Foli)?’ighh'd,19‘4,':}'HKADLB AV]! Amwz. 1-: ~ n: (he You! Office M New York, N. Y.. M Second Class Mail Matter. Augun 16, 1x54. _

 

.. PublishédVVeekl b Ba 1 d Ad
Vol: II. “$513. No. 93 WmuyAMysT"  Yagm‘. m" FIV‘lzfirt‘cgl'ltfl. N0: 18-

 

ADRIFT on the PRAIRIE   mm»

BUFFALO RANGE.

 

 

 

 

-————Q*—-—-——

BY OLL COOMES.

 

TEE PRAIRIE WAS ON FIRE! AROUND U5 0)! ALL SIDES WAS  WALL OF RED, CLARle mm.

 

 

 

 

lJ

V‘ -  with.) Il'raiirie

  

 

 

 and Amateur Hunters. "'

' ’ . '. - -‘ with the erection of these waiisnndsituoiuuon

v‘     ' in the Glacial Epoch. and can be satisfactorily

 ' accounted for under no other theory known to
‘ V '- ' ‘ 03‘ 'geilfi’gi°¥“‘°“°‘to Mi ' u 1 b t

eaewas‘a u vemeson mm

The Adventures of Four YoungNimrods. one to twoin breadth.’ Itsshores w‘elge’ ir¥egular

v ' '____ . :Ipd indelnted with gotvees 311d. baylil (3n the east

, ‘ esur uswaters re hroug a ensetrect

BYVOLL 000m .011; ree s, until, converging to alsingle point,

CHAPTER I. t ey poured into a narrow channe alon whicdli

 

_,KOIVTHISHORESOFWALLLAKE.V
9393]: sun had just crossed the meridian when
we drew up ' '
, Lake with the intention of pitching our tent
there for a few days. To unharness our horses,
stake their thirst from the cool waters of the
r little sheet, and secure them at grass, occupied
but a few minuifils, B21131 we roceeéled to erect
ourcampu n e ,witiua ewpaaeso
' the water’sgilnk. ’ '
It was a beautiful October day—the poet’s
'most charming ideal of Indian summer. A
blue, ethereal mist 'huug ovor the lake and
lain like the vision of a pleasant dream over
he memory. The warm, mellow zeph rs drift-
ed lozil over the pulseless bosom of t 8 water
and wriisggred low and soft among the trem-
bling and brown, rustling grass. All na~

tare reposed in its sweetest, calmest mood.

On our rl ht, looking southward, was a little
point of lan tprojecting into the lake, and cov-

. cred with a in growth 'of trees and shrub—
bory. From the east and the south side of the
lake stretched an interminable rairie clothed

, in tall, brown grass. and here an there marked
I) slowly farm-house that looked like a black,
piraticul craft without sailor mast, riding upon
athe. undulations of that mighty ocean of ver-

ure. ‘

As we gazed around us, we could scarcely be
lieve that a country so populous—whose eastern
and southern shores were dotted with towns and

‘ villages, checkered with farms and. diversified
by railways—contained a scene sountrammeled
b civilization, soime from the ruthless hand

L man, and as Wild and romantic almost was
ghen it'came fresh from the hand of the Crea-
,- ,

33 down to the water’s edge. It wassmooth

, firm, and covered with white sand and peb-

7 bles, which continuing into the lakdgave the
veteran almost-trans ‘ rent color. tdifler—

, out points along the s are rose walls of huge

 and bowlders piled one upon the other with

, the lake derives. its name. We had

often heard of the famous Wall Lake, whose
shares were a natural drive along which the
Selina and cavalier: of an extinct race had exer-
cised. their elks and buflaloes—over whose or s-

tal mm they ancient lord had rowed is

llgdy fair, hisoar’s ping‘time to. his song of
ve.

, By somescien ' the formation of these re-
arkoble walls ave been accredited to the

ound Builders; by othe to the Red Man.
There are no rocks in the , norm-e there
in'sny on the. surrounding plain, which fact
leads me to believe that the mystery connected

on the northern shore of Well

i Ill‘rom where we stood the bank sloped gradua”

each to mechanical precision. From‘ '

they continued. gathering strength as ey
. vanced, finally dbveloping into the beautiful

Racéoon river.

Bo anxious had‘ we been to reach this wonder-
ful little lake, that the sight of it and its sur-
roundings filled our breasts with joy and admi.
ration. Our big friend, Kemply, unable to ro-
strum his enthusiasm, gave expression to his
feelings in the exclamation:

“ Ga—‘lpriousl sublime!"

“Splendid—grand,”,added George, his black
eyes sparkling as the hadnever done since the
day he received his iploma fromrthe Iron City
Commercial College. . ,

“ It is, for a fact,” asssnted Bob, his eyes as
suming the proportions of full moons.

,Many and various were the remarks that

rounding beauties; but they Were finally ter-
minated by Kemply, who, in a less enthusiastic
tone, said:

“Boys, food for the vision is not food for
the stomach. You fellows might live on senti-
ment and poetry, but as for me, give mos’ome.
thing more substantial—real facts in the shape
of roasted duck and biscuit. I’m losing flesh
already from irregularity of our meals. Our
commissariat is about exhausted' the “ miracu-
lous” has nearly all eva ore. and we far.
far from home and frien ” u

Kemply, or Jim as he was better-known,
was a man of three-and-twenty years. He

ossessed a form and strength that might have
geen the envy' of a
whole of the man balancing two hundred pounds
of bone, muscle and sinew, a keen, blaclreg:1
a quick. brain and a lively, jovial spirit.
aides, he possessed some peculiarities of disposi-
tion. , He would always look upon-the gloomy
side '0! life, throwing a sufllcient amount of
sadness and melancholy into his face and tone
to carry conviction with it. This, however.
was but a cloak to disguise the real Iobgct of
his brain which usually was, busy batch g up
some, joke or sell to perpetrate upon his» com‘
panions. He would oppose, one for the sake of
argument, and naturally enough he had our
whole party to contend with. .

George was Jim's opposite lnpomt of size and
strengt , but, upon nearly every occasion,
proved hise us] on all the salient points that
character our adventures among the lakes.

The duty of preparing dinner devolved upon
Bob, who had had cmsiderable experience in
the cook’s opacity before. But, as has been
the case wit many a good housewife, our cook
was ut to his wits’ end. Aside ‘from hard
1 bras and coffee, our ovision-chest was de-
Eleted. However. the unger which seemed to

ave attacked all. soon suggested a plan for

 

obtaining food. The lake was before us alive, _

passed our lips concerning the lake and its sure

Roman” gladiator— the

   

   
  

   

 

  

.3,“

 

with Its flnny inhabitants. We had fishing‘

tackle in our wagon, and in a few minutes
every man was ready with rod and line to cast
his baited hook into the water.

In searching along the shore for a favorable

spot to begin our sport, Jim espied a flshing- ‘

boat and a canoe tied up in a little inlct to our
right, and he at once suggested that we charter
the former for our purpose. As no one appear-
ed to dispute the right of our claim, we at once
sprung into the clumsy craft and pushed out
from shore. About twenty rods from the bank
we anchored in a fathom of water by means of
a long pole.

Then we cast our books into the water, and,
silent as statues, awaited the result with an
anxiety plain to be seen on every face. That
each one was desirous of bein the first to haul
out a fish, was uite evident from the nervous
manner in whic he watched the others’ lines.
The sus case, however, was finally broken by
Bob lan ing a fine, large catfish in the boat.

A look of disappointment overspread Jim’s
face, and he at once became as uneasy as the
fish wriggling in the bottom of the boat, mut-
mrigsomething to himself in an undertone.

“ that I beat George Kin ,” he finally said
aloud, bobbing his book u and down to attract
the attention of any fish t at might be ssin
near, “ I don’t care a snap. Idon’t wan it sai
that that little Pennsylvania schoolmaster beat
me a fishing."

Scarcely had the last word fallen from his
lips ere George brought a large fish out of the
water. A look of despondenc settled u on
Jim’s face; he ve his ole anot er jerk, sig ed
heavily and 0 ed the o bers’ lines.

In a few m nutes an ample supply of fish had
been caught when we returned to camp to pre-
pare them for the table. While Bob was en-
gaged in cleaning them, another do a narrow
trench in the ground and kindled a re therein.
Then a frying- n, with a bit of butter in it,
was placed on he edges of the trench over the
flames. The fish were cleaned, rolled in flour
and laced in the pan, and soon the odor of fr -
ing h and aroma of boiling cnfl'ee filled t e
air and sharpened the appetites of the quartette
o oung Nimrods.

FYlnally we sat down to a feast that would
have tickled the palate of a king. The fish
were sweet and delicious, and we indulged our
appetites to their satisfaction.

After our repast was over and the table
cleared away, we indulged in the luxury of
a ci ar, meanwhile arranging a programme for

the uture, and adopting some rules and regula- |

tions by which we might determine our success
in huntin . It was decided that no game unfit
for food s ould becounted, nor game killed but
not brought  The scores were to stand as
follows: a rams hen, 6; a duck, either teal,
canvas-baa or mallard, 6; a squirrel, 8; a
gem, brandt or pelican, 10; a swan, 20; a crane,

; a deer or elk, 50; and catfish, pickerel, pike
and trout, 2 each.

As the evening drew on apace, the “houk”
of a wild goose was heard in the distance, and
was soon answered by other winged f9w1s com»
ing into the lake. Every man at once looked to
his gun, which was a donble-barreled niece of

Ads-13 on. the Prairie and Amateur Hunters. 

the mosta proved manufacture. Kem ly sport-

ed a huge English Twist of about the aft and

caliber of a small field- an. Charging each
barrel with a handful of shot, he began cast-
in about him for a living target.

fiy this time ducks, geese and brandts were

liding to and fro across the glassy surface of

t elake—iu and out of the p le haze of the

distance like a weaver’s shutt es. The water

was still and unrufiled, and glinimered in the
rays of the declinin sun, a tiny ‘ewcl clasped
to the bosom of the rown, rugge prairie.

Suddenly Jim espied a flock of geese in the
water some distance away. They were swim-
ming along parallel with the shore, their white
breasts cleaving the limpid waters like the
gilded prow of a fairy boat. Our big friend’s
eyiels sparkled with joy, and, turning to \is, he
an :

“ Boys, I’m elected to bring in the first wild
goalie—can’t help getting one with old ‘Stub-
and-Twist ’ here ’—pattiu his gun. “ You fel-
lows beat me on fish, but ’11 show you how to
take in winged game. There’s science in shoot-

, in —only luck in fishing. And then, when I
kifl one, my dog Ben, that you fellows have ad-

vised me to kil, will come in for his share of

the sport. You 11 see him split the lake in two
as he humps himself through the water after
the dead game. I’m sorry your guns are too
light for such a long range, or you might score
ten, too. Here, come alon , Benjamin, my
dog,” and Jim started off wi a quick, elastic
ate around the lake, with his do at his heels.
9 made his way to the in et where the
canoo before mentioned was beached; and see-

ing where he could gain some advantage b

to. ing to the water, he launched the little era is

and embarked therein, hugging the shore close<
ly so as to put a little slip of land betwseu him
and the unsuspecting fowls.

He soon reached a point behind the ninsul
and running his canoe into a clump o reeds an
aquatic plants close to the shore, he put himself
in position to fire as soon as the geese rounded
the point. And he had not long to wait. In a
few moments the leader of the flock, a large
gander with rin ed throat, arched neck and
statel mien, sai rd proud] into view. Jim
raise his gun, glanced quic 1 along] the bar-
rel, and was in the act of pa Mug t e trigger
when the boat receive‘ a violent shove at
threw him that upon his face in the bottom.
Before he could rise to his feet he felt some sud-
den weight drop into the canoe and a‘ heavy
hand seue him by the collar.

“Confound your or’nery, boat-thievin’ ic-
l tersl" hissed a savage voice behind him. ‘ l’ll
. l’arn you how to fool round this hyer lake in
j ole Lige Farmer‘s boats without the axin’.

Ugh! I ll shake the stufiln’ outen you, you or’-
neg Dutch nigger! l'll—”

ere J im’s herculean strength asserted itself
and, sfiringinglto his feet, he shook old Lige ed
as eas y as t ough he had been a pigmy, in-
stead of a lar e, burly man, with a round,
rou h—bearded ace and a big wart on his nose.

“ ou blasted old sardine!” was the irate
Jim’s exclamation, “ I’ll send your old cares.
to the bottom of this lake, do -gone your old
chuckle-headed picture!” and ii 17an the old fel-

, .

 

 

V from his lips at every bound.

 

 

  
 
 

V VI ,Adrifl; on the Prairie and Amateur Hunters.

low in his strong arms, he flun him into the
lake. Then he took up the pad le and started
back toward camp, while his adversary scram-
bled to the bank, shook his fist at the fleeing
youth and swore furiously.

Meanwhile Jim’s dog ad preceded him to
camp several minutes with hi tail between his
legs, his back up, and yelps of terror pealing

 

‘. . CHAPTER II.
mama am mom-rum m m BAND.

Wm watched the sun go down that evening
with an interest we had never experienced be—
fore. His beams quivered along the sky and
stole westward across the plain, with the shad-
ows of night cree ing after like an assassin. He
seemed loth to save the glories of earth. but
finally sunk from view in a sea of purple glory.

The little lake strove hard to hold on its glim-
mering surface the radiance of the departed
V 9 day. Like a sheen of polished s1 ver it

ay silent and tran uil, giving forth its phos-
phorescent glow w is the shadows of night
gathered and deepened around it. But, little
.y littlehthe gloom absorbed the lingering
light, until the bla ness of oblivion seemed to
have in gulfed us an the little sheet.

The base and darkne together blotted out
the stars. The moon would not be up until af-
ter midnight and so we composed ourselves the
best we could. We sat down in the solitude of
the ni ht to converse. Our voices sounded
husky each other under the depressing shad-
.ows of the hour. I

As the night advanced, a gentle south wind
rose and tiny waves began a ceaseless murmur
as they stole up to kiss the shore at our feet.
Now and then the far-of! bowl of a rairie
wolf, or the boom of a bitten: in an a jscent
swamp, started the hollow echoes of night.

We retired earlier than usual that ni ht,
trusting our safet to the sagacious yellow og,
curled u and s eeping so soundly under the
wagon. e knew, if any danger approached
that we should be wakened by his terrifle
ye'l'ps, for if, there was a coward y creature on
ea ' h it was that identical dog, Ben.

We sle soundly and arose with the first
streaks o dawn, greatl refreshed and invig-
orated by ourfres . e went down to the
lake and made a thorough ablation in the
clear limpid waters. A fire was then struck
,and breakfast prepared. We had fish, done to
a crisp brown, bread and codes for our matu-
tinal meal.- .

The heavens grew brighter and brighter
above us, and .our spirits seemed to enlar e
'and expand with joy and exuberance, as t e
sullen—brewed night slunk away into the west.
The was ethereal expanse above was gradu-
ually 'dlfng into a blaze, and at length it
burst into a flame. The day was upon us, and
the clear, ringing sounds of slumbering nature
rose upon the teeth of the rosy morn. ' ‘

 

The blu ._haze that had ‘so completely en‘-
lhrouded he. distance on the preceding day,
had become somewhat rarefied by the beams pt

' themew sun, and for the first time we now dm- .

covered a log cabin and a stable surrounded '

. by: fence; some eighty rods to the north of g

\

That it was the residence of the owner of
those boats we had, made so free with, wehad

not a doubt; and at once dispatched George to .

the house to ascertain whether we were right.
If so, he was authorized to effect terms of com-
promise with the old man whom Jim had so
ruthlessly baptized, and. if possible, hire his
boats for the party’s use.

George set of! on his mission with no little
reluctance, for he was afraid the old man
would give him a cool, if not violent, reception.
With slow footsteps be ap reached the house,
and when within a few r0 8 of it, he was sud-
denly struck by the sound of a voice singin
like a nightingale“ He stopped and listen .
He heard the words:

" All in the rosy morn,
My love he came to me,
Acknowledging the corn
He loved me deadly."

It was a female voice, soft and sweet. George
smiled as he listened to the words, but taking
courage he advanced with a firmer step. As he
neare the stable he saw a young girl waged
in finilking abrindle cow, and singing 0
ar .

“Good-morning Miss,” the youth said, ad-
vancing within a ew aces of the girl before she
became aware of his 'esence.

The maiden starte up witha confused smile
and stammered a reply. She was quite yanu
——possibl not over seventeen; was rather
and slen er .but possessed of a beautiful grace-
£111 form, blue, Witching eyes, a pretty face
with rosy cheeks and modest expression. She
was dressed in a plain calico dress with a clean
checked apron. Her light brown hair hung
down her back in two long braids, and her
brown hands, innocent of barbaric jewels, were
small and shapely. _ ‘

George at once became forde impressed
with. the beauty and childlike simp ioity of this
modest prairie flower. He regarded her for a
moment with spell-bound admiration ; but
finally recovering his .usual composure, he
begged her pardon for 1115 unceremonious intru-
sion and then asked: , .

“ the owner of the premises about?”

“I left him at the house,” she replied, in a
pleasant tone, “ though he was goisg away
goon. If on wishto see him you b better

urry on. 3

George thanked her, bowed and hastened on
to the cabin. In answer to his summons, an old
lady, With a bright eye, a sharp chin, and good-

natured look appeared at the door. V

“ Good -moruing . andmother,” said I our
young peace-com ones, tipping his hat with
is wanted politeness.

“ Howdy?” was the laconic reply.
“Calgay I inquire who resides here?” George

"Then who resides are!” ,.
"Why, we do, in course I” - ,
” But what is your namel That’s what I um

1 after.” .

“ Mercy sakes! you, can'ax questions ekel too

Yankee. »You’ll want to know myt’a e, yit,’
s

won’t yet But. then as to our name annex

— ’s name isEli ah Farmer lion h
1.3mm alers call llim Uncle Lige ” g

 

“ To be sure, sonnth won’t hinder you.” I; '7

folks

 
 

 

 

 

r A‘kM—t-g

Jim» 5‘ a. ‘ g

 

.v1 .. n ..

 

Adrift on the Pam's and Amateur'fiunterh. 5

“ Is Uncle nge at home!"

“Just want awa . Are you one of them
cha 3 What's camps down on the lake?"

“ am; and I have come up to apologize for
the rsshness of one of our boys yesterday in
tipping Uncle Lige into the lake."

‘ Oh flddle—dee-duml” she exclaimed, with a
toss 0 her head, “ don’t mind that. Pap
lau hed ’bout it last night, and he thinks it’s an
aw ul good joke on him. He’s goin’ to call cn
you-nus when he comes back.”

“I am really lad to hear this,” our friend
responded, “ for i he was not offended, we may
stand achance to hire his boats.”

“Yes, you can hire the boats—he keeps ’em
for that purpose, and when he ar’n’t here I
hire ’em out. So, it you want a boat, help
yerself and account to me.”

“Thank vou,” said George; “we will take

the canoe to-day and the flat-boat tie-nights

What will be your charges?”

“Well, let me see,” she said, throwing the
dish-ragover her brawny arm and making a
calculation upon her flnrrcrs. “I’ll let you
have both boats at a small reduction, seein’ as
I have prom' d Ruby a new dress ’g’iust a cer-
tain da an lack a little money of havin’
enufl. ow at two hits a yard, seven yards
’11 cost a ollar and fifty—no, seventy-five
rents. Five yards ’d make the dress, but then
I’ve promised her a. st lish one with a pan-near
and other fol—dee-ros and flubdubs: so I’ll
knock the boats down to you at two bits each,
and think you can’t complain.”

After he had ascertained the nominal value
of a. “ hit,” considered in the Western sense, he
paid the mo and departed, exchanging

lances with Ru as he passed the cow-yard.
eaching cam e reported the result of his
visit to the cabin, much to our relief.

We at once made all preparations for a day’s
hunt around the lake, and embarked in the ca.-
noe for the opposite shore, where most of the
game seemed congregated. The water was
still, and under the vigorous strokes of three
paddles we glided rapidly across the little
sheet. Reaching a large island‘formed by the
lake its inlet and a. deep swamp, Jim and his
dog landed thereon, while the rest of us pushed
on and entered the inlet that was literally
swarming with ducks geese, mud-hens and
other minus 0 birds. ,We ensconced ourselves

’ among t e 11 reeds and for hours amused our-
selves “ winging” the choicest ot the towls as
thgy glided over and around us

0w and then the sullen boom of Jim’s how-
itzer came over from the island, tellin of the
destruction of life in that direction an of the
long an of scores that would be tallied against
us when we reached camp.

