ARMIES RES i American Tales RivE TE 4, ieee a | vN¢ nil 946 GNYTGIWw WVHONIWAIG BREE TRAPPERS’ PASS: GOLD-SEEKER’S DAUGHTER. BY WM. R. EYSTER, M. A. A NEW YORK: | , ri SINCLAIR TOUSEY, PUBLISHERS’ AGENT, + .» NO. 121 NASSAU STREET. i ON a and nea - stood, at Though air of 1 could h house. @ comp glance” esi Entered according to Act of Congress, in the On the ear 1864, by SrvcnatR Tousry, Publisher’s Agent, in the Clerk’s Office of the Distri tered v Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. ee was. tl stance, found » A fa doorw, of chi over |} conceé ~ nth which the su thoug Sol’s weste lovely} while face, ~*,po*" “There you are? If Ned comes in, he can understand that without any spectacles at all, and so kin the Injuns, if they come to get our help, which they couldn’t if it was writin’.” CHAPTER II. The Stratagem of the Trappers. Wrra the privilege of the romancer, let us transfer the reader to a spot some thirty miles distant from the loeality mentioned in the preceding chapter. It is a beautiful place, | On the west the mountain, on the east and — south the plains, on the north a spur of hills, Pert agrots ecror«ss 2 tad ee oe ob om os Db ier Os ee ce Ba S868h@eb cocHope OW, irer ust rty, nd. will will ‘ich dn’t bet nus | tist, had ugh | ‘o— ugh har- ae : ake — rard jun- ows, | nce, — ‘the | one — well — can q tall, our ” a. et us niles the 5 lace. and — hills, | ' You kin see that with half an eye. THE CAMP-FIRE BY THE SPRING. 7 running out from the original chain. Here vegetation flourished, and the sweet breath of nature was fresh and dewy. Trees and flowers, and green grass, and sparkling streams, greeted the eye,‘and the soft under- tone of winds and waters, so like to silence itself, rang soothingly in the ear. Hard by a spring of clear water, which bubbled out from under the huge trunk of a fallen tree, a small body of men were en- camped around the smouldering embers of the fast-dying fire, on which they had pre- pared their evening meal. That duty having been dispgsed of, and their horses seen to, they werdh after the manner of their class, engaged in a talk. The subject, too, which claimed their attention, was one of more im- portance than mere calculations as to peltries, or the ordinary run of camp-fire stories. “T tell you,” said one, the youngest, appa- rently, of the company, “I tell you that’s the trail of a party of Blackfeet, on the ae ee at feather comé out of the top-knot of a chief, with his battle fixins on. That track’s deep, and cut up enough to show a large band, even if itisnarrer. So I tell yer, Bill Ste- vens, as my idear, that we'd better be movin’ toward head quarters, ’stead of loungin’ about here to-night. I ain’t afeard for our- selves, but it’s a duty, an’ Wavin’ Plume an’ Howell are alone in camp, and might get cir- cumyented. They ain’t up to all the Injin dodges yet, an’ ef the red-skins get that ere cabin, there’s all our pelts gone, slap.” “Bah!” contemptuously remarked the man addressed as Bill Stevens, “I ain’t goin’ ‘to admit it’s a war-party ; but ef it war, I’d back Charley Arden’s long head agin ’em all. I'll allow we'd better be gettin’ out 0’ this, but the cabin ain’t in no danger yet a while.” _“T don’t know,” chimed in another. | “It’s nigh onto fifteen year since I first crossed this here region, and I calkerlate that them re- sembles Injins tracks, an’ made by a crowd it "ud be cussed onhandy fur us to meet. They’re bent on mischief, an’ we'd better outen the fire and make a clean break, fur we can’t " how many of ’em may be about.” The Biting Fox is right,” said a voice which seemed to come from their very midst. : : Instantly thesshole party leaped to their Sete NOUR th surprise pictured on their ‘Teces, gazed in the direction from which the viice proceeded. Right by their fire stood a nan, tall of stature, and apparently of the Gow nation. In full war-paint he stood, laning on his rifle, and gazing intently upon | tle hunters. dangerous to their safety, for Biting Fox, the speaker, had incautiously let his voice rise to a very loud whisper. on te aie Antonio expressed his opinion on the tion of what’s to be done, by admonishir silence. wilt , ; “Bf we were squaws, who talk, we might be in danger; but, we are men, who fighy and do not talk. Antonio will creep up to their camp, and hear what they, say.” No dissenting voice was raised to this pro- position, and he departed with that quick and stealthy step, for which the aborigines of our country have been so noted. So weird-like was his motion, that he seemed like a ghost flitting through the trees. Whep he reached the edge of the copse, he disappeared en- tirely, When the scout had crept up within hear- ing distance of the encampment, he redoubled his caution. Advancing like a serpent, he felt well around before he drew his body for- ward, fearful that somethi®g might lie in his path, which,. giving forth a sound, might herald his approach. Long practice in this kind of work, enabled him to advance noise- lessly to within a few yards of the nearest group, where, sheltered by the already men- tioned trunk of the fallen tree, he could easily understand their conversation. The halt was a temporary one, but a number of the braves, tired by their long journey, had sunk to sleep, only four or five, apparently, being yet awake. These, engaged in a conversation as earnest as would be consistent with their savage dig- nity, were stationed nearest to the cover which concealed the hunters. All of them | appeared to be chiefs of some importance, ntonio remained in, his position, near & =. of an hour; then, having learned ti things which he wished to know, sought to retrace, unobserved, his steps. This he succeeded in doing, and, just as the hunt- ers were becoming anxious, on account of his prolonged absence, he stood in their midst. “Waal! what did yer make out?” was the anxious inquiry. pe, “« . 4 v1 = ‘Ye o® i Mes . ~~. %* * > * 10 “ Antonio was right. The white chiefand the young squaw, his daughter, are prisoners. Those who have the two, followed another trail, but they will meet each other at the eat crossing of the Yellowstone River. Wiese, at the spring, have the scalp of the Crow at their girdle, and the Prairie Wolf would fight them for revenge.” “his ar a nice piece o’ business. Here we ar, cooped up, an’ every minute wasted. Ef them Injuns don’t leave afore mornin’, there won’t be no time left to help the Major, an’ he’ll have to go under, sure,” muttered Bill Stevens, while Biting Fox seemed to coincide in the opinion. As for the leader, he thought more than he said, being a man of few words, while the half-breed stood gloomily apart, leaning upon his rifle, and moodily meditat- ace scheme of revenge. he time wore slowly on; an hour or so would have to elapse before the period fixed by the savages for their departure. So taken up with other matters had they been, that none of the party thought to ask Antonio whether he had heard any remarks concern- ing their presence at the spring. Now, when the question was asked, he was so self-ab- sorbed, that he did not at once hear it; but, when it was repeated, he answered: “' The Blackfeet have scented the presence of the pale-face, and have looked up the trail. They think the white hunters have gone in a path which leads to the encamp- ments of the Crows, and they say they may fall in with the rest of their brethren: But Talmkah, the great brave, is with them; he is not easily deceived. He may lead them to this hiding place, if he takes the time; let the white men keep watch, lest they be sur- prised.” Even as the half-breed was speaking, the four Indians in council raised themselves from the ground, swiftly wending their way to the spring. Standing there for amoment, they cautiously set out on the trail which had been made.“ As the form of the last brave was lost to view, Ned Hawkins whis- pered, in a meaning tone > “We're in fur it now, boys! Yer can’t blind old Eagle-eye, nor yer can’t run away. Ivll be a fightin’ matter, an’ it ar a blessin’ that half them varmints ar sleepin’. Don’t fire onless they’re ark atop of you, or gin the yell. Then fight like grizzly b’ars er cat- amounts: Ef yer don’t, yer har will be riz, sure.” The conjecture that the false trail would not blind the eye of Talmkah, very soon proved to be true. Perhaps any of the other braves would have been satisfied at losin the trail in the distance; but he, revengefil and war-like—two traits which, combined with great personal courage, are not dften found in the same character—knew that the band was but small, and was willing to carry home scalps of the white man, even though it should be at the risk of meeting their un- erring rifles. In the course of ten or fifteen minutes the whole party returned, and, throw- ing themselves down as before, appeared to be cogitating on their want of success. pa &. FREE TRAPPERS’ PASS. “TI do b’lieve, jake they’re off the track. If so we kin lay still for an hour or so, an’ then they'll move off. What do you think, Prairie Wolf?” queried Biting Fox. He, thus addressed, quietly shook his head for an answer, making a gesture indicative of doubt. “Yer in doubt. Now, I allows it ar a doubtful subject, an’ ef—hillo! Fire an’ yer a dead Injin!” whispered he, in a stern, low voice, at the same time bringing his rifle in ‘ line with the heart of Antonio, who, regard- less of their dangerous position, was aiming in the direction of the Blackfoot camp. The movement and address of Biting Fox recalled him to his senses, and, carefully let- ting fall the muzzle of his gam, he pointed to a dark object, dimly to be seen creeping slowly along toward the thicket, and, in a voice even lower than he had formerly used, he whispered: “That is Talmkah.” With a sagacity all their own, the Indians had diyined that the whites had taken refuge in the thicket. Moreover, it was patent that from the care which they had exercised, and the time occupied in the movement, that they did so with the intention of watching them —perhaps of making an attack if a favorable moment presented itself. The wary Talm- kah, fearful, perhaps, of a feint and an ambus- cade, would not allow an onset to be made by his men, unless with overwhelming