THE

} HUNTER’S ESCAPE.

A TALE OF THE NORTHWEST IN 1862.

———,_.._.

BY EDWARD S. ELLIS,
mmon or m lounme mm mm:
'3 Tm: BOY Mrms. 31 MYSTIC CANOE.
'6 THE WHITE TRACKER. 86 THE BOY PIONEER.

12 Bass, rm: TRAPPER. 40 THE HUGE HUNTER.
3 gm) KENT, m RANGER. 147 03mm, THE Cum“.

nun Jm. 227 112mm.

‘ NEW YORK:
ENABLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
moawnmsmm

"hung-n“. ":~’ a -

 

hum! mun-ding to Act of Congress. in the you 18‘. )7
v BEADLE AND COMPANY,
' E III Claim Qflce of the Distflct Court. of the United Stu." for .0

Southern District of New York.

 

THE'

HUNTERS ESCAPE.

CHAPTER I.

THE MISSIONARY.

And when the solemn Sabbath came.
We gathered in the wood,
And lifted up our hearts in prayer
To God. the only good.
Our temples then were earth and sky,
None others did we know.
In the days when we were )ioneers.
Fifty years ago l—W. D. ‘Atuunsn.
AWAY up in the north-western portion of Minnesota, the
finest-arches were echoing with unwanted sound. On this
still Sabbath morning in the early autumn of 1862, the voice
of thanksgiving and prayer rose sweetly upward from rest
mighty solitude. On the spot where the stranger might have
expected the hoarse oath of the trader, the war-whoop of the
Indian, or the shriek of the wild animal, ascended those sacred
songs and holy words.
So quiet was the air on this Sabbath morning, that the mar
sic was heard a long, long distance away. On the banks of
a little stream to the northward, a band of trappers suddenly
paused in their work and listened. Ah! what recollections
were recalled to their minds by those faint words of song
They saw again the little village church in the valley far away
where in boyhood they had listened and joined. in the same
hymn of praise. They sat again by the side of their parents,
and heard their voices mingle with those around them. And
when the long-meter doxology swelled out in rich, sonorous
tones, there was more than one bronzed check wet with lean.
. It was not until the sound had died away and every thing Was
silent that they resumed their ,work again.

‘ V "Roda person traced out the source of this music he would
a» : have {and teams from a small clearing, in front of the “ Mk-
 itm—hom” Tmmwuamunqmbundingorm

 

m m nmmn’s nscarn.

erected without. any regard to appearance, standing near tho
western side of the clearing. Directly hack of this was about
an acre of land under cultivation. Maize, potatoes, and the
usual varicy of garden vegetables were here found in great
profusion, forvthe land was of exce.(ling richness and needed
but the opportunity to yield the m alth that lay in its bosom.

Rough and unsightly as was the exterior of this building,
the neat and cleanly interior ShOW( d that the hand of woman
was busy there. Her magic touch alone could give that ap-
pearance of tidiness and comfort that harnessed the stronger
upon entering, and her voice alone mm". utter those sweez, bird-
like notes which might be heard at almost any hour of the day.

Father Richter, the missionary , was a man fully seventy
years old. For forty years he ha t been a laborer among the
poor, neglected red-men. At the time the religious world was
I0 moved upon the subject of missions, and were nohly en-
gaged in sending their missiomries to the far-off Pacific
islands, to India and almost every portion of the habitable
globe, young Harvey Richter became filled with a holy 2031‘
to do something for his great Master. He was struck with '
wonder that the most needy and most accessible field—that
which lay at their very doors—should be almost entirely over
looked. The more he inquired and learned regarding the
Indians, the more impressed did he become with the necessity
of sending laborers among them. At his own request, he .wm
appointed missionary to the north-west. llis allowance wag
very meager and hewas compelled every few years to malts
a return journey to a frontier town to obtain it; but he made
it sufficient and never asked'for an increase. A few years
later, upon'one of these visits, instead of finding a stipend, he
found his recall awaiting him, with the announcement that it
was no longer possible to sustain his mission.

But Harvey Richter, accompanied by his faithful servant,
Teddy, returned to his lowly cabin and field of labor, and for
over thirty years, nothing was heard of him or his wife, who
had accompanied him to his distant station. During this lapse
of time, great changes had taken place in the missionary’s
hmily. Ten years after his advent among the, Indians,“ ‘7 V

- ind laid his boy beneath the sod, and fifteen year-nucl-  5‘.
“with beloved when“ placed  him._   

 

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behind her an image and continual rcmembraneer of herself in
‘n'young infant. that had only time to receive the kiss and long
farewell of its mother, ere her lips were closed in death. It
' was nearly at this period that Teddy, who had accompanied
' a war~party of Indians, was shot by one of the enemies, so
that Father Richter’s only white companion was his daughter.
Cora, now grown to the estate of womanhood.

Cora possessed the same self-sacrificing devotion to her
Master that had always characterized the parents, and was des-
tined to become one of the most influential workers for good
that had ever appeared among the aborigines of the Great
West.

On the Sabbath morning in question, some fifty Indians,
male and female, were squatted around the clearing in front
of the house, while the missionary, his gray locks hanging
‘down upon his shoulders, and his blue eyes lit up with a holy
‘fire, was proclaiming the word of God to'them. He stood
behind a sort of rude desk, upon which lay the open Bible.
His left hand rested upon its pages while he gesticulatcd with
'his right. His white hair and eyebrows, his clean-shaven face,
‘llis Roman nose, his simple, unpretending dress, gave an im-
pressive dignity to his appearance, and the words, as they fell
them his lips, struck upon willing and listening hearts. His
position was such that the shadow of a huge tree protected

' him from the rays of the sun; but his hearers had no such
veil and wished for none. Like the eagle of their solitudes,
‘the fiercest sunlight failed to blear their vision or to distract
their attention. ~
_ There were brawny and scarred warriors, with course, re-
pulsive features, their black, wiry hair titlling into their laps
as they inclined their heads; as though they wished the uttered
words might descend upon them; there were frowsy squaw
scarcely less repellent than their husbands, some with shor
black pipes inserted between their Shaggy teeth; there were

, younger and more comely maidens and children—all holding
a respectful silence while Father Richter was addressing them.

‘ ‘- An occasional guttural ejaculation from some of the older

 "can: showed their appreciation of the truths thatwerc uttered

v ,1B-their'own highly figurative language; and,.now and than.
30 held nodded forward several times 7hr- the pm..d

 

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expressing the same sentiment. Take the audience as a. whoa,
their department and interest would compare very favorably}
with that of any congregation in a. civilized country, although
their dress and appearance would have suffered from the same
comparison.

The services continued for about an hour, when they were
concluded by prayer and the singing of the doxology.~ Being

‘then dismissed, they lounged away from the clearing, some to
return to their wigwams, others to bash, smoke and sleep in
the sun until the day was past. All had too much regard for
their kind “ Father " and for the truths he had uttered to hunt
or fish before the morrow.

The forty years’ residence of Father Richter among the In-
dians had given him a subtle knowledge of their character
which could not lead him astray. He had fled, years before, ,
with his young wife, through the tracklcss wilderness, from
the remorscless beings who sought their blood; he had re
turned again, and three different times, two of which were
in the dead of winter, had his dwelling been laid in ashes.
He had seen the war-whoop transform the apparently mild
and stolid beings around him, into furious demons whose rage
could only be calmed by the offering of blood; and, cowering
like the lamb before the wolf, he had shrunk from them until
the turbulent storm of passion passed over. But like his di~
vine Teacher who had suffered and died before him, he could
not be diverted from the great work of his life. His unvary.
ing faithfulness, his uneomplaining suffering, the exalted consis-
tency of his life and teachings, gradually impressed the savage
hearts, and since the birth of Cora, these periodical simooml
of passion had left him unharmed. In their wildest and most
ungovemable moments, they never oti‘cred harm or insult to
the missionary or his (laughter; and his little log-hut was like
a. rock in the ocean, safe against the howling of the tempest"
or‘the beating of the storm.

Father liichter’s extended residence among the Indians, we
say, had given him a knowledge of their character which
could not lead him astray. And, as his experienced eye swept
over them upon the Sabbath in question, he saw that their ,.
motions were swayed by some unusual cause. Somethi:
:int of the usual line of event: had occurred, and whom.

 

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might be, it was of an extraordinary character. Be trem-
blineg hoped at first that it might be the premonitions of an
outpouring of the Holy Spirit; but a few moments Convinced
him that such could not be the case. Although the attention
paid his discourse, to an unpracticed Lye, was as respectful as
usual, yet there vas a sullen scowl upon more than one brow
' that ‘boded evil to something or some one.

The missionary could not repress his anxiety and apple
honsion, when, at the conclusion of the services, he entered
his house, and Cora, as usual. seated herself beside him, lean-
ing upon his knees and looking up into his benignant face.

“ What is it that troubles you ‘I” she asked, almost immet‘i
ately.

-. “ I am troubled about these poor Indians. I detected sign:-
to—day that fill me with the greatest fear.”

“ Fear of what 1?”

“ Fear of another outbreak. The year before you were
born, I noticed upon a Sabbath morning the same profound
silence in my congregation, the same deep-drawn breaths,
scowling looks, and aimless movements. That night our
house was burned to the ground, and through the instrumen-
telity of a young unconverted Sioux—scarcely more than a
boy—our lives were saved."
~ ,“ Who was he ‘2”

"‘ Christian Jim—who since then has become a shining
light among the followers of our blessed J esus."

“ Do you think, father, they would harm us 1’"

“ It is not that fear that gives me trouble, although I may
have a little anxiety upon your account. It is sad to think
that. their wayward natures are so strong in these Indians. that

letter baptism and connection for years with our church, they
sometimes in a moment relapse into their former barl 'n'ism.
I have sought all these long years to teach them to subdue
and overcome this sinful warring of the flesh against the
spirit. There are many of our members—such as Christian
Jim, or Indian Jim as he is sometimes called, for instance--
'of whom we need have no fear, and then there are othen
who cause me much doubt and misgiving."

 flint by the door as usual when you were preaching to

 not help observing Jim—I suppose Wk

 

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sat nearest to me. His clothes were all torn and tattered, and
faded. as though he must have traveled a long distance.”

' “It is over a month since I last saw him among my peo-
ple.”

“Was there any thing in his manner that attracted your
notice ‘3”

“ It was his, perhaps, that I noticed more than that of any
one else. Although his head was inclined, and he frequently
.ookcd up into my eyes, I am sure he scarcely heard a word!
I uttered. He has brought some intelligence to our people
that has caused a profound sensation among them."

“ He will assuredly inform you, will he not ?” v

“ I have no doubt of it; it may be that he wishes to do it
secretly and is awaiting the opportunity to speak to me with "
out being observed by the others.”

“' There is a family by the name of Brainerl a considerable
distance to the southward with whom Jim is on quite inti-
mate terms, and’ it may be that he has just returned—"

Father Richter knitted his brows as though from a.» sharp
pain and lifted his hand for silence.

“ I understand it all—I understand it all," be repeated, as
if to himself. “ Alas! it is as I feared.” ~ '

“ What, father?” '

“There has been an outbreak of the Indians at the Upper
Agency and some of the other missions. I remember a warn»
ing that I received some six weeks ago from that hunter who
remained with us over night.”

“ Here is Christian Jim to speak for himself.’

Those who have done us the favor to read the little volume
entitled “ Indian J im,” will recall this friendly Sioux, without
a detailed description of his appearance in this place. They
will recollect also that after parting from his friends a few
miles to the westward of St. Paul, he made all haste back
again for the. purpose of assisting others who might need his
experienced hand and eye. Separating from the small body
of cavalry, and leaving the burning houses and flying refugees
to his left, he made a détour to the north-west. and arrived at
the mission of Father Richter upon the Sabin-Lo morningdn

'_queetion. He was strongly attached to this good man- and
leather, and although he was conscious of the great inflow

 

crmrsfian .rm. ll

they exerted over the wild spirits around them, the Sioux
knew too much of his own people to trust thtm implicitly.
He feared that this unparalleled outbreak would sweep them
into its midst, and they would seize the avenging knife and
tomahawk. '

Vague rumors had reached this branch of the Sioux of
trouble among their kindred, but their peculiar situation and
circumstances shut out all definite information until the arrival
of Christian Jim among them. He gave the particulars of
the massacre that had then been in progress for several weeks,
counseling his brethren at the same time in the strongest

,tetms to refrain from joining the insurgents, as a speedy pun-
ishment was sure to be meted out to the transgressors by their
great Father at Washington.

The door of Father Richter’s house was never fastened,
and it was always open to those who chose to come. Scarcer
an hour of the day passed without some visitor, and, on the
present occasion, the entrance of Christian Jim might have
been taken as a matter of course, had it not been for the cir-
cumstances already narrated.

“ welcome you. Awahnock,” said the missionary, address-

‘ - ing 5 Visitor by his Indian name. “ It is a long time since
I have seen your face among my people."
 Skilled as was the sa 'age in concealing his emotion, he
could not hide his agitation from those keen, searching blue
eyes that were bent upon him as he took a seat.

“. Been long way off—helping white folks.”

-“ Who ‘9"

, “ Mr. Brainerd—oder folks wid him—Little Crow bad man,"
said the Indian, breaking off in the abrupt manner so peculiar
sto his people.

“ I fear that he is ambitious and designing. He impressed
:me as such during the visits he has made in the course of the
last two or three years."

“ Bad man—bad man.”

, “ There is something upon your mind, Awahnock; do not
hesitate to let me know what it is. You need not fear the
« {W‘of Cora.” V
.3» #391311 white. folks—hurt womanand children, 
“'Mscalpofgal." " ‘ - j -" ~

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16 um nonm’s macaw.

' “Afraid my will come here, or afraid our own people will
rise and slay us? How is it, Awahnoek ?” asked the mission-
ary, in a voice that was startlingly loud and distinct.

“ ’Fraid dem,” he replied, with a significant glance toward
the open door.

“ You are an Indian, Awahnock, and ought to know your
own people; but then I have lived among them longer than
have you. I must say that I am a little uneasy, but I have

' not one-half the fear that seems to possess you. Have you ‘
heard any thing positive “.9” ,

“ Injin loo/c bad—t’ink good deal—don’t say much.” V

“They seem to be uneasy and restless, and I should not
like to answer for the safety of any white man who should
venture among us at this time; but I doubt whether in their
most excited moments one of them would raise his hand
against me or mine."

“ Mugalwah bad,” repeated the Sioux, scarcely above a
whisper. , ~

“ I must own that my apprehension is regarding him.”

“And why is that, father? Is he not a Christian Indian ?”

“ He was baptized twenty years ago, but naturelis strong in
him still. He it was who applied the torch to my dwelling,
but he also assisted in building a new one, so that We may i
believe he sincerely repented of that deed; but when his
blood is aroused he is a dangerous man. He acted strangely
this morning, during devotional exercises." ,

“ Mugalwah bad man—bad man,” repeated Christian Jim,
looking down to the floor and shaking his head. I

It was now near noon, and Corn busied herself in preparing
the meal, while her father and their visitor continued the con
versation. The missionary learned the particulars of the es.
cape of the Brainerd family and their friends, and gathered
*an idea of the fearful nature and extent of the outbreak. His
own location was such that in case the storm burst over his ,
head, he could not escape by the same means that had‘saved
ithem. It might be said that our former friends were on the
rIouth-nnstern border of this district of fire and blood, while w

r-FatherRichtcrwas‘onthe north-west. By plunging farther
‘into the forest toward the mountains, withtast'ew 
the Indians," his companions, he might elude 

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blood-hounds until their thirst was quenched. But he could
“not bring himself to believe that one of his people—not even
Mugalwah—could offer him harm, and he resolved therefore
not to heed the advice of Christian Jim, but to remain where
he was.

The Sioux stayed but a comparatively short time, and then
nuntered out of the house and across the clearing. The eye
of more than one dusky warrior was fixed upon him with a
penetrating, suspicious look, and there was many a glance that
was not friendly. All knew the unswerving faithfulness of
this Indian, and now when the fires in their breasts were be-
ginning to flicker and fan themselves into life again, and they felt
'their old natures struggling like giants within them, the sight
,of his calm, unimpassioned face drove them almost to mad-
ness. There was many a heart that feared and trembled—for
they understood their own nature and realized they were walk-
ing upon the edge of a volcano.

It was the custom with Father Richter, when the Sabbaths
were pleasant, to hold two services during the day—one in
the forenoon and one in the afternoon. On the present occa-
sion he was gratified to see all of his people come together at
the usual time; but there were more palpable manifestations
of an uneasy feeling among them. ‘

He preached with unusual fervor that afternoon and be
sought God‘s blessing upon his effort. He watched with an
anxious eye its effect upon the leading spirits in his audience.
His conclusions were such as to leave him in a more trouble-
some doubt than ever. ‘

It was with a heavy, saddened heart that at the close of
the exercises he made his way into his house again. Could it
be that his forty years’ labor among the North American In
'dians was for naught? Were their natures such that the!
was no christianizing them? After years of profession and a
‘ consistent life, were they to relapse in a few hours into barbar-

‘. ism again? Had the seed that he had srwn fallen upon stony
ground?

' ‘ 'Ah, uol good Father Richter; the seed that you have sent-

“ stead shall bear its fruit in eternity, and when at the last great
day you confront your account, you shall and a boundless

.,,.... .u..~ '_.r..‘“ _
«

 

tt m mama‘s seem:

!t was this thought, as we have said before, that gave “I.
minister more pain than any anxiety regarding the personal
security of himself and (laughter.

Ashe made his way to his house, he became conscious that,
some one was following him. He did not turn until he was ,
about to step in his own door, and then, he observed, with

time surprise, that it was Mugalwah. The savage hesitated

when upon the threshold, as if in doubt whether to enter or
not, but a kind invitation decided him. ‘ ,~
- Standing in the ver center of the floor, he folded his arms
and then scowled upon the two beings before him. '

“ You seem in trouble,” said Father Richter, in his mild,
sWeet mice. “ Sit down and acquaint me Willi it.” i

The Indian declined the proffered chair and remained stand-
Ing. He refused all questions for a moment and then said, in
his own tongue: '

“ Yengese traders had men—they tell lies.” .

“ I am sorry, Mugalwah, that such is the case; but we must
(at them a better example.” ‘

“ They make treaties, promise us blankets, and beads, and
noney, and powder, but they lie, they never give them to us.
“my call us mighty warriors, and say the Great Father at
Washington loves us and will send us our annuities; but they
He. When they get the Indian’s land they call him dog, and
,t' he asks for money or food they kick him and say he may
starve for all they care."

The glitter of the black eye and the unconscious quicken-
ing of the breath showed that the savage was working him-
self into a passion. It was therefore the aim of the mission-
ary to pour oll upon the troubled waters.

“ You remember what I told you about Jesus Christ this
afternoon. He had the power to kill all those who treated him
-0 badly, and‘yet he never struck them a blow, nor ever said

‘had Word, but they put him to death at last.” , «

~‘»‘ He was a great, good man,” said the savage, with marl
calmness; ‘ ' -. ‘ ‘
 9" Yes; and we should all strive to be like him."
it v“, Why ain’t white man like him?” he asked, with

flatness. . r  7 , /
 sadly shmkhhheflw > s’x: 

 

     

muwm’e nun-e g

   

'~' “‘ He is had, indeed, and our (fast Fan ~ xiv-«will punish
m.“ '
“ And so will I," interrupted Mugalwah, i» a vein-n of them
der, drawing his scalping-knife from his belt, “ Maxim-u will
smile upon me for punishing him. - I go now to seek b-m.”
“Before you go,” continued the missionary, in the sigma

20w voice, “ let us kneel down and pray for his blessing noon
‘9

    
       
   
   
 

_ ' 'ihe savage hesitated a moment, but he could not refusci
A feeling partly of shame took possession of him, as he
kneeled upon the floor, and Father Richter began his petition.
The prayer was short and fervid, and of such a nature that
it could not fail to strike reproach to the most hardened crim-
inal contemplating deeds such as had entered into the heart
of this professing Christian Indian. But when the missionary
and his daughter arose from their knees and looked around
them, Mngalwah was gone. He had silently glided out while
the prayer was‘being ofi‘ered.

       
   
   
   
   
 
    
 

CHAPTER II.

AN INDIAN TREATY.

-Tnou¢n the? were the children of the forest, and though they left no
. monuments o scuqiture, )fllntlll}: and poesy,yet meat was their full, and
sorrowful is the story 0 t iclr wrong—5111.103» BAH-D.

SOME time previous to the events nan-3rd in the precedo'
Eng pages, there was a large gathering of Indians and white
men upon the border. Their actions showed that they had

, congregated for some important purpose.

- V The reeistless march of civilization to the westward had
’ V ' been gradually and surely absorbing that portion of Minue-
eOta which, by right of treaty, belonged to the Indians. There
had been murmurings and occasional threats of resistance to v
thieunscrupulous innovation, which all saw would 
 drive - them from the country as if the armyg‘offeb
 States had marched against them. 'Fish, the...“
end tho‘hnnt were vaeenli'dnmwrflm

  
      
       
      
      
       
   
   
   
   
     

O: p ' um HUNTER’S mascara.

were thinning out from the continuous draught the flutes I
made upon them ; the sound of the ax and the falling trees ‘
had frightened the beaver and the buffalo further westward” I
ate undisturbed solitudes; and, as it is almost impossible for
he Indians to change their nature—except in occasional 
tances, and become farmers, like whites—their own self-
'preservation compelled them to move on toward the setting g
sun.

The sagacious agents and oflicials of our Government be.
came aware that the territory at present belonging to the
savages was of the most productive kind, while that to which
they wished to remove them was little better than a desert
The step to do this was a simple one. All that was necesé ‘
sary was to make a treaty.

Accordingly, on this morning, a large number of leading
Indians, and agents, and traders were assembled together for
the purpose of making the treaty in due form. It would have
been observed that the whites were very loquacious and assid-
uous in their efforts to make a favorable impression upon the
savages. That “ villainous compound," known as whisky,
was dealt out with a liberal hand, and, in spite of the deter-
mined etl“orts of the older chiefs, many of the most influential
of their number became intoxicated in a beastly manner.
They had just reached that frame of mind to which the wily
officials had been assiduously assisting them, and would will-
ingly have ceded, had it been in their power, their very souls
for another draught of the fiery liquid. It being manifest.
that the whisky had done its work. the oflicials concluded it
time to begin the ceremony.

The first important step was to assure the Indians, through
the interpreter, how unbounded was the affection entertained
toward them by their Great Father at Washington; the elf.-
qucut orator informing them that it was impossible for him ‘0
sleep 0‘ nights on account of his harrowing anxiety ; that as
was becoming emaciated and worn to a skeleton ; that, alter
long nights of prayer, he had concluded that their Welfare de-
manded. that they should be removed to a new country—n .
nureotzntry that abounded with fish and all kinds of game,
“the Iceman omfld'riot' fail of 1:0me speedily!»

    

 

i
 sums A Timur. it

oyster" concluded by intimating that an extravagant mid
would be paid for their iands.

The chief who replied to this speech, was a tall, middle-
aged Indian, of astern and dignified appearance, who had
carefully abstained from taking a drop or me whisky, know-

. ‘ ing too well what the consequences would be if any of i
' “i I  passed his lips. He made, in the first place, some pointed
references to several previous t‘sties to which he had been I '

 

, 35. party, whose stipulations had never been carried out. He rcu
 : ferred to the annuities long since inc and unpaid ; to the ’
,‘ ._‘ ' ' outrageous claims of the traders which swallowed up all their '
 supplies when sent out by Government; to the atrouious acts

,7  of debauching their women and maltreating their men when
"i they asked for justice. He added, finally, that his people"
1 were satisfied with the land upon which they were living, and
they were not willing to leave it for the desert-like region '~
further west. ‘ '
The answering speech of tne white was artful. He ex4
pressed his regret at the shortcomings of his brethren, and as.
cured the chief and his maudlin companions, upon his honor,
'Jnt nothing similar should be repeated. Their Great Father
in Washington had learned with sorrow of these bad acts of
his agents, and was resolved that none but good men should

 

 

 be henceforth appointed, and that every right should be guar-
:1 antecd them. He expressed a hope that the chief whom he
_ I i was addressing would do his best to persuade his people and
‘2' - brother chiefs of the wisdom of their removing at once ; in-
J sinuating that their Great Father at Washington would greatly ‘
..slike to compel them to go. -

j‘. The savage had sagaclty enough to understand the meaning
of this remark. The matter was, simply, the Indians must
give up their lands willingly or unwillingly, as they chose it
should he. Still, for the purpose of securing a good price, if
for nothing else, the chief continued to hesitate, until finally
the remuneration was named. This was a iiherni sum. and
if the red-men could have felt sure of recelvm'g-it‘qhey would "
have felt somewhat satisfied with the results of the, trcafi‘fi
 "they .knew'there‘was' a gauntlet,bf’l‘fclahnsf'for'itjtb’  
"v “satin wén'idéh manow tli'e’ amenht‘  ‘ "" “‘3‘: "’
I ‘ ‘ «sigma-s wii'no help’br it"an'd 

    

    

    

fl 11m nonmn’s new;

signing. the. treaty took place. The sober Indians madam
"mark," while their drunken companions made a danb (or,
a scrawl that served as well as the most beautiful chirography.

