum. For uveu ch urn-urn.
3." Ian Inland. For uv-ul churme
Juan I van young. Fur two girls.
Th- lnl)!‘ pmloul herltnge. For two hnyx.
The xlnuble :ure. Two "1an and fuur fuumlu.
lu Iower-g-rdnn flirlel. Fur fire mu. Klrll.
qmlmn’n naval. Throo lulu and two fumnlu.
Hun“ ul‘xhu vlJuws lv‘o. lllruu girl)

DIME DIALOGUES N0. 13.

Two o’clock ln um morning. l For three mnlen.

Au ludlgutlou mufi n3. For mull fun-l“.

“are and bvluiud than“... Sm'enl elm-nth.
'lh labia-t boy. A limbo: often and hoax".
In In“. A chm phV. For girll “d Mp.
Mantels-luau; lam! W1;
A“. bad. F" No .m-dh-ql}.
EGO/VI- umh For Muadcnblblm.

,.

BIKE DIALOGUES N0. 12.

 

“mom- (dad. r.

’l" n rnlmnrsnl. Fur n 54me , '

’ a mm \ y, Fun-1hr" ,3 and only girl.
yr-utmnl lll'alessru. Mu llu'eu girls.

The In ml: -uul the suldler. Fur two hnyl.

“76- 876.. bah ml feltivnl. Fur iwn glr“.

Hanan-1r)": VI» 3 mulc- nml 9 Irmnll|

is: in the tram. For .1 fruit“! 1 ha

Cumin. Human-u cherub

Lu.
Witcl
Frenchman.

.
Fnlhlontho diulpmlnn. Fur h" lllgh girls. ’ .
A school glmrnda. For two boy: ml two girls.
Jean lnzelow’n “Songs 1:! Sana.” San- filth
A debate. For fun! buys.

Rune-l Dlnk’l lawn. For thna be”.

School chbrmle, with tnblnnu.

A very qnuslnnnblo nory. For *n boys

A M”. For l'hr a mnlu.
The nnl gQ-l‘lflm- Fur tun bays.

A l'n v.le no; to [IMer In». Tn chm
How to llll'x-NIC. An nclinqchnmlv. I
'l'hu vunumv unmade. Fuur my. Ind ton-tun.
ll’hn nnuzhly hay. Throt- fNu-lu W'l uni»
Mad-cum. An acting chum.

All i; nut gnld (hut zllucn. Aelln: pm
Sic transit gluti: mundl. MIA. chunk

\Vurlb. not watch. For rm boy-ad sin-i.
No Inch word I: Ml. Vern-Ir In“.
The duping hunky. In I “In; .
(A): Syfiaatrlhatfizu. Yule-bk; Mil“. ‘
_ : mun-Ml I. u that ll. 2
Min "hm-a 1m. um '*
~

“with.
A pruml flan-um. Ira lg. bun-aunt; .

\ .

> “.1 C

\

I.

 

 
  

 

  
    
     
    
    
   
    
 
   
      
   
    
  
   
   
    
  
  
   
   
  
  
    
   
  
   
  
   

/

   

 

 

  
  

All sdbolnl lbss.

s
, A dork lid. view,
Doss in... "s Nu] in! Ta sser vs)",

go: esrning (arm,
Put d’l‘isherty n wu-
msn‘s rights
The home rulers, lisw
tiny “ spnku,”
u ish Dawson on
Moshrs-in-lnw,
He didn’t sell the farm,

A iiusilhy discourse,
'l‘obiu‘o i.u spank,
Dill Mss. Grim,

v or.) '

“Er: Millie-k,

iliii Underwood, pilot,

 

'I‘lls true story of Fruk- Old Gui-lay,
mm me,

I would 1 wan s boy
sgsin,

A M: story, words,

  m moor. “ms—59m mummy. ‘
' nun numer mum. No. 23. ‘

Mary’s shmsli vise isnb iings,

Lshst Clilnsu oust-gs, My Mkhbor‘s "
Tbs Ins-it's“ dsstluy oi Crud-sud My:th
o Inshnsn, Plcius,

Peggy MsCsnn, The Noreidu,

Sprsys from Josh Bi! Lsguds of Anion;

Tho slsvrpiips tr“

Do sircnmsssaoss ob ds A dskour‘s rabbits,
siliwntion. a coming nun,

Dnr’s nuillu newmndsr Thu iiligsm I“ II
do sun, . uidunn's,

A‘ Negro religious poem, Tim. imis baby fluid

Timt violin \s corner, é

Picnic daiigiiln, A Kanewinn inter.