The wary fowls finally became apprised of
our locality and kept wide of our range. This
necessitated-a. change of position, so we pad-
dled further up the nlet and again took to the
reeds and resumed our

George, who could so ve an example in equa-
tions, or illustrate the theory of double-entry,
better than he could shoot a bird on the win ,
proved the source of no little amusement in h s
remarks on his luck in gunning. When he had

, brought down a duck more than twentv feet to

. him leaning on the fence that composed

 

 

 

/ ’31"
the right or the one he aimed at, he voWed that
he was fully satisfied now of a. fact he" had >
mistrusted all along—that of his gun-barrel be: . 
ing crooked—having a little too much twist. - 
Acting upon this belief he proceeded to prove _
it by mzikin a calculation, whenever he saw a. ‘ fl
bird approac in , and flrin to the left of it,
killing as often 1: at way as y any other. .
Finally, tiring of our day’s shooting. we
gathered up our game and started back toward
cam . We touched upon the northern side at.
the island for Jim; but he was nowhere to be
seen. We shouted his name, and soon his pom
erl‘ul form a eared in sight on an eminence at
the island. e called to him to come down to
the heat and return to camp. ' Hemotioned us
around to the east side of the island where we -
supposed he had accumulated game enoilzgh to
sink the boat. We paddled around the and
and as we approached the spot where Jim stood
leaning upon his gun, what was our surprise to
see a solitary mud~hen lying at his side, while
his dog slept at his heels. _ . '2
“ Where's our game, J iml" I asked," in
touched the s lore. ' ;
Half-mortified, he glanced at his lonely m -
hen, then at our game in the boat, and re i
“ Well, I killed a brunt, and I seeyou fellow;
have only killed a few ducks." , ’ . l
“ That s all we got, James; but where’s your
brantl” a g ,-
Jim looked puzzled and sour as he mumbled: ;
“Ben, the hungry vagrant, out .it; but I can
show the feathers.’ , .
We all indulged in a hearty laugh at our bit .
friend’s e ense, as we took him and his dog
aboard an pushed out into the lake. » A '
“I’d advise you, Jesus,” said Georgo.-"toput
a dose of hot lead into that dog’s system, tor  .
is a, n’pisance to you and a disgrace to the canine.
race. . J ,t.
“ George it on ever expect to see the ,
you left he ind, you, don’t cast your insinua no: ‘
against that pup," replied Jim. “ I’ll show you
yet, that hes a. royal descendant of Noeh’shraoe
of setters. ' .  A
We reached our camp about two o’clock, amt
after partaking of a hearty dinner on the rem ..
nantsvof our morning meal, we empllg‘oyedr our
selves dressing our game for future I .-. *
Toward the close of day George became mills -,
ing from camp, and in looking about we '

 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
  
   
  
  
  
   
   
   
  
   
 
   
 
  
    
   
   
 
 

n
Lige‘s cow-yard, talking to the pretty milk-maid
whom he had met that morning. a ,
Every preparation for an hour’s fishing,tho ,
coming nigh was made. Bait was prepared,
the boat bailet‘ out, the helm placed on its pion
and a lantern ighted. As we repaired to t
boat, Bob, who carried the lantern diseove I
huge footprints in the sand near the'boat. They. ,
had been made quite recently, but by no one o: 1
our party. Some one had been there since 11 Me.
tell, and as George had learned from, Ruby t.
Uncle Lige was still absent from homers vague ‘ 
suspicion that some one was lurkin around to '
steal something from our camp too ‘ y
of our. minds. We held a short consultation. ,1‘
and finally decided that one had, better 
ashore an watch our camp. . ”
Taking this responsibil tyinpon“; ,

     
    

 

 

 

t

I

 

‘  atthe

r
, heir strength, and under each stroke the craft

- vation
_ and waves.”

\

B Adrift on the Prairie (and Amateur Hunters.

 

other three at once boarded the boat and pushed
out into the lake. They were to he in inside of
II hour, but when that time had ela d and
the second hour was nearly gone, began
to wonder at their prolonged absence; and, when
another hour passed, I grew uneasy about their
safety. I lanced out over the lake in hopes of
seeing the ght of their lantern, but all was as
dark upon the lake as eternity. Meanwhile,
the wind had changed into the north and was
blowing a strong le, increasing my fears for
the safety of my a at friends.

V The hours wore on. M watch told the hour
and still no ti ings from the fisher-
ndled a fire on the bank to guide
them should the be lost on the water. But
they came not. shouted to them at the top of
my lun , but only the rush of the wind and the
surge o the angry sea answered me back.

CHAPTER III.
um men Ramona aoooun’rs wrrn .ma.

MY friends had hed out some forty rods
from shore before t ey cast their books for fish.
The did not anchor, for the water was per-
fec y still. It was the calm before the storm.
They had ood luck in fishing, and before the
hour was ully up, had caught a sufllcientnum-
her for our present wants. They were prepar-
ing to return to camp when the first gust of
wmd from the north struck them. Bob and
sprun to the cars, while Jim took his

elm. They plied the cars with all

of twelv
men. I

 

made afeeble effort to leap out of the water.

The wind was increasing, and blowing dead

against them. The rude boat tossed and rocked

upon the waves, until its occupants could

scarcely ‘keep their seats. Their lantern was
tip over, and rolling into the water in the
bottom of the boat was extinguished and ren-
dered useless. A terrible fate stared them in
the face. The could see my light, but had
become so be ldered that they could not tell
what side of the lake it was on.

’ With all their power the men at the cars
bent to their work, but to their disappointment
and fear they seemed to be receding from the
shore instea of gaining u n it.

‘ “Jim,” Bob finally said, in a husk

. voice,
“‘ we’re not gaining an inch. The gale

carry-

“And our boat is fast filling with water,"
mid George, breathing hard.

1 ing as to certain destruction.”

‘ 4 “I wish now we’d all staid and helped to

star-d our camp,” added Jim, with no little

1éiidation.
othing daunted, however they labored on
lte their determined eflorts

manfu'liy, but de
ck further and further by

they'were beaten

the rolling waves. And still the wind was in- ‘
creasing. The boat tossed violently. The spray ,

was coming down like a shower of rain upon
them. drenching them to the skin.

.h“Bo,ya sungpofie we strike for the opposite
ore, m a

“It would nevez' ggfifireplied Bob. “We
would be dashed to pieces against the rocky
shore, re as we attempted it. Our only sal-
in keeping head against the wind

“ We’ll drown, anyhow, surer than thunder,”
Fci'sisted the man at the helm; “the boat is
)alf full of water now.”

At this juncture they heard my shout. Jim
inflated his lungs and sent forth a reply that
startled his two companions. But the roar of
the wind and the angry sea prevented the
sound reaching my ears. To their ears, 'how-
ever, came a res use from another source—a
response that chi ed them deeper than the cold
wind and drenching spray. It was a wild
startling laugh—a triumphant, demoniac laugh,
born of the tempestuous night.

The three young fishermen shuddered with
terror. They gathered together in the center
of the boat an spoke, when they spoke at all,
in subdue tones. Jim’s teeth chattered as
with an ague~flt. George shivered and trem-
bled like a reed in the wind, while Bob, with
eyes distended to their fullest capacity, gazed
like a bewildered deer, into the darkness aronn

em.

“Did you hear it, Jim?” questioned George.

“ Ya-as,” chatter-ed Jim.

B ‘LWhat (ugh) do you think it was i” gasped

o .

“ A night-bird of some kind,” replied Kemp] y,
endeavoring to appear calm.
B: A night devi , you’d better say,” added

b.

“Boys? ,be that as it may, we’re in awful
peril. I we even escape death by drowning,
we’ll perish with cold. I am now chilled to
the ‘very marrow of my bones—there! there
went that infernal laugh againl It’s no night-
bird boys.”

Silence fell upon the lips of hi friends, and
shivering in the cold, raw wind, t ey sat down
3 wait and watch for the fate in store for

em. -

The hours dr ged wearin b . Every mo-
ment they exagted to be dashed to pieces
against the rec -bound shore or go down n the
deep waters of the lake. Every minute seemed
an hour crowded with a thousand horrors.
They were reaping the benefit of an adventure
they had not bargained for when they started
“ Adrift on the Prairie."

None of them really ever expected to see the
light of another do and one can but faintly
imagine their oyfxl disa pointment when at
last they behel the s of dawn shooting
talent the eastern sky. And as the day ap-

roached, the wind went down and the waters

vcig'esiigr ht s1 gth bled theboy
en yr 9. en one s
to see around ghem, they discovered that they
were ‘near the center of the lake. measuring
the narrow way. And to their utter astonish-
ment they beheld a large fishing-boat anchored
about twenty rods from them with a man,
wrap in a
was ookin tlmward them. and when
1 assured the hehad ndiscovered,he rcseto
his feet, swung aloft his hat, and gave utter-
‘ ance to a loud, triumphant laugh that reached
my ears hal a mile away.
L ‘By Judasl”,exclaimed Jim, “it’s that old

Lige whom I ducked yesterday. 011 has sent

him out in search of us."

 

1 The other two did not think so.for all  .' I

m blanket, seated in it. He -

 
 

4...;

 

 

Adrift on the Prairie and Amateur Hunters.

 

once something of the real truth flashed across :

their minds, and in looking around the boat
for further evidence, the

cable attached to their heat just above the
water and extending out toward uncle nge’s

boat.

. “That's what kept us here " said Bob, point-
mg to the wire. “I see t ough the whole
thin now, eVen to them big tracks on the
beac . That old vulture, knowing we were
coming onto the lake last night, attached that
wire to our boat and took us in tow, and has
held as here all night. And do you know why
he has served us so?”

As if in answer to the question itself, the
voice of the old man was heard to say.

“Pitch me into the lake again, won’t you?
Fool 'round another mule’s heel, won’t you?
Ha! ha! ha! you can’t beat ole Lige Farmer on
a good thing, so you can’t. Won’t you an-
knowledge that accounts balance now~ ou fel-
ler with the bi bowel? l’ve roasted ere all
night to work t is on ye. and went three miles
to borrow this scow for the purpose. I jist
won’t be beat, and now if you say we’re square,
so saysl'. I know the ropes ’round here to a
goat a heel, and if I can he'p ou fellers from
this ou’ in .havin’ fun, why, ’m or persim-
mons. Fun and fish are in best he ts, boys!"

Bob and George were un etermined for some
time whether to for 've the old fisherman or
not, for inflicting sue a. night of horror upon
them in order to “square accounts ” with Jim.
it was fun they did not relish, and would have
held him amenable forit, had Jim not ac-
cepted the joke in the spirit it was given, how-
ever dangerous, and prevailed on them to do
likewise. The matter thus settled, Kemply
shouted back to him: '

“ All right, old wart-nose, boove up your dog-
gone old scow, and let’s get ashore. We’re
freezing to death.”

The old man soon boarded their beat, his
face radiant with a smile of triumph and the
soul of good nature.

“It was pcskfi rough," he said, as they all
started toward t e northern shore, ” last night
—more’n I bargained for. I thou rht I’d have
to give up once, and tow ou fel ows ashore,
or else have some drowne hunters to scra e
eaten the lake. But I held on long as pessib e;
I war determined to square accounts with that
teller with the big bread-basket, though I
hated awfully to keep you other chaps out. ’

The boys Were too cold and aggravated to
make any reply, and so the old man chatted on
till the boat touched the shore. Like wet rats
the young fishermen came bustling into camp,
shiverin with cold. Jim made a dive for a
box an or the wagon, from which he drew
forth a leather-covered flask, the contents of
which seemed to aflord him great relief.

In a. few minutes all had cban ‘ed'tllelr wot
clothes for a dry suit, with which each had
provided himself, combed out their wet locks,
and arran ed their morning toilet.

Meanwhile, Uncle Lige, the author of their
discomflture, stood regarding the whole with
his thumbs behind his suspenders, his pants in
his boot-tops ‘ his dripping hat slouched about
his ears and, face, and a broad, mischievous
smile playing over his rough visage.

I

He was a man- over fifty years of age,

1 short and heavily built, with gray eyes, an ex-

discovered a wire ‘

prcssivc mouth, and Ion
face, as well as his shor
cred with a short, sti

iron—gray hair.
stout nee was cov-
beard, w ose ends

‘ bl'iStlcd right out like the quills of .a porcu-

pixie.

When we had studied the old fellow for a mo-
ment—had seen the sparkle of his e es. and his
face tw1tching with pent-u emot one of rol-
licking humor—we came to he conclusion that

, we had formed the acquaintance of a boy in

‘ spirit and an old man in

 tower
now, but if

 

iyears and experience.’
“Bo s,’_’ he finally an d, as he turned away
his cabin, “ guess I’ll hev to leave on
3011 should want my boats, e’p
yerselvcs; an if 6 want me to run ’em for
on, say the wor and I’m your persimmous,
e and the ole woman ’11 not put up any more
tricks on ou—we’re all s uar’ now. f any
of ye are ikely to take co (1 from your iii ht .
on the lake, come up to the house, and mot an:
’1] fix you a good swig of Iginger and penny-
rile. Goo —by, boys,” and t e old fellow went
shuffling away like a. hapPV school-boy.
“Good-morning, Mr. armer,” said Jim
then in a subdued tone: “confound you: I
wish you were disappearing under that water
with n ten-ton stone about your neck.”
“ Ha! ha! ha!” laughed George; “ fool
around another mule’s heel, won’t you?"

CHAPTER IV.
OFF ON A DEElthUNT—JIM’S BAD LUCK—
Gnonen’s GOOD.

_WE breakfasted early. My three friends ate
With avidity for their a petites had been sharp-
ened by their night’s a venture.

The sun arose in a nimbus of transcendent.
glory. The shad0ws of ni ht rolled back from
the bosom of the lake andz plain, and the new
day shook out her blue robes of autumn. If
the night had been dark and tempestuous, the
day was one of sublime beauty. The plain
stretched dreamin awa into the oblivion of
distance and the little la e drowsed in the mel-
low beams of day.

On sluggish wing the fowls rose aloft and
wended their way in all directions to feed their
hunger on the distant fields of yellow corn or
in the shallow marshes. .

After the boys had recovered from the un-

leasant effects of their adventure, we shoul-
dered our guns and set oil on a hunt, each tak-
ing a different course. .We had heard that
there were deer in the hills north of the lake,
and as Jim had an aversion to small game he
bent his footsteps in that direction. He pushed
rapidly across the prairie for about two miles,
then, as be entered the head of the long breaks
and h0110ws trending toward Indian creek, he
observed the greatest precaution possible. A:
he rose upon an eminence, be advanced slowly
with his un at a trail, his keen eyes searching
the hills1des and clum of tall 55 dipping
downward into the va ey. In th s manner he
proceeded onward for more than a mile. He.

ad skirted the heads of more than a dozen
draws and hollows, all of which be pronounced
“ capital deer covert,” without encountering a
sign of game. With the patience and dogged
determination of an Indian warrior. however.

 

 

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~_-. grams... :1. ._-. .

‘4

a ,2; if;

31'
1.!

 

v buck-shot. It was a sleek graceful crea

vii-heartagainst

 

:- Adrift on the Prairie and Amateur Hunters.

 

‘he went on, and finally asha ned the top of
an eminence at the head cite a depression in
the lain, he dro ped himself in the grass as
md£nly as thoug he had been shot.
' This movement was caused h his catching
the limpse of an animal in the ll grass over
on the left slope of the hollow. was not ever
a hundred yards away, but ow g to the rank
grass Jim had been unable to make out, at first
, what it was. But now he peered care-
from his concealment and after studying

0 outlines of the animal for half a minute he
had no trouble in making it out a deer, which
let his heart to flutterin wildly, joyfully.

Bis gun was charg with buc -sbot, and,
’drawing back both hammers. he discharged bot-h
barrels simultaneously at the animal. To his
bitter disap intment a large prairie wolf
lea into e air and fell dead. while from a
tal clump of grass on the right sic of the
hollow and not over fifty paces from im, two
beautiful deer sprung out and went lancing
assay over the plain.

“Jim flew black and white by turns. He hit
his lips keep back the irreverent words that
his anger forced his tongue. He took off
g: cap and wi the cold perspiration from

w.

The resort of a gun over the hill in the direc~
tion the car had gone added new fuel to his
wrath, and unable to restrain his emotions any
longer, be swore like a pirate. He ran down to
his dead wolf and drawing his knife secured its
scalp upon which there was a bounty of four
dollars. Thrusting the bloody trophy into his
game-ha ’and urning the body of the beast
with a up tefnl k ck, he hurried over the hill.

\_ When he ained a point from whence he
could over-loo the countifiibeyond, what was his
surprise to see Geor ng leanin upon his
g2 regarding a bean ul doe strugg ing in the
WW or  1! bed th
hastyoo eps eaproac esuc-
ces'sful young hunter, exclaigiing in his blunt,

ne:

. r “ You've ed thunder now haven’t on?
1 could kill flair. too, if somebody would {put
thun'up and drive them up to the muzzle of my

‘ “Why, Jim, didn’t you get a deer!" asked
George; ‘ didn’t I hear your old magazine blow

“Yes, I tired so as to drive them deer over
here to you."
“Ind’eedl then please accept my thanks,

eems. ,
The two stood and watched the animal die.
Itineckhad been broken by a full charge of
are
a look of almost uman intelligence:
legswere as slender as a reed, and its little
sharp 11wa out smooth the ass where it lay
ling. The could see c palpitations of
gloss coat ut'they were

y growl fee ler. heath was fast

' soomingfo its relie. The thin, delicate nostrils

Mme distended. The silken whiskers on its

v fnosequlvared; its soft brown e es became set-

a convulsive quiver shot throng its frame an
then it became motionless in dea

- th.
3 *Jim drew his knife moss its throat to let out

 

the blood, and after it had bled freel , he lifted

the body in his strong arms, threw i across his

:goulder and set oi! for camp, George carrying

e as. '

en Bob and I reached camp. Jim, who

was a scientific butcher, as well as Jack of all
trades, had the deer dressed in good order.

That noon we dined oi! venison prepared in
the most approved hunter style. It was savory
and delicious, and good enough to satisfy the
most fastidious taste.

0n comparing notes it was found that Jim
was the on one of the party scoring no points
on game t at day. But as the day was but
half-spent, he expressed his intention of making
a “bi haul”t at afternoon, and soon after
dinner e struck out .

The rest followed example, and for an-
other half day camp was deserted.

By sunset all had returned except our big
friend Kemply; but we thought nothin of this
until darkness still found him absent. hen we
grew uneasy. Fears that he had wandered
away and been lost upon the p:- ' a were an-
tertained. Hoping that he mig t ye come in,
we lit the lantern and suspended it to the top of
a wagon-bow in hopes it might be the means of

iding him out of the darkness. But another

our assed, and he came not.

Su denly George, who had been absent from
camp but a few minutes, came running in,
panting like a racer.

“I’ve found him boys: come with me,
quickl” he said. fie spoke excited! . We
asked no questions, but straightway ollowed
him. He led the we toward the cabin of the
old borderman, Unc e Lige. ,

“ Hark!” he said, stopping still when a. few
paces from the door. .

We listened and were struck by the melodious,
strains of a reed organ. We were surprised—-
yea, astonished, for of all things we had less
e ed to find a. musical ins rument in that
ru ecabin. We stood awhile and listened to
the sweet strains as they swelled out into the
night, and we thought we could reco iiize a
strong, base voice, mingled with the ody of
the instrument, and the clear ringing tones of a
girlish voice. ,

Our guide led us on nearer the house. The
door was open and the room flooded with light.
We could see nearly the whole of the interior.
In the center of the room sat Uncle Li and
our lost companion, eng ed in "be ing ”
beans; while at one side, 1; a fair Ruby pre-
sided at the organ, Jim assistin with his strong
voice when ab e to divide his me between the
music and a bowl of steaming punch that sat on
the table at his side. The scene, as well as the
music, was highly interesting, and we enioyed
it itgidsileace from our position in the dar
on e. -

When Ruby ceased pla ng, it happened to
occur to Jims mind that e might be expected
at camp soon, so he took his departure.