numbers on their side, Controlling their emotions he bade them remain silent, and apparently un- concerned, until he should return from a re- connoisance, e4i Delicate as was the feat of crawling upto a hostile camp when the enemy were watch- | ing all movements in front of them, the chief might have succeeded had not.the keen eye of Antonio, kindled up with _fire of re- venge, now that his mortal foe’ were near, been fixed upon him. A moment after he had been pointed out, he was again invisible. The half-breed turned to the hunters. ¢ “Prairie Wolf will go fall upon Talmkah. If he can meet him the chief shall die, and know not the hand that struck him. If it fails, let the white men ride straight through the camp, and they will escape. Fear not for Antonio—he can take care of himself. If the great braves of the Crows and the white trappers do not rescue theeprisonens ... » before, we will meet at the Great Crossing.” Before nay could be said, he was gone. Five minutes passed as an age, and there was heard a wild, fierce yell; two figures arose from the ground, then fell again, writhing to- ether in a desperate, deadly encounter. uick as thought the score of warriors were on their feet, and rushing toward their horses. As they rose, five steeds, with their five riders close clinging, charged madly out of the thicket, and bore down upon the con- fused mass. With a volley from their fire-arms, the horsemen dashed through them, and sey- eral of the savages fell. Before the Indians could bring their arms to bear, they were comparatively useless, for the whites were out of range, i smo et ge Che wa = es Bateden. LOOKING FOR THE TRAIL. 3 A ery from the throat of Antonio brought ; them to their senses. The grasp of Talmkah % had slipped, and his antagonist drove home his knife. Then a piercing whistle rang out, d so shrill and loud that Ned Hawkins, at the r distance of a quarter of a mile, turned in his saddle. As the last sound of the note died e away from the shrubbery, with crash and a tear, came a coal-black mustang, dashing for ig the spot where the single combat had taken O place. Then Antonio separated from his i- antagonist, and threw himself upon his horse. iS One more cry of exultation, and he rode recklessly oyer the plain, coal-black mustang bs and stott-limbea brave vanishing from sight * of both friend and foe. ; a “Enybody hurt ?” was the first.query, after 1S the trappers were out of gun-shot. . : ““ Nary one,” said Bill Stevens. d, “ Blessin’s don’t come single-handed. Got out o’ the durned scrape easier than T 'spected. An’ the half-breed, who ar clar grit, ’cordin’ i to all appearances, ll save his scalp, too. ge .Meanwhile, what are we to do? stay here, a strike for head quarters ef foller em on ?” a “ Why, jest wait till they git a leetle start, “y an’ then tuck on ahindt.'“Ef they warn’t to on meet the rest ata ’pinted tine, they would be ole after ‘pitchin’ in; an’ ef it wan’t that Robison mp an’ his darter ar pris’ners, that'd be jist my es game, too. Keep out o’ sight; we may do by ! some good, yit.” ers Here Gus Woods, another of the party, he whom we have not heretofore introduced by in name, took part in the council. ae “We know that the two parties are going - to meet—this one and the one which has the o prisoners. It will not do us much good to ‘ef follow these when we have nothing to do ae. with them. Is not that so, Ned?” oy 8 “Yaas.” sn “Well then, if they are to meet at the “te river, and if we knew whereabouts, we can ime tell pretty near which way the other party ble. will be likely to travel. If nothing happens Be they will get there first, and can’t we come coe W. with them before these form a junction? and ouldn’t we be doing more good to the if it Major by acting in that way ?” ugh ‘“Yaas,” not “Then what I want to say is this. B self. judging of thg distance these have traveled, ros can tell vhere the othersiare. Whenever NTS «we have done that, let’s make a bee-line for ng. -. the spot. Twenty miles traveling to-night one. will put us right across their trail, Our was horses are in good condition now, and we TORS “can fight them at once, if we see a good z to- chance, or we can skirmish with and detain ater. them until we do.” ; vere The mind of a vyageur is like a steel trap. heir : When an idea once gets in it, it closes tight, their =@ and holds it there. rout “Yer right,” was the response of all. con- A . A little conversation, a few questions’as to ms, _ route and distance, and then, with a hardy as- aoe surance, the hunters struck across the broad lians prairie. Now along its level surface, now were through thin belts of timber, or clumps of bushes; again over undulating mounds and through the beds of numberless summer 11 streams which lay in their way, they cease- lessly pursued their course. Every sign which lay in their way was instinctively noted as they flitted by, and, by long practice, they could see far around them. f For several hours they traveled on, until .the moon seemed nearly ready to sink behind the mountains, which lay off and away to the west. Noticing this, Biting Fox partly drew rein, and remarked : “T should calkerlate that it war time, nigh about, to stop. We haven’t so yery many more miles ahead, an’ ef we should happen to cross the trail too soon, we don’t do any good, an’ mebbe a sight o’ bad. The hosses ara leetle blowed; -here’s a good place to rest ’em, so I’m in fur holdin’ up.” “All right,” responded Hawkins, and the party halted. , As they did so the moon dropped quietly behind a black cloud, and, for a few moments, they were left in nearly total darkness. CHAPTER III. The Captives.—Friends on the Alert. Weantny passed the day to the captives; when night came down there seemed no sign of cessation from the toilsome march. On, still on, the column kept its way, until it was only an hour or so befare midnight, that the savages gave signs that their resting-place was nigh. Then some of the younger braves began to stretch their wearied limbs, while Rutter glanced eagerly around, striving, through the darkness, to see the various land- marks with which he was familiar. Though the renegade had said but little during the afternoon and evening, yet he ever rode near to the prisoners, keeping a watchful eye upon them. Now, as they came toa huge boulder, around which they were compelled to make a circuit, he ventured to inform the Major that they were near the end of the day’s journey, and that they would soon encamp for the night. This intelligence, welcome as it was, elicited no remark from the captives; but, had there been sufficient light to observe the face of Adele, Rutter could not but have noticed that she considered it a gratifying piece of intelligence. She had been compelled to take a seat behind a grim-looking brave, who, though he handled her tenderly enough, nevertheless had but little seuibeathy for his fair companion. The journey had not been accomplished at a snail’s pace, and little com- passion was shown to the weary pale-faces. _ _ At length the foremost of the file of war- riors uttered a not unmusical grunt,expressive alike of satisfaction and intelligence. They were in a small timbered bottom, admirably suited for an encampment. It was toward this spot they had’been aiming, through their hurried march. Thomas Rutter, however, was not the first man to take advantage of the location. party of red-men had evidently remained on We 1s ~~ og a tree nn ae get 12 FREE TRAPPERS’ PASS. the spot for some time, and the lodges which they had occupied were standing in a good state of preservation. One of the best of these Rutter immediately set apart for the recep- tion of the captives. Two other huts re- mained, rather Jarger in size, though hardly as well constructed, These were made the headquarters of the chiefs; the braves were compelled to take up with beds on the bare ground, the sky their only roof. After these dispositions: had been made, Rutter sought out one of the older chiefs, and held an earnest consultation with him. During the course of the conversation, glanc- es were more than once cast towards the hut, and then across the dimly lighted prairie. Pursuit was évidently feared, and the white man was asking the opinion of the chief, whether it would be safe, under the cir- cumstances, to build a small fire. For some reason, best known to themselves, it was’ im- portant that the Major and his daughter should be brought, safe and sound, to the land of the Blackfeet, and in order that this might be done, Rutter insisted that they should have some refreshment after eight hours travel with- out rest or food. “The white brave may do as he pleases,” was the response of the red-man “If he fears only the Crows, he may do so, But it is not they that we need fear; the white captive, when he came to our hunting-grounds, brought men with him to protecthim. They have eyes like the hawk and noses like the vulture. When they find that their friend. is = they will follow on the trail. Biting ‘ox and his friends can strike before they are seen. : “ Yer partly right thar, but I don’t keer fur Biting Fox. Thar ara leetle matter atween us as’ll hey to be rubbed out the first time we meet, an’ the sooner that time comes the better. I guess we kin risk a leetle fire ef we keep her shaded. An Ipjun mout see her here, but a white man can’t.” % The brave made no reply to this, and soon a thin column of smoke, arising from the centre of the encampment. announced that Rutter had settled the question in accordance with his own wishes. ‘There was something about this man, which was by no means easy to understand. That he was a renegade, and ‘that he had played a conspicuous part in the capture of Robison, was evident. That, unlike most persons of his class, he had yet a heart for his own people, numerous little acts, insignificant in themselves, clearly told. That he had from the first kept on a stiff upper lip before the Major was true, but he had so arranged matters that their captivity was by far less irksome than it might have been. It was through his influence that the savages showed more respect for him and his daughter than was their usual wont to their ‘prisoners. . Now, when Rutter entered the cabin, bear- ing