“I? piii peddler'l ers- Our candidsis’s views, {.11- invitnlion lo

Dundresry's wudum, bird of libmy,

un
Widdlzr Gmn’s in.“S inin isnguagn bytruth' The srsw,

ui Inns, on wsst.

DIME DIALOGUES No. 28.

Poor can-ins. Thm isdios and two gentleman.

‘luflntuins Ind mulls-hills. Six lndiu Ind uvsrni
suucntors.

A test this! didnoi inii. Six box'l.

rTwn ways oi'suaing thing; Two iitils girls.

Don’t count your ciiicimns berm-o thsy In
listchsni. Four indies and a hay.

All “NH i love and wsr. 31ndius, 9 gentismen.

How uncle Josh got rid ~ I the loamy. Two units,
with uvsrsi trash-suns.

The lesson of mercy. Twc very and! giri.

Practice what you punch. Four isdi“.

Polilicisn. Numerous characters.

The canvassing agent. Two moles ad 8'.
famnlss.

Grub. Twn males.

A main sure. Tiirss (smnlss sud on link

Embodivd sunshins. Tin-es young inilss.

How Jim Pmn diod. ’l'wo mslss.

DIEE DIALOGUES No. 27.

Pliny O‘Dowd’s ss-pslgl. For titres males
uni ous {emu-lo.

The sireoi girl's good algal. For I!" lsdhs C.
two little girls.

Hsuy intarsnus not siwsys inst. Numerous ‘I‘Tiinz ungrnieiui liflis ni or.” For two-lbs.

yl.
Dissonmmd Annie. For ssvsrnl (iris.
A double surprise. Four mslss sud ‘ons {em-lo.
Winn was In For five isdiss.
th1 will curs ihomi For I lady sud two boys.
ludspandom. For numorous chsrusers.

i| IMIIOI flu but. For (our boys.
'l‘nsd sad qund wsntlnr. For ssvsrsl mslss.
A boy’s plot. For uvorsl chsrscurs.

l ind tile man-y. For i no 1m]. girls.
Aplvenrsneu Ira deceitful. For IIVIlIl
and cm nnllsmsn.
Love's protest. For two little girls. ,
An snlureed cure. For sevsnl ell-rsth
Those who proseh Ind than who perform. '00
three males. ,
A gentle souqu For in you; girl.

nnm mucous No. 23.

A test Ills! told. for six young indies and two
gsntlsmsn.

Ornnising t dsbuting Incluty. Far four boys.

Tins nwshnlnl. For {our liuls girls.

Tins rsbuh proper. For 3 continuum, ‘1 indies.

Exnrchln‘ su ovii spirit. For six luilss.

Both sidas o! “I. fonts. For {our mules.

I'M spills. st sins wood. For two troupes a! girls.

DIME DIALO

/
no slisll in. tho dictionary! For six lypicsi
snub curators and two ismiss.

l'lis ten of brsvsry. For four Mys sad Osaka.
Forum’s whni. For {our msls cimrubrl.
Til. Hm- I'Lth For six um. girls.

Tits _\'ss Md no of snoks. For shrss mu. boys.
Nu ruby-nus. Six gentleman and liars- lsdiss.

No room for ills drnnd. For time “$th boys.
Arm-chair. For numerous rimmurl.

Monsurs for msssnre. For {our girls.

Snved by s drama For swo mslos III I'

fomslus.
An inflilihls sign. For (our boys.
A good use (or monsr. For six little girls.
An smbls mks-ion. For msrsl

am No. 29. 

Simpls Simon. For «m mu. boys. ‘ a!
The red light“ Frvr {our links, tws 1“.
Tin I‘ve-host though. For tour little girls.

Tho Inbumsn manshr. 6 luliss. l golds-AA.
Thus mu. fools. For four mull boy .

Burns a! the dog! For throw lsdissuAMn
“dodgers.”

 

A In boy. 0n unis, an. i'snuls.
in s vI-iuuondid. For sword lad-in.