“If yer don’t git better of yer cold," the old
woman said, as he turned to leave, “ come back
and I’ll make ya another bowl of catnip and

nyrile tea. Nothin’s better fur the s stem ’

haii jist that ve stufl'. I war afrai p
would make some 0 you sick by, that caper 

 

 

Adrift on the Prairie and Amateur Hunters. 9

\_ ,_._

night, but then it wa'n't no use for me to demon-
strate with him, for he’d ’a’ kicked the bottom
outen the lake but what he’d ’a’ got even with
you—thatfs pa for all the world.’

Ruby bid to good-night at the door, and
with a midi fluttering and joyful heart, our
friend dance away toward camp, whither we
had preceded him but a few moments. He
never knew that we had witnessed his per-
formance at the cabin.

During the rest of the evenin we could see
that a coolness existed between m and George
that amounted to envy on the part of the
former, as the other counted his points on
game, and jealousy on the part of George, when

e caught an occasional smile, the offsprin of
some pleasant thought, passing over Jim’s ace.

CHAPI‘ER V.
onosns’s GUN DON’T wens—oss- mn swan

 

 

LAKE.

IT was decided before retiring that night,
that we all make a general raid u on the deer-
range the following day, and so c eaned up our
guns and got everythin in readiness for an
early start. George wen so far as to load his
gun that night, that he mi ht be on time the

ollowing morning. He let elated over his
success in hunting, and vowed his intention
gt showing Jim how to take in deer the next

ay.

Finally we retired, and being quite exhaust-
ed over our day’s exercise, we soon fell aslee .
During the night I awoke, and rising to a s t-
ting posture, I raised the cover of the we on
in which I was sleeping, and looked out. he
moon was shining, and close by in its light I
saw, to my surprise, my friend Kemply, en
deshabillc, with agun b his side and a ram-
rod in his hand, gomg t ugh the motions of
loading the weapon. M first thoughts were
that he was laboring an or a spell of somnam-
hulism, and so I resolved to keep still and
watch him. If he started 01!, then I would
awake him. But after he had gone through
the motion of loading the gun for the hun-
dredth time or more, he (put the gun own and
returned to his couch un er the wagon. was
puzzled big his stran , silent movement but
aid not g to him a at it; nor did 1 tell the

s.

The night away and by sunrise the
next mornin we were 01f for the deer-range.
After a da ting we returned to camlf.
All were in the best e spirits but George. e
had had the chance of several shots that day at
deer but he had been unable to get his 11 ed.
He had primed it a score of times' t 8 caps
would burstLbut no discharge wouid follow.
He knew he ad loaded his gun the evening be-
fore as carefully as he ever did in his life.

“ Draw your loads, why don’t you!” asked

Jim. ‘

“ I would have done so, had I ssed a
wad-screw when in the field; now shall pro-
geed’to inVestigate the cause of my bad luck to-

ay.

Attaching a screw to his ramrod, be inserted
it into his gun. To his surprise the rod did not
descended over half the length of the barrel are

it struck some obstruction.

 

"By St. Peter, the char is blown half out,
anyhow," Geo remark , twisting the screw
into the top we and drawing it out. Then he
turned the gun I: , expecting the shot to run
out, but he was (1 appointed.

“I surely didn’t' ut two wads on the shot,”
he said, inserting t 0 rod again, and drawing
out a second wad sure enou h. But still the
shot refused to quit the barre . A third wad—-
a. fourth, fifth and so on up to fifty were with-
drawn ere he ad cleared one barre , and found
that there was not a grain of powder nor a shot
in either barrel.

George was completely astonished, but when
he caught sight of Jim’s face, the whole truth
flashed through his brain in an instant—Jim
had been tampering with his n.

To me the mystery of Jims movements on
the previous night was now satisfactorily ex-
plained. It was then, at the dead hour of
night, that the spirit of mischief took posses-
sion of him, and he arose and proceeded to put

Geor ’s n in the useless condition he now
foun it nowin full well that Geor e‘s inex-
perience in hand g a gun would not etect the
trick very soon.

“ Kemply, you confounded villain,” the youth
exclaimed, “you have been tampering with

m __n

The rest of the sentence was drowned in the
roar of laughter that peeled from Jim’s lips.

“Never mind, my gay young cavalier. I’ll
see to our case before this matter is forgot-
ten.” ing finally remarked.

The next minute the massive tread of a foot-
step sounded near, and Uncle Lige Farmer
made his appearance in camp.
boys " he said in his jolly, blufl

“ Evening
way of airing); ‘ what luc to-day?"
“ , with ut one exception,” replied Jim,

stealin a sly glance at George. v

“ Wa it’s been a' spankin’ grad day for hunt-
in’,”  Uncle Ligez seating imself before our
evenin camp-fire. "That’s been gobs of deer
cavort 11' round back thar for some time: but
the best pickin’ I know of. boys, is over atwixt
the Purgatory and Hell."

“ Where?” exclaimed Bob, his big eyes open.
ing to their fullest extent.

‘ Back here, ’bout twenty miles north.
That’s two slo hs than—one called Pur story
and t’other’n He 1 Slough andI tell you t ey’rs
swampers, bogus. Thurs more solid swear-

r than any place this sidel who
in»

in’ done u t
sulphur p tl Why. you can act’l smel

stone round thar, the lace ’s so gh related to
the bottomless git itse f."

" What gave hem those scorchingold names!"
asked George.

a few years ago. and arter paddlin’ th

one slough, the went on and stuck in t’other .
They were tell n’ it arterward, and says one,
‘arter plungin’ and wallerin’ throufii Puma-
tory, We went on and mired down in ell,’ and
ever since that time them sloughs have been
known bv them names.”

“ A party of emigrants came down that way

“these ones were a edtotwobrribleslo
“‘3‘” its no... harm a; stag
ere e n as
finelm to which the names woqu

 

i

to Adrift g... the Prairie

and Amateur Hunters. /

 

“Wain” said George, with afi’ected serious-
«m, “after finding out what you have been
« guilty of. Jim, I am inclined to think You are
getting pretty close to where you’re wanted.”

“I’m not alone, thank fortune,” exclaimed

 ,

Y- '

.. g’o‘

ya, how long do you propose to tarry
here? asked Uncle Lige.

“‘ We would like to leave immediately, if we
could obtain your services as guide to Swan
his." I answered.

., “I’m your persimmons, boys—just as lief
a week or two with on youngsters as
not. 'Thas‘s a lot of “frien ly Musquakie In-
_ gins camped up tbar, and so tharlll be a chance
or some royal fun. I’ll hitch u Buck and
might and haul my canoe up to t e lake, 50’s
on can rove the water over and over, to your
’s deli ht."
V “All rig t,” we res
j 85h “let us belup an of! by sunrise."
. " “' at‘s it,.bolys if ye want to make a ood
day of it' so Pl hie me in the house, snatc ofl.’
abit' of sleep, and be ready for the trip," and
Uncle Lige rose and took his departure.
'3 We at once retired to rest, and were soon
‘ that asleep, our minds filled with bright visions,
7 , the oflspring of our most ardent anticipations
" “T‘i'émsgm .ssedquitl d h h

, n pa e yaway,an wit to
first streaks of dawn we were u and ready to .
, d torBwan Inke‘. Uncle ige soon came
‘ ra tlin down with his glancing oxen to a low.

whee wa n, upon w ich he laced the canoe
and outfit. I on, with gsd in and, he mount-
, ed into the canoe, swung his whip r through the
‘_ air with a hissingvcrack, and rolled away to-
’ ward the north. e followed, close behind, in
ourownconve ance. ' ’
course yover an undulatin pra' ‘e
whose li‘mits werethe blue horizon. e plunged

rough Indian Creek, at the risk of drowning
our animals, and crossing the low bottom be-
,  we began the gradual ascent of a long in-
. dream-terminating in an immense tract of
a rolling table lands. ‘ x w - ~

' v.3!" toiled slowly up the hill through the
doc brown grass. our guide stopped his team,

 

.,  15:9 "‘,“’,',”.-;+~“wwef%4~(e§3c _,

nded, with eager de-

g to‘a large mou covered with
he said: ‘ -
l “‘ , out ‘ysnder, where ye see ’em reeds,

are one of the nateral curiosities of this prairie.
It’s ‘a hin’ mineral s ' > wuth trampin’
across see. Youcan d veto it forthe
gland is soft'and spongy around it. it’ll be as
‘ much as you can do to preach it on foot. If ye
. lookout for deer; they kind 0’ hanker’round

 left our team in Uncle Lige’s chre and

r to the spring. Before we reached it we

2 I deer tracks on the rairie, ntin to-
v [Hard the mound, whithert e anim had on
e  by the saline elements of the water.
‘ ‘B we ascended the mound we found Uncle
. ’s words were true. The earth was soft

8 mg and covered oer with a thin turf,

   

 * t led and luivered under our weight,
' . toningtobrea throughand'ingulf us at

V  Here ani-tfnatherfi'hdark, digflial
holes gapingcrac s can resem nz‘
thousand fissures mad 0- widowed-star.

 

We found the spring on the summit of the
mound. The water was gushing out slowly and
passing oil? along a little channel it had worn
through the crust, or surface. We drank of it
thrLugh a hollow reed that served as a kind of
filter. it was cold and clear, but strongly im-
pregnated with minerals.

Having fully explored the mound, we rec
turned to the we ons and resumed our journey
up the slope. e finally reached the most
prominent point on the eminence above, from
which a grand and imposing scene was unfold-
ed to our enraptured gaze.

CHAPTER VI.

ON SWAN Len—Jm’s SUCCESS AND was.

FROM our feet the (plain seemed to slope
gradually away bayou the power of vision,
broken into undulations like ocean billows.
Behind us lay the glimmering waters of Wall
Lake sparkling an , radiant as a bed of molten
silver; Before us on the bosom of the gain
reposed the little sheet known as Swan kc.
A range of low bluffs stood guard along its
shores, mirrorin their rugged brows in its
depths night an morn when the shadows were
longest. A belt of yellow reeds, resembling a
border of bronze, fringed the margin of the
watch

The surface of this lake was dottedyand
checkered with life—with living, movin crea-

 

tures of different kinds and colors. eese,
ducks, brants, swans 'audflfelicans rted on
the crystal waves and ru ed their umage in

the golden sun along the shore. ,

It was e. si t sufficient to satisfy the most
extravagant esire. We feasted our eyes upon
it. The lake was but a mile distant. We be-
came inspired with renewed feelings of jo , for
we believed we had at last discovered the
hunter’s paradise of the North-west.

Other objects were soon brought to our view.
Away on to the north-east was'a body of tim-
ber, and on its margin stood a dozen or more
small, conical structures, from the apex. of
which wreaths of white smoke were curling.
We knew at a. glance what they V7th
Wigwam: of the Muscfiiruakie Indians spoken of
by Uncle Liger The ibe or a portion of it,
had come down from the reservation in an
adgoining county to spend the season hunting,
fls ing and begging. We had noth' to fear
from them unless it was less by theft, r they
were scientific thieves. I ‘  ;

We could see, from our position on the lull
several warriors stalking about in flaming r_
blankets, smoking their morning p1pes;.while
the squaws engaged in. their usual drudgery
about camp. ' ’

Far away to our right we could see a dark
line running across the plain black and omi-

nous.
“That.” sai old Li , intin‘ 'it out. “is
Purgatory Sicil‘xgh. TE: in‘lt ’3 black as
a Dutch ‘ ger. Hell’s beyondit a mile or
two. But, i we git into the deer~range, we’ll
head the swamps and tharhv git through air

 

y—
shod. Come, gee up thar, Buck and Bright—. -

, g’iangl” and the team moved on. -
We crossed the plain to the lake, where we

 

unloaded the canoe and pushed on amileor

 

.  w} -_

 

 

 

a
2
l
,x
i

 

 

‘Adrifi' on the Prairie

 

r I .

and Amateur Hunters. ‘1!

 

two further to reach a good camping-aground.
This we found on the edge of the tim r about
half a mile from the Indian encampment.

Our resonce soon became known to the no-
ble. re men, and a deputation of about a dozen
waited on us in our new cam

They were a remarkable gand of gentlemen. ‘
All were of the same dirty copper color, with ‘

low, retreating foreheads, broad, sensual faces
and black, ferret-like eyes. Eithera rod or

blue blanket covered the broad square shoul< ,

ders of each. Their hair was king, black and
unkempt. Their heads were surmounted with
some relics of civilization, either an old on or
brimless hat doing dutg thereon. One ow,
heavy-set fellow s orte a silk “ lug ” some-
what the worse 0 long usage. eing a little
too large it pitched gracefully back and set
Jauntily upon his ears giving him an expres-
sion both comical and ludicrous. He appeared
to be a kind of dandy, for he sported a heelless
boot and an ancient cloth goiter, in addition to
a air lof ants and a woolen shirt.
no a
them in their own vernacular. but when he
found they could speak English fluently the con-
versation was carried on in that tongue for our
. benefit. After conversing with them on various
subjects, he asked: '

“ VXhat you Ingins doin’ down here, any-
way?

“ Hunt some—trap some—fish some—~git flre-
(vlvnte’r—have heap gobs of fun like white brud-

er.

“ Goin’ to hunt any today?”

“Hunt some, mebby. Some braves go up to
pale-face town to t flre-water—then have ig,
gqod time—hoop loo!” and the Indian ex-
ecuted a demi—vault’ that completely astonished
us. .

" He means ‘miraculous’ when he says ‘flrey
water,’ ” said Jim, aside to Geor e.

“I resume so,” replied the atter, “and if
they‘ nd out you have some in the wagon,
you’ll be apt to find out how the water tastes up

. in this country, for they’ll have yOur ‘miracu-
ous. ' '

After lounging round camp an hour or more
the Indians returned to their own lodges; and,
leavmg Uncle Lige to guard our camp. we took
our guns and set out or the lake. Reaching.
our canoe we dra ed it through the gram and
reeds to the we r’s edge and, launchin it.
embarked tor the interior 0 the broad be t of
reeds that fringed the margin of thewater. We
were unable to get throu h the dense dry reeds
without creating consi arable noise, which,
alarmed the game and con the airabove uswas
filled with scream (owls—dartin and whirl<
mg.” and cite ing in every d ction.

an we had on through the reeds into the
open lake we d vered that our canoe had
sprung a leak, and was fast filling, with two
iathoms of water beneath us. Being rovided
with rubber boots we were enabled to ca our
feet for the time being. George an I set
towm' bailin out the boat with our hands.
We worked d liently but gained but little on
the water whic fact disheartened George and
rendered as uneasy And trottul. p ‘

“Ban.” be final y remarked. wringing the

ige entered into conversation with 

 

I water trom his hands, "this is too confounded,
thin for me; take me ashore. and I’ll remain
there.”

We saw that George was in solemn earnest,
and so we headed the boat back toward shore
i and landed him. We then drew the boat out

onto dry land, emptied it and caulked the leak,
when we again put out into the lake, George
firing a parting salute—at a black-bird-as we ‘
pushed away, leaving him alone upon shore. .
“Glad to get rid of him,” said Jim, “for it ~
would just have been his blundering luck to _
have brought down a swarm at first shot. I’ll I
take the lead now, for George being the only i
. one possessed of luck, leaves the field clear to"
old science, and that’s me.” i 
l Scurcel had he finished speaking when  _
i went B0 ’5 gun and a duck came lun ng‘ .
down so closeto the row of the boatw era in: >
3 sat, that a shower 0 water was dashed up in _' .-
_ his face. . ~ . ’
1 “How is that for luck, Old Emanuel"- ! l

1
l
l
i

asked. .
“Ugh—thunder!” Jim exclaimed _m pits
‘the water out of his face With 18 cove, *
“ anybody could do that; but I won’t shOOt at .
anything less than a goose, pelican or swan.
Them’s my picking boys, and whenever you,
hear old Stub-and- wist sneeze out epizootiz
cally, score at least ten for me—Old lance?
We reached the open water. and. ~
across its silent bosom about Sixty rods, when r‘ '
we came to a little clump of tall reeds in which  3
we concealed ourselves. From this point, x V .
which was rather a central location, we had an 
'extended view in all directions, and at once
opened a deadly fire upon the birds gliding
around us; at least, Bob and I did, for nothing
but ducks had yet ventured Within be »
The latter came so near us, at times, that we
could distinguish their wild“an 3 beer
the winnow of their wings, and seat  s
and gold upon them. There was nothing n the,
innocent fowls’ presence, however, to a v 
our better natures—to cause us to dos from»
the sport of killing them. We felt thatit‘wss
* one of the privileges bestowed upon us by.»
benign Providence, and we lost no time in
moralizing over the fact. _, ,
Jim dog edly reserved his charges for large
ame, in the very face of our splendid success,
t at was piling up score after score against um
Suddenly, however, silence was im '
us b our highcornpanion, who had
mun of w ite swans ccmin directly toward.
us. They were flying very owéy, and there.
was nothing to prevent a success; shot. W ;‘
they not be alarmed and turn etude before they I
came to us. ‘ _ A
We ave way to Jim, since he badJnited m, ‘
patieuty for a shot, and as the huge birds _
came nearer, the click of his gunlocks was,
heard; then the muzzle of his was was ’
thrust upward. through the mods; ‘ tater
dropped against the breech, and his eye glanced
nlon the barrel. These movements were hr I
stung followed bye thunderous crash 
our canoe to rock on the waves. . .

A across the lain rolledtho' I
boogzblthegunntoandmm 

t

 

  
    
   
 

 

 

 

sight by degrees.
' Robert

5 ed Jim
,think w at a prize is mine—fully six feet from

‘ coat of

 

 

is Adrift on the Prairie

and Amateur Hunters.

 

We lifted our eyes 11 ward as the stunning
report crashed out, an saw a bird thrust its
head upward with a frightful scream. lt flap
pod its teat, white wings rapidly, as if strug-
glin ard to keep upon its flight. But a
spar et stream trickled acress its snow breast,
it reeled upon the air, then shot sudden y down-
ward like an arrow, falling in a narrow belt of
reeds about fifty paces from us.

“ There!" exclaimed Jim, with an imposin
air of triumph, as he coolly proceeded to Ice
his n. “ who scores the big points now? Luck
or encel You fellows have been boasting of
your success all day, and yet you have done
nothing but pop down a few little ducks. And
now I have a. swan—a pure, snow-white swan,
and an almighty big fellow he is, too. There’s
some finance in such game as that,-boys. You
know swan’s down is the most valuable commo-

 dity of the kind found in America, and that

skin lying right out yonder will bring me at
least twenty ollars. ook through here, boys,
nd get your eyes accustomed to the dazzling
Do you not erceive it,
9 Do you not behold it, Oiver? Who
says it don’t pa to hold your fire for big game?
.Mraculous! I i show you how to score flue
points from this on. I want it understood that
when ‘Stub-and-Twist’speaks, it will be on
.the money'question—the inflation of currency
in her owner’s pockets. Now, Bob, steer the
boat directly toward that snow-bank out
‘ yonder, and I’ll put something in this concern

t 0 your eyes water.”
h, who was at the stern paddled out of

the stalks and across toward t 9 strips of reeds,

in which the swan lay. A few vigorous strokes
carried the boat alongside the reeds, within
arm’s reach of the eat, white bird.

"‘ ys, look! old! perceive it!” exclaim-
beside himself with delight. “ Just

tipto ti of wing, is that bird, and oh, such a
own it will yield! It’d be big enou h
and grand enou h to make a cloak for up n-
cess, and now, you’ll balance the boat, I’ll
' reach out and haul in the prize.”
’ He leaned over the side of the boat, and just
as lie/was reaching out for the rim, he saw a
dusky hand thrust into the res s from the op-
to side and seize the bird. The next instant
rile had vanished as if by magic.
' . e look that mounted to Jim’s face. and the
single word that accompanied it chilled us to
the marrow. He seized a padd e, and with a

'1 »« stroke that almost snapped the blade, sent the

boat crashing through the reeds; and" as we
emerged into the open water beyond, we saw a
Musqnakie Indian, with Jim’s bird, in a light
canoe, ust disappearing arounda distant clump
of a deep trail in the water marking the

= course his swift-gliding boat. -

 

CHAPTER v11. -
‘ :m’s momma—A nor.st mm
‘ “comm the low-lived, thievish va rant!
I wish he was in that worst'slou h of whic Un-
‘ , told us!” was Jim’s ex amation, as he
13 ’liusquakie disa ar from view with
 w Vol} M‘hfid‘zushed so

/

   

/ .5 ,3 i 3
«an a  

 

‘ triumphantly -upon which he had built up
Well financial hopes.
We could not help laughing heartil over our
friend’s loss and indignation, notwi hstanding
' our dis st for the low, contem tible meanness
of the ndian. His face grew ivid with rage,

‘ and he fairly gasped in his speech while giving -

- expression to 157': ent-u emotions.
1 Never mind, ys,” e said, “ I‘ll make that
i all right. I’ll honor that Indian camp with my
1 presence to-night, and if that swan. or its equiv-
alent, is not forked over at once, I’ll produce an
! earth uake in their midst, and exterminate the
' whole it of them. The way Indian hair and
I blood will fly, will put old Tippecanoe to shame.
I won’t stand such an outrage from such low
vermin, and I mean what I say. I’ll raise a lit-
tle particular thunderation in that va nt
camp (so-night. I won’t be trifled with—1’] per-
forate ever Indian’s stem with lead, hissing
hot from S b—and'l‘w st, before I leave there
without satisfaction for m ame. And,
furthermore, the first Musqua 'e see skulking
around this lake will take down with a shuts
pain in the region of the stomach. Confoun
he dirt scum. I’ll be pestilence to them.”