a meal, plain, of course, and such as western men and western women are obliged to be content with, but abundant and sub- stantial, there was actually an expression of benevolence on his countenance. It is supposed by some that sorrow destroys the appetite. If such be the case, then were the prisoners not at grief’s lowest depth, for they did ample justice to the renegade’s pre- parations. Perhaps it was this that so far softened Robison’s heart.as to enable him to speak to the man before him, “Perhaps Rutter,” said he, “you can tell me what this thing is going to endia. You know well enough that I never had any diffi- culty with the tribe of which you are now, I suppose,a member. If every white man had treated the Indians in as fair a manner as I have, there would, or ought to be,a more friendly relation existing between the two races. I never was really in your region but once; and then the only harm done was shooting a deer or two and a grizzly. tangled bushes, from the midst of which,” solemn and serene, rose the three trees. , j It was somewhat difficult to penetrate through the interlaced shrubs and saplings, but at last it was done, and then they found, as they expected, the lodge of the half-breed. _ This man, who had sworn yengeance against the whole tribe of Blackfeet, seemed to have his lairs everywhere. This whole region of — country—a sort of neutral ground—he was_ thoroughly acquainted with, and never was | he at a loss for a safecamp. This hut was rough, but stoutly built, one in which he had, doubtless, spent many days, and prom- ised to be a safeguard from much of the vio- lence of the approaching storm. Feeling perfectly at ease, and ding no intruders, the blar lanc 2 rapi mai nig! fron At f thin stral caus The whil droy ston for t rate smil away day ing shot Oy ] “Tt twic “col blan clain “ mr] wher ment the r ade ive) vious They place the gs] but, f e ob it to] ed what Haw! thick ing a comp ten disap seen | Haw] when away tracte had d Prese and } made ed, ar UNITING THE FORCES. 21 the two soon stretched themselves upon their blankets, bound for a short journey to the land of dreams. The day was just breaking, the rising sun rapidly clearing away the clouds which re- mained after the outpouring of the previous night. Archer muttered uneasily, moved from side to side, and finally opened his eyes. At first he was somewhat confused. Every- thing around him was perfectly new and strange. The sound of a steady “drip, drip,” caused him to.turn his head to one side, There lay John Howell, asleep and snoring, while, from an interstice in the roof above, drop by drop, came the water. During the storm it must have come down in a stream, for their blanket was most thoroughly satu- rated. Waving Plume smiled. ith that smile the state of semi-unconsciousnes passed away, and the recollections of the previous day came thronging back upon him. Spring- ing-to his feet, he shook the sleeping trapper, shouting : “Wake up, John, wake up! We have a long journey before us!” he sleeper did not take time to think twice before he arose. He heard the words, “come on,” and accordingly throwing his blanket to one side, he leaped to his feet, ex- claiming : “Whar’s the hosses ?” “True enough, they must be looked to.” I trust, though, that they are all right and near at hand.” The two moved to the door. They found the animals all right ; nothing was in sight to hinder their journey. In less than half an hour, Howell leading, the two were on the march toward the Yellowstone. Tt was near four o’clock, in the afternoon, when a party of six men, clad in the rough gar- ments of trappers, and under the guidance of the redoutable Ned Hawkins, pushed their jaded horses resolutely into the Yellowstone River ; now swollen, by the rain of the pre- vious ment, to a very respectable stream. They did not cross at the regular fording- place—so frequently used as to have received the specific name of “the Great Crossing ;’ but, fearful that if they did, their trail would be observed by those fram whom they wished it to be conce Jed—the six struck the stream pal ve or six*iundred yards further up. Some- hich,” strate lings, ound, reed. | rainst have mn of | > was | r was L Was ch he rom | e vio- seling: aders, what wearied and worn with a long march, Hawkins led his little command into the thick clump of oziers, and then, without say- ing a word, threw himself from his horse, his companions following his example. Scarce ten minutes from the time, when the last man disappeared, two other men might have been seen urging their steeds in the same direction. Hawkins, ever watchful, had observed them when they were at least a quarter of a mile away. The trail, recent and plain, had at- tracted their attention, and one of the two had dismounted from his horse to examine it. Presently his cap was seen to fly into the air, and he waved his hand, as though he had made a pleasing discovery ; then he remount- ed, and, with his comrade following close by his side, pressed upon the trail, bearin: straight for the river, and the clump of oziers. ‘: “Sure as death, thar comes Wavin’ Plume and Jack Howell. Ithort they'd be makin’ in this direction ’fore long ;’ murmured Ned to his friends, who were engaged in scrutin-, izing the strangers. “ “hey’r welcome as fair weather! ‘The more the merrier; and if afew more on us © turns up we kin jist walk off the Major with- out sayin’ by yer leave.” Ten minutes more brought Night Hawk and his friend into the centre of the little circle, which stood waiting to receive them. A hearty welcome greeted them, and then oneof the men asked: “How did you come to follow us here? ‘You must have made a straight shot to make such a centre hit.” “T cannot say,that it was through our own peculiar sagacity ;” said Waving Plume... “A ghost, specter, wizzard or something of that kind, but looking, however, like an Indian, stumbled upon us while we were roving about last night, and ordered us to be at the Great Crossing before nightfall of to-day. Knowin no other place of that name, my friend an I journeyed in this direction, and here we are.” “Tn course you heard about the misfortin’ of the Major?” “Most assuredly we did, else you would not have found us deserting our post. Jack was at. the Major’s when the capture took place, and it was a pretty close thing about his , escape. As soon as possible after hearing the news, I got ready for the trail, and here we are, ready to do or die. But how did yow hear that he was captured—I suppose that it was through Hugh, here ?” “You are out thar. It was the same Injun or half-breed that sent you here. We stum- ‘bled upon Hugh last night in purty much the same way as you did on Antonio. That is, we were standin’ still an’ he come up to us.” As the men were wearied by their long march, and the foe might come at any mo- ment, Hawkins ordered that supper should be eaten, and though the fare was rather scant, yet such as it was, it was eagerly dis- cussed. In a cloudless sky the sun»set, round and red, its gleams shimmering on the waves of the turgid river. A cool, soft wind was blowing, lifting the low hanging branches of the sma willows, but not at all disclosing the forms of the eight white men.who lay concealed behind them. All were anxiously looking for the arrival of Antonio and his followers, and fearing lest he might have been misled, and. the Blackfeet have taken another rout. This state of suspense did not last long; not half an hour from the disappearance of old sol, the ready eye of Bill Stevens discovered, through the deepening twilight, a line of horsemen, rapidly approaching by nearly the same route as he and his comrades had come, a few hours previously. Almost atthe sameinstant, Waving Plume’s eye rested on the same object. ‘Here they . =- 22 come,” whispered he. “Is it friend or foe, Ned ?” “ Could hardly tell at this distance. Mout be mistaken, as the half-breed mought be commin’ with twenty or thirty of the Crows. Rather of the opinion, though, that its Black- ‘feet; if so, get ready your shootin’ irons, and loosen yer knives. ell have one pelt at ’em anyhow.” ° ‘ive minutes more and the train were within a few hundred yards of the river—there could be no doubt now but that they were the anx- iously expected enemy. The moon had not yet risen, but by the starlight their numbers could be easily counted, and it was observed that there were two persons with them, who were evidently white—a man and a woman. It, was with difficulty that the cheers, which rose to the lips of the men, on recognizing the Major, could be repressed. “It will never do to attack them before they haye crossed ;” said Hugh Robison. “If we do, the chances are that they run without firing a shot, and if they do, good care will be taken that the prisoners are not left behind.” “That’s so, Hugh!’ replied Hawkins. “ Just wait till they hey crossed over, and are mounting the bank—then pick your marks, and let drive. Be careful you don’t hit the prisoners, though, and sallying out on the red varments, kinder take em by surprise. We may ring through without trouble, and then agin we mayn’t ; but you ain’t the boys to be scared at the prospects of gittin’ a few hard knocks in a scrimmage, and remember, you'r fightin’ to rescue yer best friends.” This was the speech of the Captain to his army, and its effect was as great as though he had harangued them for an hour; the men looked at their weapons, and then to the leader of the Indian file, who had ridden his horse into the river. Several minutes passed, of intense interest to those ambushed, until the last of the horse-’ men reached the river bank, and began its ascent. It had been conjectured that the party might stop, for a while, at least, at this spot, but they gave no indications of any such purpose. _ With a low-whispered “fire!’ Ned Haw- Kins raised his rifle to his shoulder—the six followed his motion—then came a sin le, toud, clear-ringing crack, and three of the dians were seen to drop from their saddles, while two or three others swayed violently in their seats. ~The red-men, though for the moment panic-stricken, inyoluntarily closed around their prisoners—but, before they could decide from whence came the shots, the white men -were upon them. With fierce yells and clear ringing shouts, the little band precipitated themselves upon the sayages, striking home with clubbed rifles and keen-edged toma- hawks, Then ensued a hand-to-hand en- counter, the chances of which seemed, for a while, to be most evenly balanced, though the odds were so greatly against the white men. Bringing down the stock of his rifle upon the head of the first Indian he met, Waving Plume began to breast his way toward the it from a blow, he caught the bridle of Adele’s De 72 FREE TRAPPERS’ PASS. prisoners, Hawkins and his men following close behind—by his side Hugh Robison. ‘Words cannot describe the scene. The horses, catching the spirit of their riders, begun to rear and plunge, the whole mass knitting and entwining itself in wild confusion. ''The hand of Waving Plume was already on the bridle of Adele, when Tom Rutter pushed his horse between the two. The young man made a quick pass at the head of © the renegade, but the blow was guarded off by the latter, who threw up the stock of his | rifle in time to catch it. Then, that weapon being dropped, the bright-bladed knife of the recreant flashed from its sheath. Quick passes were made, and as quickly guarded, © but already had a glancing blow drawn blood , from the head of Tom Rutter, when a cheer was heard from the whites, followed by a yell from the Blackfeet. The mass swayed to and — fro more violently for a few moments, then — the conflict was over. Bursting away in a body, the Indians fied. With one look, Rut- ter comprehended the state of affairs, and, throwing his left arm over his face, to guard © horse in his right hand, struck spurs into his. horse’s sides, and bounded off after his fleeing friends. The Indian who had been specially ap- pointed to guard Adele had fallen from his seat, struck dead by a chance shot, and the half-fainting girl, though unconstrained, un: consciously clung tightly to the saddle, totally disregarding the cry of Waving Plume to throw herself off. : One of the prisoners was rescued—the other was not. The trappers’ work was but half done. Ten Indians lay dead on the plain, and a number of those who escaped ° had received serious wounds, while none of the whites had been killed. Bill Stevens had received a severe cut on his shoulder, and a blow on his head, but neither wound was mortal; and, though the rest had not all passed through the struggle unscathed, yet they were as fit for fighting as when they first - entered into the conflict. The cords which bound the limbs of Major Robison were speedily cut, and his ex: clamation, upon being loosed, was : “My daughter !” of Hawkins; “but we will rescue her ‘night or die!” ain promises those, which are easier made than kept. When hot the iron, then strike, nor waita moment! Cool heads some- } times will err, and rashness belongs to all. _ Thinking their object had been accomplished, — the Indians had not been pursued by the trappers, and now neither the men nor the — horses were in a fit condition to follow, even — though but a few seconds had elapsed. Bill Stevens was almost fainting from his wound, so that he was in no condition for a Tide, while the left arm of Biting Fox hung pow- erless by his side. # Whereis Waving Plume ?” asked a pissciag his eye over those who stood aro’ m. | “She is still a captive,” .w: “the responst jh ; ( hoy aw: dir too mo anc hay tan firn Btee sou lowing »bison. horses, zun. to ug and lready Rutter The ead of ed off of his eapon — of the Quick © arded, blood , cheer | a yell to and , then — yin a , Rut- , and, | guard | dele’s to his — leeing © ly ap- m his ¢ id the 1, une) ; \—the | s but n the Major : st; ex- | A MOUNTAIN RACE: . This question was not to be easily answer- ed, for that personage was nowhere to be seen. “He must a’followed ’em,” replied some one; and this was all that could be said of him. Lost in the distance, a single man among a score, he had followed the Blackfeet, deter- mined to rescue the Major’s daughter or die. Thinking of this put new iron into the strong arms of the trappers ; the detérmination that the corféultors came to can be guessed. Pur- suit, stern—not ceasing till the aim was ac- complished, eyen though it led them into their very villages, Bill Stevens, much against his wishes, was left behind, and Major Robison was to take his rifle, as he was unarmed; it would be of no use to Steyens—it was a weapon to be de- pended upon—and one of the guns of the fallen foe would serve all the purposes for which the wounded trapper would wish to use it. When, at the expiration of ten minutes, the little band rode away in quest of Tom Rutter and his savage auxiliaries, it was with a cheer, and a firm knitting of the muscles of the brow, which told of stern resolution and untiring determination. Though the light was but uncertain, yet, so broad and deep was the trail, that it was easily to be followed, and the seven kept on at the best rate of speed that could be gotten out of their horses. J Seconds glided into minutes, minutes length- ened into hours, the moon rode high up in’ the heavens, and the night trod hard upon the heels of day, but still there came no sight of the fugitives. When the renegade, perceiving that all hope of victory had fled, suddenly broke away from Waving Plume, he did not follow directly in the wake of his companions, but took a course more to the west. He was mounted on a horse of extraordinary speed and endurance, and, had he been alone, would have felt but little doubt of beiig able to dis- tance those behind him. With his hand firmly grasping the bridle-rein of Adele’s steed, he pushed on, undismayed by the sound “se footsteps which he heard hard in vVake, aC Pons? I~ “he sitite"O£ semi-unconsciousness was but T to-" gradually leaving Miss Robison. The yells . and groans no longer existed in reality ; but asier their echoes were still ringing in her cars, and, then with a shudder, she glanced around, half ex- ome- — —pecting to see the mangled bodies of the o all. ‘wailing crew. The painted savages had dis- shed, —_ appeared; the sound of battle had died away. y the The cold, white moon, looked kindly down r the into her face, voicelessly encouraging her. even —_ All over the wide prairie she could see naught Bill of mortal form save the renegade—his face und, _ horrible to look at, smeared with gore, stern, ride, _ unyielding, pitiless—as he galloped on at her pow- side. The cool night wind fanned her cheek, we. oun a ee and, while it tossed the mane of her gallant Steed, it brought to her ear the sound of horse’s hoofs, rapidly following. As she turn- 28 ed to give a look behind her, Rutter’ stared her full in the face. Slowly drawing a pistol, he spoke, with desperate calmness : “One word. I swore to the chiefs of the tribe that I’d bring you there, and by heavens Tl do it, dead or alive. Make one scream, one moye—do any thing but sit quietly on your horse—and Pll blow yer brains out that minute. I never miss my aim.” eh: Adele answered not a syllable, only bowing her head. She might, indeed, have thrown herself from the horse, but that would have been self-destruction, so she clung firmly’ to ~ her saddle, while the ground seemed to slip from under her. The nature of the ground over which they | were passing was beginning to change. _ In- stead of the smooth, level turf, the surface was diversified with rocks and hillocks, while in the distance a spur of high hills, jutting out from the mountains, lay across their path- way. Though the steeds seemed beginning to feel the effects of the pace, Rutter did not slacken his speed onan ee none ee his horse slightly leading, but the renegade retaining a fir hold on Adele’s bridle. \ CHAPTER VI. : Imprisoned in the Free Trappers’ Pass. Tom Rurrer was well acquainted with every inch of the eae over which he: had determined to travel. He was now striking for a spot which he judged to be most suit- able for him under the present circumstances, and which he also, with some reason, judged to be a sure retreat, for the time, at least. Though perhaps it would have been his ‘best policy to have moved on immediately to the regular hunting-grounds of the tribe; yet, for several reasons, did he prefer to linger in this vicinity! The detachment which had separated from him, and which was to forma junction at the river, had not yet made its appearance, and until it did; he did not: feel justified in ee He was not atraid of immediate pursuit by the trappers, and would much prefer letting some of the. Blackfeet braves arrive at their village before him. Then it would be apparent that he was a de- serted rather than a deserter, one who, encum- bered as he was . a prisoner, nevertheless remained behind till the last shot was fired. Therefore it was that he turned ‘the horses’ heads ‘toward the mountains, appearing to Adele as though he were determined to ride, e racing speed, straight up their rugged es. PP ts Gradually an opening became evident—a tough, seldom-traveled, and almost imprac- ticable pass—apparently extending through ae the Oregonian territory, on the other side. Man and beast being so well acquainted with the route, the rate of speed was scarcely diminished. On either side, towered the moun- tain, the almost perpendicular walls covered \ ins —— pecctaaaaainel aac eee resins ot a et eee * 24 with draperies.of green at the top, where the moonlight fell; but lower down, dark and chill. Eyesight could: be of little avail here, without a thorough knowledge of the place and its surroundings. And still, as Rutter clattered on, an answer- ing noise from behind, as it were an echo, showed that the pursuer held his own. A dark smile swept over the blood-smeared face of the renegade, as he listened to the noise : “Come on, come on, clost behind. -Ye come fast, but it may be a long time afore ye take the back trail at sich a rate. Them as comes in at Free Trappers’ Pass. sometimes gits passed out. We're safe here; but that’s more than him behind kin say.” In. order to prevent Adele from, leaping down, and endeayoririg to escape in the dark- ness, Tom changed his’ position so that she could not make the attempt at dismounting without leaping straight into