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ON THE PLAINS;¥.

THE RACE FOR LIFE.

 

 

American Tales.]} PRICE TEN CENTS.  [No. 1, Complete.

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NEW-YORK:
SINCLAIR TOUSEY, PUBLISHERS’ AGEN}

121 Nassav Srreer.

 

 

 

 
 
NEW-YORK:
SINCLAIR TOUSEY, PUBLISHERS’ AGENT,

No. 121 Nassav Srreer.

 
 

 

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the
Year 18638, by Srvcuarr Tovsry, Publisher’s Agent, in the Clerk’s Office of the District
Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York.

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ON THE

PLAINS:

OR,

THE RACE

FOR LIFE.

——_— 000-—____—

CHAPTER I
THE TRAVELLER.

Tru noonday sun was pouring its full tide of
fiery rays upon the broad rolling prairie ; the
blazing air was quivering with the intense
heat of a summer-day ; the blue sky was not
flecked by a single cloud. Away, as far as
the eye could reach, the glistening plain
stretched in regular monotonous swells, unre-
lieved, save here and there by some stunt-
ed tree or jagged rock; only now and then
an emerald grove of trees met the eye like a
refreshing oasis in the desert. The earth long
had been scorched by the withering rays.
Only at intervals the sparse blades of —
grass were to be seen. It seemed as if the
whole face of nature was blasted by some
deadly sirocco.

The section of country to which we refer is
now comprehended in what is ed Ne-
braska territory. That portion in the neigh-
borhood of the Rocky mountains, termed the
‘Black Hills,” is the one of which we shall
more particularly speak. Until recently it was
rarely visited by whites, except’ by a few trap-
pers and hunters. Now and then some ad-
venturous man pierced its wilds with those
daring spirits, but only at rare intervals indeed.
The Indians held nearly undisputed possession
of this territory, which was, in fact, but one
great hunting ground. Herds of buffaloes,
numbering tens of thousands, thundered over
its vast bosom; innumerable droves of horses
galloped in aaa freedom over its

‘ace, while, in the plenti ‘eams, the beaver
and otter flourished with little fear of moles-
tation from the white man. The whole North-
west was the unexplored paradise of the abo-
rigines of the continent.

The only whites who trod this region were
the daring trappers and hunters, who, indeed,
differed little in their customs and lives from
the savages th ves. They generally trav-
elled in ap numbering from two or three
to a dozen; now and then an eccentric and
fearless spirit might be found who braved
the perils of the wilderness alone, and jour-
neyed hundreds of miles with his bang with
no companion but his horse and faithful rifle.

Although the prairie presented as cheerless

 

and barren an appearance at this time as the
desert, yet there were seasons when it seemed
another country—when it was but one roman-
tic ocean of verdure and roses, and the air was
heavy with the perfumes of millions of wild
flowers that bloomed and lived in the genial
sunshine. For mile after mile the ground
was covered with the thick velvet of green, in
which the most varied animal life grew in
myriads.

About noon of this suffocating day a horse-
man was travelling over the prairie. He and
his animal were the only signs of life that met
the eye, and they together might have been
easily mistaken for some stationery object, so
slow and tedious was their course. The rider
was a yous man of not over twenty-five
years of age, whose well-proportioned
showed that, although in probability a
stranger in those parts, he yet was no ordinary
hunter. He was attired in the usual hunting-
frock and leggins, and wore a closely fitting
cap of fur. At his waist the handles of two
knives protruded, and a long polished rifle »
rested across the saddle in front of him. His
black hair, escaping from his cap, hung loose-
ly upon his shoulders, giving him at times a
strange and picturesque wildness, His com-
plexion was considerably bronzed from con-
stant exposure to all kinds of weather. His ha-
zel eyes were now gazing vacantly at the hori-
zon, and his mind was lost in a deep wander-
ing that nearly excluded all external objeets
from his view. His horse, a diminutive speci-
men of the Canadian breed, although capable of
bearing much fatigue, now gave palpable signs
of weariness. His dappled haunches glisten-

g in the sun’s flery rays like polished ebony,
while the foam and froth was constantly oy
ping from beneath the saddle, as-he patiently
and slowly plodded forward. His hoofs elamp-
ing upon the hardened earth, the dry cracking
of the saddle, and the hurried breathing of
the animal, were the ouly sounds that disturb-
ed the oppressive stillness that held reign,
Such an appearance did George Summerfield
present as he was journeying over the prairie.