“Bri is our angry passions, James," said
Bob, “ and et us try for another swan.”

‘: Swan! Thunder and miracles!” blustered
Jim, “ I calculate to shoot nothing less than In-
dians from this time on."

Bob paddled up back into the covert recently
occupied. Meanwhile Jim searched the sur-
rounding reeds for a skulking Musquakie, and
had he discovered one, he would doubtless
have made it very unpleasant for the red-skin.
We did all we could to attract his attention
from his grievances, for fear he might see one
and cause the party some trouble, for the tribe
was under the protection of the government,
and we had no desire to have to answer to
Uncle Sam for a dead Musfiakie. ,

Uncle Li e had told me 1: t day that it was
one of the 'cks of those ya abond Indians to
hang around among the ree s and watch the
success of white hunters. If a bird fell nearer
them than the hunter, they would steal it'll

ble, their skill in the use of the pad and
he uniform lightness of their canoes, ens

tlhem to elude] dihecgion. Inmate’s i11ch cg:

t e are emp oy , gunners 38 or
ye for a share, for t ey are equal to a bound
1: finding dead birds among the reeds and
. But, even then, they will steal; for in
t eexcitement conse uent upon _ success,
a hunter loses run of isvcounts, and his “ game
atherer ” takes advanta
eriorlt of these red-
this ha it of stealin . the ever become
ssessed’of a n that anyone 0 would have
hey wouid sel it for whisky, or get cheated

out of it by some white sharper.
They Were not like the wild Indian of the
lain. All their ambition and skill as hunters
ad been reducedto laziness, vagabondage and
drunkennem by sub stint A few of the
more ambitions of. e;  mink and
musk-rats, tor the whic there was al—
ways a ready sale. But the proceeds usually

leadlfo

 

i went to the maintenance, of the family. gDuring
1 the day. the squaws maunted their pomes an

, .

.4  .-,.»-.t.. x.  , Hz..-

)

ofthefact. That» “
firearms

 

 
 

 

sallied out a-hegging among the settlements;
while their lazy lords lonnged about camp, or
skulked about, exertin a great deal more ener.
gy to steal something t an to procure it by hon-
est means. When money found its way into
their possession, it was sure to be expended for
line-Water, for which they had an inordinate
ovc.

We waited a while in the reeds for another
shot, but as the report of J im’s gun had flushed
all the game within hearin , and the day being
well advanced, we heade for the shore. We
soon effected a landing, and in looking about for
Geor 6 found him sitting upon a little eminence
withghis back a ainst a stone, his gun lying

across his lap, w th both hammers back, and a .

pelican by his side. He was fast asleep. Ho
ooked fatigued and worn, and the bird at his
side told that he had not been entirely idle since
we had left him.

We woke him and resumed our way to corny),
which we finally reached, hungry and tired. l 8
found Uncle Live seated upon the ground reari-
ing a paper. it was the Saturday Journal,
which had procured at the news-office of Car-
rol Cit as we passed throu h.

“ Sp endid time I’ve had ys, ” said he, in an-
swer to our question as to how he had spent the
day; “ I found this paper in yer wagon, and I
tel a what, there’s some kill n' good rcadin’ in
it. t beats the Bible all to smash "~Uncle Lige
was an infidel—“and that man Washington
Whitehorn drives the nail right home. He’s a
deep thinker—knocks the socks off the old Psalm-
ist and comes in like two-forty on the home-
stretch. Mind what I tell ye. he’ll turn u some
day in Congress, or the next thing to t—tlie
lunatic asylum. But, boys, how‘d ye make it
on the lake?”

“It's dog-gonad easy told,” said Jim; “I
killed a swan and an Indian stole it. lint that’s
not the end of it, please gracious. “ There’s to be
some blood s iit. I’m going up to that Indian
cam after u ghtfall, and if they don’t york up
for t iat swan, I‘m going to exterminate every
varlet of them.”

Uncle Lige indulged in a long, hearty, good-
natured laugh that shook his whole frame. It
pleased Jim so to see the old fellow laugh, al-

hough at bis—Jim’s—expense, that he was
forced into a silent outburst himself, and from
that time on he began to feel much better.

By the time we had prepared and eaten our
supper and attended to our animals, the sun
had set.

As the shadows of night gathered around us,
the droning of nocturnal Wings and the hum of
insacts came from the woods, and we began to
realize the diflcrence in a nightcamp on the
prairie and the same in a forest. The sur-
roundings of the former were fresh wild and
startlin , the latter deep, solemn an ominous.
The pra e has a song peculiar to itself; it is
clear, sweet and inspiring. The woods have a
song also, but it is low, weird and foreboding.
One cannot shake oi! the influence of the latter,
if surrounded b it. There is a strange magnet-
ism in the sha ows of ni ht, born of infinity,
that only the radiance of y can dispel.

As darkness continued to thicken around us,
we suddenly discovered a bright light in the In-

Adrift on the Prairie and Amateur Hunters.

 

13

 

dill" encampment north or us. We could see
the blaze of a huge bonfire leaping upward into
the night, and we could see dusky forms passing
to and fro around it.

“ Reckon us what they’re goin’ to have a swan-
roast," said Uncle Lige, with a low, pleasant
chuckle.

Jim ground his teeth and fingered his imperial
nervously.

“ Sup iose we go up and sup with them,” sug-
gested lug.

“ I’m going up to kill the Whole kit of the var-
mints,” said Jim, “and if you fellows want to
see the fun, you may go ’long."

We saw that Jim was half in earnest, and
was making preparations to start to the Indian
camp; but feeling certain that he would change
his notion of doing violence by the time we
reached there, we consented to accompany him
and at once set off. As we approached the eu-
campment along the cover 0 the woods, our
ears were greeted by yells and screams that
equaled Pandemonium.

“By the wait ro a1 horn-spoon!" exclaimed
old Lige. “ 1: mm fel are that went to town have

at back, and the hull pack of red devils are
iaviii’ a solid old drunk of it. Boys, it’llbesick-
ly for us to venture inside of that camp to-
night.” -

“ Well, I’m out of the notion of killing them
to—night, anyhow,” said Jim. ulwa 5 ready for
any emergency. “ I won’t e rminate a
drunken Indian. I want him to know what
ails him, when I get a-hold of him." .

“We can go up within sight of their camp.
and see the ri‘ormance,” said Uncle Lige, and
so we move on until we could command a full
view of the encani merit.

We were astonis ed by the sight that met our
view. Not less than a score of Indians-all
beastly drunk—were having an old-time dance,
peculiar to their wild forefathers around the
glowing bonfire. They were stripped to the
waist, and with bleared e as, long, disheveled
hair, and faces dirty, and renzied with li uor,
they chased each other around and arena the
fire in a sort of dance, yelling. screaming and
singing, and brandishing knives and hatcliets—
appearing like demons in a fiendish revel. A
few older warriors sat near, watching their
orgie with a smile upon their swarthyafaces
whille the boys clapped their hands and ughed
in as.

151 the swans in the North-west would have
been no inducement toward getting Jim inside
that camp. In fact he was the first to sag t
that we could ust as well watch the drun n
vagabonds in t eir revel a little further away,
and thereby run no risk of being discovered.
He detested a drunken Indian—he would not
waste powder to shoot him.

We continued our watch, notwithstanding
Jim’s protestations, from our first itiou: an
a little or of excitement burst involuntarily
from our lips when we saw a savage sta gar
and fall into the fire. Before he had sustained
any serious injury, however, his comrades d -

ed him out of the flames, and as he arose to
set again, he was met by his terrified squaw,
who was mining to his relief. The drunken
wretch stepped back from her. uttered a yell

 

g, i 14

Adrift on t'.._ Prairie and/ Amateur Hunters.

 

horror he raised his hatchet and buried it to the
eye in the woman‘s brain!

 

" . ‘ _ that fairly froze our blood, then to our awful

 I V CHAPTER VIII.

| ' clonal nnrauams—m’s DONG, MNELY

g . VIGIL.

5,5 Wll shuddered at the revolting deed, and

If? ' ' more than one hand sought a weapon to avenge

‘ the murdered s new; but Uncle Lige seeing the

i , movement, quic y anested it.

u “ Silence, boys.’ he said, “ don’t budge a g.
.’ . The woman will be avenged if whisky di do
-~.: the deed; besides it would only makes matters
|  worse for us to tamper with the wild, drunken,

"g » (mad devils—do you see that?”

F , , j ‘ We saw the sober Indians seize the murderer

' ' : and drag him to the earth. We saw them bind

,5 > ' him hand and foot, and after heaping indigni-
‘ . . ties upon him, leave him there moaning and

howling in his drunken fit.
The wild revel now changed to weeXing and

_ wailing ovor the murdered woman. quietus

I was t upon the dance. The fire burned lower

‘ ‘ Ind over-until on] a dim twilight pervaded

, the encampment. e kept our watch for some

1 time ion . All final! became uiet in camp.

Nowell then we coud see a usky shadow
moving toand fro about the fire, like a figure

' in a panorama. Ever and anon a piercing,

' bloodcurdling cry would thrill through the

silent night. tom the lips of the drunken mur-
derer, like the shriek of a demon.

Ourcm'iosity satisfied to the highest degree,

: V we returned to camp. We lit a lantern to dis-
: ’pel the gloom that seemed to lurk around us

with murderous intent. We sat down in its

. light. Our faces must have worn achan ed ex-

' :pression, for Uncle Lige smiled as he ooked

iron one to the other.
“ Boys,“ he finally said, with unusual serious-

- Incas in his voice. “you have seen something of
the "Gipsy life of the friendly Indian, and that

 drink affects them the same as other

,‘Reople. I tell you whisky is an awful curse-—

biteth like an adder and stingeth likta a

 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
   
 

p! I am arough old codger, and am called
wicked in many respects, but I never touch a
' rim of the stuff unless -for mechanical or
'medical'purposes. I have seen too much of its
Mossy-it’s a curse. Now that poor devil ot
- an Indian loved his squaw no doubt, but lifior
got the bestof‘ him and killed her deader a
' doorman and, I dare say, his life ’11 have to pay
V theforfeit." .
‘ “I hope he’s the one that stole my swan,”
chimed in Jim “ and that after they wallow him
that t slough of yours, they’ll stick
him into the other.”

 

- ' “limit he too hard on him, Jeems," replied
> ourglflde; “be but follered the instinct of his

- nature when he stole your swan. But, boys, let i

l-what have seen to-night be a solemn ad-

. moni on to forego strong drink.” '

- ~' ,‘ ‘“ Unless for mechanical or medical purposes,”

laid‘Jim.

r “Exactly,” responded Ll ; “but, boys, it’s
> ‘ timo toturn inh and we mus have a watch the V
v 1 night through. .

, J‘ Yes? it’s now nearly eleven o'clock." ’said

' consulting his watch.

 
 
  
  
  
   
   

.2 ..

“Six hours to slee ," remarked Uncle Ll
“ One can stand gnar until two o’clock and t 9
other till sunrise; that’ll divide the time. But I
tell e the rust watch will have to look sharp
for ear them drunken devils come down here
and murder us all.”

As Bob was suffering from inflammation of the
eyes, and I being a little hard'of hearing, it de-
volved upon Jim and George to keep the watch
over camp. And now a bit or a discussion
arose between them—though in the'very friend-
liest of warms—ms to who should take the first
watch. ncle Lige pro that they decide
the matter by lots, an in doin so, the first
watch fell to George. It pleas Jim to beat
George at anything they undertook, and so he
indulged in a hearty good laugh over the result
of casting lots. .

“ Now, George,” he said, assuming the role of
an adviser, “ you must be careful—very careful
-—or you may lose your hair. Don’t think you
are on a coon-hunt down in the woods of Penn-
sylvania, a thousand or two miles from a peck
of bloody Indians, for such is not the case. Af-
ter two o’clock there’ll not be much danger, for
the red-skins will be sober by that time. But
of all you do, be careful not to wake me a min-
ute before the right time. See that your watch
is with mine."

They consulted their watches and found they
were exactly together.

Before retiring, a fire was kindled for the
benefit of our mghtrwatch, tor the air was some
what chilly. Au am le supply of fuel for the
niggt was also provi ed.

ith amysterious smile upon his face, Geor e
took his post, while Uncle L go, Bob and myse r
retired to a couch in our covered wagon, and
Jim rolled himself in a buflalo robe and laid
down under the vehicle.

“Good-night, George,” he called from the
depths of his cover, “ and mind that you kee a
close watch, or oi! will go your raven locks.’

“All right, Jeems,” sai George to himself.
“ l’ll see somethin about this guard business.
I owe you a lick or tampering with my gun
the other night.” , ~

Silence is] upon the camp. Half an hour
passed and Jim was sleeping soundly under the
we n. His respirations were long and deep,
an when he slept soundly, a cla of thunder
would scarcely wake him. His reams, how-
ever, must have been unpleasant, for he tossed
about and struck out at imaginary foes. George
iwatcheg “in closer tho: he did the aground-
ug,an wen swasaaleep, scrept
toward him with the stealth of an assassin.
Reaching his side, he bent over him and
down into his face. His breathing, 'or rather

. his snoring, was sumcient evidence of deep

slumber.
With a smile

‘ his be h face Geo
reached down an w ' m

careful] drew Jim's watch

5 from his ket. He 0 n it at the back and
eleven

front. 0 hands in cated goat

o’clock. George took the key, which was
attached to the chain, and inserting it in the
watch, turned the'hands forward until they
pointed to the hour of two. . This done, he closed
the watch and returned it to its receptacle and.
walking to the fire. took out his own watch and

 

Adrift on the Prairie and Amateur Hunters.

 

Burned it ahead until it corresponded with
im‘s.

Then he turned and awoke the sleeping
Nimrod. He knew that Jim would not know
but that he had been sleeping for hours, hence
ln‘s movements.

' Jim scrambled out from under the wagon,
ruming his eyes and muttering incoherently.

His hair stood on end like the quills of a porcu- ‘

inc, and he looked drowsy and cruhbed.
{fawning a time or two, be advanced to the
fire and consulted his watch. It was two
o’clock to a minute.

“ Just two o’clock," he growled. “ You were
devilish particular about waking me at the
exact second."

“I’ve had a long, lonely time of it, James.
and am glad to count time by the seconds,”
replied George. “Now you .want to be very
careful, Jim, for I was sure I heard subdued
voices in the woods awhile ago.” And having

thus cautioned his relief, George retired to rest, 1

taking the place so recently vacated under the
W8, 0!].

1m threw a blanket around his shoulders,
and, lighting a cigar, sat down before the fire.
He ha been there but a few minutes when a
fearful sound smote his ears. He started, as
though a.bullet had whimd past his head. His
face grew white and his eyes dilated as he
turned and peered into the gloom. The remem-
brance of the horrible scene at the Indian camp,
the terrible visions that had haunted his sleep,
and now that dread unknown sound—all co..-
spired to fill his breast with vague terror. lie
was not a coward by an means; still he could
not shake ofl that terrib e 3 ll we have all felt
when alone in the depths 0 night, surrounded
by unknown dangers.

That fearful sound was soon repeated. It
seemed like the laugh of a demon; but the look
upon Jim’s face now relaxed into an expression
0 relief. He recognized the noise—it was the
scream of a night-owl. ‘

Jim sat down and consulted his watch. He
had been on duty only half an hour, and yet it
seemed anthour.

The moments wore away into minutes. On

6,
two, three hours passed. The watch told the ,

hour of five, and yet there was no sign of light
in the east. Jim had stood his three hours
through, but, as it was not daylight yet, he
madeno complaint; he supposed a few minutes
more would usher in the dawn. He heaped
more fuel upon the fire, and fits. fresh cigar.
He puffed away for half an hour; then he drew

a pack of cards from his pocket and indul ed in ‘

a game of solitaire. Another hour sse , and
stll there was no light appearing in the east.
Jim wondered if there could be any thing
wrong with the solar system. He knew h s
watdi was right, for it had never failed him
—it was genuine American movement—more-
over, it corre nded with George's. He re-
solved he won d not arouse any of his com-
panions for fear they would construe his rest-
essness and im tlence into a want of courage.
If Georgeconl keep his watch through without
complaint, he. could, too; and so he sat down to
mother gains of solitaire. Before he got half
wav through the game. he fell asleep sittirp

16

i bolt upri ht. His head rolled around on his
shoulders ikea pivot; but presently a coal of
1 fire snafipcd out and fell in is half-closed palm
i and wo 0 him withasudulen start. He looked
! up and glunccd around him with a half guiltiy
\ look, but seeing no one about, he sprung to h s
‘ feet and began dancing around to drive awa
i his stupor. He executed a few lea backwar
waltzed forward again, struck an spurred with
1 an tit‘lliaginary foe, and finally—consulted his
1 we c .
‘ Another hour had slipped away; it was seven
o’clock, and still no light in the east.
i He worried on, amusing himself the best he
1 could, though he was completely puzzled over
‘ his watch and the non-appearance of day.
Finally, however, his patience was rewarded b
the discovery of a faint rel‘noss along the eas -
ern horizon. When dawn ushered in the day
it was after eight o’clock, and the sun shou d
have been over two hours high.

As soon as I cross Jim came to me and asked
to see my watch. The ,day revious, and in
fact, ever since we had been a rift, our watc as
had run on the same time without varying a
minute, but now there waafust three hours’ if-
fewnce between them I

“ What in thunder does it mean!" exclaimed
.Il’im; “She never went back on me before, and

“No; but then you went back on mi gun,"
said George, bursting into a pearl of lung tor.

Jim was no longer in a quandarz now—he saw
through the whole thing. He ha been sold.

CHAPTER IX.
summer) 3r FIRE—AN awn-m. mm

Tanday dawned warm and pleasant. The
purple haze of autumn seemed to have wn
denser during the night. The air was so and
balmy. The voices of day seemed toned down
to a mellow cadence.

We could see the smoke curlin from the In-
dian wigwams as usual, and, a ter breakfast
was over, we all went I: to camp. We were
received very coolly, t mg}; with as much
honor and kindness as could expected of the
red - men after the night they had passed
through. They were all moving quietly about:
the women were enaged in the preparation of
breakfast; the children were at play, and the
men were walking about exercising their sore
guts and stiff limbs after the night’s debsuch.

me of them bore fearful si s of the effect of
their spree. Nothing was be seen of the
dead woman or her husband. Only a dark,
glossy spot near the camp-fire told where the
earth had drunk up the b ood of the murdered
uaw.
que made no inquiries, and after an hour’s
visit returned to our own camp and made pro-
_ mantle” for another day’s hunt on Swan
9.
' Uncle Lige signified his willingness to remain
and take care of the camp. George complained
of feeling indisposed and concludedtostay with
him. '1‘ 9 rest of us set out for the lake. Bob
and I took to the boat, while Jim remained on
shore. Our success was unusually good and we

 

 

 

I. Adrift on the Prairie

were surprised that we did not hear the report

of Jim’s young howitzer. When we returned

to camp along toward evenin

had preceded us there, empt -

than two hours. He was coking unusually

gloomy, while it was just the reverse wit
eorge. _

Things continued so, too, until near .the close
of day, when we heard Jim call George aside.
They walked oil! a ways along the margin of
the woods and sat down.