Prominent' among the whites was a long, lank-visaged,
weazen-faeed personage, known by the name of Matt Larkius,
whose profession for the last. ten years had been that of a
whisk y trader. \Vhere or when he obtained his supplies, no one
knew; but he was rarely seen unless he had a small keg upon
his shoulder, which never seemed full nor empty. The liquid
jingling of the fluid could be heard as he walked, and the
ravenous appetites of a score of Indians or hunters was un-
able to exhaust its supply.

Like the majority of speculators and adventurers, he was
from New England, and during the years 0‘ his trade upon
the border had accumulated quite a fortune. Still his insati-
ate avarice craved more, and when his scalp was in imminent
danger he did not hesitate to venture in the wilderness among
the people whom he so deeply wronged by his retailing the
destroying fluid. He never refused to trust the Indians fol
any amount they wished; he knowing that he would be paid
ten-fold when the annuities arrived. He, in conjunction with
others as unpriueipled as himself, had defrauded the savages
in this manner of tens of thousands of dollars.

Several times in his wanderings he had fallen into the
hands of missionaries, who had done their utmost to persuade
him to give up the terrible tratile, but all in vain. The orbit
which he described through Minnesota brought him at period-

‘ieal times to the Clearing. The first time he arrived there,
I he hid his keg in the woods, and amained a day or two in
the cabin of Father Richter, partaking of his hospitality, and
inquiring, with an air of concern, about the spiritual welfare
of his people, after which he passed into the woods, took his
cask to the villagre, and distributed it among them, receiving
an enormous profit from the Indians, who were set wild by
cne taste of the liquid. The result of this act was a desper-
ate quarrel, in which two savages were killed and one maimed
for life.

A rather demonstrative son. of wrath upon the part of
Father Richter may be excused, when, three years warm

 plodding minty-serous Q29. else-ring in}!!!

A wmsxv TRADER. 33

Motion ‘of his house. He could scarcelybelieve his eyes,
until the man halted directly in front of his door, dropped his
keg carefully to the ground, and extended his hand with a
broad smile. Without noticing his sulutatim, he picked up
the cask, and, raising it above his head, dashed it to pieces
upon a stone. Then, in a voice of thunder, he commanded
the tmder to depart, and never to make his appearance befua
it: im‘ again.

Before leaving, Matt Lurkius hinted that he should like to
beremunerated for the loss he had sustained, and remarked
also that he desired to spend a few hours in the society of
Com. This was the spark that firm .hemamzine. As quick
as lightning, he was caught in the .run grasp of Father Richter,
who run across the clearing with him, and then flung him
into the woods, as he would have thrown a deadly viper from
him.

The next day after the conclusion of the treaty, Mott Lar-
kins sat in the back-room of a trader’s building, in confiden-
tial conversation with the short, Stumpy, bullet headed trader
himself. Though widely different in physiognomy, each face
nfl'ering diminct characteristics, both bore the unmistuknble
impress of avarice, cupidity, and a low, groveling nature.
The object of their lives seemed to be solely to amass wculth
at the expense of the Indians around them.- Both had glasses
standing before them, from which they took semi-occasional
droughts, each smoking a short black Drier-wood as he
,did so.

“ That/ere treaty them fellers made yisterday, is a. hunky
grand thing for us who’re in the business,” remarked the
trader.

“ Dunno as it'll improve my business much, as I have, all
I can do now, and you see it ain't easy to improvesich a
perfession."

“ But the Government give a good price for them lands,
lldn’t they? How them poor devils would open their eyes if
hey could only lay their hands onto it. But I wonder how
much they'll feel in their claws. eh, Matt ‘3”

4 “Not; a heap; I’ve some claim» that must be met.“
, "'zflygitsgmbati" - _ . -»
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H mm nuxrnn‘s noun.

“' If any body should ax you, and you should tell 'em M3
thousand dollars, you wouldn’t be very fur out of the way."

“ The deuce! How come—4’

“ 'Sh ! don'tsny nothing; I've got the thing all down on papal
all straight."

“ Say, Mutt,” continued the trader, with an insinuating smile,

5 .ie tdged nearer to him, “ let’s hear how you done it. My

laims, as first made out, footed up only twenty-five hundred I
dollars. Me and my clerk, Billson, worked at it half the ‘
night and managed to hist it up to four thousand; but, hang
me, we couldn’t raise it another peg. Let‘s hear how you
done it'?"

“ Have you got the claims handy ?"

' “ They‘re just in ’tother room.”

“ Fetch 'em."

The trader whisked into the salesroom, and in a moment
appeared, bearing a large roll of sheets pasted together, which
he unrolled bct‘ore Matt Larkins. The latter ran his eye rap- .
idly down the long list of articles and names, and then tossed
it from him with a disdainful expression.

“ Just what I thought, Womplc; you and your clerk don’t
know much about the business. Don’t you see, all these In-
dians is alive I"

Womple's face brightened.

“ Now, one-third of the names in my account belong to In-
dians that have been under the ground for the last three years.
The agents don’t know the difl‘erence, and, if they did, what's
the odds ? You know they ain't pertickler, especially if there's
a chance to turn an honest penny."

“ I never thought of that,” repeated Womple; “ it’s a good
Idea, How much would your bills amount to, of they was
just right i"

“ Five thousand dollars.”

“You know what I mean."

,“ About six or seven hundred. Strikes me too, Sam,you're
mighty fraid to charge for what you‘ve got here. These
betcha-ts, knives, and ammunition, ought to be a heap more.
Such things‘have riz’aimtzhigly’since the War—'t’hen’you‘can ‘
lay soni‘etiiiitg'uboutex'tra cost of transporbition findéfiidfi'! ‘
Wfipfi.’luch‘n‘ron as that ought to foot up new 

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now mums “ m'rcnns flair." IQ
dollars, and all I‘ve got to say is that you’re a fool if you
dbn’t make it do that. My motto is, ‘ improve your chances.”’

“' I‘ll doo’t; I've learned a thing or two in the last ten
minutes."

“You’ll learn a thing or two more, when you've traded
with these Sioux as long as I have. Now, some folks pre~
tend to pity these miserable dogs; but, as for me, I can’t see
what there is to pity about them. They’re a dirty, greasy,
bloodthirsty set, and it‘s our Christian duty to make all the
money possible out of ’em. Leastwuys, that’s what I‘ve been
trying to do the last ten years."

“These infernal missionaries play the mischief with our
business. They git their New England notions—”

“ Hold on, Womple, I’m from glorious old New England,
don’t you slander her in my presence.”

“ And you‘re a fine specimen, tool Them missionaries git
their outlandish notions in the heads of the dogs, and we
can’t do much ‘with ‘em."

“ My beverage is purty sure to fetch 'em. They may hold
back a while, but it’s certain to jerk 'em at last. The hard-
est place I ever got into is up north-west, where old Father
Richter. as they call him, is stationed. Tile Indians had sot
their face so strong agiu me, that I came mighty near losing
my skqu when they i‘ust got sight of me; but they couldn‘t
stand the fire-water. As soon as they got a taste of that, I
had ’em, and I made a good thing olf my sales."

“ Where was the old man all this time?”

:“ He didn‘t know nothing about it, till it was too late—he!
he! he! he! he!"

“ Have you been there since ?”

‘° Yes; but I didn't get treated so well,” returned the trader
with a more serious countenance. “He busted my keg and
then run me out of the Clearing."

Womple laughed heartily, and asked whether his Inamn
friends did not come to his relief.

“ Come to my relief! No; do you suppose they cared any

~ thing for me? It was only the whisky they was alter; and, as

J hadn't that, I left till I could get some more. Howsuinem
m. 1 that old manor? yit”

' «~41 .tins’lsss-thswshwslss tsésttsfepmififi

 

 

, IO m man‘s mews.

“do you know I have my doubts about Indians huh.
souls ‘3" '
“ I dunno," replied the trader, indifi‘erently, as he enjoyed
his pipe. ,
“ Yes ; well, I have. 'I‘hey're lih monkeys—a little higher

hrutes, but sometimes I think they ain’t much either. The!

stand in the way of modern civilization, and I think it’s :

lisgrace to a Christian nation that we allow ’em to live.”
“Y-as” drawled Lax-kins, as though the subject was not

interesting to him. “ Y-a~s; it might be a good thing for civ-

ilization, if they was out the way, but how about the whisky

and trading business ‘2"

“ That’s so.” r

“Then, you see, they're like snakes; you may thin ’em
out as much as you please, but there will always be a few
left."

“ Womple,” called out Larkins, as if to direct his attention
particularly to what he was about to say, “ you hain’t been on
the border as long as I have, and consequently you don’t know
as much about these copper-skins as I do, do you ?” '

“I ‘s’pose not—I hadn‘t oughter, at any rate.”

“ Well, I can tell you something that may be you don’t
suspect. There‘s going to be an Indian war mlghty soon."

The agent started from his seat.

“ What do you mean 1’"

“ Just what I say. I know it, \Vomple; but you chaps and ‘

the other fellows Government sends out here are so thundering
blind that you'd never s‘pect what was going on till you get
a whack over tne head from one of their tomahawks. There's

Commissioner Dole and some of the others that I think smell \

as much as two rats.”
The agent looked too excited and frightened to speak, and
arkins continued in his mild manner. -
“Y~a-s, Womple, afore we’re many months older there's
going to be such a time as neither you nor I never dreamed
of. There's a storm coming, and we as understand the weathex
um see the clouds already gathering in the sky.” '
“ But tell me all about it.” -- ~ 1

“ You‘n I have had several friendly dealings together;’uid,-

in: flwsyo m anatomist port. flint-is; helped- mt uh

   

 

 

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I I?” thousand out of the Sioux, he! he! he! I feel disle
to let you know, so that you may trim your sails and be ready.
Well, then, in the first place, Womple, these Sioux are getting
tearing mad. Their annuities have been due for several
menths, but they don‘t come. Their Grout Father, Old Abe.
has got enough to do to take care of Washington, without
Iceing to his dusky children. Then this treaty is going to
kick up another muss. It don’t go down very well.”

' “ But dare they do such a thing 1‘” i

“Dare they do it? It‘s one of two things: to be quietly
starved to death, or to misc a row and die like a true warrior.
Which do you s‘pose they’re most likely to do ?"

There was an indolent, sleepy indifference in the manner of
Matt Lurkins that was in striking contrast to the excited, anx-
ious manner of the agent. The latter was continually chang-
ing his seat, moving his arms, spitting, smoking and drinking,
while the trader, with his hat thrown back, and his elbow
resting upon the table, was drawing figures with his finger, in
the spilled liquor. When he raised his eyes to those of his
friend, he did not move his head in the least, and quickly dropped
his listless gaze to the motion of his finger.

“ Yas, Womple, which be they the most likely to do?
There’s another thing that‘s stirred the blood of these Sioux.
You know Govemment has commanded them to stop making
war against the Chippewas. That come mighty nearer than
many think of kicking up a promiscuous massacre."

“But, Lnrkins if this is so, hadn‘t you oughter to tell the
people of it? There's a good many poor women and children
that will suffer."

" Bah ! how many do you s’pose would believe you? These
stingy old farmers up through the country will keep plowing
and harvesting until they see their buildings on fire, then
they'll begin to think something’s the matter. Take my
ldviee. Womple, and don't says word to any one about it.
What 'is it to you, any way? You jist take mighty good
«are of your own head, and let the others do the same.
gist! there’s an In'lian jl‘t entered your store. Open the
door on a crack and listen to what he buys." "

g  agent. sprung up and opened the, door, and, peered

. W «'thug‘uovucimod before the com (m

 

   

     

)8 m man’s nscnrn.
Q warm dzty, he was wrapped to his chin in a. large blank“,
His long, black, wiry huir hung down over his head and thee
and he had a sullen, treacherous look, that might well have
aroused suspicion in a person unacquaintcd with him.

“ The fellow has got a gun and hatchet, of course, but I“
what it is he is after,” whispered Lnrkins.

The first thing for which the savage asked was a knife.
After considerable dallying this was purchased and he then
wished to look at the hatchets. A large, slmrpdflnded one
Was selected, after which he took a. quantity of percussion
caps, lead and powder. Rather singularly he paid the price
asked for them in good legal greenbacks.

“ Where did he get them ?" asked Larkins, when the sav-
age had departed, and his clerk had informed him of the factv
“It ain‘t often 11 Sioux gets sight of a greenback, and Billson
says he had several more in his pouch.”

“ Maybe some white man has been fool enough to pay him
his debts. It’s just as likely. however, he‘s knocked over
some person he‘s found traveling atween the settlements or
stations, and confiscated his pocket-book."

“ I’ve never seen that fellow, and it‘s likely he’s come from
a considerable distance. I don‘t like his looks at all.”

“Did you ever see a Chippewa or Sioux that suited you
in his looks? If you have, you’ve seen more than I have.
You may make up your mind, Woniple, there is going to be
a good many other faces that you won‘t like to see afore long."

“ Larkins, you‘ve made me right down oneasy. I feel like
emigrating back ngin.” '

“ He! he i he! Fudge! just haul in your horns and lay low
till the storm blows over. When yru see it coming, just
make yourself skeurce fur awhile." -

“ What are you going to do ?”

‘ " Nothing pertickler. I shall take a snooze till they‘re don.

hacking and cutting. and then come out and go to selling my
beverage agin. When the thing is about to commence, I’ve
got a little matter to attend to up toward the Clem" ng."

“ What is it ?”

“ Never mind; maybe you’ll loam one of these days; if
you don’t there’s no difi‘ercnce. I thought I’d drop and flu
 Yw. may w it for we 

 

 

 

 
  
 
  

  

    
  
 
    
 

 

 

    

FATHER RICHTER AND CORA. ‘”

“I’ve took it already. I’ll warrant you I won't sleep very
sound 0’ nights for snme time to come." ’

V “ Pooh! it‘s very little it’ 1 disturb me. Well, Womple, I
must be off.”

So saying, the whisky-trader passed out through the store;
house and disappeared. As he moved away, he muttered and
talked to himSelf as though there were some important scheme
revolving in his mind. It may be safely doubted, however,
whether his thoughts were more intently occupied than those on
the agent and trader that he had left behind him.

CHAPTER III.

A VISITOR.

 

We felt that we were fellow-men;
We felt we were a band
Sustained here in the wilderness
By Heaven‘s upholding hand—W. D. GALLAGIII.

“POOR Mugalwah,” repeated the missionary, as he arose
from his feet and saw that the savage had really departed.
"‘ It has been a sore struggle with him, and I much fear the
Spirit of God has not come ofl‘ conqueror. Never mind.
daughter, we are all in the hands of our Father, and he will
work his good will with this Indian.”

“How fortunate indeed it is that there are no settlements in
the vicinity of our little village; these warriors would not
fail to attach them this night."

“I suspect that Little Crow, or some of the chief's, have
lent messengers to our village, and have excited them by
haraugues. They are burning to take up the toniahawk, and
J shall not be surprised if on the morrow I find nearly all the
warriors gone south to join in the dreadful work.”

“ And when they return?” >

5‘ They will be intoxicated with the sight of blood, and it

 be prudent, daughter, for us to hide in‘the woods for]
' m2, , V v r w 1. . . ‘.  I I , '

The glrl'looked it; 'a mm'mmt'rwma

  

 

 

)0 Tim nUN'rnn' ESCAPE.
the 1. drawing her chair nearer him, buried her head in his lap
w’. shout uttering a syllable. The missionary passed his hand
ll twly over the golden hair, as if to soothe the troubled child,
‘ who cowered like a frightened bird beneath his arm for pro-
tection. Instead of speaking, he began singing in a low, trem-
ulous but sweetly musical voice, a hymn that spoke of trust
and faith in the oversight of God. It was sung to the turn
of Auld Lang Sync and had always been a favorite with the
missionary. i

As he sat thus, humming over those cheering words. his
eyes resting absently upon the door, the mild autumn after-
noon gradually faded into twilight which in turn deepened
into evening. Cora had fallen into slumber, and his hand
rested upon her head; still he sung. in his modulateu voice,
the hymn, and the tears slowly trickled down his cheek.
Never before had Father Richter enjoyed such a close com-
munion with his Saviour as upon that night in September,
when he sat in his own but and ran back over the past forty
vears of his life. Never before had he experienced in so tan-
gible, so palpable a form the presence of the blessed Master
whom he had served through all those long, eventful years.
He sat there and wondered whether it was possible for the
world to offer a situation for which he would exchange his
own, in spite of the cloud that was lowering over it. No, no,
a thousand times no, was the inward answer to the question.

He had sat for nearly three hours in this soothing reverie,
and he was all unconscious of the lapse of time, when he was
recalled by the sound of a footstep, and a form flitted by the
open door. He merely caught a glimpse of it, insufficient in
the dim moonlight to reveal the identity of the person.

A‘ moment later, the Indian reappeared, and stepping to
the door leaked in. As there was no light in the room, and
the missionary was in shadow, he failed to discover who was
sitting: directly in front of him.

“ Won’t you enter and sit with me awhile 1’“ asked Father
Richter, in his mild, persuasive tones. As quick as lightning
the form drew back and whisked out of sight.

_ Father Richter while the Indian was standing before him
'had done hisvutmom to ascertain who it was, but had failed-—

among autumn: notMugalwah. 7 .. L 

  

     

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5

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rm: PRAYER AND mum. ll

- Becoming sensible now of the lateness of the hour, he
gently raised the head of Cora from his lap, and closed the
door. As she sat somewhat confused and bewildered, he
struck a light.

“ It is quite late, daughter—time that you had retired."

The heavy wooden-covered Bible was taken down from the

ode mantel-piece, achapter read, and then the evening prayer

was offered up. The peculiar circumstances surrounding the
wo did not make its pleading fervor any greater. It breathed
the same nnshakcn faith and trust, the same unwaverierr hope,
and was as brief as usual.

The house of the missionary was but a story and a half in
flight—there being a rude lot‘t produced by the shape of the
angular roof. Three rooms only were upon the floor, the
large sitting and dining-room, and the two bedrooms, occu-
pied respectively by the father and daughter. \Vhen travelers
remained over night, as they 0e 'asionally did, accommodations
were made for them in the sitting-room, or if the necessity
was great, the loft came into use.

Father Richter had constructed a sort of rude lamp, fn’.
from the fat of animals. which had done him good service for
a number of years. With this he escorted his daughter to
the bedroom and there kissed her good-night. She had be-
come inspired with the same soothing trust as her father, and
scarce a thought of danger crossed her mind, as she sunk into
a sweet, dreamleSs slumber upon her couch.

Meanwhile the excitement among the red-men was on the
increase. ’l‘hcir village, which stood several hundred yards
from the Clearing, was the scene of earnest dispute. The
North American Indian is a strange being, with a nature
which it has puzzled many a man to understand. In this lit-
tle community, among whom Father ‘tichter had administered
for twenty years, nearly every adult person had made a pro-
fession of Christianity; and, so long as temptation rcmaiuea
_‘Iway from them, their lives were. consistent. But let .hose
infernal pests of society, the whisky-traders, make their up-
peurance in the neighborhood, and the appetites of the men,
18ml some of the women, bccame uncontrollable. Despite the

; mtesmtions and threatenings of their 11. acher, they swallowed

I» m abomination 50.1mm». they widow-3t. 01;!-

 

  

    

88 um HUNTEB'S ESCAPE.

tong asthey were capable of holding another drop. And.
then, like so many helpless brutes, they slept until the effect;
of their debauch had passed away.

Then, repentant and sorrowful, they bcsought the forgive-
ness of God and of the aggrieved missionary for their sin.‘
They prostrated themselves in the very dust, almost starved
ultenisclvcs to death, and crucified their bodies in every man
nor as a punishment for their transgressions. Even Christian
Jim, who. beyond all question, was a sincere follower of the
Saviour, was not proof at all times against these tempta-
tions.

Then, at rare intervals, came, faintly but distinctly, the
sounds of war, and these meek Indians, whether upon the
chase, fishing, or at home in their villages, raised their heads
and listened. Assuring themselves of the meaning of the
sound, the flashing eye, the compressed lip and the quickly-
drawn breath showed how deep was the response of their
natures to the well-remembered call.

And thus it was, on this Sabbath morning in autumn, when,
ordinarily, they were quiet and thoughtful, that they were
talkative and excited.
brought words that were like wind to the slumbering fire
The majority were in favor of starting at once to the south.
ward and joining in the work of destruction of the settlers;
but a few, among whom Christian Jim was prominent, en
deavored to dissuade them from the step. The controversy
was long and earnest, but it effected no good.

A little before midnight a band of some twenty warriors,
fully armed and in tlieirwar-paint,.withdrew from the village,
and stealthin entered the wood in a south-easterly direction.
A glance at their fiendish faces would have assured any one
of their intent. The leading spirit was Mugalwah, who mono
than once had threatened the life of Christian Jim for oppw
ing his advice so strenuously.

About a mile away, on the banks of a small creek, the
party halted, and Mugalwah withdrew deeper into the woods. '
Fairly away from his companions, he at once turned his face
toward the Clearing. He was not long in passing the inter-
.vening distance. Carefully avoiding his own village, he can.

gum thaws-house from a difi‘erent direction. on the m t 1‘ I

The messenger of Little Crow had I

    

 

“fa—IN
\ I,

 

 

 

m rowan or mama. 8“

margin of the Clearing, he paused to contemplate, m the dimi
moonlight, the scene before him.

As silent as the tomb stood the little home of the min.
Itonary. Its outlines were distinctly visible, as was also the
humble garden in its rear. The few rows of maize, the spire-
like beans, and the dense undergrowth,bespoke a tidy and in
dustrious hand, and the impression of soothing quiet was in
cicased, if possible, by the profound silence that rested upon
every thing. '

But this picture of contentment was lost upon the erratic
being who stood in the edge of the woods. His paint-be-
dnubed face was disfigured by the expression of frightful ferocity
that gleams from the Indian’s face when engaged in his inhu-
man work ; and the gentle instructor to whom, for so many
years, he had looked up to with reverence, was now trans-
formed into an object of implacable hate.

‘ As noiseless as a phantom, the savage glided across the
open space toward the building. A stranger standing upon
the edge of the Clearing, would have observed him pass around
the corner of the house, where, as he sunk upon his knees,
his form dissolved into the deeper shadow of the building it-
self:

At the recent date of which we are writing, the luclfer
match was in use among the Indians who lived in the neigh-
borhood of the border, or who had communication with the
whites. Mugnlwah was provided with a number of these
which he held in his left. hand, while he gathered kindling:
with his right.

The dexterity with which he collected the twigs, brush
and dried leaves and heaped them against the house, might
have led any one to suspect that he was an experienced hand
at the business. Assuring himself that there could be no
miscarriage, he swept his eagle eye over the Clearing to make
sure that there were no interlopcrs, and then he carefully list
mixed to find whether any one was stirring inside.

' All was still, and with a steady hand he drew a couple of
matches over a distended portion of his hunting-dress. They
ignited instantly, and he appiled them to the lower portion of
' fia‘ pile. A slight dew had fallen, and there was somedqu
We the flame communicated. By carefully shading“

 

 

  

m mum's mus.

blue. it soon caught and the fire steadily and rapidly .inq.

creased. ..

The face of the Indian glowed with a demoninc ecstasy, as

he watched the serpentine flame widening and broadening,
and realized that in a moment the house of Father Richter
must be wrapped in tire.
. All at once he started. Something ennght his car. He
‘ginccd his hand upon his hunting-knife and glanced around
him. The sound came from within the building, and was
that of the missionary himself. It was low and monotonous,
and Mugnlwah needed but a moment to assure him that it
‘was the voice of prayer.

From some cause or other, Father Richter found it impos-
sible to sleep upon retiring some time before. Lying in his
bed for a couple of hours, he finally arose, dressed, and seated
himself in a large chair at the foot of his bed. Here, medi-
tating as was his wont, it was not unnatural for him after a
time to sink upon his knees and commune in prayer with his
Maker. All unconscious of the danger which so imniinently
threatened him, the principal subject of his petition was the
very being, who, at that moment, was encompassing him and
his daughter with a horrid death.