his arms. There was little necessity for this movement. Had it been light he could have seen that no such thought entered the brain of the young cap- tive. She only clung tightly in her seat, and, in breathless suspense, awaited the end. For half a mile, at least, the two horses plunged on through the dimness, and then, at a slight touch on the bridles, they turned to one’ side, and began ascending an inclined plane, which led along the wall of the pass. “Steady, gal,” said Tom, in a coarse, thick whisper... “Be keerful how yer move Now, fur two foot out of the road might break that purty neck o’ yourn. A stumble over these rocks is an ugly thing, and Tom Rutter’s work would all go fur nuthin’ if you. got it.” For a second the idea of self-destruction flashed through Adele’s mind. What so easy as to fling herself away over the rocks, and at once put an end to her troubles, and to life itself? Friendless‘and alone, in the power of an outlawed desperado, with but: little hope of succor, why should she longer live? It was but for a second. . Far behind, from the darkness, echoed the sound of a horse’s hoof, striking against a stone—she was not entirely deserted—friends yet sought her; rescue might be near at hand. Why, then, despond? The steeds ceased their upward motion. For the present their journey was atan end. . Apparently provepding from the solid rock, a stout, squat-figured man emerged, bearing in his hand a small lantern. He glanced at we a moment; then in a hard, dry voice, said : “80 eee coming back to the nest once more, Tom Rutter; and you bring a purty bird along. Come in, and I'll put the hosses omar : i . “Shade that light, will yer, if ye don’t want a ball singing up here. There’s somebody comin’ through the pass that’s looking fur somethin’ he’s lost, and if he catches sight o° that elim, there may be an extra job put out that [ don’t keer about having a hand in.” “Ho, ho! laughed the man with the lan- tern, as he put the slide down. “Ho, ho! somebody looking for a lost thing in Free Trappers’ Pass! There’s lots o’ them things FREE TRAPPERS’ PASS. goes in, but powerful few goes out.. What’s he lost, Tom? A. bit calico, or a back load o’ pelts, or a money purse? Them’s bad things to loose on the prairie.or mountings, but nice to find, most, mighty nice, most—” Here his words became indistinct, for he had entered a fissure in the rocks; but some- thing very like an oath emphasized the con- cluding sentence. Tom. Rutter and ‘Adele followed. 5 The light from the lantern, which was now permitted to stream forth, was bu® barely © sufficient to give the captive some idea of © where she was. ; looking around, Adele saw, as, indeed, she - expected to see; that the place was part of a cavern, of how great extent it was impos- sible to say.. The man who. was, for the time being, porter, led the horses to one side, © and then returned to where Rutter was _ standing. ; ; “©Qome on, Tom; we have the kennel all - to ourselves to-night... All the boys ar out, an’ef Big Dick don’t come back, we'll hey a nice evening of it. Strike into the room, an’ tellus whar you come from, how you got that. bloody face, and. whar you picked up that young squaw. I hain’t seen a face fur three or four days, an’ am. splittin’ fur some- body to talk. to.’ very loquacious humor, but he followed the advice of the man insomuch that he “ struck” into the room, to all appearance only too glad ‘to find that the place was not. tenanted by the usual dwellers therein. The underground retreat was of consider- able size. The room in which they all three finally congregated was at least twenty feet square; the one. through which they had passed was much longer, while a curtain of skins did not entirely conceal the passage to other rooms farther on. An air of rude hos- ? pitality was visible on Tom Rutter’s face, and © in his talk and actions, as he motioned Adele to a seat. ; ; “Take a.seat, gal, an’ don’t be skeered. © No one is agoin’ to hurt ye, and yer wants’ll : be pervided. fur as long as this huyar hand — kin holdia rifle. It’s only a necessary 0’ war — that makes me do this, an’ I'll take keer that — no hurt comes to ye, though "won't say how , soon or how long you'll stay 1°. te cant y the Blackfeet ; that’s somethin’ I ain’t got the © say about.” j b Adele sunk on the pile of skins pointed — out by the sees, he hardly knew what » to do or say. She could not divine theinten- tions of her captor. She could only guess at — where she was, though that guess was not any cause for self-gratulation or delight. — From expressions let fall by the man who held the lantern, the idea flashed upon her — that she was in the hands of one of those — bands of. outlawed trappers that have, and — had, an existence throughout the far West. hich was most to be dreaded—captivity at their-hands or at those of the red-skins? One thing, only, somewhat reassured her. Tom had treated her with more deference 4 ' S. * : f + The renegade did not appear to be ina The air felt damp and caye-like to her, and, : ; pe Pe ee ee a ee ee ee ey, ee ee ee Me aes a it tee f ‘ I ‘ ( t I] t c 1 c S$ € a st chee a ot eee ae ee ea 8 she ido” ings nice r he yme- con- dele now rely » of and, she t of pos- the | side, was all | out, ov a an’) got up| fur me- ; + ina the | ck,” } zlad ated | der- | ares feet had — of i eto hos- » and | dele red. — ts’ and — war that — ew | Sry ~~ F goa —— BIG DICK’S ADVENTURE. than she could by any means have expected, and, somehow, there was an air of honesty about him, when he assured her of support and protection, that was almost satisfactory to her, and which caused the other man to open his eyes, as though astonished to see any thing like honor in a. renegade, and sometime denizen of Free Trappers’ Pass. In his rough way, Tom intimated, if she desired it, some refreshment would be pre- pared; but Adele shook her head in the nega- tive. “I spose yer sleepy; then, and so just fol- low me, and [’ll show, you whar you may turn in.” ) Mechanically the girl obeyed Rutter, and followed him through the curtained aperture. A short, narrow passage led into another apartment, somewhat smaller than the one they had just left. Strange it was, yet did it seem to her that the air was too dry for an -underground room, and it was almost impos- sible to realize that it was not part of a legiti- mate dwelling-house. The furniture was simple—a pile of dressed skins serving as bed and seat, a brace or so of guns, apparently much dilapidated by hard service, a few mis- cellaneous articles, such as might, accumu- late in a liunter’s lodge; and, in one corner, a good-sized chest. It was not a clumsy affair, built by some rude mechanic of a trap- per, but a well put up article, of good mate- rial and workmanship, made as though it could carry in safety within it articles of value. Placing the lamp—a rude dish containing bear’s. oil—upon the lid of the chest, Tom, with afew words intended to quiet and soothe the feelings of the unwilling guest, turned and retraced his steps, leaving Adele alone in the guest-chamber of the outlaw’s retreat. She did not feel at all like sleeping. Her situation was not one which would be apt to act opiatewise on her nerves. \ Strange, hor- rible fears coursed up and down in her mind, and she suffered the light to die away and go out with a flicker and smoke, while she sat there on the pile of skins, absently gazing at her before-mentioned vis-a-vis, the old oaken chest. Just as the waning light shot up in one last expiring gleam, then disappeared leaving her in the dark, she heard the sound of voices coming from the front part of the gaye. Without any settled reason, she rose from ‘her seat, and groped her way to the entrance of her prison. Light as the evening breeze touches the fallen leaves and moss carpets of the forest, her feet fell upon the cold earthen floor of the passage. A square of light marked the curtain of the ante-chamber, and here Adele aused, The sound was no longer a hum, but every word of the speakers was uttered with distinctness, so that the listener could understand the conversation fully. Evidently, there. was an addition to the number, for there was a voice heard—rough, boisterous, well suited for the utterance of round rolling oaths. Probably, this man was “ Big Dick,” spoken of by the porter, as one who might possibly make his appearance be- fore morning. This man was speaking. ' 2 “He came so almighty suddent. along, and made sich a blasted noise, that I thort he war one of us, a-course. To make sure, I hailed him; but he didn’t stop, only licked up his hoss, an’ come faster than ever. I knowed ef it war any of the boys, they wouldn’t be doing any sich tricks, so I throwed my shoot- in’-iron up\to shoulder, and let drive whar I thort he mout be. The noise stopped most mighty suddent fur a second, and then I heard a hoss galop away in sich a manner, as said he hadn't, any rider aback of him. It war a good shot to make'in the dark.” i i ‘What answer would have been given, was interrupted by the entrance of yet another man, who immediately exclaimed ; “We'll hey to lay low and keep dry for a few hours, my coves, fur there’s more’n fifty red-skins hoverin’ ‘long that way; and they ain’t coming very peaceably, either. They’re bound to blaze, from their looks.” “Whar yer from, Bill?” said Big Dick, “an’ whar did yer see them red-skins. Tye jist. been a tellin’ how I wiped some one out in the pass, here , but I didn’t see any thing like Injun signs.” “T war down South Branch, somewhat on the scout ; and I see lots of people goin’ about, all of em with lots of arms and nary plunder, but these red-skins are strikin’ fur the pass, strait, an’ from the looks of ther top-knots, I should take ’em to be Crows.” “What the —— are Crow Injuns doin’ up here?” queried Dick. “On the war trail, I guess.” “Waal, there’s no ust a pickin’ a fout with ‘em, and it’s a hard matter to meet with any body, we don’t —, so we kin jist keep under kiver, and act cautious till they’re cleared out. ‘ Adele Robison listened for a short time longer, but finally determined that it was best to retire. A heavy burdef rested upon ther young heart. Some one had probably been shot in the pass. That “some one” was