We knew or at least suspected, that there

we found Jim
nded, by more

was something not altogether right between i

the boys, and so Bob concluded to slip around
and learn, if ble, what the trouble was.
He gained a position within earshot of them
in t me to hear Jim saying:

“It is no use for {you to deny it, George; I
heard you talking to ncle Lige, when I came
up from the lake, about his family; and I heard
you ask somethin about her.”

“ I admit," rep ed George, “that I was asking
him about his family just for the sake of con-
venetian.”

“ Fornnothing else! Honor bright, now,

r e.

“ I in telling you the gospel truth, J im.”

“ George, don’t on kind 0’ like that girl?"

“She's pretty, admit, and—”

“ But don’t Iyou love her?”

“Ho! ho! iml such a thing never entered
my head. But I see now what you are driving
at; you are in love with Miss Ruby, and think
i am also. James, I will not la a straw in
your way to the door of her hear "

“ All right; I will depend on this. But mind,
if you should conclude to change our decision,
and beat me in this case, as you ave at every-
thing else, it will not be ood for you. You
know on expect to tear the Stony Point
school his winter, and if you dare to—”

“Ah! you threaten me. ’

“Yes, I you go back on me at Uncle Iiive’s.
You know what you drank out of the co ee—
pot, and what you said when you couldn’t catch
ailsh don’t youi Wouldn’t these things whis-
pered abroad be sufficient to call in your certifi-
cate? Think it calmly over once."

“ Jim,l tell you it will be all ri ht at Uncle
lineage, far as I am concerne , and that I

am .

“ I want you to promise me one thing more.” 1

“Well?”

' “ Thatyou won’t say anything about this to
the boys.’

George gave the promise and the two returned
to camp. Bob came in from a diflerent direc-
tion. and Jim will never know, unless he should
lrleaddthese lines, that his words had been over—

ear .

That night each one took his turn in standin
guard and during the midnight watch a scan
reseni inga distressed groan was heard afar
at in the woods; and, although the sound was
not repeated, we could not lieve otherwise
than that it was human.

The following mornin we decided to break
cam and move over on t e deer-range between
the rgatory and Hell sloughs. We had
gown tired of Swan Lake and duck-hunting.

e longed for a new field and a change of

and Amateur Hunters.

s" __,..-...

game, and so by sunrise we were on ourway
across the prairie.

In order to head the Purgatory We were com-
‘ pelled to make a. wide circuit toward the north;
\ and even by this course our journey was attend-
\ ed with considerable difiiculties from the low,
i marshy ground and dece tive sloughs. ‘ That
night we encamped about orty miles from our
late camp; and the next morning we crossed
the head of the Purgato and wound around
toward the south-east. A irt noon our guide
announced that we had reached the outskirts of
the deer—range and so we halted and again went

into camp on the open prairie, with the rather

i startling assurance that we were now between

‘ the Hell and Purgatory.

i We Were now compelled to use considerable

economy in fuel, as we were a long ways from

i timber, but with a meager supply in our wagon.

‘ Provender for our animals was also scarce, but

i we overcame want by picketing our horses out

where they could crop the dry prairie grass,

which, even after the heaviest autumnal frosts,
retains some nutriment.

After we had partaken of alate dinner, we all
shouldered our guns and set 01! on the hunt of
deer, going in pairs. Jim and I made our way
eastward until we reached the margin of the
other slough, when we stopped to contemplate
the scene and review our past record.

The marsh, or slough was over a mile wide,
and overgrown with a dense body of black reeds.
The water in it was deep and dark, and full of
croakin frogs. A slight wind was blowing from
the sont , and creeping among the dense reeds
with a pent-up roar. . _

Being soon satisfied with our deliberation over
the swamp, we turned our faces south and con-
tinued on. We had gone but a short way, when
to our joyful surprise We discovered .four deer
coming across from the Purgatory directly to-
ward us, having doubtless been routed by Bob
and George.

We dropped ourselves in the and looked
to our guns, which were heavi y charged with
buck-shot. The wind being across their course,
we had no fears of the animals detecting our
presence, and when they were withinfort paces
of us we rose to our feet. They turned bru t-
] aside at sight of us, when each one poured a

ouble charge into his deer.

One of the animals fell dead in its tracks—the
, other made a few d rate leaps forward reel-
, ed and fell. Jim has ned forward with wn
L knife to cut their throats. He thus served one
f of them, and was approaching the second-7a
large buck—when the animal staggered to its
feet and made a hinge at him stri ng with its
boots with all the vicious desperation of its

war. Jiin sprung back and eluded the full
fires of the b ow, although the sharp hoot of

the enraged beast split the front of his'hunti'ng-
shirt as neatly as though it had been done with

I the point of a knife. " '

I’ Having already inserted cartridges in my
gun, I raised the weapon and putvan end to the
wounded buck’s life; and not until the stru gle
was over with did my companion realize ow
near he had been to death. Had he been an

I inch closer to the deer, he would have been an.

1 emboweled. "

 

 

 

 

‘1

Adrift on the Prairie and Amateur Hunters. ‘1‘?

 

Returning hastily to camp we sent Uncle
Lige down with his cart to bring in our game,
and until bedtime that night we were occupied
in dressing and packing our venison.

We sought our res ective places of repose
about ten o’clock. hen we retired, the air
was dry and rather sharp. A strong wind was
sweeping up from the south and roaring through
the reeds on either side of us like the rush of a
distant storm.

_Uncle Lige stood guard; we could not induce
him to give way to any of us.

“ I don’t like these dry winds,” he said; “they
’re dangerous here on this open peraro. “No,
no boys; I’ll keep watch to-night.”

Wondering what he could be so afraid of, we
went to sleep]; and I rather thought that Uncle
Lige must ave fallen into a doze also, for
along in the night we were aroused by a
startled cry—a cry like that of one started sud-
deiil fronfigiig sleep with terror:

r in eaveu, he s! Git out uickl
the Hell and Purgatory’s ogre from cedter to
conference, and thar’s no escape for us I”

 

CHAPTER X.

A GRAND SPECTAOLP—OU'B RETURN TO SWAN
m.

ONE can but faintly imagine our feelings
when started from a sweet pleasant slumberby
Uncle Li e’s excited wor s informin us that
we were oomed toa fearful death. e nick-
] arose, and, dressing ourselves hurrie out-
side, where a sight that paralde us with her-
ror met our gaze. The prairie was on flrel
.Around us on all sides was a wall of red, glar-
ing flames. The slough to our right and the
slough to our left, and the plain before and be-
hind us, were one seething mass of roaring, hiss~
ing fire, the closest well being scarcely over a
mi e from us.

We knew the minute we saw the situation
that Uncle Lige had been sleeping on his post,
else he would have discovered the fire ere our
lives were endangered. He was afraid of prai-
rie fire, and it was to guard against this danger
that made him so cannons to keep watch; and
get he had let the seductive goddess Sleep woo

im from his vi ' s while his worst fears were
being realized. ' he frankly admitted with—
out fear.

“But how come the lain and swamps on
fire?” we questioned, feehng not a little mysti-
fied that the fire should be all around us, m-
stead of being upon one side.

“ It’s been them infernal Ingins, Iexpect; and
they’ve fixed it all around in hopes of gittin’
the game inside already roasted. It’s one of
their or’uery tricks to kill game by fire—burn
it to death. They’re too lazy to hunt and shoot
it. But, boys we must try to save our lives."

“What can we do?” was the question that
passed from lip to lip. There was such a. tas-
cinating horrorin the awful scene that we could
not turn our eyes from it. A continuous roar
that seemed to tremble through the night like
the jarring sound of distant thunder smote our
ears. The flames, feeding upon the tall, dry
reeds in the swamps. shot heavenward like

 

monstrous serpent tongues, licking and lapping
at the clouds. The blue sk and its starry hosts
were blotted from view dy the dense black
smoke. Aidoom of awful arkness hung over
us—a. wall of livin flame surrounded us, light
ing up the scene With a. white garish light that
rendered our faces wan' and ghastly. I Jim’s
black mustache and imperial stood out in bold
relief against a full, round face of snowy white-
ness. Bob’s brown beard and bronzed face
looked hoary and wild, while George’s black
ey‘es looked from a visage that wore a death-
li e pallor. It was the first prairie fire the lat-
ter had ever seen, and yet he betrayed no more
wonder and fear than the rest of us. There was
a horrible fascination about it that none could
resist, and we stood mute and silent as graven
images—transfixed by momentar fear. Our
horses pricked up their ears an snorted un-
easily. Uncle Lige’s cattle bellowed with at-
fright as they g ared, with glasay eyes and
white, ghostly horns, around them. And hen
cowering under the wagon, lent an additions
Eerrclr to the scene by a. mourntul, quavering
ow .

“ Boys! Boys I” called Uncle Lige, “ come,
come. we must get to work!”
~ His words broke the spell which bound us,
and we at once realized that if we would save
ourselves we must be doin somethin ; for the
flames, roarin and crac ling as belched
from the men of the Inferno, were fast closing
in around us.

We caught the wild bowl of wolves inside the
circle of fire. With frightened scream birds
started up from their gramy roosts, only to be-
come bewildered and suffocated and fall back
into the flames. To and fro across the arena of
fire we could see a. number of graceful animal
forms gliding with the speed of the wind. They
were deer, but we had no desire to molest them
110W. Our personal safety was the first consid-
oration.

As a sailor knows how to contend with the
dangers of the sea, so does a plainsman the dan-
gers of the prairie. Perils that seem unavmd-
able to those unaccustomed to the ocean or plain
are met and easily overcome by these tworeck-
less and fearless characters. »

With his usual composure, Uncle Lige turned
to us and said: ,

“ Boys, if ou don’t want to roast alive, help
me start a ‘ ack-fire.’ ”

We waited for no further orders. We fol-

‘lowed his example, and nlling a double-hand

ml of dry grass, touch a. lighted match to it,
and then assisted in firingxthe grass in a circle
around the wagon, and a. at ten rods from it.
Of course, a double line of fire was the result—-
one moving in toward the wagon, the other out-
ward, leavm a burned s ace between. How-
ever, beiore t e inner circ a had ot under head-
way, _we took bunches of grass, ipped them in
a pail of water brought in before night, and
then whi ped out the fire, and our danger was
over. eanwhile, the outer circle that we had
started was rapidly gathering force and sweep‘
ing on to meet the mighty wall of flame rolling
in toward us. V .

When assured that all dangers were passed,
our fears assumed an expression of admiration.

 

18’

'
Adrift on the Prairie and Amateur Hunters.

 

r

and we stood watching the seetmn , roaring
, tide until the plain had been swept c can of its
brown, fleecy coat. Owing to the inner circle of
_ fire, we were unable to see what became of the
'1 animals that the first circle had surrounded.
. We were satisfied, howevar, that they perished

in the flames. -

In half a minuis) after the two fires metathe
went out, and an impenetrable gloom is l

v around us. Nothing but a black, ruined waste
bun upon the trail of the fiery element. The
me e still obscured the sky. 'The nauseating,
pungent odor of the burned grass and the flying
ashes filled the air.

We lit our lantern and sat down within its
light. We could not help talking of the awful
fire. Uncle Lige remained anion is strange
smile playing n his face. 9 all noted his

= indiflerence an spoke of it aside; and as it con-
tinued, ave. e mistrust rose in our minds. This
was strengt ened after taking into considera-
tion the facts of his anxiety to stand guard, the
near approach of the fire before we were
Iroueed, and his unusual sang froid in the face
otrwhat he had first tanned imminent danger;

 ' and we were finsll led to suspect him of hav-
;‘ .. - ing fired the'plain 'mself for the sake of a little
as

y glad when the day dawned u n us;
although its light revealed a black, esolate
waste of prairie that stripped the landscape of
its romantic beauty. The Hell and Purgatory
were sham of their wilderness of reeds. Their
«rater-a were discolored with black ashes, and
studded with the black, burned stumps of the

_ » 2 Deer hunting was at an end here now, and so
v harnesfingi up we began retracing our. footste
_ toward Swan ks. When some twenty mi es
‘ from it, we crossed the trail of the fire, and
. once more entered the brown, sy plain.
. Here we felt more at ease, and t at s irit of
desolation that pervaded our breasts w e upon
' the burned district, was entirely banished.
. We had no hopes, however. of sighting game
. . short of the lake, and were thinking nothing on
' that subject, when we were suddenly brought
to a halt by command of Uncle Lige, who, in a
4 lack, excited tone, directed our attehtiou to
3 meat of a bold eminence on the plain a mile
or two west of us.

  
   
  
  
  
  
  

CHAPTER XI.

. ,Jm’s near wrm a wousnan “sash-3m.”

Tan sun was nearly down, and his red beams
. shot athwart the sky were mellowed down to a
crimson tint. Objects seemed magnified two-

sp$dent ii ht of the autumnal eve.
 0 look awav toward the hill indicated by
. wgflde, and beheld a number of objects upon
, in! ming up against the clear and distinct.
In form thgiy resembled b s, but they were of
, Inch gifisn csize that we were inclined to dis-
"créditt eeyidence of our own e es. They ap-
edtobe allot ten feet in h, ht:,thelr legs
1 ' ' long, as were their necks, w ich appeared
~ to be craned in the attitude of intense listenin .
_‘ "Wec'ould think of no American bird otmc

Wyn rv.’

nestles“
We slePt but little more that night, and were ,
extre

 

fold. ahd the distance brought nearer by the re- ‘

enormous size and while we stood reviewln our
limited knowledge of ornithology, Uncle 'ge
came to our relief with the exclamation:

“Boys, them are “sand-hills;” and I tell a
what, they are royal old swam rs. I won a
give more fur one of ’em than would for a
deer, and I’d like monstrous well to see you la-
minate one or two of them. But go easy, boys,
for they’re the shyest critters that wears feath-
ers

We resolved to make an attempt tosecure one
or more of the gigantic birds, and leaving our
conveyance in care of Uncle Lige, we set off
across the plain. When within a mile of the
birds we separated and bya. circuitous route
surrounded the hill upon which they were
perched. Each one’s sition being known to
the others, we approac ed the hill accordingly,
while Uncle Lige drove slowly on that the at-
tention of the birds might be attracted by the
moving vehicles.

The grass on the prairie was nearly waist.

deep, and by crouching low it covered our ap- ‘-

proach. We moved rapidly, for each one was
eager to get the first shot. was creeping along
on the north side of the hill. and had marked a
get ahead of me from which I resolved to try a.

0t soon as it was reached. Before I had gained
the desired point, however, I heard the report of
a gun to my left: and glancing forward I saw
one of the giant birds on the hill staggering
against the sky in vain endeavors to rise aloft
with its com alone, which, with a terrified
noise that mi 't have been heard for miles, rose
in the air an winged their way westward in
wild confusion.

I straightened up and looked after the birds
regretfu . To my surprise I saw a'cloud of
smoke {a up from the grass almost directly
under he cranes, and then the boom of a gun
smote my ears. At the same instant I saw one
of the Win ed giants reel upon the air then dart
suddenly ownward to the earth. we of my
com nions had been successful— killing
thgI ,iand Jim this] seofid cIrane. Bob d

urry ng across e n joined an
George on the hill wherg the dead bird lay. It
was a monster in size, being taller than any one
of our party, and possessed of wings stronger
than a man’s arm, and measuring seven feet and
OVer from tip to tip.

While we stood re ding itwith wonder and
curiosity, a yell on t e plain west of us drew our
attention in that direction, when, to our _
and horror, we beheld our friend Kemply en-
gtfid in a terrific fight with a wounded crane.

' e had been a rised of the power and
vicious character 0 hose birds, and stones be-
came uneasy for our friend's sstet . We could
see that the crane‘s left, wing was ken, but it
was using the other with fearful rapidity. The
bird was the ofi’ensive pang and ap mod to be

ving Jim all he could do elude t strokes of

ts werful wing and the thrust of its beak.
he been more careful, our friend might
hare escaped this danger; but suppos g the
crane dead when it tell, be rushed upon it with
an empty gun.

Jim found use for all his skill and science as a

boxer and at fencing, and the way he whirled

his aim about his head to Ward oi! the blows of ,

surprise.

 

i
a

x
i
l
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l
l

5::  

cry. a.“ .

.u‘. n.” we”... —-«:,..‘..me,, , mrl

V3,}. 

 

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f
l.
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:.:<_»m.<_._,.,,-_. ' ._ 

 

Adrift on the Prairie and Amateur Hunters. 1’

 

the bird's wing, would have done credit to Erin’s
kin" of the shillalah. We could not laugh, not-
wit standing our inclinations, for we knew our
friend was in no little danger.

The battle continued for some moments, when
Jim finally] came to the conclusion that discre-
tion was t 6 better part of valor, and turned to
run. The crane made a drive at him with its

beak, but, fortunately, the force of the blow was '
broken by his leather pistol-belt, to which the ,

bird still clung with the desperation of a savage

terrier. Jim braced himself and pulled for-3

ward, while the crane pulled back; but the
powerful strength and weight of the hunter was
too mach for the vicious “ sand—hill," and it was
dragged along some distance. But tirin of this
mode of retreat, Jim drew his knife, an reach-
ing back, almost severed the bird‘s neck with
one sweep of the keen blade.

A shout of triumph peeled from the Victor’s
ii 5; and when he saw that we were watching
h m from the bill, be tossed his cap in the air
and renewed his penis of triumph. Then he
turned and took a good look at his prize that lay
struggling in its last throes of death.

As soon as it had ex ired, he took it by the
legs, drew them up over is shoulders, and carry-
ing and dragging the bird together, started to-
ward the wagon. We joined him at the foot of
the bill, and found him sweating and blowing
under his load. His crane was by ,far the
largest of the two, its head and neck dragging
on the ground at his heels.

We reached our wagon, and a few minutes
later, went into camp on the banks of alittle
stream.

Jim presented his crane to Uncle nge, who
vowed his intention of reserving the gigantic
fellow for the museum 0 a friend in Chicago, as
Ee—Uncle Lige—made some pretensions to taxi-

ermy.

We thought, at the time, that one of those
stately guardians of the bills would be just the
bird to take up his silent watch over the desk
of the JOURNAL’s editor, and regretted our ina-
bility to preserve it for that purpose, even with
the help of Uncle Lige.

The night passed pleasantly, though the
wolves kept up an incessant howling in the dis-
tance, troubhn the sleep of Jim’s dog, Ben,
chained under t e wagon.

Early the next morning we were on the move,
and by noon that day we reached our old camp-
ing-ground, near Swan Lake, and in the imme-
diate vicinity of the Indian encampment.

 

CHAPTER XII.
1:0an BOUND—A now most m woons
-A 30mm aura—sous an.st

W2 found that the Indians still maintained
their old ition on the margin of the rove,
and short y after our return, a number them
called at our camp and smoked and chatted for
quite a while. ' . '

We spent the remainder of the day on the
lake, With remarkably good success; but in or-
der to kee the Indians from stealing our ame
when it fe 1 among the reeds, we were ob iged
to hire them to keep away and let us have the

: whole water. A nickel to each brave, how-

, fiver, was sufficient for the purpose and the

gallant red-men retired at once to theirwlg-

wams. - ,
That night was unusually calm and pleasant.

The atmosph

ere was clear and vibrant,
the voices of nature were heard afar of.

We built up a. roaring fire and sat down
around it, then called upon Uncle Lige to m.
gale us with one or two of his abundant stock
of cam fire yarns. The old fellow at once is .
himsel into a tinfi of ease, and began. 43 ,
listened with reath ess interest, and when be
t was in the middle of his story, we were and-
! denly startled his strange sound that, came , ..

quiveringathroug the night. ‘
l Uncle 'ge ceased talking, and rising to his
, feet, listened intently for several moments, ‘bnt
i heard nothing. He sat down a , and'wu
about to resume his story, when t 0 same sound
—a moan of distress—smote every ear. v

In an instant every man was upon his feet.
All recognized the sound as similar to that VD
had heard four nights previous when encam .
on the same spot; and we began oi! "
supposition as to what it might possibly be.
Al but Uncle Lige attributed it to some. ani- ‘
me]. He failed to concur in our opinion, say-

in : r
{5‘ It sounds too humanish—like .for any ani‘
mal. for all it may be. Just keep still and let
me hear it once more, and then mobby I  r
decide thefiuestion beyond a doubt." . - ,
We rem ned quiet. Full half an hour had  .
passed when again the sound came from the

wood. ~
"the oldmn’n "

  
 
 
 
  
 
    
  
  
     
    
 
 
 
 
  

s
U !
ys, thats a human moan, ,

said, the moment he heard it: " somebody’s in
distress sure as that’s a heaven.”