Mngnlwuh heard his name pronounced and he listened more
intently than ever. The prayer was in the Indian tongue, so
that he understood every word. What a. study the face of,
that savage offered, its it was lit up by the flaming twigs in
front of him. His soul was stirred to its innermost depths
and a mighty struggle for a. few seconds took place in his
breast.

Meanwhile the blaze was increasing. Already the corner:

of the dry, seasoned logs were beginning to smoke and to give '

evidence of dangerous heat. Still the low voice of prayer
wits heard, and still the name of Mugnlwuh was offered b0-
i‘ore the Throne of Grace. The Indian bent his head still
lower and liswned. Like an aroused lion he sprung to his

feet and leaping upon the burning twigs scattered them for '

Ind near. ’ausing only long enough to nssure himself that

(«here was no possible danger to the building, he mu arm
the Clearing at the top of his speed and plunged into M

     

 

 

 

 

v,

v  r.

 

ms YOUNG airman. fl

alt seemed 1.8 if that Clearing was to be the scene of mom
Innoue singular occurrence upon that autumn night. It was
Immer twenty minutes after the departure of the savage,
when another form, clothed in the dress of a white man, is-

‘ sued from the wood at almost the same point that he had on-

tercd, and strode across the Clearing in the direction cf the
cabin. Reaching the door, he rapped upon it with a {hr-:31!
that might have been heard at a. considerable distance. ,

Father Richter had not yet retired, and he answered the

summons almost immediately, pausing, however, long enough
to light his lamp. As he opened the door, his eyes fell upon
the smiling face of a young man attired in the garb of a hun-
ter, holding a rifle in his left hand while he extended his right
to grasp that of the missionary.
v Their manner was such as to show that they had met be-
fore, but under circumstances that one might suspect were
not altogether of an agreeable nature. There was a restraint
about the young man, and his smile was forced, as though he
were in doubt about the reception that awaited him. Father
Richter took a second penetrating glance to assure himself
there was no mistake, and then he half tlrcw back as though
to close the door. The young man noticed it and tecoilcd a
step.

“ Am I not welcome, Father Richter ?”

“ Come in, for you are in more danger than you suspect;
but, Roderick, you are the last man I expected to see, and I
 not take a lie upon myself by saying that I am glad to
see you; but I turn no man from my door, much less one of
my own blood.”

It is a tnoumful fact regarding this fallen nature of ours,
that there are very few beings who have attained to any-
where near perfection, in a moral point of view, without hav-
ing some particular failing; or, to express our menuirg by
figure, scarcely any man can so protect and fortify himself,

1 but there will be some weak spot that he has overlmked1

where the great adversary obtains almost undisputed on-
mac.

w A person might have lived for years with old Father Richy.
I, and new found any thing which was not to be admired;
out! yet. between him and young Roderick Charnly,‘.am

 

 
 

 

in ‘ m mama's Escnen.

mm of a few years before had placed a chasm em

which neither could pass. The missionary wished the n-
no harm; he only asked that Providence might kceptken

separated. He had no desire to see nor to hear any thing re-

garding Jim. After the decided rebuff he had given Lin

about a year before, he made himself believe that the young

hunter would encamp anywhere in the woods rather than u]:-

proaeh the Clearing. But on this autumn night, wl en, of a1.

others, he should have been hundreds of miles away from the ~
infuriated Minnesota Indians, he had made his way through

the wilderness to a spot within a hundred yards of the very

beings who would have torn him to pieces had they known

of his presence. He had made his way to this point, we say,

when he knew that, at the most, a dubious welcome only

awaited him.

“I remain with you but a. short time,” said he, in answer
to the remark of the missionary; “ so, Father Richter, please
make no reference to that unhappy matter which has placed
such a distance between us."

The two seated themselves as if for a long conversation.

“ And what, Roderick, may I inquire, is the cause of this
unexpected visit upon your part ?"

“I came to inform you of a dreadful danger that hangs
over your head. A massacre has broken out in Minnesota,
which, under the direction of Little Crow, Little Priest, Little
Six, White Dog, and many other leaders, is spreading through
the different agencies—the Upper and Lower Reservation. In
short, Father Richer, the entire range of settlements west of
St. Paul are considered in danger of destruction. Fearing
that you might not be aware of this, I have made my way,
li'om Red River to inform you.” .

“ I am grateful for the interest you have thus manifested
but did you really imagine that the ignorant people who sun
round me, and among whom I have resided for so many years, '
could ever be induced to raise their hand against me or
“Zine f”

“ I hope not, Father Richter, but you must not forget that
other-savages are in reach of you. The missionaries Riggs
and Williamson have been compelled to has for theiriim r
ldli'thyareindangerwhymaynotmber' ,

 

  

1‘,

 
   

     

I?

m. ,

A DIFFERENCE OF ONION.

 There was a lingering sarcasm in this question as if the
young ‘man would reprove this implied assumption of' superior
influence among the Indians. His words impressed the old
man very strongly. '

‘ They have been driven from their homes !” he repeated.
"‘ I hardly believed the Sioux would have sought to ham
them, exasperated as they may be against the whites.”

; “ These aborigines that are so lauded by sentimental poets
and romance writers are a treacherous and bloody-minded
race.”

“ They are a people who have been grievonsly wronged by
the whites. What can you expect from them, when such
wicked agents are appointed by Government, and when such
dishonest traders grow rich from these poor, starving red-
men ‘2”

“ There is truth in what you say, and I suppose it will al-
ways he so. I did not apprehend much peril to you from the
immediate people around, but there are others, many of whom
are now engaged in this devilish work, who know of you, and
may take it into their heads to pay you a visit. The distance
is not too great, Father Richter, for such a thing to occur."

“ I am aware of that, and also learned yesterday from
Awahnock, or Christian Jim, as he is more generally known,
of the outbreak. Years ago I fled through the woods to es-
cape the fury of these Indians; but I am too old to do that
now. I can labor but a few years at most and it matters lit-
tle when I am called away. My apprehension only is for
Cora.”

“ Why not flee to the land of civilization and spend your
old days in comfort and quiet ?”

v “ No, I10; I have dwelt too long in these solitndes to make
a residence endurahle in the States. Should the necessity of
saving Cora’s life compel me to leave this Clearing, I shall go
deeper into the woods—further away from the abode of white
men; but it will be a regard only for the welfare of my cher-
ished daughter that can drive me to such a step.”

The young man was silent for a moment, and then 
asked: .» ,

“ Father Richter, are you aware of the fearful character of

this outbreak r" - - v

 

  

 

    

 

~ at, rm: nuxrxan's mom
“I can well imagine what. it is. I have seen the Indian
In all moods. and understand what he is when wrong and pen-
Iccution have aroused his fallen nature within him. Many
an innocent mother and child must fall before the tomahawk
and knife, while the truly guilty escape. Ah me, it is sa(l,sad.”
“The war makes such a drain upon our men that I am
maid there will be difficulty in sending a suli‘tcient force to
quell this insurrection which is of such considerable extent."

“ Unless Government appoints Christian or at least honest’

agents, it will require a standing army to afford protection to
the emigrants who venture into the north-west. Do not. mis-
understand me, Roderick; this is a subject upon which I feel
deeply. I would that I could reach the ear of the authorities
for a. few moments. This outbreak must. be put down, as it

undoubtedly will in the course of a few weeks, but what as- I

surance can you have that the same thing will not be re~
peated?”

“A wholesome hanging of two or three hundred of the
leading spirits, I think, would have a good effect upon those
Awho are left." ’

“ It might so long as the terror inspired by such murder!

lasted; but if you think such a course could paralyze the arm

of every rcd~man you are as seriously mistaken as you were ‘

m that matter a few years ago.”

The scarlet suffused the face of the young man and a sharp
reply rose to his lips; but, recalling his position, he checked
himself and sat for a moment in silence. He felt that the
difference between himself and Father Richter was irreconcil-
able, and it became him to avoid all reference to the matter.
As if recollecting himself, the missionary said:-

“ You must pardon me, Roderick, that I have not asked
you to cat. You will partake of something ?"

“ I thank you; I have no appetite, and the hour is too far
ntlvant'ed already.” ,

“ Did you observe anything unusual as you approached the
Clearing 1’"

“ There was nothing in the immediate vicinity of van!

cabin that I noticed; but I had a very narrow escspo m

the bank of the creek 3 mile or so away." '
“ How 2" , i t '

 

AA‘-‘

can‘n

Ht!

Haai'dbOB‘

} ward the door.

  

A REQUEST AND A mourns. 
(I had no thought of meeting any one, and came upon a
pirty of Indians that seemed upon the point of crossing. It
was almost a miracle that I did not run directly into their
clutches. It may be that I should have suffered no harm, a:
they were your people.”

“ They would have made short work with you, Roderick,
their blood is fairly aroused, and the face of a white person,
excepting pemaps Cora and myself, would drive them to
frenzy. If you saw 11 party of my people, they were on their
way to take part in the massacre. I wonder , much at your
venturing here at this time.”

“ I was greatly concerned for your safety.” _

The hunter saw that his words were only half believed,

‘ and he regretted having uttered them. He was so nettled at
the manner of his host that he rose abruptly.

“ Well, good-by, Father Richter. I hope the time may ccme
when you will think better of me than you do now."

“Roderick, I think no ill of you—God knows I think ill
,of no man; but I believe that it would be better for both of
us that we should meet no more in this world. You under-
stand my feeling toward you. When you leave me, let it it-
,with the understanding that you have made your last visit I"

u I promise you never to darken your doors again."

“But hold; yonder, I see, the day is breaking. You can
not leave my house until to-morrow evenin". You would
never get a mile beyond the Clearing.” I ‘

“‘ I have not lived for many years in the wilderness; but I
have lived there long enough to be able to take care of my-
self,” replied the young hunter with a slight tinge of haughti~
ness in his manner, as he lifted his rifle from where it had re—
posed against the side of the room, and made a. motion to-

The only reply of Father Richter was to

; draw him one side and point through the small open window.

‘6
‘t
i

 

J“ uniteder young man, still making as though to deport.

 

Following the direction of his finger, Roderick Chamley dis
covered an Indian and two squaws making their way across
the Clearing.
“ The village is already astir, and you would be detected in
 instant." ‘
“ It would not be the first time, I have been detected," n-

 

 
 

Q ‘ m HUNTER’S ESCAPE.

" “Roderick,” commanded the missionary, in his impressive‘
Ind earnest manner, as he laid his hand upon his shoulder
“ should you depart from my house before the coming dark '
Hess, your blood would be upon my head. You must olwy
me. Keep yourself carefully concealed from View tlu'ougzh
the day, and at night 1 shall then bid you good speed upon
your way. You are weary; pass into my own room, and
lest yourself until you are called."

The hunter obeyed as if he were a child; and, as the
door was closed behind him, Father Richter seated himself in
his chair, to spend an hour in meditation and prayer.

CHAPTER IV.

THE WAR-PARTY.

The white
Demon of eed. and rum, and treachery.
Is on their reels for terror or dispatch.
VVILLIAI Ross WALLAOI.

THE band of Indians that left the village and halted upon
the banks of the creek were not quite twenty in number.
Having chosen Mugalwah as their leader, they awaited his re-
turn without questioning. In the course of an hour or so, he
made his appearance and they resumed their journey toward
the southeast. ,thn the sun came up over the wilderness
they had traversed many a mile.

Down in a valley-like depression, they made a second halt,
which was intended to be of but a few ininutes‘ duration.

' They were now getting in the neighborhood of the extreme
north-westem limit of civilization, and were liable to come
.npou prey almost at any instant. Their encampment was on
a hroad prairie, over which they had an extended view of
several miles. As the party seated themselves upon the grass,
Mugalwah ascended a slight elevation and looked around in
every portion, of the horizon. 5
.. Away to the eastward, his keen eye detected something
unusual, but thefdistance was so great that its precise identity

« could not be ascertained, even with all his wonderful scarab.

 

  

   
  
 

 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

   
  
 
    
    
  
  

 

run man-com d
Whatever the objects were, it was manifest. they were up
pmuching, and could soon be distinguished. At length in
made out that they were a party of Women and children pro-
gressing wearily forward. The wily Sioux more than sus-
pected that the massacre had something to do with their pres-
ence at this unusual hour upon the prairie. ,

Retreating into the hollow, he warned his companions by
On ejaculation that something was in the wind, and then
dropping upon his knees, he crept to the top of the hill and
weer-ed over the summit.

The party of refugees numbered six women and eight chil-
dren, three of whom were infants at the breast. The garments
of the parents were soiled and torn, their hair disheveled,an
their arms and ankles bleeding from their hurried flight
through the bushes and briers. The children were all bare-
headed, and considerable as was their distance, the savages
plainly heard their cries of distress.

The Sioux could have rushed over the prairie and swooped
down upon the little party, if they chose; but the American
Indian always prefers to draw his prey into ambush, and so they
quietly awaited the approach of the refugees.

A tall column of smoke in the eastern horizon, that ascended
straight into the sky, perhaps hastened the flight of the little
party; but it was full an hour before they approached within
a hundred yards of where the Sioux, glaring and malignant,
lay awaiting them. Here, as if wearied beyond endurance,
they sunk upon the earth, and endeavored to Quiet their
children.

One little fellow, some six or eight years of age, seemed to
bear the fatigue better than the others; for, instead of resting
himself, he commenced running hither and yon, and finally
approached the hollow which concealed the savages. Laugh-
ing and chattering to himself, and calling to his exhausted
companions to join him, he suddenly halted within a dozen
feet of the Sioux. As he saw the painted, ferocious faces
turned town‘d him, he was transfixed with terror for a. mo-
ment, and then with a gasp of fear started to fly.

The crouching Mugalwah shot like a ball from the earth,
nad’catching the boy in one arm, bore him to the’grouml with

‘ did quickness of lightning He was feeling {or his knlh with

x...

“V

    

 

O rm: Herman’s neon-n.

which to dispatch him, when the mother, who had seen the I

occurrence, uttered a scream of agony and rushed forward to

the protection of her offspring. This served to distract the

attention of Mugalwnh, who released the struggling boy, and

he and his followers arose in a group and approached the
I fugitives.

Now ensued a scene that almost battles description. The
women fell upon their knees in despair, iniplofing that their
children might be spared; the latter, almost frantic with fear,
clung to their garments and refused to be quieted; while the
Indians, dark and Sullen, stood calmly contemplating them.
The little fellow who had escaped the clutches of Mugnlwah,
instead of remaining with his friends, continued running over
the prairie until he had gone several hundred yards, when he
sat down upon the ground and began sobbing as if his heart
were broken.

Beyond a doubt, the refugees would'have sufl‘ered the most
barbarous outrage, and the entire party would have been put
to death, had it not been for an unlocked-for occurrence.
More than one savage was toying with the handle of his

knife, impatient for the signal from their leader, when an ex»

clamstion from one of their number turned all eyes to the
southward. A party of horsemen were seen approaching at
a rapid rate, as if intent on charging the savages. A quietr
motion of Mugalwah’s hand, and every one of his followers
vanished back into the hollow, and dropped upon their faces,
where, as before, they were invisible.

A rapid, searching glance of the Sioux, showed him that
the cavalry were too numerous for his party to engage. Had
his own men been mounted, he might have been tempted to a

;brush with them; but, as it was, stratagem could only sav
them from utter annihilation. -

Stepping forward so as to confront the women, Mugalwuh
laid, in his grufi‘, commanding voice :

“ Git up i "Ain’t going to kill l”

The kneeling women stared as if they failed to comprehend

his meaning. He repeated his command in a louder mice
than before, whereupon they arose and began thanking and

ailing down blessings upon his heed.- The chief checked 1

them 'peremptorily. ‘. _

  

OONSCIENORI, flak“

“ Yender come white men—soon be here—take you wld
’em—dey want to kill Sioux—know what I mean ?" -

The abrupt and difficult speech of the savage, together with
the excessive fear of the fugitives, prevented their compre-
hending his meaning. Finally one of them caught the mean-
ing of his outstretched arm, and saw in the distance the
approach of the horsemen.

“ Tel? (lem big lot Sioux down dere, (pointing behind him,)
too many for white men to fight—tell dem we let you go—
no hurt you—tell dem dat “E”

“ Yes, yes; we will tell them how very kind you have been
to us.”

v “Tell dem we’re twenty—good many—forty down dere,
eh f’

“ There are not so many of you, are there?”

f‘ Ncbber mind—you tell dem dat—don’t, Mug'alwah toms. ,
hawk you i” said the Sioux, making a menacing motion with
his tomahawk. .

“ You must kill me then, for I can not tell a lie, even to
save my life."

This heroic courage shot through and through the being of
Mugalwah. Like a flash of lightning, conscience sprung up
and demanded to be heard. He comprehended, in all its
- length and breadth, the wicked work upon which he had
entered, and for a moment he w'aVercd. The thought of the
vows he had taken upon himself; the earnest entreaty of
Father Richter; and, more than all, the oil‘cuded God above,
who, at that moment, was gazing down upon him—he thought
of these and he wavered. But it was onlv a moment. With
a mighty struggle, he sent conscience, silent and cowering,
back to her retreat. » '

,The danger was becoming imminent ; he could but respec
the ‘firmness of the suffering fugitive, in thus braving deatl
for the sake of truth. It is doubtful what would have been
the result of this strange state of affairs, had not one of the
other women interposed.

H“ Mary, you can promise to keep silence, at least, rcguuling
their numbers, can you not ‘2"

{"Yes’; I suppose so,” she answered, hauntingly, as it,
doubt whether even that would be consistent ‘ - . , 1 z

 

u. m HUNTER’S escarn.
“Very well, you have promised that; I will see to the
other matter, then. I will tell them what. you wish,” she adv ‘

dad, addressing the savage.

“ Tell we’re good many—- mg too much for dein to fight i"

“ Yes. yes, of course.”

“ Kill if don’t!"

Mugalwah shot backward as he spoke, and dropped flat
upon his face, beside his companions in the hollow. Bring»
iug his rifle to the front of him he peered over the bank,
ready to shoot whichever of the fugitives manifested treach-
cry; for, had he been ceztain it would have insured his own
destruction, he would have sped the bullet at her who proved
false to him. . ' ‘

The party of horsemen were under the command of Lien-
tenant They had rendered good service for the last
few days in picking up stragglch and chastising over-venture-
somc parties of savages. .

The lieutenant had detected the fugitives at some distance
but neither he nor any of his men knew the correct numbti
of the Indians. Consequently they approached at a caution:
pace. The experience of the cavalry in the great civil wat
had taught them to be careful of those terrible ambusc‘ades

     

Accordingly, at a safe distance, they drew up and awaited the ‘

approach of the fugitives.

The latter were not slow to avail themselves of this oppor
tunity. They hurried over the prairie, and in a short time
were among the rough but kind-hearted soldiers, who took
the women and children upon their horses until all were
safely mounted. . '

The first inquiry of the lieutenant, after emitting a mouth-
ful of tobacco-juice, was regarding the strength and number
of the Sioux. The women kept their .tgrcemcnt with Mugal-
wah, the conscientious Mary maintainmg a strict silence, whilo .Z
the other so exaggerated that the officer suspected her percep-
tions had been distorted by her excessive terror. As it was,
however, he concluded the best plan of procedure was to let
the intliaus alone.

Still, he was loth to take his departure without reconnoiterh
in; and cxchangingshots with them. Selecting six of hi!
most experienced menthe galloped out upon the  

I

1

 

warmoax’s ’mm {I
began describing a circuit around the savages, keeping a sharp
aye upon their hiding-place to discern a spot where he might
send a piece of led “ home-{101' gather some idea of their true
number.

As the lieutenant constantly changed his position, he could
detect themoving of the tufted heads, and the black, threat-
ening muzzles of the rifles; and be either fancied or really did
see more than one pair of glowing eyeballs fixed upon him
and his party. The action of the Sioux said, in etl‘cct: “ You
let us alone, and we will let you alone; but, if you put your
finger on us, take care I”

‘ The lieutenant did not put his finger upon them, the
principal reason for which being, that the opportunity was not
afforded him. Neither he nor any of his party were skillful
enough in the use of the rifle to pierCe one of those dark
spots that occasionally flitted to view, while he knew a volley
from that hive could not fall of emptying several of his sad-
dles. Completing the circle, Lieutenant returned to
nis party, and, striking off to the north—west, they and the
‘fugltives finally disappeared from View.
I .It was not until they were moving specks in the distance,
that Mugalwah and his party arose to their feet again. By this
~ time the forenoon was well advanced. The savages immedi-
ately took up their march toward the south-east. As yet, they
had shed no blood, and they were burning to take part in the t

r fearful massacre that was then raging. ‘

Several miles in this direction brought them to a small

' grove of trees, through which ran a brook. Here they halted
for the purpose of holding a short consultation and determin-
ing their plan of proceedings. They had been here scarcely
fifleen minutes, and the chief was busy in speaking, when
some one was heard 'to step in the brook, and, looking up,
they all observed Christian Jim.

A frown gathered upon their faces, for they well knew the
errand that had brought him hither. One or two grasped

their hatehets, in their excitement, but they waited to hear his
words: ' '

> It would be tedious to the reader, were we to narrate the
, particulars of the interview. Awahnock came at the sugges-
' h of Father Richter, to see whether it were pondble 6b

'

 

m mun’s mun. ,

 

induce Mugalwah and his party to return from their errand
of death. He had some difliculty in securing an audience,
but they finally listened and replied to him. In answer to
their harangues upon the opfimssions and persecutions of the
white men, he could only reply by'citing the example (if the
Good Man who was upon the earth many, many long moons
ago, and who bore all manner of persecution at the hands of
his enemies without murmuring or resistance.
them the vows they had taken upon themselves. reminding,
them of their companions who had stayed at home and re-
mained faithful, and upon whom the Great Spirit smiled in
pleasure, while he frowned upon them in anger. And lastly,
he assured them that the great chief at Washington would
certainly repay them for this violation of treaty and law.

The debate for a time was stormy; but the faithful Awah-
nock was assisted by conscience, and was on the very eve of
victory, when an. ally of Satan appeared upon the scene in the
shape of Matt Lax-kins, the whisky-trader. I

“ l-lyer’s yer prime stuff! The rcg’lar distilled dew of the
mountains. It‘ll ile yer j’ints and make you limber as a rag.
Shall I stop and let you imbibe, or pass on?”

He had his inevitable keg upon his shoulder, which he de-
posited upon the ground as he spoke, and folding his arms
and seating himself upon it, gazed around upon the company.

Ahl the fire-water, the tire-water! When the highest
talent, the most lofty genius, and the most solemn vows among
civilized people are no proof against its fearful fascinations,
what is to be expected from the poor, ignorant, degraded In-
dian ? Is it any wonder that he bargains gun, tomahawk,
ammunition, clothes and food to obtain the maddening
draught? Is it strange that he consents to be kicked, beaten,
and subjected to all manner of abuse. for the sake of the

‘cnemy that steals away his brain ?“
Producing a tin-cup, the trader nearly filled it and passed
t to Mugalwah. He took it grecdily and drank every drop.

“ Prime stuff. that !“ remarked Lin-kins, as he received the
cup again. “ None of yer adulteratcd stuff—made it myself.”

He filled the cup again and again, and passed it around

until every one had drank except Awahnock. The wilytrader 
uh" him well,va had purposely reserved ofl‘ering'  “

I-Ie recalled to '

 
    



- J'A‘

     

   

 

 

 

r be your

. ever before or since.
.point of sinking his knife in his bosom, and ridding Minnesota

A ‘ nun mlignsntportion or their dark mum- Twitch-u

tau-r m ms “ BEVERAGE." fl

 

cup until the last one' feeling certain that he would not. be
able to resist the sight of the gurgling fluid. There was a
mighty struggle in the breast of the Indian. He silently
called upon his Father again and again to help him, and when
he felt certain that he had the requisite strength, the sight of
the tiery liquid made him tremble and doubt again. It was It
lore trial. but he triumphed !

‘1 Don’t want it t" he replied, emphatically, with a shake of
his head.

“ You ain’t ngoin' to tell me you intend to refuse that now,
'Cause if you be, I must tell you I don’t believe you.
Come, that’s only half full." ‘

‘I‘ Don‘t want it, I tell you,” replied Awahnock, in a louder
voice, still keeping his eye fixed upon the dangerous fluid.

“ Just take a taste; then, if you don’t like it, you can
throw it away. That’s what I says.”

Awahnock laid his hand upon his knife, and his black eyes
flashed fire. '

“ If you ax me agin—I kill you.”

“ 0h! all right; it don’t make no difference to me, not at
all. Do as you darn please; that’s my motto."