‘‘Heavens!” exclaimed he, co! his
thoughts and gazing about him, when will
this horrid scene change? Here I have been
travelling since’ daylight, over this dreadful _
ocean of earth, and not a solitary island has

peeled acl

 
yet appeared. I am half tortured to death
with thirst, while poor Ned here is suffering
still more. Have patience, Ned,” he added,
fondly patting the horse upon the neck, who
was indeed suffering more than his master.

tered he. ‘I doubt whether I shall ever see
their ugly faces again, and a precious pretty
scrape I am in. ‘Two or three thousand of
miles from home, with no neighbors but the
cowardly Indians, who, I doubt not, would be
glad to make my acquaintance. But‘who shall
T blame but myself for this? Heavens! what
a fate this would be, out on this baking" prairie
to be tortured to death by this consuming
thirst. God avert such a terrible death!”

The horse stopped now and then to pluck
the yellow blades of grass, and at last turned
to lick the froth from his steaming sides. Sum-
merfield restrained him.

‘Don’t do that, Ned, though God knows
that you are suffering! It will only aggravate
your thirst the more.”

‘The animal ceased, and his rider rose in his
stirrups and anxiously swept the horizon. It
was growing late in the afternoon, and he
began to be alarmed for himself. He felt sure
that he should die unless he soon discovered
water. Suddenly, as he gazed to the right, his
eye flashed, and he started.

“Thank heaven, there’s a sail in this infer-
nal ocean, and close at hand, too!” he ex-
claimed, as his eye rested upon the mellow
outlines of a grove of trees in the distance.

“What could have prevented me from _see-
ing those trees before? They must have been
in sight for the last half hour, while Ned-and I
have almost given up in despair. Relief is
close at hand.” ¢

Summerfield, although quite an experienced
hunter, had, however, sadly miscalculated the
distance. The trees were full twice as far as
they appeared. In his impatient haste to
reach them, the time seemed interminable.
Distance is as deceptive upon the prairie as
upon the sea; as it takes a true sailor to cal-
culate it upon the one, so it requires an expe-
rienced hunter to measure it upon the other.

It was full an hour before he approached
near enough to distinguish the branches of the
different trees ; and as he saw their fresh and
blooming appearance, he felt sure that such a
thing could not exist unless the roots were
well supplied with water.

«And yet,” he muttered, as the sickening
thought presented itself, ‘suppose that I
should be disappointed, what a death awaits
me! I never could leave the spot, and poor
Ned would die immediately.”

As he rapidly approached the place, his
anxiety became fearfully intense. He listened
to hear the noise of running water, and when
‘he heard it not, despite himself, an awful
-doubt would enter his mind. His horse’s in-
stinct, however, was infallible ; and, as the lat-
ter quickened his pace and ascended the swell
upon the edge of the grove, a bright, Kling
stream of water was seen gushing sl oat along
within a few feet of him.

With a shout, he sprang from his horse, and
they simultaneously leaped into the refreshing
element. As he quaffed the cool, refreshing

 

‘‘Curses on those infernal fellows,” mut- | ur

 

a

4 ON THE PLAINS; OR,

fluid, he was fairly delirious with joy. It
seemed that a death by drowning was the
greatest bliss that a mortal could be given,
and he covered himself with the limpid water,
and was really insane with his excess of pleas-

e.

Summerfield, however, soon satisfied his de-
sires, and, like an ordinary human being,
laughed at his own ridiculous manifestations.