doubtless the friend who had so closely followed on |after the fight at the crossing of the Marias River. Who was it ?. Her heart grew faint, and her mind dared not suggest an answer. At last sleep came to soothe her wearied brain. It was a calm and quiet sleep, that lasted a long time. At least, so it seemed to Adele, when she awoke. In the darkness she lay and wondered where she was, how long she must remain, how it would end. There are some human beings to whom morning never comes. There are those who dwell away down in the depth of the mine, in among the black ore and the grimy coal, where sunlight entérs not, where the air is damp and noisesome, where time has but two divisions to mark its lapse, the momént, when work is commenced, and the moment when it ceases. The sight of the sun to them marks & momentous epoch; they are born, live, die, and are buried by the light of a lantern, while their very bones moulder in the dark. There are others, on whom dawns not the Re et Ss scaacien foie aed pnieamegtllpnnrapegeaa , 26 FREE TRAPPERS’ PASS. morning of the soul. No bright light gleams in upon the spirit, but they dwell, cased in misery’s walls, with forlorn wretchedness, as a bed-fellow. Perhaps, they may wake up suddenly and find it is day; but more proba- bly, they will travel out of this world by the sad glimmer of sorrow’s dark-lantern, little re- eae what is behind, little thinking of that efore. : Misfortune and woe are second Joshua’s, inasmuch, as they can command the light and darkness which may rest upon the soul. They differ in this. He exercised his power for a day, they use their’s, sometimes for a week, sometimes for a month, sometimes for- ever, Neither of these two mornings could well dawn on our heroine. Tom Rutter’s appear- ance, with refreshment, told her that without the cave it was daylight. ; He was very silent. From anything he might say, she could glean no information as to the probable length of her stay in the cay- ern, and her ultimate destination after having emerged therefrom. She’would have asked, concerning the movements of the Indians, ’ whom she had overheard mentioned as ap- proaching on the previous night, but she cared not to confess herself an eaves-dropper. Tom saved her from trouble on that score, by say- ing, just as he was leaving: ; “Keep yer spunk up for the next few days. There’s a kernsiderbel lot o’ Injuns about here, that I don’t keer about meetin’ jist now. Ef we don’t do that, we'll hev to lay low here, till they clar out, and there’s no sartainty when that'll be.” a Ee When Tom returned to the front room, he found its three occupants were inoying about, getting ready for their several occupations. The men of Free Trappers’ Cave were not by any means disposed to loose their rest for _ the pure loye of duty; the consequence was, they were’ late risers. Those who chose, might rise at daybreak and prepare their breakfast, but the majority preferred to sleep on till the sun had ridden far up in the hea- vens. For that reason, when Tom Rutter en- tered the room, although he had long since finished his morning meal, Big Dick was slespily, handling his rifle. “Which way yer goin’, Dick Dawson?” inquired Tom. ~ “Goin’ to see whar that feller lit, that I tumbled off hoss, last night.” “Look out fur them red-skins, then, and put him out o’ sight. ’Tain’t any ways good to get them sneakin’ raskels lookin’ around too clost.” " With a nod of the head, which showed that he considered that he was able to take care of himself, Dawson left for the outer world. Passing through the place in which they kept their horses, he entered the crevice which served as both hall and doorway. As he neared the outside, he threw himself down flat, and quietly wriggled himself out into the open air. : : “Nature had provided a fitting retreat to these mountain outlaws. The opening of the pass was by no means easy to find, and presented difficulties which looked to be in- surmountable. After. traversing the rough road, for a short distance, the sides, on either hand, rose almost perpendicularly up, though a veil of green-grass shrubs and _ trailing plants, sufficed to hide their rugged surface, A narrow ledge, ‘scarce two yards in width, rising up with a gradual slope, led from the trail below, up to a small platform which formed the porch to the cavern. So’well had nature grouped the hugh boulders, that from below, no sign of an opening was apparent, and the path which led to it, was only half visible, and seemingly impassable to any but a most reckless footman. Yet, along it did the denizens of the place make their way in safety, though mounted on horseback, and sometimes going at no mean rate of speed. Dick Dawson, though reckless and self- confident enough, used every precaution in emerging from the burrow. For some min- utes after he had gained the open. air, he lay perfectly motionless, peering carefully around in every direction. But all was quiet, and nothing possessed of human life was to be seen. Still, progressing carefully, he’descend- ed to the ravine, or pass below, t started off to prosecute his search. Here and there, he could distinguish the imprint of a horse’s foot, and soon he arrived at the spot where he judged the stranger had stopped, at whom. he had fired on the preceeding night. « On a soft patch of ground, he found the. marks made by the turning of thethorse, and a small hollow, looking as though it were caused. by the fall of a human form. A few drops of blood, sprinkled on the grass near by, gave evidence that the bullet fired at ran- dom had struck some living object; though, _ whether it was brute or human, remained a mooted question. The footprints of the horse, returning on the trail, could be seen; but any trace of his rider, beyond the marks before mentioned, at first inspection, could not be found, and, though the top of the short grass and small bushes abounding thereabouts were, in one direction beaten down, as though some one had passed over them, yet, even this mark soon disappeared, the person had evidently pursued his way over the boulders and broken rocks which strewed the pass, thus leaving no trail behind. Vexation clouded the counte- nance of Big Dick. Such a summary wa of vamosing was not congenial to his feelings; and his oaths bore witness to the fact. » Baffled, then, Dawson ranged about the ravine for some time, in vain seeking for some trace of the intruder, until, at length, giving up the search as a bad job, he royed out on a scouting expedition, for the purpose of find- ing whereabouts were the Indians, who, on the previous night, had been reported, by a brother outlaw, as approaching. He found the spot whereon they had en- camped for a short time. It was almost in the mouth of the pass; yet, no- discoveries had been made. Though the red-skins were nowhere to be seen, Dawson could hardly believe ‘that they had left the yicinity for good, and so did not venture out into the open plain; but contented himself with | i ; ° | zs ’ a e + ey peepee arate = e en - abouts, * ef you can’t; he SYMPTOMS OF A FIGHT. making a careful examination from his hiding place. He had been absent for nearly two hours, when Tom Rutter, going to the door, met him coming in. It did not take long to report the result of his investigations, and then the two returned to the cave within. The manner of Dawson was such, that an attentive observer might have concluded that there was not a complete congeniality of temperament in that burly personage and his friend, the renegade. With nothing particular to engage their attention, it was natural that they should enter into conversation, concern- ing the business on which Tom had been em- sr There was a sort of sneering, banter- g tone, in the way in which Big Dick spoke of the Indian allies of Rutter, which aroused the ire of the latter; and before long, they were on the eve of a quarrel. “T tell yer, Tom,” finally, said Dawson, ‘yer neither fish, fowl, or flesh; you ain’t neither a square man nor a decent raskil. You come in here when you choose, and make yourself mightily at home, goin’ and comin’ when you like; but you ain’t one of the crowd. ou fought fur us onct, but, - leavin’ that out o’ the question, thar never was a single time, when you done us any good. As long as the Captain says so, it’s all right, but, blast my eyes, ef I believe in it.” “Keep cool Dawson,” responded Rutter. “Tye done you all a heap of good, as:you know, even ef I ain’t in all yer perceedin’s, and.as fur comin’ and goin’ here, I had the place long enough before you ever came here- ‘IT come when I choose, but that ain’t very often. While the Captain’s satisfied, it won't make any difference what Big Dick believes, for Captain Grant ain’t ust to askin’ his men what they think. He kin trust me, ows I’m true blue, and wouldn’t split on a friend, no matter what advantage it might be to me. I’ve bin doin’ a little business, I acknowledges — Injuns along fur pardners. We did what we went ur, and a leetle more—but come acrost a crowd we wan’t expectin’. They flaxed us out, purty nice; but ther a crowd as kin do them things. I struck into this here place, because it was too hot outside, unless I let the gal slide, tho’ that wouldn’t do, no how. ¥hen the cogasi’s clear, Pll leave, an’ not uluch aking ef I knows any thing on’t.” “T rathyer think you'll wait till the Cap- tain comes in, then. There’s a lot o’ rules laid down, as will need a little explainin’, an’ Grant’s the man to do it.” : “That don’t make no difference,” doggedly responded Rutter. “I hinted I had free pass through this Lodge. TI don’t b’long to yer bloody firm, ah’ hain’t got nothin’ to do with laws and regulations.” “Perhaps yer has, an’ perhaps yer haven't ; but the man that brings calico into this yere : ane must stand by our law, as I said afore.” hat caused the curtain, at the farther end of the room to vibrate? Did it conceal a listener? Was there a heart beating wild With fear, behind’it? 2 “Look huyer,” said Rutter, drawing him- s 27 self up to his full night, and looking proudly at Dick Dawson and the two outlaws who stood beside him, “look huyer, yer a big man, and a good man, ye’ve seen sevral scrimages in your time, an’ kin hold yer