“ Give some more,” commanded Mngalwah, in his grufl',

' peremptory manner.

“Snrtinly, sartinly; as long as the supply don’t give out,
you’re welcome to all you can swaller, and I reckon that ain’t
a very small lot, by no means.”

The cup went the rounds again. When it came to Await-
nock, Larkins did not repeat his offer, for, as the matter al-
ready stood, he did not like the glittering light of those dark ‘
eyes fixed upon him. The truth was, Matt Larkins came
nigher his death that day, in September, 1802, than he had
Indian Jim more than once was on the

forever of one of its most dangerous pests; but he could not
really satisfy himself that it was his duty to take the step;
consequently he kept his knife in his belt.

' The ctleet of Larkins’ compound on the Indians was ml—
’ous. The majority of them simply made fools of themselves,
We there were several in whom it seemed to arouse tho

  

 
 

 

 

Q. - m- nun'rnnm nscun.
upon the whisky-trader and upon Awahnock as though medi-
tating their destruction. Sad, indeed, would have been the
fate of the hapless fugitive who at that moment fell in their
hands.

Mugalwah imbibed most freely, and was the first to come
under the influence of the demon. “Want some more drink
——-good l” he said, endeavor-mg to fix his unsteady gaze upon
the trader.

“All right; help yourself, my Lily of the Woods.”

Instead of taking the cup, the maudlin savage got upon his
knees and endeavored to drink from the faucet. As might
naturally be expected, he made poor work, and, in considere-
ble rage, he rose to his feet again. .,

“ D—n tire—water!” he exclaimed. “ Good for nothin’--
smash him i“ Saying which, he brought his tomahnwk with
all the force he could summon down upon the keg. The lat.
ter was not injured in the least, while the instrument glanced
from his hand. Lat-kins laughed.

“Try that agin’ ; that ain’t the first time it’s been cracked
over, the head. Since the missionary smashed it, some years
ago up in the Clearing, I‘ve had the keg covered with double
bands of iron, and et' you want to exercise your muscle, why
just slam away at it." I

The next movement by one of the halfiintoxicated Indians,
was to throw a tomahawk at the whisky-trader himself—it
narrowly missing him.

“ I ain’t double-11001)ch said he, “so, I beg of you, don’t
throw them kind of missiles at me. Tlmy might do harm, you
know, and then where would you fellows get whisky from ?"

Several others manifested the same dangerous, playful ten-

dency toward Larkins, so that he was constrained to withdraw L‘

.tosa distance of several yards. lie was used to such scenes,
however, and he knew there was no danger so long as he ex-
ercised common prudence. IIe feared Awahnock more than
all the others. He felt if he would only leave there would
he no danger to himself, and nothing could prevent him from
reaping a very remunerative price for the stuff he had just
mmished the Indians. There seemed no disposition upon the
port of Jim to takehis departure, and the trader bedroom
  ..   

,,- are

 

  

.

l

  

   

   

 

nummcx's mnoor. a

 

“There don't seem much chance for more speculation
acre," he remarked, in a loud voice; “they are pretty well
done for, for the present, so I'll leave. I s'pose you stay,
Awnlmock ?”

The Sioux dcigned no reply.

“ Well, good-night to you.”

With this, he lifted the keg, now nearly empty, to his
sllc ulder and moved away. He cast a furtive glance it Jim
but he sat stolid and motionless, and there was no divining
his emotions or intentions, His face was as expressioniess as
stone. '

The trader passed outside the grove and again glanced back
To his surprise, Awahnock stood beside him.

“You bad man,” said the savage.

“ Why so?” asked Larkins, who deemed it wise not to ex-
am his ire.

“Bad mam-sell Injin tire-water; he go kill white folks

, now—cut dere throat."

“ Can’t help that. I don‘t make ’em buy the whisky. If
they don’t like it, all they've got to do is to let it alone. Ain‘t
that fair, Awuhnock ‘2"

“ Fire-water bad—Injin love him—can't help drink him
when white man offer him."

“ Well, that's his look-out—not mine. The red-man boasts

V a, great deal of what he does; strikes me he might do enough ‘

to master his love for tire-water, if he thinks it doesn’t do him
any good.”

“ Fire-water taste good—me like him."

“ And that shows your sense. Now, don’t be ofl‘ended, my
line fellow, if I ask you to join me in a swaller. Come,

1 ‘ DOW."

“ Like to," said the Sioux, slowly, and with hesitation, in
the trader began pouring out the liquid; “ but won‘t !” he ex-
claimed, springing lmck a. step or two and protuin bringing
his form to its full hight. “It wicked—Awuhnock not touch
him."

"‘ All right; just as you please, I says. You‘ve no objec-
tion to my drinking your health, I suppose? If not, here
V-”-  _ I

pa
 we.» wager." continued the atom!)an  '4‘ "’5'

  

 
 

 

 

-;50 THE nUN'ruu's mun.
grove, “ see what fire-water (lo—dere be Mugalwnh and ode!
warriors asleep—when wake up dey want more fire-water—

, can’t git 'em—what den dey take ?”

“ Don’t know, I'm sure.”

“ Blood—take yours it" see you.”

“ Sorry—shouldn’t do that ; because it isn’t right. Besides,
they ought to remember 01d Abe will pay ’em for such tricks."

“ And He pay you for yours," said the Sioux with impres-
sive solemnity, as he pointed upward.

Sad and sorrowful, he wrapped his blanket around him, and
turning his back upon his kindred, moved OR to the north-
west toward the Clearing.

Waiting until he was beyond sight, the whisky-trader re-
turned on tiptoe to the revelers. They were all sound asleep,
and he moved among them with an assurance which showed
40 knew well enough the efi‘ect of his potations. Taking a.
elankct here, a knifethere, and occasionally a handsome rifle,
10 finally satisfied his “conscience” that he hud secured a

easouable compensation for his whisky ; and apparently in no
vise discommoded by his extra load, he moved out upon the
prairie, and, rather curiously, also took a direction toward the
clearing.

 

CHAPTER V.
THE sno'r.

" Love wakes men once a lifetime each:

They lift. their heuvv heads and look,

And lo! what one sw'e-et page can teach
They read withjoy, then shut the boolr:

And some give thanks. and some hlasphtmo,
And most forget; but either way.

That and the child‘s unhemled dream,
Is all the light of all their day."

On the morning succeeding the attempt of Mugalwah to

,- burn the house of the missionary, the 'latter was seated upon
3 large flat rock, close by a spring from which he was in the

V habit of drevying his‘xlaily supply of water. The exm
1?“ the .good man'- thee would have showed the pectin-It

 

   
  

 
 
 

 

'.'u.1_“-‘.—8hl"sdmoni¢ed.the misstonaiy,w1thswaming-mh
 h . r;  “' ‘   e « .' ,7 a!

  

Kaunas. all
charm that he (was sadly troubled. It was late in the fon-
noon, and he had been seated there for more than an hour.

" I have now reached the allotted period of man‘s Life,” he
mused. “ Three score and ten years have bent my form and
made my step more feeble than it was when I first came to
this region. Forty years of this life have been spent among
the poor red children of America. During those forty years
I have seen many a Chieftain, warrior and maid, gathered to
their long home, and how many a dying couch have I helped;
smooth! There’s comfort in that thought. I once enter-
tained the hope that the aboriginal race would become entirely
evangelizod. The ways of God are mysterious, and it does
not become me to say that such is not to ‘be; but, ah! my
own people I fear have set the work backward for many a
'long year."

He dropped his head for a few moments, and then‘ his
thoughts recurred to his visitor of the night before.

“ It is strange that that man should call upon me. 1
thought the trouble which occurred between us shut up for
ever the door of communication. It is singular this dislike I
feel toward him, and yet it is impossible to subdue it. I should!
be 10th to confess to another how much I desire his departure,
but I really fear I shall drive him from my house when I
return."

Again he dropped his head in thought and again he com-
muned with himself.

“He tells me that it was his‘fear for my safety that sent
him hither at this time; but how did he learn that danger
threatened me? He belongs to the land of civilization.
When this outbreak was not anticipated by more than a moiety
of the settlers, is it reasonable to suspect that those hundreds

I of miles away should have known what was coming? I feat
that was a deception of his. I have come here, because I can
not bear the sight of him. I left Cora instructions to prepare
his breakfast. I know I would starve to death before I would

‘ accept food as he does I“ added Father Richter, emphatically

I Is he arose to his feet my] made his way toward the Clearing.

The distance was comparatively slight, and upon entering

_ he cabin, he was met by Cora, with her usual smile and kill.

 

 
 

 

   

. m norms nscm
of his head, “ keep a silent trugue, daughter; it would not do
for his presence to be suspected. Is he in his room ?"

“ He is gone i"

“ What '1" asked the good man in surprise, as he entered
and took a seat. “ He has not. left us 1?”

“ He took his departure a few minutes after you went out."

" I {orbade him to stir out. until night."

1 " He said such were your rrrds, but your manner told him
A; gn instantly. He seemed much otl‘ended at something you
and said, and his last words were to the effect that you would
some day regret this.”

. .“ I wonder whether he has no regrets for that matter of
several years ago. You know, daughter, that your father is
not the man to wish any one ill, but I can not help saying it is

.1 great relief to find him gone. My only trouble is that he
may be seen by some of the warriors— Heaven! save us i”

The report of a rifle but a short distance away in the woods
caused this exclamation, and both father and daughter stepped
to the door and looked around on the Clearing, as if they ex-
pected to see the explanation of the shot. Ordinarily the
report of a gun would have occasioned no remark; but now,
when their apprehension was excited, both connected it with
Roderick Charnlcy, and Father Richter, simultaneously with
the discharge of the gun, felt a sharp twinge of conscience at
the manner in which he treated the young man.

. “.I trust Roderick is not injured,” he said, “ but he is

encompassed by perils, and should have remained here until '

niglntflill, as I directed. We can pray for him, at any rate."
The two sunk upon their knees, and it may be that Father
Richter‘s petition was somewhat more fervent, beCause he
{could not avoid the reflection that he was concerned in} "the
safety of the young man, who is short time before had left his
house, and gone forth in the wilderness, where many and
, many along mile intervened between him and any point in
.V which he could feel immunity from personal danger.

The missionary passed out in his garden and busied himself,
“Mm his custom, in attending to its duties, while Core, for a
gang,me in her household obligations. These

moans roan across the Clearing,;takiug in.

m direction as that pursued by hefatther in the morning.

  

 
 
 

    

‘ com in m seams. 5|

Arriving at. the spring, she slaked her'thirst, and then seated
b . herself upon the rock. _ .

It was but natural that the event! ti at had occupied her

father’s mind should engage hers also. She wondered why

id his dislike to Roderick Chnruley should he so strong, and
_ what it was he lntd said that should send him ofi‘ in opposi-

." ' tion to his strict commands. She then. with a trembling
heart, asked herself whether he had been shot down by one

u of the Sioux warriors, or whether he was still seeking to
u  Intake his way through the lubyrinthot‘ denng that had encom-
d passed him. It was but a sisterly affection that she enter-

tained for him, and she, like her parent Wished that he had
not come at all. i ‘
She was still sitting upon the rock. when her henrt was
set a-throbhing by the second report 0 a rifle, so near that
she instinctively gazed behind her, certain of discovering the
! cause of it. The spring was immediately surrounded by
shrubbery, while dense woods stretched away on every hand.
She saw nothing, however, to explain the meaning of the re-
port, and endeavored to convince herself that it was simply
. one of the Sioux warriors engaged in hunting.
' From some cause or other, the girl began to experience a
feeling of uneasiness, as though some vague and unseen peril
was at hand—and she caught herself more than once casting
furtive glances around, as if half expecting its approach.
While in this nervous, apprehensive state of mind, Con
suddenly heard the rustling of leaves, and the next moment
Roderick Charnlcy came running at the top of his speed
across the path. His hat was gone, and he was panting as
though almost exhausted. He trailed his rifle in his right
' . hand and continually looked backward, as it‘ pursued by some
foe
Gore‘s eyes were still fixed upon his movements with a sort
of fitsciuation that seemingly would not be overcome, when
she observed him suddenly halt, bring his rille to his i‘Iv‘lldCl',
and discharge it almost instantly. A ringing yell proved that
its effect had been as futul as the ninrksmim could hays
wished. , V j V ' j,
A . Shading Where he had halted; Roderieh'chatnléx 
.  . . . “a

(3.."

. ‘3‘ a,

‘vw... s, ..

 

 

  

34 ran mama‘s ESCAPE.
manner showed. that he did not judge himself free non:
danger. Still, there weze no signs of any pursuer, and, gaze
ing about him in ever y direction, his eyes suddenly rested
upon Cora, sitting by the spring.

“ Why, how some you here ‘9” he suddenly asked, with I
half-smile, as he approached and seated himself, keeping—I
sharp look-out as he did so for the appearance of an enemy.

“I frequently come here when the weather is pleasant,”
said the girl, “ and have spent many an hour upon this rock ;
but have you been injured ‘8”

“ Not in the least, although two of the red villains took a
dead aim at me.”

“ And you have just slain one ?”

“ Unfortunately, but one. How thankful I should be if
they had only been accommodating enough to have got
themselves in range at the time I pulled trigger.”

“ And where is the other Indian now ‘2”

“ That‘s what I am very anxious to know,” returned Rod-
erick, raising his head, and glancing 'uneasily around him.
“He disappeared some distance hack, and when I got this
fellow far enough away from him to make it a safe thing, I
just turned and gave him the compliments of my gun."

“ He is likely to appear at any moment, then?"

“Yes,l really suppose he is; but it struck me from his
manner that he gave up the hunt and left his companion to
keep it up himself. It strikes me he has given it up, also.”

“Roderick, this jesting is unseemly over such a solemn
matter. You have narrowly escaped death yourself, and have
just taken the life of a human being—”

“ Was it not iustifiable ?”

“ It was, I suppose, but the levity you display is not justi-
fiable."

Cora Richter, with no compamm since infancy, except her
'ather, had imbibed, in a great measure, his mind, so to speak.

’ He had graduated brilliantly at college, and had carried his
library to his wilderness-home with him. It had been twiea
burned, and he had as often replenished it. The contents of
 library Were almost as familiar to the daughter as to tho

fisher. Their situation “was such that there was necessaril

"oped! deal of ram time upon their hands. 

 

 

 

 

    

m mm AND THE Bronx. al'

“3 missionary delighted to employ in the instrunior or hi.
F beloved child, and she, being naturally bright and clear-
“. minded, l'ully rewarded the labors thus bestowed upon her.

Civilized society could boast of few better-educated daughters

I ’ than her, although there might be many of more refined and
I ! courtly manners.
I; 1 Occupying somewhat of the same position as her father,

that is, of teacher and guide to the rude, ignorant people
around her, she unconsciously acquired, at times, a manner
plainly inlimating superiority upon her own part and border-
3 'ing upon the dictatorial in her communication with those of
. her own kindred. Isolated as was liv' position in the ex-

treme north-west of Minnesota, seldom :. season had passed

for the last dozen years, in which their cabin had not been
I ' . visited by hunters, travelers and others. On one occasion
only had Cora Richter seen a white person of her own sex in
 these wilds. A party of travelers once passed through that
section, one of whom had his wife and daughter with him.
They remained one night at their house, and it was a memor-
able occasion to the girl. Since then she had visited St. Paul
md one or two other places, where she was placed for a time
in communication with young friends. Roderick Charnley
was an old acquaintance, and she met him upon such terms.

“ Yes," she continued, “ I think such lightness altogether
out of place. But tell me how it was you escaped.”

“ I hardly know myself; it must have been because the
Sioux were bad marksmen. Shortly after leaving your home,
I seated myself upon a fallen tree, to meditate awhile on the
best thing to he done, when crack \veut a gun, and whiz went
the bullet within an inch or two of my face. I sprung up as
I saw a couple of your valiant red-men had determined upon
getting my scalp, beyond a doubt. As .. was pretty certain
there was another gun to be discharged, and they could both
beat me. at running,l hurried behind a tree for shelter. That
was all well enough for a while, but it happened they under-
stood their business better than I did. So long as they both
kept in front of me, it didn‘t matter; but they separated and
began to maneuver right away, so that one might get behind
me, when you will allow it would have been a very diihcul
mto havedoclged both their one: t’coodTh- um

-..

 

 

Io THE man’s resents.

u 1 could ; but, it was plain enough what it was coming h,
ac I broke and ran—”

“ For our house ‘3"

“ No, ma’am ; I would have been shot down first. I broke
and run so as to get out of their reach. From some cause
that I can‘t understand, only one of them followed me—-yon
know the rest.” ,

“Do you think this vicinity a safe place for you ?'

“ I think no place is this side of St. Paul. This is not the
first Indian nor the first Sioux that has fallen by my hand. and
I have no doubt Little Crow would be very glad to obtain my
hand.”

“You can go north into Hudson’s Bay Territory, where yet
are safe from every tribe.” -
 ‘5 I know that; but I don’t feel disposed to go on British
loil for safety.” , ,

“ I can not say you are welcome with us. for you know
father wishes you away; but he was much surprised and very
uneasy whenhe returned and found you gone. He could not
rest until he had offered up a prayer for your safety.”

“ I thank him for that; but should have thanked him still
more if he had not driven me from his home I"

“ Roderick i" interrupted Cora, with a quiet indignation,
“speak not in that manner. You have known for years that
he entertained no good opinion of you, yet, when he was
really convinced that your life was in danger. was 'he not
anxious to keep you concealed from these people until all
danger had passed? And, whether you thank him or your
Heavenly Father, it seems his prayer was answered."

“ It was, indeed,” returned the hunt-2r, in a subdued voice;
“ but, Cora, is not this dislike which he entertains toward me
unjust? Have I done any thing to merit it ?" ‘

“ Whether you have or not, I can not say. as I have never i
known all the circumstances You must settle the matter
with your own conscience. But. I am certain that my dear
father could form no opinion upon any thing unless he had
good grounds for (icing so. He has never told me whatoc—
.curred between you and him, and I suppose it. will alwoyj
zmtnasecrcefl .   .. V » . ..
' It was nothing, Cora, haw” ., »

 

   

 

 

m HUNTER AND m mamnx. 57

“What he has refused to reveal of his own free will, I do
not desire to hear,” interrupted the girl, with a dignity that
made Roderick Chnrnley ashamed of himself, and filled him
with admiration for her who had uttered it. “If you call it
I trivial thing, it is surely not worth the relating."

The hunter was silent for a while. Finally he spoke:

“ Cora, it is three years since we last saw each other, I be-
.leve, is it not ?”

“I think it is, although I have never calculated the time.”

“And have you never once thought of me during that
time ‘r”

The girl turned upon the man as though she did not under-
stand him. '

“ Have I never once thought of you? What do you mean,
Roderick, by asking such a question i”

“I mean as I speak. Have I been absent from your mind
all the time since we met in Missouri, two years ago ‘3"

“ Well, no," replied Cora, with a slight blush ; “there are
very few people whom I have met that I do not think of
afterward. Our meeting has been called to mind several
times."

“ With feelings of pleasure, or regret ?"

“ Regret."

“I am sorry. I am sure nothing occurred between us.”

“ Between you and my father there is a secret, which, if
hottknown to me, does not concern me the less. All differ-
ences between you and him must be regarded as between you
and me."

“ But, Cora," plead the hunter, fervently. “ There is a mat-
ter, trifling in itself. that stands between your father and me.
It is trifling, I assure you; you will not let me tell you what
'it is, and yet you place me outside the ban of friendship—”

“ You are mistaken; I do not.” -

“ It is just the same; you entertain his suspicion and mir

' trust.“

“I have already told you, Roderick, that there mount be
’gmunds'for whatever feelings he holds against you. Until

‘ ---,he‘chonses to explain the matter to me, I must keep the some

Wheelie", . .  t 1.
I'M-e was sluice tor a few moments, and then,-~&rh¢

I

 

  

   

 

    

, 58 TEE ncnrnn’s ESCAPE. "
she had spoken too strongly to the hunter by her side, Con -
turned toward him, and said, in a low voice : ' l

“ You must not feel hurt at what I have said. This matter, ‘
speaking truly, is a bar between us, but it does not prevent
me from entertaining the best of feelings toward you. I wish
you all good fortune, and when the time comes. if ever it
dies, for explaining this mystery, I trust that the strongest
hiendship will spring up between you and father.”

“I fear not—I fear not; but I thank you for your words.
You know your father is a man of very strong feelings, and
when he becomes set in a belief, it is hard to change.”

“ Truth, I think, will do it, nevertheless," said Cora, with an
arch, meaning look toward Roderick Charnley. ‘

, “ That should have done it, then, long ago.”

She shook her head incredulously.

“ Have you not read that time will do justice to all? 'Yon
asked whether I had called you to mind since we become ac-
quainted in St. Louis. May I ask you whether the interview ':
ever came before you, during the past three yenrs ?" '

'Ah! that was a question Roderick Charnley delighted to ‘
answer. Accordingly, he hastened to make reply:

“ I doubt whether a day has passed in which I have not
thought of you. And again and again have I Wished (oh! 1 1
how ardently) that that interview might be repeated. ‘Had I ’
known your father better, had I known myself better, this
unhappy difference had never occurred.” ‘

“ You seem enthusiastic over it!” ,

“ I am not enthusiastic, but earnest; and you will believe i
that I am truthful when I tell you that more than half of '
those two years has been spent in the wllderness of the North-
wcs ." , ~

It was Cora’s turn to he astonished, and as she turned her
face upon the hunter it expressed her amazement strongel
than mere words could have done.

“ Yes, such is the truth. Winter before last, I remained
with a party of hunters in the mountains just beyond you. , ,
They visited the Clearing several times, as you remember,
. no doubt, while I stayed behind, over by the brook, smith:
their return.” ‘

, ,“And why did they never speak of yet)?”

 

 

  

 

  

70 ~1
if ‘
'1-

2'
ll

5— Ho
. t .

 

. upon this rock, reading or knitting.

LOVE'B roux. ,D

“Because they, were enjoined not to do so. I spent the
entire winter with them, for no other reason t1 an to be near
you.”

“ HOW foolish l"

“ No doubt it was; but I am frank to confess it. I saw
you many and many a time when you little suspected my
proximity. And most of the present summer has been spent
in Minnesota.”

“ Not in this neighborhood, truly ?” .1

“ Not many miles from here. If you examine the ground

; near that tree yonder, you will find a hollow worn by my
'- feet while standing and watching you."

“ What a fooll if I must speak plainly.”

Roderick laughed, and continued:

“ I have stood there many and many an hour, as you sat
I have watched
the play of the expression upon your face as you were thus
engaged ; and, when you started homewnrd. I kept my eyes
fixed upon your form as far as it was visible. I have even

' followed you to the edge of the Clearing, and seen you enter

the house."
“ And I never once thinking of you.”
“I suppose not. Last summer, when your people were

I fi'iendly toward us, did not Mugalwah give you an ac-

count of several excursions he made with a hunter some
miles to the north, by the side of a small lake?”
“I remember very well his speaking to my father about it;

‘ but he called him—let me think—Walton, no, Waltham, some

such name as that.”

“ You do not think I would give my own name, Roderick
Unarnley, to him, to bring down to your father? I was that
hunter, and well known to most of the Sioux in the village
yonder.”

“ But you know they are now engaged against the whites,
and they would not be friendly toward you, even”

“Have I not had snilieicnt proof of that? I an. pretty

' certain that the one who tired at me, and the one whom I

fired at, knew me very well.” \
. “ Can it be? What surprise your narrative has caused me,

rm. You have spent the greater part of   h

 

   

    

    

"to run man's nsosrn.

this wild country. You gave up all the comforts of civilian
tion and of home for—”

“ For the purpose of being near you—content all the yhilc
if I only saw you, without even exchanging a single word
with you.”

“ It is unaccountable to me.”

“ 1 did it all, Cora,” said the hunter, unconsciously lowering
hie voiCe, “ because I could have no peace away from you. I
went home several times and endeavored to forget it all in
the care and whirl of business; I went as a private in the
three months’ volunteers; but, on my return home, it seemed
the feeling was stronger than ever within me.”

“ If you saw me alone so frequently, why did you not speak
to me and make yourself known '2”

“Because, it would have displeased your father to know
that I met you by stealth. I resolved to come openly, or not
come at all.”

“ Why then did you wait so long ‘3"

“ No sufficient pretext offered, until I leamed that the great
massacre had begun along the frontier. I believed then that
I might venture to meet your father; but, even that was not
a good excuse in his mind for my introducing myself.”

“ Could he have known that that alone was the reason, do
you suppose you could have been unwelcome? You have
avowed the real truth to me, and it may be that my father
has had sufficient penetration to discover it for himself.”