«‘Hold on, Ned,” said he, ‘‘it won’t do for
you to drink so much at first. It is dangerous,
and you must be restrained.”

So saying, he led his horse from the water,
upon the swell, and holding his rein, gazed out
upon the prairie. The sun was now low in the
heavens, and the air was becoming cooler and
more tolerable. He saw no sign of animal life,
and was about to turn to the grove, when the
sharp crack of a rifle burst from the green
spot, and a bullet whizzed within a half-inch
of his eyes!

‘“‘Heavens! That was a close rub!” ejacu-
lated Summerfield, cocking his rifle and gazing
toward the grove in the hope of seeing his
enemy. But no form was visible, and he be-
gan to feel rather uneasy in his situation. After
waiting a few moments, he lowered his rifle,
and at the same instant another was dis-
charged, and, as a slight puff of wind struck
his face, one of his black curls dropped to his
feet, severed by the leaden messenger. He
turned quickly, and saw a thin wreath of smoke
slowly rising from the edge of the grove.

«‘There’s a venture, at any rate!” said he,
hastily discharging his rifle at the point where
he supposed was his hidden foe.

_ As he commenced re-loading, he saw the un-

derwood become agitated, and the next instant.

a large, powerfully built man stepped forth in
full view. Summerfield gazed at him with mixed
wonder and admiration. His form was one
of the most noble and commanding that he
had ever seen. His small eyes glistening be-
neath his shaggy, projecting brows, seemed
ever restless with excitement. His jetty black
beard, although long and uncombed, had yet
an appearance of harmony with the rest of his
dress. As he moved, the swelling ridges of
muscles showed what terrible strength was
concentrated in his frame. Yet he was grace-
ful, and, when occasion required, was as light-
ning-like in_ his movements as the famished

panther. His fine Roman nose, and small,
restless gray eyes, would have shown any one
his temperament.

His dress was si to Summerfield’s, save
that it appeared tobe made more for strength
and durability. his left hand, he held a

long, formidable-looking rifle, whose barrel
glistened and shone in the sun’s departing rays
as he slowly changed its position. ‘The handle
of a finely-carved scalping-knife was visible,
and, take him all in all, the hanter was ® man
whose ill-will was dangerous to any mortal.
“Tt seems to me,” said Summerfield, ‘‘ that
you are rather reckless with yO a You

made me wink rather suddenly ort time
since.”

‘Wal, stranger, I ain’t a feller what makes
oe i

“ce

ill you allow me to inquire your objectin
thus outing your shots so close to me?”

tm

 

rt

3
2

 
 

JNA

THE RACE FOR LIFE. 5

‘Wal, stranger, that hyer’s the manner I
generally says ‘How d’you do?’ when I come
across folks what I doesn’t know.”

«A rather peculiar fashion of yours.”

“«Tt’s the one I allers uses, and what I allers
ca’culate to. What mought your handle be,
stranger ?”

‘‘Summerfield—George Summerfield is my
name. I suppose you will have no objections
to giving me yours ?”

“ How come you to be trampin’ out in these
parts ?” <

‘*T left the States some weeks ago in com-
pany with three others, with the intention of
accompanying them upon a trapping expedi-
tion. Yesterday, in the excitement of a chase,
Tlost them altogether, and have not seen a
sign of them since.”

‘Yer a green one, no mistake, in these
parts.”

‘* Thave been here before, and am not an inex-
perienced hunter, although I am young. I
have been in several brushes with Indians, and
trust that I am not what, upon further ac-

uaintance, you willterm green. But, my good
iend, allow me again to inquire your name ?”

‘“‘T’m known in these parts by the name of
Vie Vannoven.” :

“Ihave heard you spoken of as a great

hunter and trapper that—”

“Thar, that'll do. Just hold on with that
stuff.” ;

‘Why, Mr.—”

‘Hold on agin,” exclaimed the hunter, with
an angry gesture. ‘I don’t own that last
handle. Jus please to drap it altogether when
I’m spoken to, and never mind about stuffin’
me with that other stuff. It goes agin my
stummick altogether.”