“ Then the sufferer has been so for four or
five days,” I said. i ‘2

“We must i ulre intoi ” laid 
“ I can’t rest till know wha it means." a;

The lantern was lit, and Uncle Liza , ’ ' ,,
the way into the woods, was followed hy‘Jim. *i
and myself. The other two remained at 
to keep watch over it. .1 ‘

We moved out some distance into the than
her, then stopped to listen. We could hear the
buzz and drone of insect wings and the "a
ing of the leafless branches, but high above" ',
suddenly came that awful moon of a try-'-
falling upon our ears like the kneilo den
And by its depth of tone we knew it wasnot far

awa . . V
 shuddered with unknown hon-or as we .
moved slowly on, our distended eyes sech '
the loom before us. The dry leaves under our;
care lfootateps sounded dead and ominous, ,
and the tree-trunks with their wide—reaching
limbs looked like ghostly giant: issuing from 
darkness to noise us. ' - ' ’ ‘

glm&L§e ifiegigflthef lanmrabovoi‘gs h , :
an s p s y orw .e .
him, his whgle attitude and visage
thepictnreof wonder. _ , , ' ' _:

Suddenl our eyes beheld an‘ object  =
hamthe' arkneas that caused us to’start pith
ashndder and hold our breath with s : u: "
But as we kept on, the object final ' ‘

1y :3 :.
itself into the form an Indian who w -, ' ‘
mnW‘trwtwithomhuhwWL

J C

  
 

 

 

 

 

    

V,
. /

is;

1.5

. ,.

 

Vancetohisfamilp Asweha

' smut—that he was given more, to son

to Adi-m on the Prairie

With an air of relief we np reached the In-
dian, who regarded as with a ook or indifferent
curiosity; and Uncle ng0 was about to address
him, when a deep and awful moan, that causm
us torecoii with an involuntar cry of alarm,

 

' {sued from the log near his rig to

Uncle Lige lowered the lantern and its rays
revealed a sight that almost chilled our blood.
A second In ian was lying full length upon
the log, his arms bent hue and pimoned, as
we a sohis legs and body. We could see that
his nds were cuttin into the flesh, that was
bloody and swollen. i's face wore a deathly
pallor and was contorted by all the physical
agony that a human could suifer. The muscles
were contracted and even swollen. The e es
were bulging from their sockets. The ips
wore dryaan drawn and contracted, as if in a
horrible ugh. The mouth was open, the teeth

uning, and the tongue, dry and black pro-

ding from the month. Each breath was ac-
companied bya hollow rattling in the threat
that told of the resence of death.

“Whatin ‘3 name does it mean?” asked

in.
“Come away from the horrible sight," said
Uncle Lige, with a shudder, as a moan that
loomed unearthly escaped the dying wretch's

pWe turned and hurried awry, and when about
twenty rods from the scene, ncle Lige stopped
lhort, and said:

“ Boys, that Ingln d in’. there was that r,’

drunken devil that k ed his wife t’other n ht;
and he is now suflerin’ the unity. 'l‘hat ls the
Musqnnkie mode of inflictin capitalipunishment.
’The bind the criminal to a log an let him die
I) nllowin' him no food, no water, nor
 The keep a ard constantly over him
to see that these he ish torturesfare inflicted.
0h, such a death—such a death as it must bel

ow we know it war this poor wretch’s mean
that we heard four nights ago. He has been
dyin ever since.”

" ’t we 01prevent this inhuman. fiendish
murder!" ask Jim, fairly excited with indig-

nation. _
“Not now; the victim is about gone.‘ You

’ . could hear the death rattle in his throat. and I

'daremsany we will never hear that horrible moan

We spoke the truth—we never heard that
awful sound again, save in fancy, as the night
deepened around us. ,’
, Before retiring that night,‘Uncle Lige in-
formed us that he would be compelled to start
on the marrow, as his presence would be
required there on an occasion of rest impor-
had about
enough of swan La and our dusky neighbors,
we concluded to accompany him, and by sun-
We the next morning we were on our way.
. e reached Wall Lake a little after noon, and
Ignin went into camp upon its shores. ‘
' Our friend Kemply now seemed more like his

' pm“, self, .for since we had left for the

in
’ at
the  companionship of his own thoughts

When inks we noticed that he had ch

f mus such applies?» tribes.

/

/

and Amateur Hunters.

_.. « ... .V.

i We knew the cause. of course. for most or m:

had passed through the longing and uncertain
miseries of a sudden infatuation with a pret
girl. We knew, or at least imagined we di ,
how Jim suffered, for in such cases there isa
vague anxiety, a fear of unreciprocal love, and
a thousand and one little yearnings to worry
and purple): the mind and heart.

Before leaving us at the lake for his cabin,
Uncle Lige turned to us and said:

“Boys, we‘ve had a splendid time together
the past week, and I hate that it’s come to an
end. I kind 0’ like you young chaps; and now
I’ll tell yo: I want ye to come up tothe cabin
to-night and take 511 per with us. We’re oin'
to have abit of a time there to—night. on’t
tail to come now, will ye?"

We promised we would not. and he took his
departure. Jim seemed delighted over the
idea of spending the evening within the light
of Ruby’s eyes and the music of her voice. He
spent the afternoon in preparing for the meet-
ing. He threw oi! his hunting garb, and ar-
rayed himself in a citizen’s suit of y, that
he had brought along to be used n case of
emergency, put on a paper collar, and blacked
his boots with wet gunpowder.

Shortly after dark we re ired to the cabin.
We were received by Unc e Lige who intro-
duced us to a number of his nei hbors, both
old and young, who had ammbl there a few
minutes prewous, to take t in what the
old man had termed “ a,bit atime,” whatever
that implied.

Conspicuous amo the assembly was Squire
Bri gs. a little old to ow with a. thin expres-
sion ess face, who kept the verdant lads and
lassies titterin and laughing by a series of
stale jokes an pointless witticisms, comic ges-
tures and antic performances out of place, we
ghought, in the venerable dispenser of legal
ust ce.

Jim took a position at one side of the room,
and I noticed that he searched eve face
sum the girls, for the ob ect of his a ection.
Bnta k of disc pointme t followod—Rnby
was nowhere to seen, and as the minutes
were away and she came not, he became as un-
easy and restless as a fish out of water. r

At length uire Briggs whispered something
to a youn gir near him—she whispered some-
thing to nclofLige andlhis wife, who sat in one
corner sober as judges.$and they answerin with
anod of assent, the girl flew away in the
kitchen. .

At this juncture we noticed a commotion
among the youngsters. They put their heads
together and spoke in whispers, ever and
talnon glancing furtively toward the kitchen

car.

In a few moments the girl returned, followed
by Ruby, who was leaning on thou-m of a tall,
bashful-looking youth of about two-and-twent
-yea.rs. He was dressed in a suit of black . -
cloth, white buckskin gloves. and a new pair of

 

1 cowhide boots. Baby was dressed very mod-
estly, and looked like a little fairy as she name
oh y and blushing into the room.

of the room, when Squire Briggs arose. and re-

 

mova the Macao-quid from his mouth.“

\ he girl conducted the oouplstothe center .

'  r; g.

 . _

 

_¢h‘u,‘;~__ r

i
t

 

, only zirl he had ever loved.

clearing his throat with athunderous a-hem,
said, with true Western disregard of elegance
and formality:

“ Ladies and gentlemen, if there be any of you ,
here who have any reasons why this 'ere cou )le E
shall not be fined in the bonds of wedlock, at ;
’em speak up, if not, let ’em forever hold their
tongues.”

It was plain enough to us now, that we .had ,
been invited tothe wedding of Uncle Lige‘s l
daughter Ruby, and our eyes naturally turned ‘
townrd poor Jim. His face was white asasheet, i
his eyes downcast and his hand trembling With l
inward emotions~the shock that had fallen so ;
suddenly upon his heart. Our sympathy went
out to im—we pitied him from our inmost 1
heart, but all this afforded him no consola- '
tion—it would not restore to him his lost ‘
Ruby.

Squire Briggs cut the ceremon short and
pronounced the couple husband an wife. Then
the silence burst into a perfect uproar of con-
gratulations given in that free, outspoken, and
cordial manner so peculiar to the rude, yet
kind-hearted 0 le of the prairies. Out of re-
spect to U11 6 Eige, we joined in the “happy
occasion” with hearty good cheer. We were
surprised to see our friend Jim change from
grave to gay in a very few minutes; and no
one would ever have known that he had loved
and lost, all inside of a week. '

I knew, however, that he was one of those
persons who could reconcile themselves to any
circumstance or fate, and saw how lightly he
felt his loss when he edged around tomy side
and, in a whisper, “vowed the grapes were
sour. .

A sumptuous supper of roasted fowl. fish
and venison, and such other delicacies as the
country afforded, was served, after which the.
thrum of a violin set young and old eyes to
sparklin and feet to flying in the giddy mazes
of an ol Virginia Reel.

Jim took an active part in the dancmg, and
soon got on terms of easy famfliarity with all the
buxom lassiee, enjoyirgfi himself as though he

a

 

 

'Adrilt on the Prairie and Amateur Hunters. 1 81

l handed me a letter with the re nest in m it

 

was not celebrating wedding eve of the

O

z
A
x

I .

The dance broke up about midnight. The

guests departed for home, and we for our ~ ,2

mp.

The next momin we awoke to find it rain- ,
ing'. The glories 0 our Indian summer had» mi
vanished as had Jim’s dreams of love, and our’ ' :
sport for the season was done.

.After a short consultation we concluded to
bid adieu to the lakes and prairies of the North-
west, and turn our facessouthwurd: and acting
upon this conclusion we were soon ready for
de nrture. ‘ ' '

nole Lige mine down to bid us good-h , -
and as we mounted our vehicle to start 9

 
 
   
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
   
   
 
 
  
  
  
  
    
 
 
  
  
  
   
  

at leisure. We bid him good— and roled
away. When fairly on the need opened the
letter and read: '
“—-. iovu, Oct. 10, 1M.
“ Uxeu has: ,_
“Dun Sim—Perhaps you haw often thought- L‘
had forgotten you entirely, but not so. I could
never forget the good times we had, under your
guidance, two years ago among the Northern later
0 O O O O O U I ».

“ the'wa , four young friends of mine ltart for ’ '
Wall keen the North soon. Ihave recommend: '
ed you to them, and the will doubtless call on you
for your services as gude. You can rely
them. and now all I have torequest of you. is‘m
you put them through the severest course of m
the limited resources of your country will afford,

and oblige, u You”. very "my. w
“w. w. 1—." _ '

“Exactly” said Jimwhen '_I had concluded
reading: ‘ that night on the 1m, that 'Im '
roun'l’ by irie fire and e tewother'blpodi
0001ng inc dents, I suppose, are among the .'
resonrcesofthe . 1mm have'
Peon, all that an adventurousheart wlfi'

or. \
And we all concurred in his decision-f '«
sure that Uncle We had fullfllled the requ '-
gihis‘friend, W. . 1., tothentmoetoxtentot
power. , s R

.r

 

l

V ' Grain-1e: or, the West.

 

. 22 Adrift on the mm

and Amateur Hunters.

 

Amateur Hunters,
ON THE BUFFALO RANGE.

BY OLL COOMES.

. , CHAPTER I.
run sroar or ran GREAT rawnnn HASSAGRE.

OUR Fart composed of eight rsons was
bound or t éland of the buflalo End the, wild

After man rigs of weary travel along the
burning sun the Republican river, we
halted at the mouth of Massacre Canyon, and
went into camp. There was green grass in
abundance for our horses in the valley, and a
little purling stream hard by afforded water for
man and beast. Ere the shadows of night had
fallen we had partaken of a hearty supper,
picketed our horses out to grase, and were ready
‘ or the promised story of the historic canyon,

from Captain Baker.

By the way, the (3an was our guide. He.

was an old hunter—perfect] familiar with the
u r great range—noted not y as a hunter of
; game, but of men, also—oi the outlaws, rob-

" and desperadoes who infest the hills and

a Government
atective and Deputy U. S. Marshal he had

become the terror of the banditti of that section
of the country, especially so, since the capture
0! the notorious Doc Middleton, for it was under
 Baker's lead that that Duval‘ oi the American
' Elaine came to grief and was landed in State’s
' " for life. The cagtain-was a- jolly, good-
hmried fellow, and tol astory in an on ‘nal

vein of humor that had to be heard to be y'

. , appreciated; and as he had met with an adven.
tare. at the rent Indian massacre that made
the canyon amdus, we listened to the story of
e that event. r

L- “ .‘ yearsa o,” hebegan, “therawnee
Ind seven hu‘n red all‘told—memweemin
' and c dren—come down from the north and

’eamped in the west fork 0’ this canyun, some
‘ five miles from here. They come to hunt
. buflalo—to la in their winter supp] of meat.
. They intend to stays month or so, or it takes
some time to jerk meat enough to feed

the Pawnees cast anchor there me and a young

hunter; named Ben Zant, war in the same deese .

'trict huntin’ bisons, too, and as soon as Ben
beam the Pawnees were camped in the canyon
, nothin’ ’d do him but we must visit ’em.

kicked back, but Ben pulled ior’d. I jist con-
“ cluded' I weren’t done with these ’ere raven
‘ .looks, but Ben assured me he’d a passport to the
Pawnee cam and that he’d runme in on his
frank. I ax him wharfore he’d come by sich

A 7r'privileges, and he showed me a little charm

“ made of bone with some figures on it. He said

the Pawnee chief had given it to him by re nest
o his-the chiefs—daughter, Prairie _
Then it all became clear to me: Ben war in love
 with that Pawnee gal and I see’d all creation
-_eouldn’th01dhim back-ornament:

sevan ,
‘ hundred Inglns six months. About the time :

 

and see his red ducksy, and I’d wait for him
over at the head of another canyun.

“80, away he went, and I went back to wait
for his comin’. Night settled own over the

rairie. The sky was clear and t e stars shone

right. The moon would not rise till nighly
mornin’. From the Ingin cam came the son
of warriors, and the laugh 0 ppooses, an
the bark of dogs, while up along 9 e e 0! the
can n, some four million coyotes ha assem-
ble , and set 11 a yowlin’ that knocked the
rocks oi! 0' Pan amonium. This continued till
I’ll sw’ar the ‘skirr’ o’ a rattlesnake that war
tryin’ to share the folds of my blanket with me,
war a ho] relief to m ears. ‘

“ They ept it u ti 1 after midnight, then all
became quiet; stil I cottd not rest. I had a
presentiment of danger. It war in the air; but

he night ulled slowly along. It war jist
growin' ali tle light in the east whar the lazy
old moon war pokin' up, when I heard a faint
sound like soft-treading feet. I listened and

tonnd the sound was up above me on the prairie. <

I crept up a ket o’ the canyun and pee
over and by t 0 great American Tallyhoopersl
I beheld a thousand shadowy forms stealin’

talon toward the Pawnee campl I waited and

we ed. The moon came up, and before the
last 0’ that band 0’ shadows had passed I recog
nized them as Sioux warriors in war- nt. .
“In an instant the truth flashed through my
brain: them red devils war goin’ down to
butcher the Pawnees, their old hated enemy.
My first thoughts war 0’ Ben Zant, and whirlin’
I darted down the can on like an antelope
determined to get in end 0’ the Sioux an
warn the Pawnees 0’ their danger and thereby
save Ben. As I had to keep the s adows o’ the
canyun I had a long ways to travel and I war
almost to the Pawnee camp when l beam the
Pawnee sentinels vin’ cries of danger. I
stoppled to listen. ust then it seemed to me as
tho ell had let loose all her fiends armed with
breech-loadin’ guns. A yell burst from the
throats of a thousand bloodthirsty Sioux, and a
broad sheet of sulphurious flame shot down from
the top of the canyun a milein length. The
Pawnees were su rised, but the rallied
bravely in deiense 0 their women an children,
and soon sheets of flame shot upward to meet
those poured down upon them. The smoke of
battle rose quickly and hovered just above the
gorie. The moon shinin‘ upon this cloud of
sum e—mto the gorge upon the distracted
Pawnee camp and the fiendish forms on the
bluffs, presented one 0’ the awfullest scenes I

-‘ ever azed upon.

" e whole Pawnee camp was soon sur-
rounded, and, inst thing I knew, I war inside 0’
the ring 0’ death. What Ben war I knew not.
I craw ed up the side 0’ the canyun and inserted
myself. in a. narrow rift or wash-out where I
could watch the battle. I hadn’t been there
long when some warriors passing above me
started an avalanche of dirt down over me,
co'mgletely ’buryin’ me under it; but a few sci-
enti o movemen sich as a man’ll make when

he feels he’s smo erin’ to death, brought air,

and light to me. Nothin’, hoWever, but my
lace war uncovered. and a! a number 0’ Sioux

 

r  7-rsv:_f {up :r‘WT « -.
. . 7 V i .

 

   
 

 

'Adrift on the Prairie and. Amateur Hunters. 23

war nigh me I concluded it Would be to my in- i be so, and it may not—I don't believe in any

trust to kee under kivcr, and so I kept.

“The bat le war still wagin’, and from the
way the Sioux war advancin’ up the canyun I
felt certain it war goin’ hard with the Pawnees,
and, unless Ben had got out 0' there afore the
battle begun, he’d have a tough time of it if
caught in the Pawnee camp.

“ It wasn’t long till daylight come, and when
the sun rose it shone upon the most horrible
spectacle I ever beheld. Half of the Pawnces
were la in’ dead in the canyun—men, women
and chi dren lay everywhere. The remaining
Pawnee warriors were still fighting brave)

against odds. Women and children were hm - i

died together here and there in the pockets of
the canyun. kept a look—out for Ben, and
presently I saw an Indian irl, upon whose
arms and in whose hair brig t Jewels flashed,
come runnin’ from the center of the can on
withn gourd cup in her hand. It war filed
with water, for in her hurry I saw some 0’ the
liquid slop out.
charmed life, for a dozen bullets struck the
earth around her. To me she ap ared a lovely
Ingin gal, and I knew at once s 0 war Prairie
Rose, the sunflower 0’ Ben Zant’s affection.
She ran across the grass plateau and entered
a pocket in the hillside w ere, under a shelvin’
rock I saw the form of a person lyin’. It re-
quired no second glance to tell me thatperson
was my young friend, Zant, and my first im-
gilse was to bulge out 0’ my hidin’-p1ace and go

his assistance, for I knew be war wounded;
but before Icould act a frightful yell rose on
the air, and then from the summit of the bluffs
a thousand triumphant Sioux came like an
avalanche down into the canyun.

“I knew that all was over—that the Sioux
had won. I saw Ben Zant crawl out from un-
der the ledge and gaze up the valley. A shat-
tered arm him at his side. His face was
covered with b cod—his eyes were wild and
glarin’. By his side stood his dusky sweetheart,
a hatchet in one hand, the gourd of water in
the other—a. brave little heroine, read to deal
death to the fee with the one, and a minister
the coolin’ draught to the lips of her wounded
lover with the other. I tell ye, boys, it war a
gene far the pencil o’ the artist-for the pen 0’

8
“gift changes came thick and fast there, in
that valley of death. It required but a few
brief moments for the revangeful Sioux to dash
out the brains of the Pawnee women and chil-
dren—ay, to butcher every Pawnee in sight.
Then they began to search for those hidden
away in the pockets of the canyons. Their
eyes fell upon Ben and Prairie Rose, and they
started toward them. A wild, distressed cry
burst from the girl’s lips; she turned—raised
aloft her gleamin’ hatchet and buried it to the
heft in the brain of Ben Zant: then, with a
wild, hearttrending scream she fled down the
canyun ursuod by a dozpn great, fiendish
Sioux—a frantic for the scalp of the or girl.
I never saw the poor thing again, an there is
no question in my mind but that she met her
fate there, with her friends. Some say that the
s irit form of a young Indian girl hoyers about
t e canyon like a guardian angel; but this may

The gal seemed to bear a ‘

 

kind 0’ spirits ’cept them we take jist atom
breakfast.