“I suspected that he saw through me, when he opened the
door and I stood before him."

“That has been it, undoubtedly, and why should you feel
aggrieved when he acts according to his belief?"

“ I suppose I should not, although it did touch me."

“ The forenoon is now getting quite advanced, and he must
expect my return. We have had quite an extended conver-
cation.”

“ Before you go, allow me to say one thing, Cora."

She had arisen, but awaited his words.

“ You believe all that I have told you ‘9" I
_ “Certainly, Roderick, why should I disbelieve you?” ‘-
 "(i‘Areyougyat convinced that, my feeling tode you  d

" “purest him; that my love—”'

 

 

 

A umnanous snow. .1

Roderick Chamley uttered a sharp exclamation, threw up
his arms and rolled backward from the rock, before Cora Will
fairly conscious that the deep silence of the woods had been
broken by the crack of a Sioux riflei

 

CHAPTER VI.

THE DEPARTURE.

'l'heir counsels might be hard to reconcile,

They might not suit the moment or the Ipoh
She rose and laid her work aside the while,

Down in the sunshine oi‘ that grassy plot:
She looked upon him with an almth smile,

And held to hltn a hand that {altered nut;
One moment—bird and brook went warbling on:
And the wind sighed again, and he was gone.

‘ J EAN Inoeww.

THE report of the rifle, the smothered exclamation and
{all of the young hunter, were so sudden and so nearly simul-
taneous, that Cora for a moment failed to realize what had
occurred. Then, as she noted the struggling form of Roderick
Charnley, that a few seconds before was so instinct with life
and animation, a deathly heart-sickness came over her, and
reeling like an intoxicated person, she sunk to the earth.

- In this haltinnconseious condition she did not lose her cog-
nizance of events passing around. She did not fail to hear
the exultant shout of the murderous Indian, nor his eager, tri-
umphant tread as he hurried forward to tear the reciting
trophy from the head of his victim. Searcer a dozen feet
behind him strode the wrathi‘ul missionary, who, with a brow
of thunder, caught the Sioux by the shoulder, and flung him
backward. ' i

“ Wretch l is that the lesson I have taught that: ?” he
demanded, centering his burning gaze upon the cowuing
savage. “ Lend a hand and help undo this foul murder 1"

The Indian stood irresolute, and the baleful glitter of his

V mkish eyes, and the twitching of his grasp upon the buck-
‘ horn handle of his knife, showed that he was yet by no means
‘uhdned; Father Richter noted mud   

 

 

: .

a m mum’s seem.

like blue eyes upon those of the savage, he repeated, in ii:
slow, impressive tones:

“ This man is yet living and maybe saved. Help me carry
him to the house, and may the Lord pardon you for this day’l
work. Come, lose no time, assist me here i"

The Sioux stepped forward, obedient as a child, and the
two lifted the form of Roderick ’Chamley from the ground. He
had ceased to struggle, his face was of ashy paleness, and the
left side of his chest was covered with blood. Cora having
fully recovered, walked beside them to the edge of the Clearing.
She observed the cautious manner of her father, and when he
halted still in the wood, she understood the cause. “ We
must not be seen by any one,” said he. “ Run ahead, daughter,
and learn whether there be any one _ in the house, or near
enough for us to be observed when we approach it. Should
there be any one, you must manage to get him away without
delay.”

Cora hurried across the Clearing, and pushed open the door
of their humble home. To her dismay, she found an elderly
Indian woman seated in it, awaiting the approach of her father.
The girl could not forbear a start and suppressed exclama-
tion as she observed the squaw, quietly smoking her pipe.

“ Did I frighten you i'" queried the latter, using the Sioux
tongue. r

“ You did a little, aunty, for I was not expecting to fin
any one. How long have you been here ?”

“A good hour. I have searched for the Father but can
not find him. Know you where he is gone?”

“ I suppose he is in the woods; he goes there frequent’y,
you know.” ,

“ Yes; but it is almost time for him to eat, and he can not
remain much longer away. I think I will remain here unti
he returns.”

“ Perhaps you would do better by‘ coming after dinner.
IIe sometimes remains a good while in the woods."

“ But, I am not hurried ; I can wait for him. I am sorely

troubled. Mugalwah led away Auquanon and Summuman
with him to the southward, and I know’not that they will . '
some back ‘9 n3?-
4.." H” n “in

Iwishhimtoaskthe Good Spirh h‘

    

. I ,

“’-

  

 

1:

--‘-'G

«’5

v

 

um mm'mn wormmcn. 61

The two savages mentioned by the woman were her sons. _
As they had gone to participate in the massacre, she was
naturally anxious concerning them. In her trouble, she came
to the missionary. ’I‘he consciousness that the young hunter
was most probably dying, made Cora exceedingly nervous.

“But, auuty, you must pray for them yourself."

‘ “ Can’t pray so good as Father can. The Great Spirit liku
to hear him pray, and will listen to what he says.”

“ He did all he could to prevent Auquanon and Summuman
from going. If they disobey him and run into danger, I do

,not. know as he ought to pray for them.”

This remark, without. any intention upon the port of her
who uttered it, accomplished the very result for which Cora
was so ardently hoping. The squaw ejected very spitefully a
mouthful of_ tobacco smoke, and arose from her seat, in a
pique, to leave.

“Come again, aunty," said Cora; “ Father will be glad to
talk with you.”

The Indian said nothing, but departed at a rapid pace. The
young woman held her hand over her throbbing heart for a

. few moments, andtheu hurried across the Clearing, glancing

furtivcly behind her to make sure that she was not observed.

The hunter lay upon the ground, pale and weak, nigh unto
death. The missionary had bandaged his wound, and the
Indian stood a silent observer. Within reach of Father Rich-
ter’s voice and eye. he was as docile as could be desired.

“Is all ready?” inquired the former, in a whisper.

“Yes; there was one present, but she has gone."

“ I’recede us, and see that no one comes up unobservm ."

Slowly and carefully they bore him across the Clearing,
into the cabin, and upon the. bed. ’l‘hen turning to the savage
Father Richter said :

“Your hand has already done enough evil; seek to atone
for it, by asking forgiveness for what you have done, and by
saying nothing to any one of what has occurred. Do you
promise?"

The Sioux signified as much by an inclination of the head.

“ Then, do not forget it.” ' 

The long residence of the missionary among the Indian!

.hdtaught him a knowledge of the medicinal  a?!

 

      

m mmn‘s ‘nscm

 
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
     

M

 

numerous herbs. In a short time, he had his charge as com-
fortable as possible. He found his wound, though dangerous,
not necessarily mortal. Strict quiet and good nursing its--
sisted by a naturally vigorous constitution, most probably ‘8
Would place him upon his feet again in a short time. First
satisfying himself that nothing more could be done for his
patient, he partially closed the door and motioned for Cora t( i a
seat herself beside him; Placing his hand affectionately upm
her head, he spoke in subdued tones as if fearful that other
' ears might hear what he had to say.

- “ My daughter, there has been more than one severe trial
for me to undergo during the past day or two."

“ I know you have sutl‘ered a great deal, but you have 1
learned resignation long ago, have you not ‘2”

“I humbly trust so; but, there is one cup which I pray I
may pass from me."

“ Tell me what it is, dear father.”

“ I was wondering some time ago at your protracted ab-
sence, and set out in quest of you. ‘ I turned my steps toward
the spring, and there discovered you in conversation with
Roderick Charnley, the last man I hoped to see in this ,
vicinity. You told me this morning that he had departed. 1
Did you believe such to be the case ‘3”

The pale, silent, reproaeht‘ul thee, the round, full, wonder-
ing eye and quivering lip, went to the heart of the parent.
Drawing the head upon his lap, he said : ,

“ God and you forgive me for once in my life suspecting f
your truthfulness, Cora; but, you do not know how I have. t

    

a
t

sufl‘ered. Did he then mean to deceive me ?”
“ I am sure he did not.” And, thereupon, the daughter pro-
ceeded to give an account of the adventure that had bcfnllen 1,
the hunter that torenoon, as related by himself, omitting, as a‘ 
matter of course, the remaining important information that ,_
he had vouchsafed. I
“ I am greatly relieved, for I could not avoid troubloue
thoughts when I saw you ir. such familiar converse. You
knew my feeling toward him, and it was not possible you 1
could use deception toward me."
'~ ‘ “ Itcan not be that you ever thought so.”
“That was a treacherous act of the Indian, and a ii.

m sqmw AND us 2mm. 05

_ narrow escape for Chamley. I wonder much that he ever

liVeJ a moment alter it."

“ I think he repents the deed."

“I have no doubt of it. Should he betray the secret, I
fear there will be little probability of our cabin standing an-
other hour. The feelings of the Sioux are very much excited
and did they suspect we harbored any of the whites. it i
doubtful if they spare us." _

“ It will be quite a. venturesome task for us to screen bfm l
fi'om them for any length of time. Suppose he should beccme
delirious ?” I

“ Not the slightest possibility. It need not be a. difficult
task. On Sunday afternoons we shall always have visitors,
but you cun remain in the room at. such times, so that what
little noise may necessarily be made shall be attributed to your
agency. Remember one thing, Corn, he is my patient. I at-
tend to him, except. at such tithes as it is absolutely impossible.
I wish you to entertain no conversation with him,und I charge
you particularly to remember one thing: you are never to
allow the least reference upon his part to this—this—ditl‘er
once—this secret, that exists between us."

“ He offered to narrate the whole story to me, but I told
him that when I learned it, it should be from your lips."

“ That is right; have patience, and you shall hear it all,
some day. It is now time for dinner."

The father passed within the room, while the daughter on.
sied herself in the preparation of the meal. The patient was
found quiet, and so far as possible, comfortable. As Father
Richter seated himself, he glanced toward the door with a
smile : ‘

“Suppose we have a visitor 1‘"

“ I declarel How thoughtless l" 

It was well he closed the door. for scarce five minutes had
elapsed before the squuw whom Cora had offended made her
appearance. She was very anxious that the missionary should
pray for the safety of her two sons, who, at that moment
were undoubtedly clenching their fingers in some cuptive’l
hair. The good man did not hesitate to denounce their con-
duct in the strongest terms. He said he would gladly prey
M their hearts might be changed; but as for their safetyfiu I

 

    

  

“ run mum's seem

did not care. In fact, he intimated it would be rather pleat-‘3”
ing to him than otherwise to hear that both had been pretty '
well riddled by the rifle-bulls of some party of Whites. Mu.
galwah, especially, needed some such harsh medicine, bech
he could be really reformed. .

'l‘his plain language offended the mother a second time, and
she left, muttering some unintelligible threats against the pier
sumptuous missionary and his daughter. Both were usei to
such eccentric conduct, and it occasioned neither any uneasi-
ness.

As Father Richter had hinted, he took entire charge of the
patient. The latter recovered with a rapidity that was as
surprising to himself as to the missionary. He saw Cora only
at rare intervals, and he was too wise, on such occasions, to
revive the subject that had been so pcremptorily interrupted
by the rifle-ball. The Indian who had sent this d'eathly mes~
‘ senger seemed truly repentant of the deed. Despite the ad- V
monition of the missionary, he would steal up to the door and
inquire regarding him. When he learned that he was recov-
ering, his dark face lit up with a pleased expression. Thus
far he had kept faith with his promise of secrecy.

About a week after the shooting of Roderick, Father Rich-
ter was sitting near his door, one sunset, conversing with Com,
when both caught a footstep at the same time. Looking up,
to their surprise they saw the famous Sioux Chieftain, Little
Crow, approaching. He looked weary, worn, and dispirited,
and merely nodding, he dropped into a seat, and for a moment
said not a word.

“ I am hungry and tired; I have come a long way.”

Cora instantly busied herself in providing him something
to eat. Noting his distaste for conversation, Father Richter “
forbore to question him until he had finished his meal, when .
he became quite talkative. It proved as the missionary had
shrewdly suspected. Little Crow‘s forces had been defeated,
and he himself was a fugitive from justice. Still, he was not
fleeing ignominiously to save his life. Sullen and revengeml,
he and his brother chiefs, Young Six, Big Eagle’s brother, and '
others, had scattered themselves over Minnesota, for ’the pur-
pone 'of arousing the other Indians to hostility. The chief
Iii! hr-sighted enough to understand that their power an"?

 

__.A0-__,__:..

 
 

 

LITTLE cnow. ‘ n
be ultimntely broken, but he recked not, so that he was en'-
blcd to inflict some murderous blows ere the unwieldy arm of
the Government could be brought into effectual play against
him.

“Do you know what has become of Mugalwah and his
party?” inquired the missionary.

“ His hand have been scattered by Colonel Marshall, part
of them killed, and he is a prisoner.”

“ \Vhat will become of him '3”

“ Hung up by the neck till (lent .”

“ I pity him; but his fate was merited, I warned him and
all of them before they went. The retribution of the Gov-
ernment may be slow, but it is sure, especially where Indians
are concerned.”

“They have not caught us all."

“ But they will secure enough to break the power of your

7 tribe. - I am amazed, Little Crow, that a chief of your mind

and knowledge should have begun such a war, when you
could but have known what the inevitable consequence must
be. I’ll warrant you, Other Day has had too much sense to
join you."

“It was not willingly that I went into the war; I was
compelled to, and now, w hen I have taken up the hatchet, I
shall not be base enough to desert my men." '

“ You, I believe, led the attack upon New Ulm, where '
Judge Flaudreau commanded 'r"

, “Yes; I led the assault upon Fort Ridgley also, where the
Great. Spirit turned aside a cannon-ball that touched my heart."

“The Great Spirit showed his displeasure with what you i
did, by protecting all the posts against which you directed
your attacks, did he not?”

Little Crow became silent and uncommunicative, and shortly
lflcr took his departure. Father Richter suspected the object
of his visit was to arouse more of the warriors of his viilxge
to assist him, but perhaps the respect the Chieftain bore to-
ward him prevented any such etfort, for he took a direct route
toward the Red River of the North, and was ntver seen in
«that vicinity again . ‘

As we have already intimated, the recovery of the young
later was rapid; and 'n the afternoon that Father Richter

 

  

 

    

 

68, m mmn’s sscnrs.
and Little OW sat conversing together, he “NQOd beside m
foot of his bed, feeling almost as strong and well as ever.
There was pain, as a matter of course, when his wound was
disturbed, but care would prevent the necessity of disturbing it.

Though taciturn and quiet, the man had meditated a great
deal during the last few days. He had learned unmistakably
that his absence was desired, and he resolved that, as so: It as
able, he should take his departure, and never darken the dust
again. He knew that Father Richter would prevent any such
thing did he suspect his intention, and be resolved, accordingly
to leave at night.

As the afternoon wore slowly away, the hunter found him-
self longing for a sight of Cora. He felt if he could only
exchange a word with her, he could leave with resignation.
It was hard indeed to leave her forever, as he believed it.
should be, without exchanging farewells with her.

The Fates, however, were not propitious. As the night
settled down upon the wilderness and Clearing, he could hear
her voice in conversation with her father, but she did not
make her appearance in his room, and finally, at a late hour,
she retired, without so much as exchanging s good-night
with him.

More than once he feared he should have to give over his
project until the succeeding night, as the missionary could be
heard moving around the room until a very late hour; but
at length all became still, and the deep, regular breathing of
the good man showed that he was wrapped in that deep,
sweet slumber which a clear conscience and vigorous bodily
health invariably give their possessor.

I-le judged it to be beyond midnight when he stealthin

. opened the door of his room and passed into the larger spart-
mcnt, generally occupied through the day. Since his presence,

the corner of this had been occupied by Father Richter, “ho u

preferred it to sleeping aloft. He stepped with the utmost
care, and felt his way, for he had no desire to awaken either‘
of those he was to leave behind him. -
The hunter passed through the ordeal in safety, and placed
his hand upon the door. He had simply to raise the latch,

I)! such a thing as locks were unknown in that primitiwv

mummy. As he opened the door, the Clearing appeared

 
 

gna!‘

 
 

runner! me M

.4 a, . r
m ,‘ elm fist as distinct. under the bright moon, as if it was mid-
" ' day. tie had little fear of any one stirring at that hour, and
t' ,' strode boldly across the open space into the shadow of the
‘1 , , Wood beyond.

7 j As he glanced back, he was confident he saw some one
' enter the door of the cabin he had just left; but, reflecting
‘ i that it could have nothing to do with his welfare, he moved on.
I

Not until this moment had he called to mind the course he

, was to pursue after leaving the Clearing. He had a settled
determination of bidding farewell to the missionary and his
daughter, and of never returning again; but, where was he

to go? The first answer to this question naturally was,

“ Home l” But the young man could not bring himself to

that point. Strong as was his resolve to sweep from his

' r memory the fair vision that had crossed it, still it was a diffi-
cult matter to determine to return to civilization and remain

there. He had done that already, and found it insupportable.

At the time the rifle of the Sioux had brought him low,
there was a question upon his lips—a question to Cora which
he would fain have answered before yielding her up; but cir-

i cumstances had prevented. Was his resolution of that. nature
' that he could answer it for himself in an unfavorable manner?
Had he not really overestimated the strength of his own

' character?

These and similar thoughts made his steps tardy and doubt—
ful. He debated with himself a long time, and finally re-
solved that he should have a decisive answer from Cora Rich-
ter which should determine his course. Since he had taken
this means of departure, he could not now return, nor would
he dare to present himself before the missionary without some
plausible excuse other than the true one. ,

1‘ The unsettled condition. of the country lying between 1 im
V and civilization was an ample pretext for deferring his passth
1‘ " , through it. He had no liking toward remaining in this V1! in-

ity through the winter, which in this elevated region, would be
; excessively severe. He had never yet. attempted to bmve its
fury alone, and it was too great a task for him to attempt, 63‘
pecially when he could not fi:el an absolute certainty regard-
Ing the resultot‘ his unheated wound. , ,  . -- ; ,

He now decided to go directly to the Selkirk settlement

 

 

  

 

,0. rm: nux'rnn’s ESCAPE.
upon Red rivet and remain until spring opened. when he
would manage to have a meeting with the missionary’s daugh-
ter. This course fully determined, he experienced considerable
relief, as any one does when he has solved some perplexing
anxiety.

The hunter deemed it best to make directly for the river,
which was but a few miles away. Following this in its course
te the north into the British Possessions, he could not fail to
reach the Red river settlement, where he might domieil him-
self among friends for as long a period as he chose. IIis
present purpose was simply to reach the bank and remain
there until daylight before pursuing his journey further.

The roar of the stream was audible during the night-hours
at the Clearing, and the hunter reached it sooner than he an.
ticipated. He judged it to be well toward morning; but, in
reality, he had sadly miscalculnted the time, for it was not a
half-hour beyond midnight. .

The Red river, at the particular point where he struck it,
was, quite broad and deep. As he reached its border, he
gazed up and down the bank and across the stream in quest
of a suitable camping-place. The time, the condition of his
mind and the surroundings were such as to induce the most
Impressive meditation. The sky tilled with fleeey clouds,
that flitted over the face of the moon and made weird plum:
toms upon stream and wood, the hollow, monotonous roar of
the/ river, the solemn sound of the night-wind through the
forest, and the excessive loneliness of the scene—all these

conspired to arrest the thoughts of the youngr hunter, to im-:

press him with a sense of vastness and sublimity, and to turn
his heart to the sleepless Being nbove whose eye alone at that
moment was fixed upon him.

v Standing in this abstract manner, almost unconscious of

     

9.

A‘s-ulna.

l
t

t

his surroundings, his eye was arrested by some object a few -

feet above him, and upon examining it more critically he was
astonished to observe that it was an Indian canoe, pulled just
far enough up on the bank to prevent its being carried away
by the current. ‘

It was singular that with the discovery of this, there came '

a feeling of insecurity; and, instead of encamping, he resolved .

to press on without delay. As yet he was no great ways

  

'no sooner presented than it was acted upon.

I down-stream.

mm: mm. H
from the Clearing, and it might possibly be that some vindic-
tive Sioux would be on his trail at daylight. .

Why not take possossion of the canoe? The thought was
The paddle was
resting within it, as if the owner had left with the expecta-
tion of returning very shortly. Roderick cost It quick, search--
ing glance about him as he stepped into it and pushed out in the
stream. The current he found more rapid than he had enti-

. cipated, and it required all of his skill to manage the egg~like

concern.
In the center of the river, the canoe became unmanageable,

*and in spite of all the hunter could do, he. ran upon an island

near the center, where, in absolute fear of his own safety, he
sprung out, and without thinking allowed the boat to float off
When he noticed this blunder it Was too late
to prevent it, and, somewhat crestfnllen, he turned to see What
could be done in the way of an encampment until morning.

The ishmd proved more favorable than could be expected.
It was of the usual oval shape, some dozen rods in length and
from a few inches to fifteen or twenty feet in breadth. There
Was no vegetation upon it—in fact nothing but. a large quan-
tity of drift-wood, that had been accumulating in all probabil-
ity for years. In some places, it was as dry as tinder for a
depth of o footer more. By making a sort of trough-like
hollow, and spreading his blanket in it, be secured quite a
comfortable resting-place for the night.

Just in the border land of uneonseiousness—ncither asleep
nor awake—was it fancy or reality that sounded as if some
body had struck the solid portion of the island? Was it fancy

' or reality that appeared as if a person or animal was walking

backward and forward? And could it be fancy, too, that
bore such a marvelous resemblance to human voices? , .
The hunter listened for a moment, and then stealthily raised
his head. There was a canoe resting upon the upper end of
the 1sland, and two men were walking slowly along the edge
01' the water. One of them bore something upon hisblek,

'flntresembledacukorkeg.

 

  

CHAPTER VII.

AN ORIGINAL IDEA.

~ Oh. Time and Deathi with certain pace,
Though still unequal. hurrying on,
O‘ertnrnn-g. in your awful race.
The col, the palace. and the throne.—SANDI.

A SECOND glance assured the hunter that the two stranger:
were white men, and consequently friends. There could be
no mistaking the rear man who bore the keg up )1) his shoul-
der. ‘

“ Is that you, Matt Lark-ins ?"

The man addressed paused and .ooked around him.

“ Didn‘t some'ne call me, Jim ‘9"

“ Yes; I heard it. but where did it come from, I say ?”

At this juncture, Roderick Churnley urose to his feet. Both
'Iaw him instantly.

“ That‘s you, Larkins, isn‘t it ?" he repeated, still standing
where he had arisen.

“ That‘s the name I genemlly go by in Minnesota, but who
might be you ‘3" .
V “I am Roderick Clmrnley; l have met you at Fort Ridg-
ley. and New Ulm (luring the past summer.” ’,

“I recollect; how do you do? how do you do? If that
ain’t what they call a providence, then I should like to know
what it is. Here is Jim Wilkins with me, who has been
searching for you for the lost three weeks, and hasn’t been
Ible so much as to see a person that had heerd tell of you;
and just when we'd made up our mind Little Crow, Liltl
Six, or some of the other chiefs had disposed of you, here we
gets track of you down in the Clearing.” V

“ When were you there ‘3" ~

“It occurred tome that there might be some attraction
“for you in that place, and consequently we struck a line ti):
it, I’lnunhly endeavoring to pay my expenses by selling whioky
along the way. When we knocked up the old man, he was

kind of backward at first, and wouldn’t say much till we told \
him-ear extend, and he became satisfied we wanlt trying to

 

 

 

l"

““q—v—w» _

 

 
    

 

 

magnum 1mm 3‘ 13 »

heatmnk in“. He finally said you had been hurt bad, and
he was musing you ; you was getting along pretty rapid-like,
howsomevu: w he thought it might do for us to see you.
He struck a lith, and went'into- In. little room, and it would
have. done you 3AA if you could have seen him, when he
fonro you wasn‘t the. re. He didn’t know what to "say for a
wlnle,'t.ut he looked terribly frightened. He told us at last
that you had gone, he knew not where. As our business was
very important, we didn‘t stay till morning as he invited us}
to do, but come on across the Clearing toward the lied river;
and, as luck would have it, or perhaps providence, we have
struck the very island where you had hung up for the night.
This is Jim \Viikins with me.”

During this narration, the young hunter had been filled
with the utmost. amazement. What possible business these
two men couid have with him passed his comprehension;
yet their manner showed that it was of the last impor-
mace.

“ What is the business that has sent you upon such a long
hunt after me ?” he inquired.

“Boo! it's chilly! Let’s have a fire before we talk upon
business. It’ll take some time to finish."

“ But will it be safe it" queried Charnley. “There is noth-
ing to prevent it being seen a. long way, and I have reason to
suspect that there are Sioux in the neighborhood."

“ How so?"