Jos Hunt's hunt. For two boys sud two thin.
Esp. For six miss. ,‘ .

'mman-u isme (yorywhrsfirwulbs “Myst-mu-

a II My 01 price, 10 on“ nah.

mutants. nun-sou, oswnus-IQIJ.

 

 

 

 

III'ME'POCKET NOVEIJS.

. PUBLISHED SEMI-MONTHLY, AT TEN CENTS EACH.

1 Hnwke e Hurry.

9 Dead S 0|.

3 The Boy Miners.

4 Blue Dick.

5 Nut “'oiie.

6 The “'hite Tracker.

7 Tile Oulluw‘u “Vile.

s The Tull Trapper.

9 Lightning Ju.
The [\‘iitihi i’irnle.
The Buy Runger.
liege, [he Trupper.
Th. Fm“ h 5”.
Long Shut.
The (iuumuker.
Red Hum].
lieu, the Tripper.
“‘ild Rzn'en

r

54 Arknnsle chk.
55 Blackbeard.

56 The River Rifle!
5‘1 Hunter Hum.

101 Job Dun. 159 The W: r d Renter:
108 The Wood King. 160 The Run! 1"“0.

109 The Sculped Hunter. 161 Beautiful I’nknown.
110 Nick the Scout. 162 Canehrn‘er Maw.

58 Cluudwuod. 111 The Texnl Tiger. Hunth» l

59 The Texue Huwh. 11‘) The Croleed Knivu. The Boruw ; . ..
60 Merellels MM. 113 Tiger-Heart. Wild Nut.

61 Mad Ant’ony’a Scout: ii Musired Avenger. {fluid of Wyoming.
6‘) Luckleil Trapper. 115 The Pearl Fir-tee. The Three Clptivee.
63 'he Florida Scout. Blur-k l’nnther. The Lott Hunter.
64 he islnnd Trapper. 111 Abdiei the Avenger. llordar Law.

55 Weir-Cup. cm... the Cree ier. The Lifted Trail.

66 Ruttiinx Dick. 119 Two-ilended h at. The Trad-r Spy.

67 Sharp-Eye. 1‘20 Mud Trail Hunter. The Foreet Specter.
08 Iron-Hand. 1‘21 Black Nick. ‘ The Border Fou.

69 The Yellow Hunter. 1‘” Kit Bird. Border Vengeence.
70 The Plinntmn rider. 1” The Specter Rid-re. Border Bennie.

'li Delnwlre Tom. 1‘ (Hunt Pete. The Son: of Liberty.
72 Silver Ritie. i‘ The Girl Capt-in. The Lost Bride.

13 The Skeleton Scout. 1‘ ' Ylnhee Eph. Keeteen.

'..t. '14 Little Rlliu. 191 Silverspur. The Tank-we Spy.
indiun .lw. '15 The “load Witrh. 1% S untter Dick. The Prnirle Scourge.
Old 1\ nt, theRulIKl". 76 Old Rutf, Trn vper. i . T 10 Child Spy. Red Li htning.
Olin-rl‘lywi Trapper. 17 5mm Shouir m. Mink Cont. Brave um.
Gnullmld. the .\'p\'. 7?! Border Riflenmn. 131 Red Plume. Night-Hawk Kit.
The Bi-n l. Shil . 19 Outlaw Jnek. ili‘l Clyde, the Trailer. Muelung Sum.
Single Eye. 50 Tiger-Tull, Seminole. 1:13 The Lost Cache. iiurrrcnne Bill.

llniinn .liui.

. The Scout.
F .

e .

'l'h )[ysrieCnnmu
The Guide“ linrpmm.

' The Srznlp Kill".
Uhl Lute.

Ruinlmit, Runner.
The Buy Pii‘llcr'l‘.
(‘rirsum the Guide.

. The Hurt Enter.

. “14ml, the Smut.
The Huge Hunter.
wihi Mr, Truppur.
1.}‘uxw‘np.

. The White nntiuw.
The 1):": Trailer.
Tim Elk K 1g.
'Aulrinn, 1h. mm.

Kuleol uh.

‘ The Hunter Hercules.

i’hii Hunter.
The lndinn Scuut.

‘. The Girl Avenger.

The R111 iienuitess.
Stur-Fuce. the Slayer.
’l he lntelupe Buy.
The Pinintuln Hunter.
Tum l’intle. i’il. t.