“ The hatchet of the princess no doubt saved
Ben Zant from the pain and suflerin‘ of sava
torture. He sunk to the earth, and scarce y
moved after the deadly weapon fell, and when
I saw a Sioux warrior come along and stoop
and tear the seal from the boy’s head, I could
scarcely hold in eager. I never suffered so in
all my life; but I knew that to expOso my
presence would be instant death, and so I kegt

uiet until I was enabled to leave under t o
s adows of night.

“Of all that band of Pawnees not a dozen
escaped alive. The massacre has no equal in
the annals of the West for cold-blooded fiendish-
ness; and, what makes it look worse, the Sioux
were led by a white man named Dashing
Charley—one whom some novelists have ex-
tolled as a dashin’ hero, but whom I regard a
cowardly brute and murderer.

“The Sioux left the bodies of their enemies
to rot and bleachen in the sun where they had
fallen, and to this day the canyun is ghastly

1 with the horrible relics of that massacre. ’

 

CHAPTER II.
A JACK-RABBIT, BUFFALO, AND A CEN'rirnim.

Amn breakfasting in Massacre Canyon, on
broiled antelope, killed by Captain Baker, we
resumed our Journey westward. We left the
north fork of the Republican on our left, and
entered the sand—hills of Colorado. We were
now upon the great ran 0 where antelope, prai-
rie do s and rattlesna es abounded, and our
guide informed us that we were liable to sight
buffalo at any moment.

The day was lovely, the air was warm and so
rarefied in that altitude that objects appeared
twice their natural size, and this, taken in con-
nection with the feverish anxiety of our ama-
teurs, usually magnified blackbirds into Rocky
Mountain eagles. A mistake of this kind was
made b our young friend. Kimmell, who an-
nounce the presence of an antelope on a ridge
nearly half a mile ahead of us. A halt was
made behind a hill, and Kimmell went fortvard
to shoot the antelope. I noticed a smile on the
face of our guide as he watched the young mid:
shipman of the war-shi Tuscarora, creeping on
hands and knees beh nd the hills to a point
within seventy-five yards of the me.

When we s lsaw the hunter, ying flat upon
the earth, level his gun at the antelope, we held
our breath in suspense. There was a puff of
smoke, a clear, ringing report of the rifle then
a burst of laughter from our guide. esaw
the bullet dash up a cloud of dust near the anih
me], still the latter never moved. Kimmell in-
serted another cartrid e in his rifle and fired
again. This time the all struck just behind
the antelope: still it never moved an inch.
third, fourth and fifth shots were fired before
the game moved, then it turned and galloped
swiftl around, almost toward us. As it up-
proac ed, Wood exclaimed:

“ That’s not an antelope l” ‘

“In course it ar’n’t," replied Baker; “I
knowed it wa’n’t at fast: it’s nothin’ but an old
jackass-rabbit. and they be the hardest think!

 

' 24 Adrift on the Prairie

to hit with a rifle I ever see’d. I believe they’Ve
a charmed life, I do, by the American Talla-
hoo ers." .
“ can hit him,” declared at least half of our
‘ force. seeing the comic old “ mule ” had stopped
within seventy-five yards of us, and sat regard-
ing the situation With a daring stupidity that
was provokineg cunning and comics
In is than two minutes eleven shots had
been fired at that jack, and the twelfth would
have followed, had the animal not laid his long
ears back on his neck and floated away so
uickly that he seemed to vanish in the air.
'1 421‘s boys—mind you, I mean the boys—were
.. completely astounded nor did their looks the
t ise their feelin . ferha Baker's side-split-
gigg laughter a dad consi erany to their dis-
comflture, and it was a blessed relief when the
teams moved on, and our spirits had settled
hack into their normal state. ~
We ushed on, and at sunset went into camp
at the and of Rock Creek, at the mouth of a
 " cavern, wherein, as our guide informed us,
, / ; Buflalo Bill and California Joe had made their
" “ head arters for three years in the days ast,
when uflalo swarmed over the range in erds
of thousands, and when the movements of the
wily red—man must be kept under the strict sur-
, veillance of those famous scouts. '
_- Here We expected to find our first buffalo, for
a careful examination of the ground around the
large springs some two miles above camp, re-
vealed " ' ” in abundance of their having
recently been there.
.~ ’ “ The ’11 doubtless be in here to-night,” an-
) noun Baker, “after water, and as the wind
. is right for us we mi ht get our first huflalo,
, '. although shootin’ bu sic in the dark is not a
,- very sure business. I have killed many but!an
«hound these sgings arter night, it is true, but I
ad “a, moon go You see they’ll come
down and drink to-night and then 0 back flf-
teen or twenty miles among the h is. There’s
. where we’ll look for ’em to-morrow, and there’s
where we’ll be sure to find them.”
The old hunter would not allow a fire to be
ted. The horses were sent down the creek
and picketed to grass in the mouth of the can-
iion. For supper we ate the remnants oi’ our
, nor. At an hour earlier than usual Baker
_ .Ife ire'dandthe rest of the party followed his.
" exam is. The camp was soon wrapped in pro—
foun silences .
- , It must have been midnight or thereabouts
‘ when Iawoke. Thenear cry of e. coyote fell
upon my ears and was repeated in difl'erent
prters. ~A few moments later I detected a
t, rumblingsound rain led with the tread
as are a. seats :9  It 
mus m a on, or a n
dreaming of buffalo, but as the sound continued
I to where Baker had lain down for an
' , explanation of the sound. .But the old hunter
waanot there. I peered into the snn'cmndin
_ ‘ darkness and finally discovered the old guides
ham, frowsy head outlineda ainst the uorthem,
f ., starry sky. It was bent in he attitude of lis—
’ , toning. arose and crept silently to
‘, Inhis lefthand he asped the muzzle of his
ride, the buttofwhic stood upon the ground.
"Hts right was“ his ear humanity as a

 

   

/

 

 a. Z _   1‘
>‘r’.’w.'. ;_ , " 3‘

 

and Amateur Hunters.“

 

" What is it, captain?” I asked.

“ Buffalo; by the American eagle,” he replied.
We both spoke in whispers.

‘ ‘ There seems to be quite a herd," I observed.

“ Somethin' less’n‘ a million, but go bring yer
rifle and we’ll see what we can see. Don’t wake
the boys, for. too many cooks sp’ile the broth.”

I returned to the cavern where we had stored
our guns, and securing my rifle returned to the
hunter’s side. I

“Now foller me, boy,” he ordered, “ and re-
aern’ber the slightest noise will alarm them crit-

rs.

-Under the shadows of the environing blufls
we moved cautiously toward the springs. We
had gone some distance when it became neces-
sary for us to crawl upon our hands and knees,
an , dropping upon all-fours, we had crept
along some distance when all of a sudden Baker
sprung backward against me with such force
as to roll me over on my back. A muttered
oath and suppressed chuckle greeted my ears as
I arose but when I heard the sharp “skir-r-r:
ing," of a rattlesnake before us I knew the cause
of the old hunter's sudden retro rude.

“ Con—dim the infernal rat lerl” he fairly
hissed, “it come durn nigh strikin’ me in the
very face: and, bark! the slight noise we made
has put 'em buflalo on the alert. I can’t scarce;
1y hear a thing 0’ them—they’re listening.”

True enough, we could scarcely hear a sound
save the “ skirt " of the rattlesnake, but we re-
mained motionless for near] an hour. In this
time we had the satisfaction of hearing his
snakesbi crawlin softly away, and the buflalo
resume t air tree and tramp n the vicinity of
the springs. Then we continued our advance,
and were in close proximity to the
suddenly a yel t at pierced throng the night
like a scream agony, came trailing up from
the camp.

“ Hillflugins l” Burst from Baker’s‘lips.

The buffalo took alarm. and the next instant
there was a. roaring surge of shaggy forms and
booted feet—a sweeping, mshigg sound, and the
buffalo were gene. A cloud 0 dust dashed up
by their fl‘ying hoofs was swept down into our
faces by t 9 wind. ‘

We rose to our feet. I was bitterly disapé
pointed and inclined to pass some strictures
upon the fellow at camp who had alarmed the
bufgalo, but Baker was cool and calm about it,
as ng:

x 1’11: afeard ,somethin's wrong at MP: that
some other vamint’s stirred the up."

/ We hurried back to camp and found the old
hunter‘s words were only too true. Wood had
woke u? toflnd a. centipede perched upon the
back 0 his band—every one of its forty odd
feet producing a stinginapain. With a yell he
flung it 02 and sprung his feet. The rest of
the were awakened. A light was go-

snd upon examination it was found _ at
a water-blister had risen wherever afoot
fit tge centipede had touched the skin of the

an

 

his side. ,

“ Worse nor a rattlesnake bite,” snarled
l Baker; “a p’inener critter don’t tramp these
1 plains than a cussed centipede."
We could hardl. credit this assertion. but we‘
, I

"'1'.

rings when .

yell was not for nothin’. Perha a skunk or '

thatitwesuottfl'out ."'

 

 

.Lenhnnugji‘ni :r‘ ..

 

 

 

   
  
  
  
 
   
 
 

 

Adrift on the Prairie and Amateur Hunters.

.;_.

of the way. The blisters on our friend's hand

became festered sores, and in a few days the ,

skin and flesh where the wiggle had crawled
began to rot and slough off. ood ex rienoed
great painI but by rcquent interns applica-
tions of spirits of frumenti and an a plication
of aconlte to the wound, he sum-cede in coun-
teracting the animal poison, though it was many
days before the hand was well.

Baker informed us that the buffalo would not
be likely to come back to the springs again
while we were in the vicinity, so we came to
the conclusion that we would spend the morn-
ing hours in hunting antelope, then pull out for
the hunters’ wells in the sand-hills midway be-
tween our present camp and the head—waters of
the Frenchman river.

.—

CHAPTER III.
nonrmo run ANTELOPE.

BY sunrise we were up and rend for an an-
telope hunt. Our guide inl'orine us that the
game for miles around came to the Rock Creek
springs for water, and suggested that we con-
ceal ourselves among the rocks and bluffs ad-
jacentto the springs and await the comin of
the antelope. This 511 stion we decide to
act upon, and even be ore we had left camp
Baker informed us that a herd of twenty or
more antelope were then approaching) from the
west. He had made this discovery, y the aid
of a glass, from the summit of the rocky ro-
montory overlooking the valley and the p nin
around us. The herd was about five miles
away, and we at once prepared for its recep-

on.

We hurried up to the head of the valley and
looked the situation carefully over. Just west
of the sprin was a ridge of land shaped like
the letter with the mint toward us and a
yawning canyon on either side. From the
point of this ridge a narrow strip or backbone
sloped adually down to the water’s brink.
Along t is narrow way was an unteIOpe trail,
and should the antelope approaching come
down onto that point of and or ridge, and we
manage to cut them of! from the mainland
and head them off from the valley, it seemed as
thou h they would be entirely at our mercy un-
less is ey should‘break through our lines or lea
the preci ices on either side. But while this
was possi le it was hardly robable that such
wary game could be caug t in such a trap.
The chances of success were but one in a bun-
dred, nevertheless we resolved to try our luck
in hopes that our attempt might be that one.

Five of us concealed ourselves at the head of
the canyon on the right of the ridge. Wood
and Speelman were stationed behind a rock at
the point of the ridge, while Captain Baker
took a. position on the opposite side of the val-
ley more than a mile away to watch the move-
ments of the antelope, and direct our mova-
ments by preconcerted signals with a red silk
handkerchief tied to his ramrod.

Of course, should the antelope take some
other trail our hopes would be blasted but. we
waited in silence with our eyes upon the little

36

I red flag fluttering in the morning breeze awe
over on the opposite side of the valley. Bu -
l‘ denly we saw it rise then disappear behind the
rock that concealed the hunter 5 'form; then it
rose and disappeared and rose again.

Our hearts gave a rent bound. It was the
signal informing us t at the antelope were go-
ing to pam over the rid . The next si al to
be expected was that nforming us w en to
move, and with our nerves strung to the highest
tension, and eyes riveted upon the flag, we wait-
ed and watched Five minutes had assed when
our ears were greeted by a blow g sound-—
sharp almost as the blast of a trumpet. Full
well we knew what it meant. The antelope
were upon the plateau above and that blowing
was the culiar sound given by the antelope
when he etects danger in the air.

Was it possible, we thought, that with all our
care and recaution our presence had been de.
detected y those cunning shoe 1 For several
minutes they continued their bowinE, then it
finally ceased, and our hearts sun in our
breasts, for we ima ined We heard them fleeing
in alarm; but ju go of our happy surprise
when, the next moment, Baker gave us the sig-
nal to move.

Never did fellows move so quickly as did we
five. Like deer we bounded out from under
that bank and fairly flew up the almost perpen-
dicular side of the canyon- but before we had
reached the plateau above the antelope had dis-
covered our presence, and. like the wind, shot
away down the ridge toward the springs. But
they soon discovered Specimen and Wood who
were guarding the point, and whirling thgi
swept along the edge of the embankment ba
toward us. B this time we had stationed our-
selves across t 0 west end of the ridge, cutting
off their retreat to the mainland, and as the ter-
rified and frantic creatures approached, we
opened a fire upon them with rifles and shot-
guns loaded With buck-shot. Bo swift were
they running that two of them, fatally shot,
Spun, heels over head through the air like a
wheel, several rods before they came to a sh} .
A wounded buck whirled over, and with a w d
bleat leaped over the recipice. The other:
turned and again swept ack toward the int
onl to be met by a murderous fire from
an Speelman; but without slacking their is eed
they swept on around toward us again on to
meet a more deadly volley from our. guns. all
of the herd by this time was slam. Several
with broken limbs and broken backs were drag-
ging themselves hither and thither in their fran-
tic efforts to keep pace with the herd. For the
third time the herd turned toward the east end
of the plateau. S lman and Wood had stoop-
ed behind the ban in hopes of getting a closer
shot. Seeing the way clear the antelope swept
toward the point and before our two friends
could check them they lea ed over the bank,

and to ther antelope and unters went plung-
ing an rolling down the steep embankment a
hundred feet relow.

With fear for the lives of our two friends we
ran down the ridge to the point. We saw
eight or ten antelope flying like the wind u
apast the springs toward the open plain.

c end or dust hung along the side of the steep

 

 

   
  
 
  
  

 

 

 

   
  
  
    
 
 
 



I , plaster to anoint their

(’saidto
w thestomach’saa

" ell-my life I. ever see

" to: and day them all."

23

Adrift on the Prairie and Amateur Hunters.

 

‘ WWT" " ’ "4“ .
ridge, com letel hiding from view all below:
but a. shou com ng up to our ears told us that
one of our friends, at least, had not been killed
by the charge of. the anteloipe. We hurriedly
made our way to the foot 0 the hill, where we
, found our friends, bruised and bleeding, though
not seriously hurt, in a ludicrous predicament.
'In times past the water. rushing down the
canyon on the north side of the ridge had
plunged over a. high rock and dug a great hole
in the earth. This hole was all of ten feet deep,
with rpendicular sides, and fully fifteen in
diame 1‘. Into this hole our friends had rolled,
‘ nor ‘ were the alone. An antelope, a large
bpll, that had on shot through the hips with
an ounce-and—a-half ball, was there with them,
and, urious w h rage and mad with pain, he
.wa asing the boys around the “ washout” as
if eteimined to pin them to the wall. But
owing to the fact that the animal had no use
whatever of his hind parts they were enabled
to elude his attacks, and in the mean time pelt
him lively with mall stones.

In their fall the boys had lost their rifles and
revolvers, else they would never have been
found as they Were—the hunters being hunted.

.The antelope was at once dispatched and our
friends assisted from the washout, battered and
bruised and in several places cut by the sharp
hoofs of the antelope that had leaped over the

[bank ugon “19E.
' At t is jun ,ture Baker joined us, his sides
linking with laughter.

Wood and Speelman gathered up their-fire-
arms and retreated to camp for repairs. lt re-

' quired half of our supply of arnica and court-
ruises and patch their

angéhremtciligiybening “liftht. Palil- brad
In use too re uent or
yke and their infirmiges. y ‘

’ Eleven antelope were the result of that morn-

woun

3’ In s work.‘

‘It war a bloody hatchery, boys,” declared

Bauer, “sich as no professional hunter would

‘ sanction: but I must say it is the fast time in

d a gang 0’ antelope

t in. such atrap and considerin’ the bad

luck you fellows ’ve had in killin’ the critters
heretofore, you are somewhat excusable."

“Cass the infernal sheep!” e laiued Spool-

man. “I’ll surround every he I find hereaf-

~=‘“Seeond the motion, John Wesley,” put in
Wood; “henceforth I am a bloody avenger.
The antelope must perish from the face of the
earth. I would not stop to shoot a behemoth
, were an equal chance odered for a shot‘at an
antelope. I have goken.”
"' So be it,” add Speelman, and agfiin they
. “recalled” what St. ‘Paul had said to mothy.

 -~_ CHAPTER IV.
“ A annex.an snor—numam AT LAST.

f - As we were impatient for new fields of con-
quest, we left the head-waters of Rock Creek at
noon and set out for the Hunters’ Wells, fifteen

 

" miles distant to the north-west. Before start-

ing, however, a number of homesteaders', froin

 for down the Re ublican, joined us. They had

rocure a supply of meat

'oomsintothe "lsto
' these'men we gladly

-’ tor the winter. and

 

 

turned over our antelo , and relieved our
conscience of the guilt o a wanton destruction
of game. We also promised them that, if they
would follow us up, we would furnish them
with buffalo-meat, as we were hunting for the
sport of it, although the promise was made
fivivlilthtaut the least assurance of being able to ful-

We reached the wells in an hour by sun. We
were now in the very midst of the at bamn
sand-hills of Colorado. Look which way we
would a monotonous sameness of white-crested
hills and ridges met our gaze. Strange as it
may seem, rich, luxuriant grass grew in the
valleys at the foot of these sand-piles. Here
was the paradise of the buifalo, or, at least, it
had been. Thousands of white, bleaching car-
cassas left there in the past, by the hide-hunters,
at sted this.

a encamped by the Hunters’ Wells, which
afforded an abundance of water. These wells
were about six feel; deep, and were located in a
ton, fiat depression surrounded by a cordon of

1 s.

Procuring some buffalo-chips, a fire was
lighted, and supper prepared and eaten. We
were lounging about camp, calculating our
chances for the morrow when an exclamation
suddenly burst from the lips of one of our party,
and raising his hand, he pointed westward.
Looking in the direction indicated we saw an
animal on a sand-hill, clearly outlined against
the red evening sky. It was standing still,
looking toward cam . It looked as large as a
buffalo against the y, but we could see that. it
was an antelope. ’ -

“ Why don’t some 0’ you fellers try it a shot?"
observed Baker: “ thatsnot over five hundred
yard; away. Whar’s them 'are bloody aven-
gers

There was not really a poor shot in our party,
and each and every one of us felt sure of our
mark anywhere under three hundred yards
unless it was a. jackrabbit; but five hundred

ards were too many for us, and we did not
eisgtate to say so; whereupon the old hunter
sa :
“ Then I’ll try it a welt.” ,

die took his rifle—e Springfield rifle and in-
serted a cartridge therein, and elevated the
sight for five hundred yards. Then, kneeling
upon one knee, and resting his elbow on the
other he took a careful aim and fired. To our
surprise the bullet went home true to its mark ,
3n dthe antelope, running a short distance, fa

ea

Two of the boys went out and brought it in.

, The ball had struck between the fore legs,

passed along the belly, and disemhoweled the
animal as com lately as though it had been done
with a keen-e ged knife.

The shot was truly a remarkable one, emaili-
ering the uncertainty of the distance, and we
did not hesitate to compliment our guide upon

it. .

“ Oh, that’s ust an ordinary shot for me with
these ’ere S ngfields. The time was when I
could do that every time, but I’m gittin’ a leetle
shaky now boys, and then my eyesight is not
so good as t was afar-e I had a fight with a nest
o’ skunks over on the Stinkin’ water last spring.

 

 

 

 

Adrift on the Prairie and Amateur Hunters.

Why, it’s afoot, ’bout two years ago when’I
war huntiu’ up on the Dismal river, see’d a l
ang o’ antelope in the distance one day, and as
fwanted meat, I u and killed two 0’ them at
one shot; but, by he American Tallahoopers!
them thar antelo e war so dashed fur away
that the meat spoi t afore I got to them. I don’t
like a too long-ranged un.’

“ I should think not,’ muttered Wood; “ but,
captain, do you know what the Bible says
about one Ananias’!”