, “ I found one of their canoes on the bank and crossed to

i this island in; it."

- “ I didn‘t notice the boat; where is it ‘2” .

“ I was foolish enough to let it float away after landing. A
fire built here would be very mnspicuous.”

‘“ Fudge! not a. hit of danger. This is just the stuil' to
make a right down pleasant fire to sit and talk by."

A spot was brushed away and a heap of dry drill-wood
speedily gathered. In a few moments this was ignited and
burning cheerily.» The cold night-wind blowing down the
then rendered the air keen and cutting, and the wsrutth of the
fire Was very grateful. The depth of the drift-wood rende

I .It necessary to make a sort of hollow. such as would natur-

j: ’, 'fllybefouned inhnflding sfiroin themw.» .8: wish;

 

     

 

Me was - mum's 

   

upon the ground, all of the person, except the head, was p»,
tected from the wind. .

Important as the business of the two men might be, they“
hesitated a great while about communicating it. Jim VVil '
kins was a tall. thin-visaged man, very reticent. Indeed, an
yet, he had not spoken a single word, and the hunter more
than once glanced at him, half suspecting he Was deaf and
dumb; but the emission of several very audible grunts placed
the matter beyond question. .

“ Before telling you exactly What our business is," said the,
whisky~trader, “ I want to ask you several questions, which
I hope you’ll answer, won’t you?”

“If they are proper I certainly shall.”

“ In the first place, it’s quite cold, and let’s all three take a
mellow of something to warm us inside.” ,

The hunter declined, but the two imbibed quite freely.

"Now," said Larkins, as he proceeded to light his pipe, ‘
“ you’ve hearn tell of these massacres that have been goin’ on.
for the last month or so, of course.” 7

“Yes, I went to the Clearing and warned Father Richter
of his danger."

“ You did? I thought all the time that it was Wthing,
the that called you there. Wnl, the row is pretty well stopped
for the present. Judge Flandresu gave Little Crow a taste of j
powder down at New Him, and the detachments of United
States forces in different places are beginning to move. There's
trouble yet, and if you intend to go down townrd the Agency,

r I’d advise you to keep a mighty sharp look-out for Sioux;
But that ain’t exactly what I’m coming at. I wunt to ax you
which party you think most to blame ‘1‘"

a The suddeness of this question rather took the hunter aback,
and he made no reply until it was repeated.

“ Both parties are in fault; the Indians unquestionably
have been wrongly used by Government agents and traders,
and their suffering has gouded them to this outbreak.”

"‘ ‘Youtthink so, do you ?" asked the trader, with a‘ curious;
expression, giving at the same time a sharp, inquiring look;
into the face of Chamley. ' , _ f

. “Those are my views, precisely.” ‘ ' '

,.  In sorry, that‘s an”,

  

 

 

  

m muons v-ucn'r- 7i}?

“And'why are you sorry ?”

‘ “ Because, if you were all right—that is——hut hold (me-'
you know I‘ve been in the whisky-trading business for a num-
ber )t‘ year, and I have—well—done pretty well."

“ I have no doubt of it.”

‘Arc you ’quainted with the way the Indian agents out
I here manage all‘nirs—in short, the way they make their, pile ?”

“ I‘ve no doubt there is a good deal of cheating about it,
(hr their salaries certainly are not sufficient to make them rich
very speedily.” ‘

“ I was‘once a conductor on a railroad in'Connecticut. - I
was new at the business, he! hel he l and went too bungling-
like at it. As soon as I understood the ropes, I began to get
,rich a little toofast. The employers noticed it, and let me
slide. I ought. to’ve held in till I got enough to retire on, but
I did not think of that. But an Indian agent don’t have to
be so careful. You see it’s generally considered we‘ve the
right to shave these poor coppery rascals when we’ve- the
chance; but you don’t seem to take to that way of thinking Y”

“ Most assuredly I do not." - 

“ You don’t believe utter you’d been at it a year, you might
begin to like the idee of getting rich faster than the heads of
government intend? Are you right sure no such idee would
ever enter your head?”

The hunter was not only puzzled but indignant at the pre-
sumptuous manner of these insulting questions. He demanded
the meaning of this course of procedure. Wilkins grunted
and the trader laughed.

"‘ You know what my idee of these Indians—especially the
Sioux—is. The only thing they're fit for is to atford us the

‘ . means of making a decent living."

 

“What is your business with me i" demanded Chnrnley.

“Fetch it out, J im," said Lat-kins, with a meaning look.

The long-bodied, reticent man arose to a sitting positioni
- ard reaching his right. arm under his left. drew forth a large
fouled paper with a heavy seal upon it. The seal was un-
broken, and the hunter saw his own name written in large-
1 characters upon it. He stretched forth hls hand to take it.
The map, in the very act. of handing it, drew it back with
some clutch. and, an. forward. stone-deed. on 6:33;

 

  

 

10" 7 m Herman’s 1am

obmpahions were fairly conscious that a couple of rifles ha!
been discharged from the shore. . ‘

Perfect silence for a moment succeeded this terrible inter
ruption. Then, as the survivors appreciated what had really
occurred, the hunter whispered:

“ The Indians have come! We must get out :f this place,
if we wish to escape his fate.”

"‘“Sh don’t move i" admonished the trader, risin'r on llil
hands and peering over the drift-wood. He gazed very in-
tently for a moment, and then added, as he lavered himself
on his face again :

“ I don't See any thing of them, and it must be there are
only two, and we‘ve no reason to fear them. Don’t raise your
head, for the fire will show it, and them villains tnow how
to use their guns.”

A few moments later, the rippling of water was heard.
The trader raised his head again.

“ They’re coming, a whole, pack of ’em, sure enough
We‘ve got to leave, now. ’Shl don’t rise to your feet. Crawl
a ways, and then run.”

They had taken but a step or two, when Larkins uttered at
exclamation of dismay.

“ The canoe is gone ; we must make a swim for it."

In the bright moonlight the two men were visible to the ,
Sioux, who commenced discharging their pieces. This flus-
tered both. Reaching the lower end of the island, the whisky-
trader sprung in the chilling waters and swam down-stream
with all his might.

Charnley still ran to and fro a} a~loss what to do. He had
rushed into the water, but bofom he get beyond his depth, he
recalled that he was unable to swim, and in a desperate (108an
De retreated to land again. i

The canoe by this time had passed halt the space interw
vening between the island and snore, although, what “at:
rather singular, considering it was propelled by Indians, it
moved very slowly. They had ceased discharging their guns,
manifestly from an absolute certainty of capturing both of the,
men. ‘

' The tormenting anxiety of the hunter was to escape total 1
the island. He felt as though there was a chance for 1115', if 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

Lawns roam ‘l'?

he could only Secure a foothold somewhere else; but, onthig
_ narrow, circumscribed space, it was nothing less than being
in a. prison.

Why not float away by means of a piece of drift-wood?
The thought flashed like lightning upon him. He did not
stay to reflect that with the canoe at their command, he was
quite as much if not more at their mercy, in the water as out
of. it; but, catching up a small tree-trunk that was as dry as
tinder, he made his way out in the river, and in a moment
was borne rapidly downward by the current.

Although mindful of the flight of both of these men, the
canoe still headed toward the island, as it‘ more desirous of
reaching that than of capturing them. Landing upon this,
some six or eight in number, they proceeded to the camp-fire,
where they made two discoveries that brought shouts of ex-
ultation from each throat. The first was the dead body of
Wilkins, lying upon its face, and the second, the keg of
whisky. When they snuti‘ed at the latter and ascertained that
it. really contained ardent spirits, their delight seemed un-
bounded. They danced and, shouted, pushed the body of the
poor, unconscious Wilkins hither and thither, and finally
rolled it into the river. Having finished this extemporized
demonstration, they turned their attention to the “ fire-water."

In the mean time Lat-kins had made his way down-stream,
swimming with all the power he could command. lie con-
stantly glanced backward to ascertain whether he was pur-
sued, until he suddenly became conscious that his strength
had so failed him that he could not keep afloat live minutes
longer.

At this critical moment, when the dreadful thought that
his last moment had come almost paralyzed him. one of his
feet struck bottom, and, to his inexpressiblc joy, he t‘mtnd he

,was in four-feet water. At the same time, he deseried di-
rec‘ y ahead of him, an island almost precisely similar to the
one he had just left. lle was so exhausted that he felt- he
must have rest, if he were certain the Sioux Would be, upon
him in ten minutes. Carethlly emu-caching the shore, pant-
ing and tremulons, he seated himsch and looked tip-stream.
Thefigiu'es of the Indians were dimly discernible as they

LY   forth before the tire. and their bow

 

#8 1m: Herman's mm
hilarity proved to Larkins the discovery of the keg. “ This:
'same cask has helped me more than once," he muttered, “and
it may be it’s going to do me a turn now. There’s enough
in it to set them all crazy—hello! is that you, Cliarnleyl
Drop your feet and come in to shore."

The piece of wood upon which the hunter was floating
was drifting past, when the trader called to him in a cautious
undertone. Obeying his injunction, he made his way without

much difficulty to his side. i '

“ Why didn't you foller me! I s‘posed. of course, ya.
were right behind me.” ,

“I did follow you for a few steps, when I recolleeted I
wasn‘t able to swim, and I had to go back again.”

“ Whewl that was it, oh? You ought to have learned to
swim when you was a boy, the same as I did; though I
can‘t say as I am any thing extra at swimming, for I give out
afore I got to this spot. Just hear ’em yell! They’ve got
hold of the keg, sure, and ’11 be on the rampage in a few
minutes." -

“ Your friend is done for, poor fellow i"

“ Yes; he didn’t draw five breaths after that bullet passed
through his head. I s’pose I was somewhat to blame for
kindling that fire, though, if he hadn’t riz up to hand you
that paper— There! that reminds me for the first time,
' we‘ve left that. paper behind us i" '

“ Sure enough! so we have; and you said it was important
to me."

“Important to you i It is of tne greatest importance in
deet .”

“ While we are resting here, explain this matter to me.”

The trader shookrhis head. I

“ If you‘d have talked different I’d have told you all ab: m

t, and opened a good chance for a spec; but you didn’t take.”

“ What of that? Let me hear what it is.” , ,

“ There's no use 0’ talking: I shnn‘t tell you a thing. If
you can find that paper you‘ll l‘am for yourself; if you don't
find it, go down to St. Paul, and maybe you‘ll hear something

. of it." ' ~
' Elie hunter looked fixedlyat the man beside him. Although

mam. imam ideaihqalaostn www.- he souls Lam ~

    

 

 

i
8

 

  

 

 

 

-s

a sum marine , " 79
the. the utmost loathing toward him. His words for the last
h‘alf- hour had convinced him that he was (me of those men
that are a curse to the aboriginal race—that he was one of
the prime causes of this terrible outbreak among the Indians
of the North-west. The tendency of imminent d:.nger is to
bring persons into closer intimacy, and to make friends of
enemies; but it was just the opposite in this case. Could he
be assured of immunity from danger among the savages, he
would prefer their society infinitely above his; and although
many selfish motives united to urge him to remain, still be
resolved, upon the first opportunity of separating honorably,
that is, without the appearance of deserting him in his extre-
mity, to embrace it, and bid him farewell forever.

But what possibly could be the meaning of the “ business”
to which he had made so frequent reference, and which he
professed to have been the actuating cause in bringing him
and Wilkins into this comer of Minnesota, at a time, too,
when it was the very region of death? Why did he so per-
sistently refuse to reveal it? Could the plea that he enter-
.tained wrong views regarding the moral aspect of the Indian
question he the genuine one ? What remote result could
Roderick Cbarnley‘s private opinion bear to that? .

Such and similar were the unanswered questions proposed
by the young hunter to himself. Happen what might, he had
made up his mind to say nothing further regarding it to the
man beside him. But, both were excessively weary, and al-
though, under the present circumstances, their first thought
should have been to escape tron) the island to the land, yet,
both made their condition as bearable as it was possible to
make it, by nestling down in the driftwood in quest of slumber.

Their wet, chilling clothes for a time drove away all sleep,
Ind the Sioux upon the island above began to become up-
roarious in their revelry, Exhausted nature finally gave way,
and almost at the same moment, the two passed off into the
land of dreams.

r <‘ The hunter was the first to awaken, his disturbance arising

hour a foreign cause. He was nearer to the upper end of the
island, and for this reason was aroused by a dull thump, fol-

‘ WM by a rippling sound. Raising his head, he observed

 um um mange  m

 

  

   
 

30 Tim mm'rnn's nscu'n.

floated down and lodged upon the upper end of the island
Some whim prompted Charnley to arise and bring it out of
~ reach of the Current. As he did so, he observed the trader
was astir.

“Well, Chamley, this is the infernalest piece of nonsense
we have ever been guilty of."

“ To what do you refer ‘3”

“ Why, our cuddling down upon this spot, when we might
have got ashore, and been miles away bythis time. Hello!
you’ve saved my whisky-keg—I’tn glad of that. - Any thing
in it 1’"

“ Nothing, although it feels heavy enough to be full.”

“ That’s the iron hoops around it. It’s made splendid, and
I'm glad to git it ngin, it‘ they did steal the contents. I hope
it’s made ‘em all (lead drunk; no, I’ll be hanged n‘ it has;
yender’s two, three, moving around this minute, and I wouldn’t
be afenrd to take my oath one of ’em is Little Crow. Down
with you i—they haven't. noticed us yet."

Both made themselves, to all intents and purposev. invisible,
each, however, keeping up an unremitting watch upon the
movements of their enemies above. Three of the latter
walked to the beach with such steadiness as to .m-tify that
none of the effects of the “fire-water" lingered in tneir brains.
Their next move was to push off the canoe and start down~
stream, one of the Indians standing erect, the better to guide
the frail vessel.

The two whites upon the island were now certain that an
attempt was to he made to take them, and they were .in no
little anxiety about it. The whisky-trader still having his
gun with him, possessed enough dry powder to make it serv-
iceable; but the hunter‘s piece was in the bottom of Red
river. ' When he ventured forth with the log of wood, he
took it with him, but it was missing when he reached the
ishmd, and he judged it had fallen during his frantic struggle.
to keep afloat. He still had his revolver—me of these valu.
able weapons that can be carried beneath the water without
having their charges atfccted; so, after alt, perhaps he wan

wjbettel armed than his companion. ' x
V “ ' eep cool I" admonished the latter, giving wide-co,
film lune tinefthat he'wu by far the-moat W

 

 

 

on h._‘.~_._.. ,
_ .P.‘

m wmz or A mum at

,r'Kaybe they haven’t seen us, atter all; but if they intend
*to land here there‘ll be a row. You haven‘t got your gun ?”

“No, it is lost; but my six-shooter will be handy in a
pinch.”

“ Don’t fire it unlesa they come right upon us."

“ It might be a good thing, Larkins, if you should be a

=little more chary in your advice. I shall always act as I
deem best.” .

In the mean time, the canoe with its three inmates came
dancing swiflly downward. Whether the three Sioux sus-
pected the presence of the men upon the island or not, they
soon saw every thing was not right, and the one holding the
paddle (whom the trader affirmed to be no other than Little
Crow) sheared the boat ofl‘ to the right, so as to avoid the
exact point where they noted the suspicious signs.

As they passed about twenty feet distant from the island,
their grim, paint~bedaubed faces and glowing eyes were fixed
upon the spot where the two men were crouching, with such
intense fixedness that neither durst raise his licad. The rip-
pling of the paddle revealed where they had passed, and the
trader carefully raised his head a few inches, to obtain a.

. glimpse. It seemed his head had scarcely ascended an inch,
when a rifle,wss discharged from the canoe, and the whisky-
r trader's head dropped with such suddenness that for a few
, seconds the hunter believed he had been shot. But, twisting
his neck around, so as to make his countenance visible, he
gave one of those forced grins that told more plainly than I
Wail or groan the intense suffering of the soul. _
“ It passed so close it made me biink, and I can hear the
‘ whiz yet."
’ ‘ Where are they ?”

" Look for yourself."
(harnley did so, and saw that the canoe had passed far be-

low the island, and was making for the shore. Two of the
SIOUX were so seated that they faced him, and consequently
were enabled to observe every movement of his or the trader’s.

' ~ He disclosed his head and shoulders to learn whether they

would discharge their guns at that distance. He saw one of
'   piece. and, after holdinguit aloft a moment,
 slowness though he judged thea’im too uncertain. ~ 

 

 

13 ran numnn's secure

v Observing his immunity, the trader again raised his head,
although it was with considerable trepidation. He saw the
canoe strike the bank, the three Sioux step out and seat them-
selves upon a large, flat rock.

“ Do you understand the meaning of that ‘2” asked Larkins,
with the same displeasing grin.

“ I don‘t attach any particular meaning at all to it."

“ If you look up above you on' the island, you’ll see the
heads and arms of the rest of them Sioux. They’re done
for until to-night. Them three have managed to keep pretty
sober, and they’ve gone and set down there, and are going to
wait for us to come into their hands, the same as you or I
would sit down beside a wood-Chuck's hole till he came
out.”

Such, beyond a doubt, was the intention of the Indians,
Ind Roderick felt that he would be safe in the assertion that
‘IO two men had been as foolish as he and the trader had
:ncen the night before. and no two poor, unfortunate individu-
als had had their enemies take more complete advantage of
them.

“ I must examine that whisky-keg,” said Larkins, picking it
up, and seating himself upon the ground with it in his lap.
“I hope there’s a drop or two in it with which I may solace
myself; no, I‘ll be shot if it isn’t all gone l
as weil throw it out in the sea, for it isn’t. any more, use to
me.”

About an hour later, the same keg might have been seen
floating down the river. The Sioux were still seated like
Stoics upon the shore, and could not fail to observe it. One
of them pointed it out to his companions, and sent a bullet
through it, more for amusement than any thing else.

The cask went on drifting down-stream, until a bend in the
firm hid it from view, when it began gradually t9 edge in to
more. When still some distance from the land, it suddenly
,was lined out of the water by the shoulders of a man, who
had begun to walk on the bottom. It was then Fllcved still
fiu'tber upward, and revealed the face of Matt Lat-kins, the
whisky-trader, who looked furtively about him a moment, and
 sat down with nigenuine smile upon his face. _ F
t  or,va hes. it‘hnrdmfiuw"  '9!!! 

u

 

 

'Wal, I might I

,. " ‘evs

A 5,.

m' numeral at

turn,” be muttered. “ When I knocked both ends out end
used it for a hat, I was doubtful whether it would do or not -,
but it has brought me through safe, for ail that bullet passed
nearly as close to my head as the other me did 1"

CHAPTER VI! I.

A SINGU'LAE ESCAPJN.

S eed, Mallse. speed! such cause W haste
the active slnews never brneen. »- item.

THE idea. of eluding the wetchfhlness of the l‘udlsns by
means of the cask first occurred to the yonug hunter. it was
greedin seized upon by Matt Lurkins, who had begun to give
Way to despair. After great difllculty they managed to stave
in both ends, when the trader ventured into the stream with
it. He was shrewd enough to keep the island between lum-

‘ self and the vigilant Sioux until he was fairly out in the river,

when he turned his whole attention to the math of keenmg
moat, knowing well enough the current would absolutrly
parry him beyond all danger.

The first impulse of Larkins was to make his emspe known
to the Indians. He had formed such a. dislike to the huntur
since he had ascertained he was reully an upright and honor-
;able man, that he would have rejoiced at his capture; but, he

did not see how this could be accomplished without compro-

mising his own safety. One of these fleet-footed savages
could run him down in n twinkling. and no doubt would
gladly do it. He was reluctantly compelled tr. give over the

' plan, and, still thoughtful and scheming, he made his way

deeper into the woods.
Chamley had witnessed the departure of this man with)

feeling of relief. The fact that while the preparations for
departure were going on, he never once referred to thé'escnpe

' of the hunter, caringnothing‘ when, how, or, in that, whether
; ltwayw’mmplished at all, filled him with more intense dislike

 diver 637m: him." Could he have  geyser.

 

   

 

84 m mum's mun.
passage down the river by forcing his head into the cask bo-
sidc him, he would have drawn back as from a serpent.
No; he rejoiced a thousand times that he had seen the last of
him. ‘ '

Still the hunter could but watch the progress of the cask
with (onsiderable interest. He started when one of the Sioux
discharged his gap, and he was celtain the ruse was discovered;

that, as it kept the quiet tenor of its way, he rather rejoiced
than otherwise that the trader had escaped the bullet, and
that he finally disappeared around the bend in the river.

Realizing that he Was now really alone, he turned his atten-
tion to his own circumstances. Singular as it may seem, the
uppermost thought in his mind was regarding the paper,
which had been left with the dead Wilkins upon the island.
Had he known that the body had been cast into the river, it
is probable he would have given over all hopes of obtaining
it; but he. had formed the rest u to secure it, if there were
any possible means of doing so.

How to accomplish this was the all-important question
The Indians upon the island above were still in a beastly
stupor, and for some time to come would be no better than

/ to many dead men. Consequently, in making his calculations,
It would be safe to leave them out altogether.

But, there sat the three sleepless Sioux, with their lynx-
‘eyed vision centered upon the island; and,so long as daylight
lasted, very little could be attempted with any degree of
"safety. Their failure to make an open attack was simply be-
cause they deemed it inexpedient. They numbered but three,
‘while they supposed their expected prey to consist of two
P-lly-armcd whites. Before night the remaining Sioux would
the in a condition to lend assistance. They could ati‘ord to
wait, if they should hold out until nightfall.

More than once it occurred to the hunter that the water
intervening between the two islands might possibly be ford

Labia. If such were really the case, he felt confident of both

securing the coveted paper, and of making his final escape.

,The Sioux not suspecting any such move, and they being

30113.0, dimes away, it would be no dimcult matter to keep
his body'so '  ' ed a teelude them altogetherfil: as!
  .nch a-jomnw: .. ... .t’. .,»L ..,,J

  

 

 

 has“ v . .-

an ATYI‘EXPT AND a smoke. at;

5°. ! A few minutes’ consideration ended in a conclusien to make
at  . the attempt. Creeping forth on his hands and knees, he en-C
of tercd the water, and swam in the fashion generally adopted 1)

V , young school-boys, that is, by 'ro—‘Elna Lie hands upon the bt -~
"51‘ ‘ tom, so as to support the hody,a'1d using the legs. As the
“x increasing depth forbade this, he was a Bumping posizinn.
(1; When be judged half the distance was passed, the water was
ad only to his arm‘pits. A rod increased it to his ncekhand he
1d now began to move a, an extreme caution, for the rapid curvt

rent made it a work of great difficulty to keep upon his feet

n. . ,. The heart of tho lnmter was already throbbing with the
I, sanguine hope of accomplishing his purpose, when he ob-
“ served one of the Indians ahead of him rise to a sitting
. position and gaze stupidly around. It was utterly out of the
it question for the savage to take note of any thing around, and
g . he almost immediately lay down again, in as profound a. stu-
0 pm as before.

Charmey, however, under the m of catching his eye, in~
stantly lowered his head. At the same time he was carried
entirely olf his feet, and barely saved himself from drowning.
. When he recovered control of his movements, he had been

forced almost back to the lower island. Somewhat discom-

fited at the result of the experiment, he made his way back
to the very spot he had left a. few moments before. Here he
V sat down to meditate upon the best course to adopt.

There was manifestly but two things to be attempted, and
one of these had already proved itself almost as good as
hopeless. He might strive to reach the island, always bearing
in mind that there was nothing at all to fear from those upon
it. Could this be safely reached, alter securing the paper it
would be no difficult matter to conceal nimself until the do-
parture of the entire party. Not suspecting cu presence in
this place, it was not likely that a search would be made.

After all, the “west course seemed to order a repetition of
his experiments; and he again stepped into the water. As
he did so, he glanced hack and saw that the three Sioux had

‘ embarked in the canoe, and were coming up-stremnu;  need
"namely be said the hunter lost no time in ggtflfil'haek into
i. eastern

 hollow which’flhe had left, and‘that 
muon'w‘ithmnttlo’mm '  

'i '2;',‘ at)”, It.

 

    

 

5

mm’smm

This proceeding looked very much as though they had be-
gun to suspect some ruse had been played upon them; and
such, indeed,was the case. They had a fear that the whisky-
keg had assisted both to safety, and this voyage tip-stream was
for the purpose of reconnoitering and ascertaining the facts in,
the case.