candel in a rough and tumble with most men, but you'll wake up the wrong man, when you com- mence with me. By the biggest devil in —, \if you try to make any of yer rules apply to the gal that’s under my wing, I'll put my knife through you, so wide, that there’d never be enuff left to take sight at over a shootin’- iron agin. Here—” throwing back his rough coat with one hand, exposing the long hunt- ing-knife and brace of pistols belted round him, while with the other he drew toward him his rifle—“ is the bells that rings the tune, and ef you don’t sing small, you'll git dead man’s music.” Quick as light Big Dick sprung forward, his knife flashing out for the conflict, Rutter presenting himself firmly for the onset. But, as their blades crossed, a deep, stern voice sounded through the cavern: “Hold! Up with those knives! Who is it that dares draw steel in Free Trappers’ Pass ?” “The Captin’ !” ejaculated Dawson, as he leaped back, sheathing his blade. CHAPTER VII. Meeting of Archer and Parsons, WE need scarcely tell the reader that the horseman at whom Dawson had fired was none other than Waving Plume. As he recklessly urged his horse along the rugged pass, he heard the hail of the outlaw, but thought not of answering it.” Then suddenly flamed out a light, followed by the report of a rifle. So suddenly and furiously did his horse turn, that, before he could well under- stand what had happened, Archer found him- self upon the ground in the midst of his whole equippage, while the animal was al- most out of hearing. . yi a Confusedly rubbing his head, he was about rising to his feet, when a hand of iron rested — upon his shoulder, and a low voice whis- pered in his ear: “Keep still, boy, ef ye wants to come out o’ this place with a clean skin. Yer ina heap o’ danger.” There was something familiar in the tone which, with the good sense of the request, caused him to lie still, and await what this suddenly-introduced friend would haye him to do. Silence reigned in the pass. At times he could hear the low breathing of the pe by his side; once; fora few moments he heard the noise* of: footsteps, as Big Dick sought the entrance to his: retreat pt with these exceptions all was’ still. aps a quarter of an hour had { d ere, becoming impatient, he whispered: “Allis now quiet, what is to be done next ?” dpe OK “Right, by mighty!” responded the strange friend. “I” knowed ‘it war you, Charley Archer—rayther an awk’ard tumble o’ your’n, 28 but no bones broke, I suppose. Keep quiet a leetle bit longer, till we kin see ef them as fired that shot is agoin’ to deny any thing. The speaker was Jacob Parsons. So soon as Waving Plume recognized him, he felt as- sured, in his own mind, of the propriety of adopting his advice, so, without wasting a breath in asking him how under heavens he came to be at that spot, when he had sup- posed him miles away, he retained his crouch- ing position. Of course, this could not con- tinue for ever—though a terrible long half hour passed before Parsons thought it safe to moye. Then, in a whisper, he announced that it was time; and, cautioning Waving Plume to keep close behind, he cautiously moved away, carrying his rifle in readiness for instant use, and scarce making a breath of noise, as he flitted ghost-like through the dusky night. As one familiar with the way, the trapper moved on, and with full confidence the young man followed close in his wake; though it busied him to keep up within distance of his leader. It seemed to him as though the road had become most terribly uneven since he had so rapidly traversed it; or, that a special Providence had exercised its protecting care in preventing him from receiving a death-fall in this rocky, darksome gorge. When, at length, they had nearly reached the edge of the prairie, they pe the sound |. of an approaching person. Quickly they crouched in the shade of two rocks, and scarce had they done so, when a mounted man swept past them, riding at a reckless rate through the broken pathway. Parsons would, per- haps, have endeavored to stop the man, but so instantaneous was the passage, that before he could make up his mind, the thing became an impossibility. Waiting until this individual was fairly out of hearing, again our two friends proceeded on their way. Arriving at the mouth of the pass, the trapper turned shortly to the left, and immediately struck a trail twice as cir- cuitous and difficult as the one they had left. Trusting implicitly in Jake’s intimate knowl- edge of the country, Waving Plume followed on without once questioning as to where the were going. After three quarters of an hour’s fatiguing march, with a low “come on,” the leader began the ascent of a most: difficult path. Up, ~p they toiled until they reached a long level ledge of rock, and here Parsons and his companion halted. For the present their travels were at an end. “Now,” said Archer, as he wearily threw himself at full length on the rock, “now, Jake, can you tell me how you got here, where are, and what we are to do?” » “Yer askin’ a good deal to onte, but, per- haps, I kin. You know I’ve scouted around this part of the country, for quite a time, an’ living alongside the red niggers, I got to learn their ways. Las’ night I war nigh thirty miles away, an’ right in among’em. Young Robison an’ I war on ther trail; ’cause the tarnal critturs hes got the Major an’ his darter —which is a blasted sight worse; and that’s what I ought to told you at fust.” ‘ FREE TRAPPERS’ PASS. : hi “Neyer mind that, I know that part, di though you can tell me what's become of di Hugh,” said Waving Plume. fo “He’s all right—will make a bully Injun in fighter, he will. They were all round him, hi but we fit our way through, killed a dozen— te more or less, an’ then clared out. We had to he separate, but he kin hold his own candle, sc ye I ain’t a bit frightened fur him. Now, sl knowin’ the nature of the varmints, I sorter te had ‘an idee they’d turn up in this here d’rec- tion, so I shoved ahead. I’ve got a hoss down lit thar in the dark, an’ ef I ain’t mortal bad mis- de taken it'll hev a load to carry soon. We're w jist in the allfiredest purtiest place about the al mountains—as I’m goin’ to explain. It’s he eight or ten year since I camped about this hi spot, an’ then Thad Tom Rutter for partner, lo an’ a cussed good partner he was, when he _shi wern’t thinkin’ about the wrongs some white =§ m folks had done him. We didn’t camp pre-e BR zactly here, but in a place we got to fromthe th pass whar you got so near wiped out. Wall, = wi one day Tom goes out, and doesn’t. come tic back, fur the Blackfeet had nabbed him, an’ _ se bein’ alone, I warn’t content. with my quar- Ww ters, so I explored around till I found this co | place—which is just a hard fort to storm an’ a no mistake!, The other ain’t so bad neither. When I started in this direction, I jist thought ni Tom would strike this way—” Beeb “And so he did!” exclaimed Charley Ar- ca cher, excitedly leaping to his feet.” It was he that I followed into the pass—he carried go with him Adele Robison.” of “Yes, yer correct, an’ you needn’t be In alarmed, she ain’t fur off, an’ we stand a re mighty good chance of taking her out of his re) fingers.” ci “Tell me where she is, if you know; and sii how you expect to rescue her! It will be no th easy matter, though it must be done; andI = co seek for light on it.” .% “Easy, boy, don’t be in a splutter. Thers ~ th a cave in the rock, as I kinder hinted,and _—=‘t@s Tom Rutter has holed thar till he seed jist _—- to what to do. And now, while I’m thinkin’ on gr it—how in thunder does it come that he ca breaks in alone with ther gal,and you come _—_‘ th alone followin’ him when he had a party of fe thirty braves, an’ you were with halfadozen —_ SIC free trappers? All the rest on both sides —_W: ain’t wiped out, be they? Tm kinder curous oc on them points.” : “Ts ter" 2 wi Waving Plume gave a succinct account of —-P his adventures in search of the Major's , daughter, together with a detailed description of the conflict at the crossing, the flight, and —ST! his lone continuance of the pursuit—of the = W' condition of Ned Hawkins, the Major,andthe § ™ rest of the party he was profoundly ignorant, } an a could he tell what had becomeofthe Black- | be eet. ; { e _Jake heard the account in silence, reserving } fa his criticisms until it was ended; then he com- | menced : Sek qu “Waal, Tom allers war a sharp “unto - T! handle, and he got ahead of ’em slightually —_‘8i this time, He’s a turn-coat on principle, you st see, and had been alivin’ among the Injuns he ever since that time, the black raskils fotched — yun im, 1 i oem d to , 8C ow, rter rec- wn nis- ere the It’s this ner, . he hite pre- all, ome qar- this + ‘ous THE SECRET OF THE CAVE. him up a standin’. He don’t seem to be doin’ the square thing to the Major and his darter, but as near as I kin come to it he’s fooled you an’ the red-skins both, an’ slipped in here—which ar a mighty bad place for an honést man er woman. Maybe you've hearn tell o’ Free Trappers’ Pass—ef you have, this here’s the place. Now, I’m sleepy and tired, you perceive, and so will jist dry up an’ go to sleep ; fur there’s plenty of time to-morrow to tend to all our talkin’ and sich like.” Used as he was to the hardships of. trapper life, to Jake, there was no need of a bed of down to bring sleep. In a few moments he was Cosily ensconsed in the arms of Morpheus, and the watchful ear of Charles Archer could _ hearthe long-drawn breath which announced his condition. But, tired as he was, it was long before Waving Plume could compose his nerves sufficient to sleep. might, his thoughts would adyert to Adele Robison and her eaptors. Had he not known that it would be useless, more than once would he have awakened Parsons, to ques- tion him on points which suggested them- selves to his busy brain. But he knew too well the sleeping voyageur to suppose that he could get the least satisfaction from him after a sudden awakening, Gradually the blackness of the surrounding night changed to a leaden gray. Mistily thoughts swarmed through his brain. Then came a POR ce was asleep. Even yet was his dream haunted by a golden-haired girl, who struggled in the arms of