' The Red Vi'izarli.
' The Rival Truppere.

The Squnw Spy.
hmy Dir-k.
mum] Urockntt.

i

l
1

i
i
1
l
i

l
i
1
1
1
l

'31 Denth-Denler. 134 The Cunnibal Chief.
3‘2 Kttlllnll' the Rnnger.
83 S enter iiureelnun.

84 Tie Three ’i'rupperl.

35 Knrniho.

. Scarlet Moccuin.

37 Kidnapped.

35 Mnid of the Moun-
tnin.

39 The Scinin Sr-nute.

40 li4‘l‘iiel’ Renegmie.

ii The Mute Chief.

m nmne, the Hunter.

43 Nirrllninill Knie.
The Red Scalper.
The Lone Chief.

If. The Silver Bugle.

47 Chinun, (Jhey-nne.

45 The Tangled Trail.

41! The Unseen Hand.

50 The Lone lndinn.

The Red Outlnw.
The Swamp Scout.
The Shuwnee'l Foe.
Mohawk Nut.

()ld Jupe.

The Prairie Riflt‘l.
Old Kyle, Trailer.
Big Foot. the Guide.
Red Brotherhood.
The Mun in Green.
Glnel Eye,the Greet

nt.
The Preirle Trapper-

Bieck Jnhn,
Road-Agent.

the

. Keen-Knife.

Mud Skipper.
The Young Spy.

(.1 The Brunded Cnief. _
Billy lion-legs.
153 The anley Scout.

154 Red Junket.

155 The Jungle Scout.
156 Cherokee Chief. 7
151 The Bandit Hermit.
158 Tin: i’ntrlut Scouts.

’i'he indinn Avenger.

Rivul Lieutenant;

The Swnmp Rifles.
. Tue B-iloon SC'UM.

Dncoteh Scourge.

The Twin Seoutl.
W8 Buck-kin Bill.

The. amphth
h PhAnt-Inl 'i'recker
M. ensin nm.
The \VuifQIleen.
51 Turn Huwlr, ’i'ruih-r.
n The 51an ohm.
53 The Black won.

11m Old llmr Pew. 15‘
101 ReillitW.

10‘2 \Vild Rube.

103 The lndinn iluntere.
10.1l Scarred Eugle.

105 Nick hnylu.

106 The Indiun Spy.

 

 

 

THE FOLLOWING Vi'ILL BE lSSUED IN THE ORDER AND ON THE DATES 1NDICATED

Border Avengers.
linmblc‘n Charge.
Shawnee Scout.
Silent filnycr.

l’rnlrlc Queen.
lluukwood-men.

By Edward “'illeit. Reudy June 97th.
11y Mrs. Mary A. Denisnn. Reudy Jul 11th.
liy J. Stunley Henderson. Randy Jlih' 25th.
Br w. .1. inmnmh. mien hum-tam.
Bv W. .l. Humiltnn. Hendv August L‘Qd.
liv Aim nehu. Ready Sept-mm». 5th.
21") The l’ i Icr of La Vintronee. ByMre.Mnry A. hwimn.
216 Pele: “in. RV lim'ntuu ll Helknnp. M. D. Remh 4hr iwr 3d
217 The “'ltch of the “'nllowlnh. By Edwin 1-2. Ewing. Remly October 11th.
2133 The Prairie Pirates. Hy Husuwe Aimnrd. Randy ()clhlmr 3151.
219 The [In-ear Captain. iiy (‘nlunei Prentisl ingrnhnm. anli)‘ November Nth.
2‘30 The Red Spy. By P. Humian Myers. Randy Nurember ‘28th.
221 Dir-k Darling. By Cnptuin Frederick VVhiltaker. Ready December i‘2th.
222 The Mnetunz llllnters. B Cuprein Frederick “'hituker. Randy December 96th.
2'28 Guilty or Not Guilty. By .irl. Ann E. Porter. Reedy Jnnuary 9th.
By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. Reedy Jnnuary 23d.

Reedy September iith.

224: The Outlaw Ranger.

For nle by all Newedeelere; or sent post-paid: Iingle numberl, ten eenu; Iix month (11 Noe.) .1.”
one ya: (26 Non.) $2.50.

BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publhhorl, 98 Willi-III Street. New York.