“ I think it says ” the hunter replied, scratch-
in his head reflec ivel , “ that he was cast into
n. glen o’ lions. but I isremember whether it
says he needed any court-plaster and arnica af—
ter he got out or not."

This reply brought down “the house.” The
laugh was on Wood, and he forthwith brought
out a box of Havanas which at once changed
the subject and closed the events of that ever-
to-be—rcmembered day.

By sunrise the following morning six of our
party started north in search of buifalo, leaV<
ing two to guard our camp, and watch our

 

, his steps faster than he had gone.

horses. We had not gone over five miles when, g

in ascending a little knoll, our ide, who was
some ten paces in advance, su denly dro ed
upon the ground and motioned for us to dollho-
Wise.

“Buffalers, by the E Pluribus Unuml" the
old fellow declared; “they’re jist over atwixt
them two bills. All but one old bull are lyin’
down, and if we work it jist right we can take
in the hull kit. There’s ’bout a doznn of them.”

I must admit my disappointment u n learn-
ing there were so few in the herd. had pic-
tured in my mind’s eye a herd of man then-
sands—“a sea of dark shaggy forms.” ut the
American bison are so fast disappearing that
they can now only be found in small droves.
Were I writing a romance it would be no trou-
ble to swell the numbers of the herd before us
into thousands, but the truth forces me to con-
fess that there were just—thirteen! It would
have been an easy matter for Baker and I to
have killed several the night they came to the
strings at the head of Rock Creek had these
3 etches been merely fiction, but as I had re
solved at the first to stick to the truth the best I
knew how, I was again forced to admit that so
small a thin as a centipede was instrumentalin
sendin the erd flying into the hills.

But t e sou ht—tor game was before us! We
had the win just right. With hats off we
crawled on all—fours to the top of the hill and

ered over into the valley, and for a moment
{fasted our eyes on the shaggy bisons. All
wore still lying down exce t one huge old bull
who seemed to be doing uty as Sentinel; but
he stood with his head against the wind. They
were about one hundred and fifty yards away.

“Boys,” announced Baker, “ ’m goin’ to
crawl around where I can get a side shot at
that bull. He’s their leader, and it I can bring
him down we can throw the rest into confusion
and perhaps get every one 0’ them. Be ready,
and when m cracks let drive. Put yer
bullets ust back 0’ the fore shoulders.”

The unter crept away. We watched him

 

until we saw him making ready to fire, then we
tooka aim. Simultaneously almost our six

27

rifles rung out. The bull i’ell dead in his tracks
and three others scarcely stirred where they
laid; but in an instant the others were up and
01! like the wind. Again Baker’s rifle run out,
and seal! in the rear of the herd went own
upon his haunches and set ups fri hti'ul bawl-
ing. Quick as a flash the trig tened herd
whirled and came charging back to the wounded
calf. Again we emptied our rifles at the ex-
cited animals. Four more' went down, and
then the survivors turned and dashed over the
hill and were one.

In an instan Kimmell was upon his feet, de-
termined to be the first into that valley of
death. Baker shouted to him to stop, but be
either did not hear him or else disregarded his
command; but, be this as it may, the young
midshipman soon found it expedient to retrace
A wounded
bull that lay struggling] in the agonies of death
suddenly staggered to is feet and char ed upon
the middy w th glaring eyes and b1 stream-
ing nostrils. We saw his danger but dared not
fire, for he was between us and the bull. Half-
way u the hill the buffalo seemed to be at the
impuls ve youth’s very heels, but weak with
the loss of blood it suddenly fell to its knees its
nose plowin up‘a perfect fog of sand. Be ore
it could rise a or s rifle cracked, and the huge
beast sunk quietly down a mass of quivering,
lifeless flesh.

We could not hel giving a shout of triumph
in. 1which Kimmell oined us with a hearty good
wx .

“ I say, youngster,” said the old hunter, com-
ing up, his’ face aglow with triumph, “there
like to ’a‘ bin 3 vacancy in Uncle Sam s navy,
do you know it? D’you see whar that old cuss
spouted blood on your back? Great Salaman-
der! if on young bloods don’t quit tryin’ to
at in a end 0’ yer bullets when ye shoot, some

dy ’ll be killed store this tramp’s over with.”

In view of the earnestness with which the
hunter oke, and the narrow escape of our
youn fr end, all promised that they would be
a. litt a more cuetul in the future; thereupon
we marched down into the valley to gaze upon
our first buflalo.

With his hunting—knife Baker cut their ju -
lar veins, then set to work to skin one of t o
oalvss for our own use. The neatnsss and dis-
patch with which he accomplished his work
were truly remarkable, and still further evi-
dence of his skill and experience as a hunter.

We were well pleased with our day’s work as
s rtsmon, and ready to return to camp; but

aker was not (Elly satisfied. To leave those
buflalo there to t a wolves was a thought he did
not relish: but as we had to go back for a team
to take in our own meat, or such as we wanted,
he declared he would return and skin and quar-
ter every buflalo and send word over to the
homesteaders on Rock Creek to come and get
the meat; but he was saved all this trouble, or
on our arrival at camp we found the home-
steaders had taken us at our word and followed
as up, and so we turned our game over to

em.

We remained at the wells several days, and
succeeded in killing several more buffalo. We
Jerked some of the choicest parts or the meat

 

 

28 Adrifi 'on the Prairie
(or our own use, for our other rations were get-
tin quite low.
s our time for returning home was not up
at, and our curiosity for bufl'alo-huutiug had
en fully gratified, we began to cast about us
for a chan e in the programme.

“I‘ll to 9, boys, what is boss sport,” ex-
claimed Cap in Baker; “ and that is ‘ walking
down the wild horse.’ ”

Most of us were somewhat in the dark as to
what the guide meant. We had all heard of
riding down and lassoin the wild horse, but
did not understand what e meant by walking
the animal down, and so informed him.

“ I mean gist what I sa . You find your
drove of wil horses, and t en strike in after
them—at a walk, mind you—and follow them
up day and night—never let them stop to eat
nor drink—and, no word for it, you can, at the
end oi’ four days, rive them into a canyon and
halter every one of them. This I’ve done a.
dozen times in the past five years, and know
whereof I speak, and, if you fellows all say so,
we’ll ull out for the South Fork 0’ the Repub-
lican s day—plenty of bosses over there.’

We all said so, with a unanimity that is sel-
dom found in such a party and in less than an
hour we were of! for a wild horse hunt.

CHAPTER V.
THE STORY or “ PONY" SAM.

WE crossed the North Fork of the Republican
near the mouth of the Riccaree two days after
leaving the Hunters‘ Wells, and went into camp
for the night in the mouth of a largo canyon.
The place was a romantic spot, the evening was
glorious, and the spirits of our party were never
more buoyant.

For an hour at least Wood, who was the
story—teller par excellence of our party, enter-
tained us with a narrative of his adventures at
Washington City when he went over there to
" see the President,” and I must confess it was
highly amusing, and were it not for the fact
that these sketches are of the Great Range and
incidents pertaining thereto, 1 would be tempt-
ed to give Mr. VVood’s experience as an unso—
phisticated outh in the great national capital.
Captain Ba er, however, had a story in reserve
for us that had been an rgested by the location
of our camp. It was 0 the Indian raid u the
Sappa valley, in 1878, and a young wild- iorse
catcher familiarly known as “ Pen ” Sam.

“It was in the summer 0’ the . agpa massa-
cre,” the guide began “that Pony am and a
friend 0’ his named ayton encamped on this
very spot for the night. They had been down
on the Fork after wild bosses, and you may bet
they got them. They made a drive and each 0'
them secured six spankin’ nice ones. You see,
Pony’d been follerin’ the business some time,
and war makin’ money at it by runniu’ ’em
over to Ogallallah and sellin”em to Eastern
bloods at a fine figure per head. Well, on the
night in question Pony and Dayton encam ed
on this very spot, and lariated their pon es,
which had been broke to lead like old sta era,
out around where our horses are now. hey
never dreamed of danger—they knew not that
hundreds 0’ bloody savages were sweepin’ up

 

 

and Amateur Hunter‘l.

. . '7‘. a. “Mm-..

thing before ’em, nor did the ~ ever dream that

some twenty Ingins were lay ng 01! among them

can uns waitin’ for darkness to come that they

mig tpounce upon the boys; but sich war the

facts in the case. A snortm' amdng the bosses

war the first signs the boys had of danger. Pony

sprung to his feet, and, takin’ his rifle, he crept

out among the bosses to see what war wrong.

He hadn’t been gone a minute till the Ingins

burst from their hidin’—place with a demoniac

yell, and charged into camp. Poor Dayton was
a corpse in less’n a minute, and the red devils
tried hard to take Pony in, but be war too cun-

nin’ for ’em. Runnin’ to his hoss, which war
said to be the fastest that ever boxed the sod o’
the Republican valley, he vaulted onto its back
and lit out like an arrow.

“The In 'ns stayed right here till mornin’,
then, tukin the boy’ horses in tow, crossed the
river and started north toward the Fort Wal-
laco trail. But scarcer war they a hundred
yards from the river atom a rifle on this side
pealed out, and the hindmost Ingin keeled over
dead with a hole throu h his carcass. Pony had
hung around, and, at t e fust op rtunity. bad
putin his work at a distance 0 five hundred
yards. But that was nothin’ for him, for that

oy of twenty war a remarkable shot. He
could crease a wild boss every shot, two hulr
dred yards, and he could take a bird on the
win , seventy-five yards, with rifle or revolver,
gain at a sweepin' gallop. Why, I’ll tell ya
what he done once, when be war a cowboy--
cowboys, you know, are fearful rough felloWs
when they gita little liquor ahead on a tear.
There war a dance down at Culverstou the
ginernl head-quarters for rauchmen, and ony
and some 0’ the Frenchman river cowboys _war
there. Pony war on the floor, dancin’, and, as
the room war small, he got or; wded against the
wall, and a nail, dom’ duty there as a hat-rack,
caught on the shoulder 0’ his coat and yanked
outahull breadth 0’ cloth. Pony swore ven-
geance on that nail and whippin’ out his revol‘
ver right there before weemin and all, he fired
at that nail and drove it into the cedar log to
the head. Then he glanced around the we —~
espied other nails—drove them home with a
bullet, put up his revolver, and, takin’ hold of
his ardner, shouted, ‘ All romonade.’ That’s
the ad of a dare—devil an shootist Pony was.

“Of course, the Iugins come a—tearin back.
with blood in their eyes and ven ance in their
heart, after Pony’s soul , but, w en they got to
where the shot was flre , Pony, like an antelope,
was away over on another bill, on his pony
quietliowatchin’ them. They started in pursuit
—the y waited until they were within two or
three hundred yards, then raised his unerriu
Sharp‘s and sent an ounce and a half ha
through the carcass of the foremost red—skin,
and then disappeared. In a few minutes be ap-
peared oi! on another knoll—shot and broke the
arm of one of his pursuers, and again changed
base. In this way he deviled them Ingins
around here till near noon, killing and crippling
six or eight of ’em. Finally they see‘d more
vigorous measures must be pursued, and, leav-
ing the ca tured ponies in charge of two of
their num r, they scattered out and endea-

 

alonz the Sappa, murderin’ and burnin’ every-

vored to surround the boy. But the youth had

k

learned wisdom of the coyote and the antelope,
and keepin’ the hi h ridges he was enabled to
keep himself out o danger. In this way he led
the red-skins on until dusk, who: he eluded
them—doubled on his track like a tick-rabbit on
a hound, and I’ll be mashed if he idn’t git back
and kill the two In 'ns in charge of his ponies
and escape with t e hull lot of them, besides
two Ingin ponies, and next mornin’ rode into
Collins’s Ranch in triumph. This is what that

oung dare—devil did, but it’s not all he did. He
eft his bosses at the ranch, joined a party of
cowboys and settlers from away down the Re-
publican and started in pursuit o’ the Sn pa
murderers. It is safe to-say that boy ki led
more Indians on that raid than all the Govern-
ment troops that started out on their red-tape
order to foller them In ins.”

“ Where is he howl” asked.

“He’s over on the Frenchman—owns a ranch
and about a thousand head of cattle. He‘s git-
tin rich. and ye needn‘t be surprised if some
day ye hear 0 ‘ Pony ’ Sam being a great cats
tle»k1ng."

This story illustrated to me hOW large is the
unwritten history of the rent West. Pony
Sam and his exploits with t 9 Indians were un-
known outside of the Republican valley, and
yet exploits of a less daring nature than those
of this‘brave cowboy have been the theme of
the novelist’s and the historian’s pen.

CHAPTER VI.
WALKING DOWN THE WILD HORSE.

FOB several days we hunted for wild horses
along the streams that are tributarv to the
South Fork of the Republican river. We found
“signs” in abundance, but no horses. and we
amateurs had begun to despair of success when
the indomitable Baker came in with the joyful
news that he had discovered a herd some ten
miles from com , and right where he had least
expected to flu them. In a moment, almost,
we were in a. fever of excitement and at once
began preparations for the work of walking
down the wild horse.

Two bronchus, harnessed to a light spring
wagon, four saddle-horses, a blanket apiece,
and all the lariats and halters we could muster,
comprised our outfit for the tramp. Six of the
party were to go, and two were to remain in
charge of the rest of our horses and effects until
the former returned. -

About the middle of the afternoon we started
on our trip, and half an hour before sunset we
came in sight of the wild horses. There were
only about forty in the drove. When a mile
from them they caught sight of us and galloped
away toward the river—the vely course we
wished them to take.

Baker and I, who were to take the first
“ drive.” rode after them on a walk, and about
dark came in sight of them again moving down
the river. So far, everything had started oil! as
well as could be wished for. There would be no
moon until late, but as the sky was clear, and
the valley before us wide, dead level, we had no
difficulty in keeping in sight and hearing of the
mustangs, although they kept at least amile
before us. .

Baker and I kept the saddle until midnight,

 

Adrift on the Prairie and Amateur Hunter»

, .
iwhen Wood and Kimmell relieved us. We
dropped back with the wagon, dismounted,
hitched our horses behind it, and then laid down
in the vehicle and slept, despite the continuous
jolting we received.

When daylight dawned, the mustang herd
was nearly a mile before the drivers, an mov-
ing on without the least sign of faltering or

faggue.

ood and Kimmell were now relieved by
Specimen and Stafford, when we vho had been
on duty, halted, and watered and led our horses,
made acnp of coffee and ate a hearty break-
fast. Resuming our Journey, we moved along
at a live]; trot until we came up with the
drivefg, w o in turn were relieved by Baker and
mvse .

The mustangs still seemed wild and was?
without the least receptible change in ther
gait. But, during t e afternoon, which was hot
and dry—when they endeavored tosheer 01!
toward the river, we knew that thirst was be-
ginning to tell upon them; and to revent them
from drinking at small streams, w ich we had
to cross occasionally, we were compelled to
crowd them forwar .

When ni ht again set in, all but the two dri-
vers halte torest and catch afew minutes’
sleep. When we moved on it was at a pace that
brought us up with the drivers about midni ht.
During this night we had our first trouble. he
mustangs turned from the valley into the hills,
and for an hour or more we lost sight of them
but, by careful maneuvering we got in ahea
of them and turned them bac into the valley.
Toward morning we came closer upon the drove
than we had ever been cince starting, and when
da dawned we saw that they were not moving
0 with such a proud mien and lofty step. In
fact, strag lers were beginning to show them-
selves in he rear. The two nights‘ and one
day's constant twp, without rest or sleep,
grass or water, was beginning to tell upon them.

The second day and the third night were
passed. By this time the drove began to look
gladed and dejected, and straigled along with

eavy feet. A buckskin stud ept the lead and
tried by an occasional spurt to revive the lag-
ging spirits of his followers.

During the third day the horses made a
frantic efl'ortto reach water, but we handed
them 03 and kept them moving through that
day and the fourth night. On the morning of
the fourth day we were at the ver{ heels of the
drove. The buckskin seemed to ave lost all
his wild free s irit and moved along at a swing—
ing walk his and down and his long white
mane and tail almost dragging the ground.

It now became necessary to turn the herd
from the valley in orderto reach the corrille
or canyon into which we were to drive them.
This, however, was easily accomplished; the
animals were so nearly exhausted that a lariat
could have been thrown over the head of any
one of them. But this we did not attempt, for
now that we had run them down we wanted
them to become familiar with our presence be-
fore we offered any attempt to restrain their
further liberty. To help along in this matter
we turned two of our saddle-horses loose and
drove them ahead with the mustangs: and as

 

 

/\ v ~ .

80 Adrift on the Prairie and Amateur Hunters.

 

, we neared the terminal point of our "walk,"
" we turned our other two saddle-horses loose
' v with saddles and bridles on and drove them
lhead also. All this had‘its taming influence
on the drove, although we had a bit of trouble
when’ we came to the mouth of the canyon into
which we wished to drive. The buckskin stud
seemed to have instinctively mistrusted the
danger that threatened his freedom, and sum-
‘ moning all his strength he struck out at a
' heavy, lumberlng trot and passed entirely up
. East the entrance to the gorge' but. by some
vely movements on the part of Wood, we suc-
ceeded in turning him back, and in driving the
.' whole of the drove into the canyon.
The hardest of the drive was now virtually
ended, and we congratulated each other upon
. our success. A mile further on the canyon
 ended in a little circular valley. with high, pre-
cipitous walls, and from which there was no
' ‘ _’ scape, save by the way we had entered. Before
' - v we reached the head of the canyon the way be-
.-  came quite narrow, barely admitting the pas-
’ sage of our team, so when we had the mustangs
in cor-Hue, we used our wagon to block the pas-
safiway. .
‘ ‘ ’ e excitement of the drive over, we found
that we were pretty well used up, and so re-
a,. solved to remain there a da or two belorere-
9} ' tracin our steps tocamJ), w ich was now es 1-
 . to he one hundre and fifty miles away!
 ' But, in the mean time, a men was detailed to
stay with the mustangs, and keep them movmg
‘ around and around until We were ready to place
the ‘mtrammg halter upon them. This we
V. were read to do the next morning, and with
halter! endlariets we entered the corrille and
’ Thmedetrufigm 3i 3?.th “t” “‘ -"’%e;"%"2'
» e yore ewmmu , u,
2’me wit hirst, hunger and fatigue, they
soon yielded to the inevitable. By gently rub-
bin , pausing and breathing into their nostrils,
and! ¥y ing them around with the herd,
they onnd they had nothing to fear from their
and soon became perfectly quiet and
erent. '
, l '
/

 

 

 

We finally released those of the drove we had
no means of securing, and led our captives—~—
two at a time and along with our saddle-horses,
down the canyon and around to a creek to
water. The poor creatures were almost fam-
ished, but their spirits revived as soon as they
had quenched their thirst. They looked long-
ingly away after the drove in the distance, all!
conscious of the fact that to them the tree
roving of the prairie was of the past.

Thus ended our Wild-Horse hunt, and the re-
sult was entire] satisfactory to all enga ed; but
I must confess t at the exalted idea I ha alwa s
entertained oi wild-horse hunting — of t 0
dan rs ot the wild breakneck chase, of the
skil and courage of t e lassoer, and the fiery,
maddened spirit of the wild horse, vanished like a
dream in the quiet, business-like work of “ Walk
in down the Wild Horse."

t was nearly a week before we got back to
our camp up t e river, and when we did we
rested there three da s. This time, however,
was well improved in ranking our new horses
to the saddle; but the work was attended with
no littledanger and an abundance of livelys ,
for, while our mustangs had yielded quiet to
the halter, they strenuously opposed the sa dle.
I might write a cha tor or two of the sports at
those three days—o the ex rience of the boy:
in riding wild horses of raised heads, sore
bones, runaways and J'ohn Gilpin rides—were I
so disposed; but, suiflce it to say that Wood,
who had once been a rider in Dan Rice’s Circus
-—having rode his trick mule—was voted the
champion rider of our party, and a medal—a
handsome cup made of the brain-pan of an ante-
lope—was resented to him in an appropriate
speech by t e orator of the party. ~

And now that there were no other fields of
conquest for us, we joyfully bade adieu to the
Great Range—its beautifu rivers and lovely
valleys—to the land of the buffalo, the wild
horse, the antelope, the canning coyote and de-
mure Jack rabbit and started on our homewsrd

journey.

TEE END.

 

 

 

f(I’M/Ml,’I/WWWW/N’NW’W’VWIWWWWMW A M

 

 

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