a heavily-bearded refugee and countless Indians. The fight at the crossing was to be refought, the hand-to-hand struggle with the renegade, the sudden retreat, the dark intrica- cies of Free Trapper’s Pass, and the hurtling rifle bullet—all once more appeared: ere, with the breaking morn, he arose from his hard couch on the level rock. With keen eye he studied the windings of the path which he had followed to reach this testing place ; and anxjously he gazed around to make himself acquainted. with the topo- graphical intricacies of* this retreat. A small cavern, perhaps a dozen feet square, let into the side of a precipice; a path of but a few feet in width, winding and twisting up the side of the mountain, led to it. Below him Was a great basin, cut out of the solid range, wean UA! mesons e7d bectom thickly timbered. Ashe “+<<) was looking @own upon the scenery below, of ors | ‘ion : and — the the ant, ick- ing om- . to ally you uns hed Parsons, who had wakened, remarked : “Its a queer country this, ain’t it, now ?” “Yes, Jacob, it is a queer-looking hess This is, in one sense, a safe retreat, also. It would require a more than ordinary set of men to dislodge us by force of arms; but I am afraid it would not take long to starve us out—indeed, as fur as I can see, that would ps the only plan that could prove success- ul.” “ Don’t you be too sure of that. There’s a quicker way that that, if it ain’t a better one. This wall,” patting with his hand the rocky side of the recess, “looks amazin’ thick an’ stout, but six or eight good men could have her down in short order.” “ Try as he) 29 Seeing the surprise of Archer, Parsons ex- plained as follows: “You needn’t stare so, it’s true. If you look sharp you'll see this rock’s limestun— right about here you find lots of it. On the tother side. there’s, a cave a durned sight bigger than this; and the wall atween ’em ain’t but a few inches through. Thar’s whar ‘you'll find the Free Trappers, and most likely Tom Rutter and the Major’s darter with ’em. Ef I didn’t think so, I wouldn’t be layin’ around here. There’s no use a foolin’, it’s a right down ugly job, for ef we're careful, an’ Tom gives us time, an’ we don’t starve, we'll hev her out o’ ther paws afore to-morrow, someway. Sunlight suddenly stole over the face of Waving Plume, and the joy in his soul beam- ed out through his keen gray eyes. “So near,” he exclaimed, “ nothing save a few inches of rock to separate us—she must and shall be sayed! Quick, tell me your plans, that we may at once begin the work, for delays are dangerous !” e To this rather excited speech of Archer’s, Parsons coolly responded: “Don’t be in too great a splutter, youn man. There’s several things to be thought on afore we commence to go in. We had better scout around an’ see how the count lodks, an’ then lay our plans accordin’. said las’ night I had a hoss down in the holler, an’ if the cussed scoundrels hereabouts ain’t stole him, he’s thar yit. He needs feedin’ or rayther a general sort o’ lookin’ arter ; an as we'll be wantin’ somethin’ to eat an’ drink, in better come along an’ git helped. After that I'll take a little scout out on the plain—you can come along or stay here jist which you choose. By the time I git back mebbee we'll hey some plan started.” Charles assenting, the two together began the descent of the path which served asa stair- case to this high eyrie. After a rather weari- some ten minutes the two came upon Par- sons’ horse, nicely ensconced amidst a thick patch of bushes. Here, too, they prepared to make such meal as’ Jacob’s limited larder could afford. From under an overhanging rock, at no great distance off, there gushed a pure spring of clear, cold, mountain water, and by its margin they breakfasted, the steed refreshing himself at the fountain, and then proceeding leisurely to crop the short grass and tender herbage in which’ the place abounded, . Preferring to leave the difficult duties of scouting to one most thoroughly versed in its mysteries, Waving P sought out a com- fortable resting plac ich he might seat himself, while Pa ; isappeared in the direction of the mouth of the basin, or eul-de- ere encamped. e nm. At least two hours h elapsed, and yet the trapper did not return. Not on this account did Archer become im- patient or alarmed. Only supposing that the difficulties of his task had unexpectedly. he- ‘come enhanced, or that some unforseen ap- pearance required a more careful investigation, iF f aetaaiparttts * 80 he tried, as best he might, to while away the time. At length, tired of inactivity, and restless froma mind burdened by so great a duty as. the rescue of the fair “Mist on the Mountain,” he debated within himself whether he should follow in the footsteps of Jake, and seek the plain, or return'to the niche wherein he had passed.the night. Reflecting that in the one case he would be needlessly thrusting himself into danger, and at the same time drawing no nearer to Adelez-while in the other he would be closer to the maiden, even if there was no possible means of access to her, he chose to retrace , his steps. Out of breath, he reached the spot, and flung himself down much in the same manner as he had done on the night before. His head was partly supported by the rock which formed the side, and he lay there for some time looking dreamily at the mountain tops, which rose opposite to him, at the distance of a mile. Suddenly, behind his head he felt a slight vibration of the rock, and could hear a tapping sound as though some one were, with their knuckles, trying its strength or thickness. With a bound, Waving Plume was on his feet. .Circumstanced, as he was, hé could not, at once, think what course it was best for him to pursue. It might well puzzle an older head than was upon the shoulders of Charley Archer to decide what should be done in this sudden emergency. She whom he sought was sepa- rated from him by but a few inches of soft rock, she would doubtless be overjoyed to know of his presence there—yet how should he let her know of it without running the risk of Serer all their projects for her liberation. He knew not the plan of the cavern, and therefore was not aware that the prison of Adele was untenanfed save by her- self. He felt afraid that, if he made any sign to attract her attention, one of two things might happen. Either she would, by some sudden exclamation, put her jailors on their guard, or else imagine him to be one of the ree trappers, and refuse to be assisted—per- - haps, by an outcry, call down destruction on himself and Parsons. There was one course which seemed most safe, though it was little suited to the impa- tience of young blood, It was to wait for the return of Jake. Bending down he applied his ear to the rock once more, and once more, after an inter- val of silence, he heard the tapping against the stone. Following the b which struck him, large hunting-kni Fer a moment he sur solid wall before him, g edge of his weapon, and tacked the auly known ba tween him and Adele, t of the first impulse ew from his belt the he there carried. ed the seemingly a glance at the en resolutely at- igr which lay be- Tt was hard work; but resolution and a |. strong wrist will carry a man through a great deal. E : Noiselessly he continued his work, only pausing now and then to examine his knife, FREE TRAPPERS’ PASS. in order that he might judge whether it would hold out. Carefully his labor pro- gressed, and soon could be discerned the out- lines of the cavity which he was seeking to excavate. How long did the minutes seem! Almost a life time apparently went out in the half hour he spent at his work. Difficulties reso- lutely attacked often disappear; and so it was, somewhat in this case. Though the precise name of the stone was unknown to the young man, yet to him did it seem of a peculiar structure. Before his iron wrist it rapidly flaked away. All sound within had ceased. Though he © worked as silently as possible, he could not avoid making some noise; but whether or no this had frightened the investigator, he was — unable to tell, As Waving Plume progressed with his — labor, he began to realize how very thin the © partition actually was, At,a heavy pressure of his hand he could feel it spring inwards, and he marked well the progress that he had made. One more vigorous application of the knife, the point sank into the rock and disap- — — His work, for the time, was almost one. A hole as big as the palm of his hand testi- fied to the vigor of his proceedings. Anx- iously gazing through this, he could see the apartment beyond. A small lamp cast an uncertain light, and almost directly before the aperture a dim shadow loomed up. The shadow was that of a woman. Motionless she stood there, with eyes bent on the little opening through which streamed the subdued light from the world beyond. - The noise of loud voices in angry debate rolled in from the other apartment, and would have effectually drowned any excla- mation. which she might have made; but she made none, save the loud beatings of her own heart, which, to her were plainly audible— there was no noise Within the walls of her prison house. What thoughts trooped through ‘her mind it were hard to tell. So varied, and, to her, exciting, had been the events of the last few days, that but little was required to take away her self-possession; and thus, from aioe one listened to the stroke of the knife so skillfully handled by Waving Plume, her senses were stolen away, and she was as ~ f one bereft of speech and mothxa “Mu ox. os “ Adele!” » AE. In a low, but audible whisper the word floated into the room. The voice of the whisperer, too, was not unknown, and she bent forward to listen. “ Adele!” Once more the whispered word; but this time the tone was a note or two louder. Bending down her head, she replied: “ Who is it that speaks?” “A friend—one who would rescue you— Charles Archer.” “Thank heaven !” This, much more in the shape of a fervent pes than of a reply, then, to Waving ume: ; “Tf you can aid me, be quick.” n a a roa r it pro- out- g to nost half ‘esO- oO it the n to of a st it 1 he © not y no was his the ure rds, had ‘the sap- = 20st esti- nXx- the nt. - sehen Rm pie on oiettamerte aR I ti