Sltillful as were these aborigines in the use of the paddle.

he current of the Red river, at this portion of its course,
was so rapid that their progress was difficult and tardy.
However, if they came slowly it was surely, and in due time
they were abreast of the island. The hindmost Sioux now
took charge of the canoe, while the other two, with theirI
rifles in hand, surveyed the spot where they knew a couple
of white men had been. He who was there carefully kept his
head out of sight, seeking to judge of the exact location of
hisenemies by the sound of the paddle. He noted its pro-
gress as it ascended foot by few. and finally rounded the
upper end.
sometime, and Charnley was convinced they meditated a
", charge " upon his defenses. Under these circumstances he
had resort to a stratagem that was eminently successful.

He firstmanaged to gain a tolerably correct idea of their
location without exposing himself. Then placing his reg
velvet over the edge of the hollow, he discharged one barrel,
and instantly shitting his hand a few inches to the lett, fired
the other barrel. 'l‘his satisfied the Indians that two men
with guns were still nestled there, althongn it did not give
their: a. very exalted idea of their marksmanship, as neither of
the three was injured. Their reconnaissance they judged to
he successful, and returned down-stream to their old posi-
don.

Matters had now assumed such a phase that Chamley he-
gun to realize his imminent personal danger, and he con mi-
fluted his thoughts upon the one single idea of effecting his
escape. However desirable it might be to obtain possession
of the paper, this one project must now take precedence of
oliothcrs.

-, I , The hunter did not fail to ask the assistance of his mereithi
‘ lather.  “majoritmeuty minutes he devoted, himself to the

Here they maintainnrt a stationary position for

most intense exercise of mama» ifltmwlofi»w‘fi‘m“

t
,s.
i,

 

 

    

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A Barnum maven. 9'
he struck his hand upon his knee, and his face flushed up
with a joyful expression. .
“ I have it! and it‘s a good idea, if it did originate with me.”
. The excitement produced by the discovery of the plain was
such that he was unable for some time to act with coolness
and decision. He was certain the: r duh! he no miscarriage,
‘Ind it took time and effort for him in tone himself down. '
’The island, as we have already intimated, was literally

: Covered with drift-wood, most of which was dry as tinder.

The hunter‘s first movement was to search among this until
he found it small, straight stick with large pith in it. He
was very particular in this respect, and when he had suc-
ceeded, he then cut the ends square oil“, making it about a fOOt
'End a hulf in length. His next step was to fashion a rod
with which he forced the pith from the inside. He drove
this red backward and forward, and blow through the open-
ing until not a vestige of the pith remained. As if to make
asumnce doubly sure, he inhaled his breath through it, and
drew up n s'wnllow or two of water; then, perfectly satisfied,
he laid it carefully down, his joyous countenance tcstifyinghow
sanguine be was of the result.
: ' The neatt proceeding was to secure some six or eight large
limbs, each of sufficient size of itself to float him in the water.
Selecting one that suited his fancy, he set it apart, and began
operations with the others. .

The largest was tossed into the water so that it would float
clear of the island. It had gone scarcely a rod when it
caught the eye of the Sioux, and two of them at once put
out from the shore to intercept it. They approached the sus-
picious object with great caution, paddling around it several

, times; but they finally pounced upon "M and discovered no-
‘ lining upon which to hang the shadow of a suspicion.

Roderick smiled grimly as he noted these movements,
His mental programme was being carried out to the letter.

V’l'hc canoe remained in the current awhile, and then passed
in to shore again. It had but just reached there,when 0. second
log was descried upon the surface. As before the canoe shot
out, and itwas pushed hither and you by the paddle of the
 Until they, were convinced there was no attempt M
m whammy slowly Inademelr wsy. tantrums: 

   

   
 

88 a m man’s ESCAI'E. .

Thus far there was no break in the programme!

Some ten minutes‘ respite were allowed the savagefmhenn
third object, similar to the other two, made its apjcttraneo
They watched it a short time, and then made their way out
into the stream; but it would not have required an expel}.
eneed eye to discover that there was much less eagerness in
their , movements than at first. They approached it, and
merely striking it with the paddle, made their retreat again.

“Thus far," muttered the exultant hunter, “ every thing
goes ‘ swimmingly.’ "

, Quite an interval elapsed before- the fourth log was
launched, but it did not fail to attract notice, and receive a
reluctant visit.

All of which was what Chamley had confidently counted
' upon in perfecting his scheme. , ’

The titlh log passed the lower end of the island when the
sun was in the meridian. The Sioux had disembarked, and
were seated upon the shore. They could not fail to observe
it, but they made no move toward intercepting it. U

“ Thank God I” exclaimed the hunter, from his very soul.

During the intervals elapsing between the starting of these
several pieces, the hunter had employed himself in a manner
that would have seemed strange to a casual observer. The
reed which he had whittled and hollowed out he managed‘to
secure to one of the large limbs, the and upon one side pro-
jecting only a few inches beyond, while it extended nearly a
foot upon the other. With this he had passed out in the
water several times and experimented, matters after a. while
assuming a most satisfactory aspect. ‘

The time for trial had now come. Dragging the limb in
question a rod or two above the island, he passed out toward
store so as to avoid striking it in his passage down-stream.

Then placing the end of the reed in his mouth, he sunk
carefully down benca‘h the water, holding on to the lower
part of the limb with both hands, and gave himself to the
control of the current. V _

The Sioux. sitting upon the shore. dcscried another stick
fleeting down-stream, V and one of them passed out in the
(shoe/to. examine it. While still ’a few rode away,  ob;
served the be the harm: as the others, savoqurhspl 0.333

xi-..L:JMv-———-T-

  

maps-iv".

 

 

 

 

    

m mm's sinuous fl

painted a little water-soakedaund' floated quite low in the
water. That. however. was a very natural oecurremc, and
he returned to his companions, wondering, perhaps, why it was
that the whites had resorted to the singular practice of shov-
tag the dtift~wood off the island.

In the mean time, Roderick was making fine progress bo-
ncath the surface of the river. The limb to which he had
lutrustcd his fortune was of cedar wood, and had been origi-
ually covered with numerous small branches, the stumps (f
which were grasped by his hands, while he allowed his feet
to float of themselves. When abreast of the upper portion
of the island; the water became so shallow that his back
grazed the bottom, and he feared he should be checked alto-
gether; but he soon swung into deeper water, and progressed
as before.

The hunter soon became sensible of a great oversight upon
his part. He had intended to fill his ears and nostrils with
bits of his clothes, to keep out the water; but the matter had
been entirely forgotten until he was disagreeably reminded of
it beneath the surface. The rushing in his ears, and the
effort it required to avoid drawing the water through the nose,
were so disagreeable that he dropped his feet with the intené
tion of returning and remedying the matter. To his surprise
he failed to reach bottom. and, drawing his feet up, went on.

A person under the water has a very poor opportunity of
judging of the progress and passage of time; but Charnley
had fortified himself against the mistake of rising too soon.
He held the reed firmly between his teeth, drawing deep and
regular breaths of air, and calculating, as near as possible,
when he was opposite the Sioux. When he judged he had

‘ reached this point, he looked to the right and left. The
water appeared of a (lull yellow color, and he discovered 1:0-
thing. This fluid is such a good conductor of sound that he
did really hear the dip of the paddle, and thus assured him-
self wry nearly of the locality of his enemies.

Some ten tniuutes later his situation became so unpleasant
that he was meditating upon brmgiug his head to the surface,
when he struck the river bottom with such force that the reed
was forced from his mouth. and he was obliged to rise to keep

 ‘,.. LU‘tM- .V. . 

  

'60 m nmn’s 

'Had the attention of theisionx been turned 'in the dim
tion, they could not have failed to observe the head as it shot
upward ; but, fortunately, they had dismissed all thoughts of
the floating objects from their mind, and were lazily casting
their eyes, at intervals, toward the island, to see that no strat-
ugem of the whites should be allowed to boodwink them.
They were meditating moving up abreast of it to detect any
such movement; but, as this was attended with some disad-
vantage to themselves, they still remained in their old posi-
tion. Were they to station themselves opposite the island, it
Was barely possible that a skillful swimmer might make his
way to the other shore, his only care being to keep the island
itself between him and his enemies. As it was now, they
could detect any such movement at once. Larkins and
Charnley had bafiled them, by proceeding directly up the
river, thus securing themselves from observation, until the
water reached their armpits, when they launched forth
boldly.

The hunter kept as low in the water as possible, so that no '

furtivc glance of the Sioux should discover him, until he had
passed the same bend in the river that concealed the whisky-
trader's advent upon the land. He then struck out vigorously
‘for the shore, and reached it at a point about two hundred
yards below where his predecessor had landed.

In such a high latitude as Minnesota, the cold, during the
winter months, it is well known, is exceedingly severe._ When
the winter sets in its fierceness is terrible; but, its summers are
among the most delightful of any climate. It was fortunate
for the two individuals of whom we have been writing that
the mildness continued so far into September, else their seve-
ral immersions in the Red River of the North might have
proved almost as uncomfortable to them as the well-aimed
bullets of the Sioux.

As it was, the submersive passage of Chamley was a much r

finer thing to read about than to make. The chilling clasp
of the water, the cold rush of the current, the oppressive hum
that seemed to penetrate his very brain, the hurried breathing,
the painful smelting of the eyes, and the stinging feeling in
nose, together with" a sensation as if he was really dying
 all. more terrilfle in itself'all ‘ the othefl“’eoihflnedv

v

 

AAA—m4

 

 

 

    

If

13
c.

i.

———1.—n.-o

 

 

 

     

an moo: Oman. 91

I A these were some of the accomplishments of that never-to-be-

forgotten journey.

As for the whisky-trader, we doubt whether any at our
readers have the least concern about his emotions, and there-
fore we shall not take the space to narrate them. ‘

The sensation of the hunter was any thing but comfortable
when he stepped upon dry land. He was compelled to hop
about awhile on each foot, to get the water from his eats, the
liquid, in the mean time, flying from his garments, in muchi

‘ the same manner as from a dog when shaking himself; then,

there was that feeling in the nose more unpleasant than all,
which required time alone to displace.

‘ He looked pitifully down at his (haggling clothes, and
asked himself what was best to do. He always carried a
matclvsafe with him, and it would have required but a short

' time to start a fire; , but it would have taken a much longer

time to dry his garments; and during that precious interval
the Sioux upon the upper island might recover from their de- ,
bauch, and dissipate all chance of obtaining the paper.

In addition to this he was becoming ravenously hungry,
and a troublesome pain manifested itself in his wound. A
strong will, however, could stave oti‘ this, and make the other
bearable for a long time. But did he forgot his first resolve
in regard to the document? No; he resolved the paper must
be scoured before the bodily wants wore heeded.

There was but one course for him to pursue, and that was
to go to a point above the unconscious Sioux, and then, by
me aid of some float, make his way out into the stream, and
land upon the upper portion of the island, after which his
action was to be dictated by circumstances.

He had hardly decided upon this, when he became sensible

I of a peculiar smell in the air, resembling burning wood. For

a time, he was unable to locate it, but at last detected a faint
smoke arising from behind a rock. The thought that there
were Indians so near him made him exceedingly carom] in
his movements. He was standing exposed to any that
might be in the vicinity; but, feeling pretty positive that he
had not been seen, he set out to discover who had kindled

theflre. ‘ -  
1,”  hi:an that hi- minivan-nintan

 

  

    

  

’2 m mum's seem

. emorgeney, and holding it in his hand so as to be readyat an
instant's warning, he approached the rock. By going around
either end of this, he might be brought face to face with the
Indians, and thus make a collision unavoidable. It was
hardly probable that any of them was star-gazing at this time
of day, or even lying upon the ground; he accordingly con~
cl‘ided to crawl stealthily along the surface, and peer down
,uron them.

The contour of the rock fttVOX‘U] such a proceeding, and
he lost no time in putting it in execution.

On his hands and knees then, one hand still grasping the
revolver, he crawled over the rock, and, removing his hat
from his head, he slowly shoved his forehead forward, until
the eyes projected beyond the line of the rock. There was
little need of this caution. The only person he saw was Matt
Larkins, stretched flat upon his back, sound asleep. ‘At his
feet a small fire was burning, or rather smoldering, for it
was evident it had not been replenished for fully snhour.
Near by it was a heap of sticks, which had been collected for
fuel, and a little further away was the whisky-keg, or rather
that which remained of it after head and bottom were re-
moved. The trader’s limbs were outstretched, as if he had
been flung upon the ground, and remained in the position in
which he struck. His hat was oti‘, and his mouth was open.

The hunter watched him for several moments with a feel:
lag of contempt and pity—contempt for one whose nature
was so degraded as to engage in such a disgraceful calling,
and pity for the death-bed remorse, and final damnation of

. soul he was assuredly laying up for himself. Ah ! Matt
Larkins, there is assuredly a time coming when you shall
bemoan your misspent life, for “ what profiteth it a man if he
gain the whole world and lose his own soul ‘3"

“ Though the mills of God grind slowly,
Yet they grind exceeding small;
Though wit b patience he stand» waiting,
With exactness grinds he all."

While still looking down upon the form of the trader, 
eyes suddenly opened to their widest extent, with a Wild,
startled expression, as if he had suddenly bccmné aware of
some great peril impending over him. For a few seconds he
paid fixedly at the face looking down upon him, as lt'nnablo ‘

   

 

 

 

 

     

.u

 

m LASTIOF THE WISH-TRADER

to identify it, and then the look of terror gradually faded from
his own.

" Why, Charnley. is that ycu? How you scart me. Did
you wake me? Come down here.”

“ ‘tenmin where you are ; there is no occasion for my com-
it‘g down.”

“ How did you get away ?"

“ \Vlmt was the matter contained in that paper of Wile
kins ‘3” ' t

“ Git out! I told you Iwouldn’t tell you, and I won’t. If

' you'd have talked a little different I might. But say! h0w in

the name of eonnnon sense (lid you give them Sioux the slip!
I never expected to see you ofl‘ there.”

“You answer no question of mine and I answer none of
yours.”

“ All right! but for all that we’ve had quite an adventure;
uomething we can boast of to our children. eh ?"

“If I deserted a comrade, when death was upon him, it
strikes me I would say as little as pOSsible about it.”

“You could have gone 03' with me as well as not; I’m
sure I didn’t hinder you.”

“There is no need of talking about the matter; we look
differently at every thing."

' The trader had risen to his feet and now passed around the
rock. The hunter, at the same time, took his position upon
the ground, and the two thus stood face to thee.

“ Churnley, you’re a little crusty. We’re a good Ways up in
the north-west, where we’ve got a confounded sight more of
enemies than of friends. Since I‘ve lost Wilkins l was ai‘ra'td
'I should have to go north into Selkirk settlement to get out of
this scrape, and I’m a little skecry about things any way. I
was doubting my seeing you again, but I’m mighty glad you‘ vc
We can now stick together and make the trip back in
‘2"

come.
safety, can't we, old boy

leeriek turned upon his heel without a word, and walked
deliberately away. Since then he has never seen Matt Larka

mate wLisky-trader.

  

    

CHAPTER IX.

SUCCESS AND FAILURE.

He could not rest, he could not stay
Within his tent to wait for day;
But walked ll’m forth along the strand,
Where thousand sleepers strewed the sand.
Sines or Gonna].

THE hunter had landed upon the same side with the Sioux,
and consequently was obliged to pass them in ascending to
the proper point in the river. By keeping well back from
the shore there was no necessity of incurring any risk in doing
so. The afternoon was now well advanced and time was

precious. If he tarried upon land until the savages recovered

from their debaueh the chances for obtaining the paper were.

well-nigh hopeless, for at such times the American Indian, like
his pale-faced brot’her, is morose and more dangerous when
disturbed than at other times.

After leaving the whisky-trader, Clmmley made his way as
rapidly as possible up-stream. for he began to fear that he had
deferred the attempt already too long. When opposite the
island, he came down to the shore and surveyed it. The
Sioux still lay there, in all manner of positions, like men shot
deadwhile making an assault, and were apparently as lost to
all outward things, as if the breath of life had in reality de-
parted from their bodies '

J The contour of the shores was such that his view of both
for a considerable distance was perfect. Casting his eye down-
' stream,~ he was somewhat startled to find the three Sioux were
invisible. Their canoe could be dimly discerned, lying in
close to the bank, but the owners had departed.

This wore a suspicious look to the hunter. Not once,
while he was crouching upon the island, had all of the three
been invisible at the same time. The proverbial patience of
the aborigine is such as to brbid the supposition that
they had become wearied with watching. It seemed mom

’ probable that'they had withdrawn from sight in the hope of
luring their prey forth. and had divided and ascended the,

 

 
  
 

 

  

 

 
  
 

 

 
 

    

 

m cascxmt or A 'rwm. , u

bank in order to maintain a more critical watch upon their
movements.

Roderick was debating the matter in his mind, when he
caught the crackle of a twig as it‘ made by the passage of
some person. With a throb of alarm he turned around.
Nothing was to be seen, yet he was positive there. w as some
living thing in close proximity. His own position Was such
that he was equally certain, wherever or whatever it was, that
he had been seen. His supposition was that one of the Indians
had come up upon this side of the river while another had
ascended upon the opposite side, and the third had maintained his
original station, save that he had withdrawn further from shore.

As it was, he felt exceedingly uneasy, knowing that he was
a target for any stray bullet, and he came to the conclusion
that the best thing to be done under the circumstances was to
get out of the neighborhood as quickly as possible. Glancing
i hither and yon to ascertain the point. from which the danger
threatened, he fixed upon a short stumpy tree, as the shield of
the Indian. It was of sufficient diameter to afi‘ord an admirable
cover to his body, and the fact that, there was a bush but a
few feet away, satisfied the hunter that death lurked behind
'that. identical tree.

Churnley started to move away, keeping hiseyc fixed upon
‘the tree. 'He had not taken three steps when he saw a black
eye and slit of painted face slip to view, while at the same
time a rifle-barrel was leveled straight at him and discharged
He was not struck, but the bullet could have come no closer
without slaying him. »

The efl'cct oi this shot upon the hunter was to enrage him.
No other word but rage will express his emotion when this
deliberate attempt at taking his life was made. The first
question he asked himself was, what reason had this Indian
to tire at him? He, had never sought to harm him, but, on
the contrary, had ever been the steadfast friend of the red-
man; and now this ungrateful dog had just done his best to
send him out of the world.

He jerked his revolver from his waist and rushed toward

“the tree, determined to,discharge the whole the barrels, into
the body of the Sioux, when, lo! the savage tin-nod, upon his
“inland-Rodi ..  ,..* . :V. ; r,  v -, ‘ U, .

‘ ,
0.... ,..‘_,

I

 

96 m ,mrm‘s mom,

This, if possible, :endered Churnley more infuriato than
ever.

“Hold on! you cowardly dog l" he shouted. ‘ Hold on a
bit, and I‘ll give you your full of that kind of game.”

But the Indian disregarded the peremptory summons, and
Continual his flight with all his might, while the hunter pux ‘
aucd, tiring his revolver until every barrel was emptied with
out inflicting ascrnteh. The Sioux possessed by far the moo
fleetness, and rapidly gained upon the hunter. The latter
finding he had done no injury, caught up a large-sized stone,
and hurled it with such skill and force that it gave the fugi-
tive quite a respectable, thump in his buck. The letter ut-
tered a terrified yell and sprung a foot or two in the air, doubt-
less thinking he had received his death-wound. He now went
*ike the wind, nevertheless, and seeing how matters were go-
ing, the hunter gave up the chase in disgust.

When Charnley had time for reflection, he looked upon this
occurrence as eXCeetlingly dangerous—that is, dangerous in the
consequences it was likely to bring upon himself. His great
desire had been to keep the fitct of his escape from the island
from becoming known to the Sioux, so that, in carrying out
his scheme, he should not be obliged to maneuver against
them. Now that they had learned or would shortly learn
that he was upon shore, it was more than probable that they
would turn their whole attention toward capturing him, and
thus little opportunity would be given for him to secure the
document.

He began to ask himself whether, after all, it\ would not be
best to let the paper go, and free himSelf' from the network of
danger that was beginning to encompass him. If the matter
was (s. much importance he would assuredly lleur of it in the
course of time. If it were only some project that had origi-
nated in the the head of the whisky-trader, it were perhan
as well unknown as known. Be what it might, almost any
person would have pronounced it foolhnrdy to attempt to dis
cover under the present aspect of circumstances. r/ .

If he gave up the project, what should he (10? Wonder
hither and thither through the wilderness, like some aimless
idventurer? The distaste for this. added most, likely to that
imsity which isinhcrent in all our natures. decide him _-tn_ .

 

mm DOCUMENT SECURE). 977T

nuke the attempt immediately. let the consequences be what
they might. . He, therefore, resumed his ascension of the
river, keeping well under cover as he did so, and pausirg at
intervals to assure himself that he was not followed. In this
manner he progressed fully a quarter of a mile above the up-
per island, at which point he decided to venture out in the
' river, and if not “cross the Rubicon,” cross very nearly 1:
Red river.

The hunter being incapable of: swimming, it became net-ta: ‘;
sary to secure something upon which to tlont. This pic ved
amorc difficult matter than he supposed, but he tinnlly suc-
ceeded, his safeguard this time being much the same as he had
used on the previous occasion.

0n the very point of embarking, be discerned the canoe
ascending the stream, keeping close in to shore as if seeking
to escape observation. He drew back and watched its move-
ments with anxious interest. Nearly abreast of the island it
headed toward it, and a few seconds later the figures of two
Indians could be seen moving to and fro. As they shortly
disappeared from view, be judged they had seated themselves
upon the ground by their companions.

The afternoon was now so far advanced, that Chamley con-
cluded to defer his embarkation until nightfall. His approach
to the island during the darkness it is obvious would be at.-
tended with far less- peril than during the daytime, although
it was by no means improbable that by that time he would
have the whole band of Sioux to operate against.

It was hardly dark, when he cautiously waded out in the
stream, as far as its depths would permit, and set out upon
his perilous undertaking. It required great effort to make his
way far enough out to land upon the upper end; but he sue-
ceerled, and with a beating heart began creeping toward the
smoldering camp-fire. -

Every yard, the young man paused and looked around and
listened. He could discern nothing suspicious, and in a l'tw
mo’ments he was within a few feet of one of the Indians. Ho
[regressed now, it may be said, inch by inch, until he was di.
realy among the slkepers. Then be halted, and as well M
the gloom would permit, peered around. Of course he saw
downg'of the body of Wilkins, but hie heart gave «peat

 

” m nnnmn's seem

bound, when he discerned something glistening in the 

light that he was sure was the precious missive for which he?
was searching. Working his way a short distance further, he

placed his hand upon it. Ayl it was the document, thus

strangely preserved, and Cliarnley clutched it with a nervous I
hand.

He was endeavoring carefully to extricate himself from 
network of danger, when an iron grasp was laid upon his
shoulder and a low voice muttered:

“ How do, bmdder? Much glad to see you.”

The young hunter glanced up and saw the three Sioux’_
standing behind him. '

CHAPTER X.

CONCLUSION.

Weave me the woof. The thread is spun.
The web is wove. The work is (loner—Glut. ’ .
IT is said the ruling passion is strong in death. When
Roderick was seized by the Sioux his first act was to open
the document and attempt to read it; but the darkness would
not permit, and he placed it in his bosom, until a better
‘ opportunity should offer. -

The captors, who were the Sioux that had not partaken of
liquor, manifested no vindictive or cruel disposition. They
were in fact members of Father Riehter’s people, who were
out Lunting and who had no intention of shedding the blood
of innocent persons. It was not they who had shot Wilkins,
but having discovered the white men in their vicinity, they
resolved on capturing them if possible, and we have narrated,
at length, the efforts put forth to do so, and shown also, that
they tlcservcdno credit that our here, after all, fell into thei:
hands. .

Now that they had secured him, the first thing they did.
was to'remove him from the island, for it would never have
done for s,white man to have fallen into the hands at that
mnfihetislandt. They resolved to take thehunter back to,

 

  

   

“5

  
 

THE NEW4 INDIAN ABM.

   

their own people, perhaps to hold him awhile, and then release ‘
him as their whim dictated.

It was with rather novel feelings that Roderick Clmrnley,
the next morning, found himself again crossing the Clearing
in the direction of the village. He was hopeful that they
might pass the cabin without being discovered by the mission-
sry, but, at (hut critical moment, he come forth and greeted
them. A few words explained all. Father Richter com-
manded them to release him, and they did so without protest. ,

At this juncture, it occurred to Churnley that he had not
yet examined the paper in his possession. He now drew it
from his breast and opened it. It was simply his nppointment
as Indian agent. Matt Lnrkins and his friend had represented
that they could the most speedily reach the young hunter, and,
consequently, had been intrusted with its delivery from a cer-
tain point. 'Their intention in doing this was to extract a
pledge from him in regard .to themselves before acquainting
him with his appointment. Failing in this, they cared not
whether he received the document at all.

Chsmley handed the paper to the missionary.“ As the lat»

ter perused it, his face lit up with a smile.
V “ Why, how is this, Roderick t?"

“ I do not know. I never solicited such on appointment)”

“ Some of your friends then have done it for you. Come-
in the house. and let us talk of this."

“Do you know you have treated me in rather a strange
manner ?" said Fa‘her Richter, when they had seated them-
selves. '

“It would have h:en much more strange had I remained
with you utter the r'.bufl‘s I have received at your hands.”

“ When wounded you were my guest; when you were Well
more c015,“ he no occasion for remaining, but until then I ex-

pected you to remain.”
“Why is it, Father Richter, that you have treated me

thus?”

“Place yourself in my position, Roderick, and then ask
whether you Would notth the same."
, As has been remarked in another place, it had been the
mlssiomry’s, custom umpire at long intervals 3 visit to the
frontier. One of thesa iourneys was undertsken three year)

 
   
   
   
   
   
     
   
   
   
     
     
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
    
       
      
      
 
     
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
     

JM' uni annn's mm

previous, .md his daughter Cora accompanied him. It was at
this time tnat they encountered Roderick Clmrnley, who im-
agined himself in love with the fair blossom of the wildcmess
at first sight. With a foolish want of discretion, he went i‘m«
medinlcly to her father and asked permission to sue for be]
hand. Had he approached the matter in' a proper way] it in
very probable that he would have succeeded. But the blea—
-)f yhlding up his cherished daughter. his only cc‘mpanim in ,
his distant home, was one that could not be entéxtnined,l
eonsequeutly the lover received a most emphatic tefustfl,
with the command never to speak to either again. When,
therelilre, the young hunter made his {wipearance at the Clear-
ing, some time afterward, it was natural that Harvey Richter
should question his motives and wish for his absence, and it
was characteristic of the good man that he should tell him so.

.“ i can only complain," said Charnley, in anwer to the hat
remark, “that you would not listen and hear me through.
My position in your household has been such, that the sol»
ject could not be referred to; but if you would :nlj consent
to hear, and then, if you choose to refuse, I will .n‘r. nothing
to say."

“ I will now listen."

“ You know then, Father Richter. that I have long enter-
tained the hope of calling your daughter my wife. I can ap-
preciate your feelings when you judged that by doing so you'
gave‘her tome to take hundreds of miles away from you,
but on that. point you are mistaken. It has always been my

-intcntion to settle down near you, so that you could have
your daughter as much as ever. Now that I am Indian agent,
‘ I shall do so under any circumstances. You have been carry-
ing on a good work among these people, and can not I now
join hands with you, in my new position ?" ’

“ I have thought a great deal of this during the last. day 0:
two, and painful as it has been to me, I had resolved, that if
my daughter‘s happiness demanded it, to give her to you. even
if you left me alone, I should do so. Now, that you declare
your purpose of remaining by me, I can ofi'er‘ no oldoction.‘
It lies with you and her.” '

" “It is settled then, I think,” smiled the hm

\

 

 

 

 

‘1
Tue Minion of the Spirits.

 
    
 

STANDARDM

DIME DIALOGUE

For School Exhibitions an‘l Home Entertainments.

Not. I in {‘1 lulu-l". ll 2h55 Pap-1hr Dinlwnu and Drama In ovh book. 1:“). "13m. 19.
Hum lung“, sun. pun pad, on rut. its «1’ l-r r, kn cum.

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

Thm vnlan hnvo Mon ipn-purml with «perm n-fumnr‘e lo lhn'r nvnlllhlllty Inr Fxhlhlllnn,
hing mln and w srhunh mu wlon wnh or wilhnnl the l‘nrnilnm: : nolng» nmllllvlml lam-“014..
All?! A. YUUNU PROP E of evar >1 :e,boll| Inhle nn-l l'uuml-h ' .
Ollluf hooks ln mg Iunrkel, nt nny prlte, wnulu In umu)‘ uul'ul and "Ill-AM! fluloguu and drunu

 

 

' of “it, pnthul, huam nu-l unuunent.

-
DIME DIALOGUES. N0. 1.
Mnellng of the ‘Mull‘i. For nine young Indian. Hahn-ebbing. For fiv nhen.
BIN": A U" "f-‘lKll'hflnl'l- F0” '6' ""31. The Secretol‘ Snccu Kr three Imkon.
'l‘tum'a Cur‘nmlmn. hur nah and final». Ynun Amerlrn. hrce null-I nml twu lama“...
Fuhlon. bur mo lnd'n-s. lamp Ila-:‘I Dnntlny. Fllllr l'emnlu, onnuuln.
'l'hn Rehearsal. [far In: bnxjs. Thu Folly unh. Imel. For llll‘v: lunlv .puu'an.
\‘v’hlch will yflu Chung-l in rpm‘myl. Dngmnli-m. l-‘nr lhro-g mule upanul.
The Queen of Mvn'. [- wr tw-zhltlu mrll. The! norm-t (‘on louudcd. For two lmyl.
The Tau-Putty. For lunr India. The m4 Ynulvfl M n. Fnrlwn mnlvu.
Threu Scenru In “'uhlml Lifw. Mnlonnd hmalc Thu Yanr': Ream-lug. 1‘1 l‘amnlu. l I rml‘
1 .. snmlan’ Cunleuinu. Fur mnlauml (uuml The Villnye wilh Onu Goutlumuu. ur “'1‘th-
l‘lw yuung lmllu. l nlnlui and on: male. .

DIME DIALOGUES ITO. 2.
The Genhu nf Uherly. ! males nnrl 1 female. "aw to {I r Pvrnlnr' $907!".
(’inulm'alln or, " Slimwr. Thu New nxul Hm um. Fur um "lulu. -
palm: Gun and S; :1: Bad. Sm'rrzll warm-u," Selunllnn at Last. Fur two "ml".
Th. Golden Rulw. Tu'n null" nlhl two lemnlu. the (:rwnlmrn. Fnr lwu mull-I.
'J‘ho Gm of lhu Fnlry Queen. Sew-ml famnlu. The anuu Mm of Srlellrv. For {our mle
Tull n l: and I) no Fun Far lwn qhurnvln-rl. The Old Lxuly‘: “'lll. Fur tour "ml".
Th. Cu nlry Auul'l \‘m t to the City. Mr uv- The Little Hm sv- vlvun. For two Imla g'rll.

nrll churnclen. Haw In l-‘lnd un l ulr. Fnr fire n niu. '

The Twn Rmnmlu. For twn m1ln. The Virlnu. er fix young 14am.

Trylnz the Chnm'leu. 1"- - lhn-u m 1 A CmvnuM-l Erlv-uuu. ‘
The “n luv anilv For m-x-oml ‘1 ’ Thu l'lllllll', muelinm Flt-mule. am] rnnfgmd.‘
The English Truwlel’. For Invo mall-I-

 

 

   

 

 

     

 

Two an)...

 

   
    

 

  
 

The Rn bow. Fv' Iuwml clmrnck
DIME DIALOGUES, N0. 3.
The 3!" Queen. Tar an "(In Irhml. Thl Gvul-el Cnth. For two mnlu.
Fur ten fumnm. quterpiave. For two lnnlul uml two {om-20.x

Dru: erlrm Convaminn.
Xe. lng Bud Cnlnymny. A Fun”. l-‘urlivunmlu. The Two Romnnl. For two mnlu.

Courting Under Dlmcnluu. 9 mnlen, I {rum-la. 'l'ho Snme. Summing“. Forum mm. ,
National Rapnnnutlvu. A Furlemlnn. 4 nmlal. Q'wwlrg the Whltu Feuther. I uml-n. 1 ram"...
unplug tho Drift. Fur nlulerum um]: I. Tllo Haul. Call. A Recltntlvo. For um um“,

1mm DIALOGUES, no. 4.
Th. Frost King. For (an or more rernonn. The Stul‘b'rtnwn \‘olnnteor. 9 mal
Blnrtlng In Lil's. 'I hr".- xnuh-smnl 1m“ finnnln. \ St I no {rum " l‘nnl l'ry." For lnur
Fulth, Hupe nlnl Ch: ‘ - l-‘nr three hills girls. 0 Chnrms. For lhru mnlu- and mu! lmv‘nlo.
Dnrh and Joan. Fur Iwa Innles nn I ounfumulo. w, Ch-rk nntl Broom. I": r thr. .- litllu glrls
Thu .1”. A Flnrnl ancv. Forslx lin. .3 wk m 1 lghl \an AC) lnqny. Fur Iwo m“.
Tho Evléhruncad Prinreu. ') xvmlonJu-vrml fl‘lllnlw‘ What I'm er S For two Innl-rl.
linnnrto “'hnm Hon r ll Due. ‘1 nmlus.1 lmuul-w Tho (‘rinn-s 1 I I): A Colloqny. For lwnh-yn,
In" mum. client. Fury:va I"’llh‘l.0l|fl {cmnh The ltuwunl of llmmvulrm-c. 101'!qu Lam;
Phrcnology. A Dllcuuiuu. Fur (\rruly Innlei. The Lumr. Fur two mulcn.

DIME DIALOGUES, N0. 6.

Th. Th!" Gun-M. For lthMVl ur nrlor. Pnlfin: on Air'. A C-‘llnqxn‘. Frr lwn mfllgfl‘
Sentiment. A “ Three l‘crsnn 3 " ’11 IT. The Slrnighl M 11:. Furnm -nl hm t,

Belnlv d (In. Cnvtnln. For mnch nml fcnmln. Two Mean (A 11:0. A (‘ollnquy. 1"vl‘ ten girl.-
The Eu Pi Soclely. Fivolmyu nxul II to mher. Frlnrt ern Mnrlnn Fnlirrn,

Enminntlo \ Dav. Formvernl {mnula rh-nunarLR \l Ar: Ar I. g Chum]...

Tr: ' _v ln ” Tray!" ernevnrnl "vulva. L . l'or : Ix mum: lndlu.

Tho School nnyn 'l'rlhnnnl. Fur ten b0". m Irinlnnnn M Home. Fur tm. nml..._

A Long- Taurus. Sow-ml mn‘r! mud {u-rnnleq. Funhlnnnhh- Rl-quiI-mm-nu, F", my... fir“.
Haw Nu‘ la Gal. :1: Answer. For two t‘cmulu. A Buvy of I" (Eycn). For elghwr luulkllag’ull

DIME DIALOGUE, N0. 6.

“IIWayThI-v Km? nSv-rrot. Mal" and fvmnlcl, “m Tum Pnnnlp‘n", Fry (1",. "my".

Thu Pnat Illlllar Blincultms. For an mnlul. l‘ho Vulnrln nr Fully Fur n numb: r nl’fnmn‘es
William To“. For A hole ulmnl. _\nnt Bnuy'n Ilennv. Fourumnlu lunl two mun-g
Vt'nmnn'. Right; So an l'cmnh-I null Iwn mnlu. Fhu HM Snlt. Far two (on-ml“ and on. Ind-
All ll not Gold that Gllncn. Male and {enmle inuln Clmu. Fur n numb" n! hm a.

Th3 Gunman Jew. Fur nix mrlol. Chrlnbmnn Fnlrlnl.
Dinning; For nae-mm Md an. tenth.

     

      
 

   

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 
      

m. x

T.
T.

 

For scum] llnlt zltlln

Tho Thru mfg; FM tww‘umla.

 

  

    

    

Dime School Series-Dialogues.

mm mucous No. 26.

Peer echelon. Three lnrllel nmi two gentlemen. The lawn of mercy. Two very mall glrh.
Mounhtuundmule-hills. Six hull" and uveml Practice whnt gull prom-h. Four lmilel.
Amen! my Politician. Nulneroul chnruiern.

A tell that did not full. Six born. The cmnvnning agent. ’i‘wo mnlel end two

Tarn) wuyl ol seeing thing-x Two little zlrll. fonlnlli. '

D-m‘t count your chicken: before they nro Grub. ‘fwo mnlcl. ‘ .
lll‘llihath Four lmliee nnd 2| buy. A slight more. Three female: and hue malt

All ie I'Atr'i u love and "AP. :1 hulleu, 2 zenllemrn. Hmhodl.d sunshine. Three young ladies.
How uncle Josh got rhl ‘ i‘ the iegmy. Two mulul, How .llm Peter: died. Two males.
with uvunl trnnnfurmntiom. '

DIME DIALOGUEB No. 27.

P-tuy O'Dowrl’a campaign. For three males The meet girl‘s good Angel. For two hith Ill.
,md one femule. two little girls.
fliuty lufurencen not nlwnyt just. Nuunroul ‘l‘Timt nngruteinl little nigger." For two

ye. I'I had the money. For three little glrln.
fiilcuntented Annie. For Ievernl Kll'll. Appenruuce- ere deceitful. For uvuu
A double wry-rite. Four melee end on. female. and one gentleman.
What mu it! For five Indian. Love's pretext. For two little girls.
What will cure them! For I lmly nndtwo boys. An enlurced cure. For uverni-chnrnthn.
‘Iudepeudeul. For nilmeroul charm-tern. Tho-e who preach and than who perform. It!
Earth Inn-um tho but. For {our boyl. three mnlel.

Tried and fnuml wanting. For neveml mztleo. A gentle :onquut. For two young girh.
A boy‘s plot. For uvcrul characteu.

DIME DIALOGUES No. 28.

A tut that. tolrl. For 5!: young lldlu nnd two 2'0 room for the drone. For three litth boyl.

 

gentlemen. rm—chnir. For Illuuemul churnclen. r
Ornuizlng a debuting Inclety. For four boyl. Manure I'or mehlnre. For four ‘ll’ll- ‘
The nuke-ling. For four little girll. Sued by a dream. For two malu and ha
The rebuke proper. For 3 gentlemen, ! lmllu. femnlu.

uni-hm an evil u-lrlt. For n: Imlies. An inhilihlo nigh. For four boy-n.

id of the fence. For fuur nmlun. A good u" for luolm‘. Fur le little irlI.

 

of’the Wood. For two troupe- oi girin. Au ngrunbin profusion. For mum mm ‘ ‘

DIME DIALOGUES No. 29.

Who shall have the dictionaer For nix typical ‘Simple Simon. For four little bore. '
mule chm-nature and two femulel. The red light. Fur four mnlel, twn hmlei. r
flue tutu! bravery. For (our hoyn and teacher. The uveetest thought. For [our little girll. ' ‘ '
Fortune’e wheel. For [our mule ehuructerl. ‘l'he inhuman monster. 6 lmliu, l gentlemen. . ~
The little Ieuhetu. For nix little glrln. Three iittle Inch. For {our unnll have. 4 T
The yes And no nfemoke. For three little bnyl. Beware n! the do“! For three India and an. [H
No relereneen. Slx gentlemen nnd three lndleu. “ dmlgen." .
An ems-ting Rood boy. One mile, one telltale. Joe Hunt’n hunt. For two boy» and two [1110. 
What u vlsltltlon did. For Ievernl lull". Run. For II: Inan ‘ ‘

DIME DIALOGUES Ho. 30.

 

{nvini’ble heron. For five young lMlleI. Cut and dog. For two little out.
A “colored” lecture. Fur four mule-- The rutheie ruranl. For ? lndlu mul S geltlemon
Wish". For five little bow. Jim Broderirlr'n lulon. For two boys.
lmok at home. I’m three lit! erII. The other title a! the etnry. For five fem-lo).
fisherman" luck. Fur two male: and three The tent thnt tulrl. For flvl malen.
funnlu. \Vmuin: by proxy. For three gentlemen all
Why he :lldn’t hire hlm. For Ievernl "chnr- two Indian.
m'lerl.” Lenrulng frn‘u evil. Fnr five bum.
A fortunate mistake. For nix younx hull», one The tencher’l run. For ten boys nu! thin
llttlu girl and a My. IIrlI. l
‘Annlphnhoth-al Menagerie. for a whole Iehool. Collnruv of tuttlnnh. For clever! manure.
the higher mincntlon. For eight have. Additional permutations fon‘ Gmldeuulllbony’ ‘

rho viciuitndel of. milliner. For x hamlet. A mule plan in Dialogue No. as

_ ja- m.mu hook: m and by Nerudth everywhere, at will he Int, “mt-q
“untimely-ion, lo oenu‘onch. ~'

3mm Ayn anus, rum-hm, on wane-Lustre;

 

 

 

DIME POCKET NOVEIJS.

PUBLISHED SEMI-MONTHLY, AT TEN CENTS EACH.

1 Hawkevc Harry.
sh 1.

Nat ‘Voliu.

The White Tracker.
The Outlaw'n Wiie.
The Tail Trapper.
Lightning Ju.

The island Pirate.
The Boy Ranger.

‘ Ben, the Tra par.

‘ The French py.
Long Shot.

The Guuinaker.
Rad 11' 
«1
Raven.

The Specter Chief.
The 15 ar-Kilier.
Wild Nat.
ludian .10.
Old Kent the Ranger.
0:...«E ed Tra per.
Godbo d, the py.
The Bluck Ship.
Single Eye.
indium Jun.

. The Scout.
Eagle Eye.
The M1ILic Canoe.
The Golden Harpoon.
The Scalp King.
Old Lute.

.' Ralubult. Ranger.
The Boy Pi ~neer.
Cursnn. the Guide.
The Heart Eater.
W'etzel, the Scout.
The Huge Hunter.
Wild Nat, Trapper.

~ Lynx-cap.

‘ The \Vhlle Outlaw.
The Dog Trailer.

.' The Elk King.

' Adrian, the Pilot.
The Man-hunter.
The Phnnhm Trucker

. ,\1 rmnain liill.

The Wuli Queen.
. Tum Hawk, Trailer.

' The Mad Chief.
The Black Wolf.
Arkansas Jack.
BlaL-kbeard.

The River Billet.
Hunter Hum.

 

58 Cluudwnod.

59 The Texas llawkl.
60 Mercileas Mat.

61 Mad Ant'ony’: Sooutl
‘ Luck'vee Trap er.

‘ 216%.! riflrliéET nt.

k a an ra r.
Wall-Cap. Pp.
Raulin Dick.
Sharp- ya.
iron-Hand.

The Yellow Hunter.
The Phantom rider.
Delaware Tom.
Sliver R710.
The Skeleton Scout.
Little Rifle.
The Wood Witch.
Old Rufl, Tra per.
Scarlet Shoul era.
Border Riflemun.
Outlaw Jack.
Tiger-Tail, Seminole.
Dnuth«Dealer.

82 Kenton, the Ranger.

83 S tor Homman.

8-1 '1‘ 1e Three Trapparl.

85 Kaloalnh.

86 The Hunter Hercule;

8‘1 Phil Hunter.

88 The ludian Scout.

89 The Girl Avenger.

90 The Ed Hermite”.

91 Star-Face the Slayer.

9‘1 'l‘ha Anlalapo Boy.

93 The Phnntum Hunter.

94 Tom Plntle. Pllnt.

95 The Red Wizard.

96 The Rival Tmpperl.

91 The Squaw Spy.

9:? Dually Dick.

99 Colunel Crockett.

100 Old Bear Paw.

101 Rddlaw.

102 Wild Rube.

103 The lndlan Hunters.

104 Scarred Eagle.

105 Nick Doyle.

106 The lndlan Spy.

107 Job Dean.

1118 The Wood King.

109 The Scalpad Hunter.

110 Nick the Scout.

111 The Texas Tiger.

11? The Groaned Knivee.

113 Tiger-Heart.

111 Masked Avenger.

 

115 The Pearl Piratee.
115 Black Panther.

11'! Abdlel theAvenger.
118 Cato. t a Cree or.
119 Two-[landed lit at.
120 Med Trail Hunter.
121 Black Nick.

1‘22 Kit Bird.

123 The S ter Eldon.
1‘14 Giant eta.

1'15 The Girl Captain.
126 Yankee Eph.

1‘17 Slinnpur.

12" . uattar Dick.

12!! '1‘ a Child Spy.

1:50 Mink Coat.

131 Rod Plume,

132 Clyde. the Trailer.
133 The L0“ Cache.

184 The Cannibal Chief.
135 Karalbo.

136 Scarlet Moccuin.
181 Kidnapped.

138 Maid of the Moun-

ta n.
139 The Sclotn Econ“.
140 Border Renegade.
Ml The Mute Chief.
149 Boone, the Hunter.
143 Mountain Kate.
1“ The Red Scuiper.
145 The Lone Chief.
116 The Silver Bugle.
141 Chlnca, Cheyvnno.
148 The Tangled TralL
149 The Unseen Hand.
150 The Lone indlan.
151 The Branded Chlei.
159 Billy Bowlege.
153 The Valley Scout.
154 Red Juliet.
155 The Jungle Scout.
156 Cherokee Chlri.
151 The Bandit Hermit.
15H The Patriot Scout!
159 The Wand Ranger-
160 The Rad Foe.
161 Beautiful Unknnwn.
169 Canehrake Mose.
163 Hank. the Guide.
164 The Border Scout.
165 Wild Nat.
166 Maid of Wyoming.
167 The Three Captivu.
168 The Loat Hunter.
iii! Border Law.
1‘14) The Lifted Trail.

 

1'11 The Traders y.

119 The Foth pecter.

1'13 The Border Fuel.

11‘ Border Vengeance.

115 Border Beanie.

176 The Soul of Liberty.

117 The Loat Bride.

118 Keetlea. ' _

179 The 'l'onlrawa Spy.

180 The Prairie Scour; '

181 Raul Li htning.

182 Brave Heart.

153 Night Hawk Kit.

184 Muttung Sam.

1135 Hurricane Bill.

136 The Rad Outlaw.

18'! The Swamp Scout.

188 Thu Shawnu'a FM.

189 Mohawk NIL

no Old Jupe.

191 The Prairie Bidet.

192 Old Kyle, Trailer. v

193 Big Foot. the Guide.

19‘ Red Brotherhood.

195 The Man in Green.

198 Ginsu-Eye, the Great
1.

Shu .
197 The Pralrle'i‘rappere
198 Black John.
199 Kcen—Kniio.
200 Mad Skippar.
901 The Young Spy.‘ ‘
909 The indinn Avenglh ,
903 Rival Lieutenant:
901 The Swnmp R111".
905 ’1': e Balloon Sun“.
905 Dncotah Scourge.
701 The Twin Seoul-u.
705 Buck-kin Bill.
909 Barrier Avengers. -
910 Tim liumhlela Chara!
211 The Shawnee Soon U
912 The Silent Slnyer. ..
913 The Prairie Quacn.;
914 The iiackwoadamefl- l
215 The Prisoner of LI
Vintreau
918 Pele: Smith.
‘211 The Witch 01 ll”
Waiiowieh.
218 The Prairie Pirates. »
219 The Hue-er Captain-
:er The Red Spy.
291 Disk Darling.
m Mil-tang Huntnrs. .
9‘23 Gulltv or Not Guili,
924 The Outlaw Ranger- ,

THE FOLLOWING WILL BE lSSUED IN THE ORDER AND ON THE DATES lNDICATED:

225 The Schuylkill Rangers.

226 0n the Dec .
22? Ironu.
228

By Roller Starhuc .
Br E ward S. Ellie.
The Mountaineer.

Read
By Edwnr

Ready March Nth.

229 The Hunter’s Escape. Br Edward S. Eliin. Ready April“.

23') The Golden Belt.
231 The Swamp Ride".

2122 Jubez Hawk.

2233 )litnanaolt’fl Daughter.
231 The Mad Hunter.
235 The Reefer of ’76.
231i Antelope Abe, the Buy Guide.
23? The llunter’a Vow.
23‘ The Hunter’s Pledge.
By Srutl R. Sherwood.
24 i The Prairie Brlde.

2 9 Il’nttlepnte.

11y Colin Barker.

By Mrs. Henry .1.

By Will Dexter.
By Luuia Le Grand, M. D. R.

By Edward Willett. Read\
Read

Ready April 1711:.

By Geoize D. Gilbert. Randy May 15%.

14y C. Dunning Clark. Ready May 15th.

By A. J. H. Duganne. Ready May 9911!.

Br Mn. Mary A. Denilnn.
By Harrv Cavendish.

Ready June 12111.
Ready June ‘16th.

July 2“
uzult 1th.
August flint.

EV the author of“ Quindaro." Raid February “it.
Ready February 20m. y

liitlrcll 61h.

“'illnn.

Rx-ady Jul: 10.11.

hnmne. Ready September 4th.

Fur .ul. M.- iii] Nuvsllefllers; or lent poet-paid: aingla numbon, (an can“; nix month: (13 Non.) '1'

one year (26 Non.) $2.50.

BEADLE AND ADAMS. Pnbliaherl. 98 Wilum Street, New York!