«‘Well, Vic, then, I have heard of you be-
fore, and assure you that I am glad to meet
you. I don’t feel entirely safe in this section
with no companion but my horse. I suppose
that you are alone?”

“T hain’t got no chaps hangin’ round me,
but Poly, here, is worth a dozen. When she
barks ste bites ; and I’ve got Porkypine out
here thatsleeps with me every night, and us
three maks as big a company as I wants.”

«Then Iwuppose you would rather be freed
from my socnty ?”

«Wal, Someéjeld, ef yer death on redskins,
and that Polly ©: yourn’ll drop one without yer
touchin it, and elyer ain’t afraid of gitten’ yer
har lifted, and d's mind sleepin’ out ina
snow-storm, and ain womanish, why hyer’s a
feller what'll stick to yy,”

«Then we are friads henceforth. Now
that [have your compay, [ do not feel the

s of my friends 80 mué. githo if -
Wie I must soon see them. ugh, if possi

« Whar was it that you les ‘gy 9”

«T have no idea ; but, judgxg from the dis-
tance that Thave travelled, I shyjq suppose it
somewhere in the neighborhog of forty
o What kind of lookin’ place Mypnt it bo
whar you seen ’em last?” ;

«T yemember that it was at the jusgion of
two streams, near @ large grove of timi, _»

*«¢T knows the spot, and now am pur.

tain that yer green; coz why, you've soy

trampin’ your old hoss to death to find ’em,
and they hain’t been more’n a dozen miles off
neither.”

“Why, how can that be, when I have tray-
elled a much greater distance ?”

‘Coz you’ve been trampin’ all ’round it with-
out comin’ to the pint, and ef yer’d had yer
eyes open you'd have seen it too.”

‘Can we reach them to night, then?”

‘‘ We'll see ; but don’tlet us stand here talk-
in’ when yer hoss is wanderin’ off.”

Summerfield turned and saw that his animal
had strayed quite a distance down the stream,
tempted by the luxuriant grass that lined its
edges. He gave him but a word, when he re-
turned and remained but a short distance,
while he himself rejoined the hunter, and to-
gether they entered the grove. After proceed-
ing a short distance, they came upon the horse
of Vannoven, which was contentedly plucking
the grass with which the grove was carpeted.

‘* Hyer, Porkypine, is a feller what wants to
cultivate yer acquaintance.”

The horse raised his head, and seemed to
fully understand that he was addressed.

‘“‘Somefield, it’s a gittin’ nigh onto feedin’
time, and I ee you wouldn’t mind helpin’.
Pears to me that yer rags must set nice, bein’
you've been washin’ ’em with such pains,” said
the hunter, with a half-mischievous and half-
contemptuous expression of his countenance.

‘That was afoolish piece of business,” re-
turned Summerfield, blushing with shame at
the weakness which he had manifested about
the water ; ‘‘but,” added he, ‘‘I was perfectly
insane with the thirst that was burning me up.
Heavens! I never wish such an experience
again.”

‘“Wagh! you'll be lucky ef youdon’t. Why,
you, I’ve seen the time when I had to chaw all
the bullets Thad to save my carcass, after go
in’ fur days without seein’ a drop. There are
some spots on this perarie whar, at times,
you've got to make a long tramp afore you git
sight of it. Howsumever, I never manage to
lose my reckonin’ now-a-days, and either Pork-
ypine or me knows whar to find it.”

The shades of night were now rapidly set-
ting over the prairie, and the grove had already
become dark and gloomy. Vannoven com-
menced making preparations for a fire, while
Summerfield returned to picket his horse for
the night. This done, he again returned to
his newly-made friend. He had a bright fire
burning and crackling, and yet so concealed
and screened that it could not be seen from
rye point in the grove, until directly upon it.
A huge piece of meat was spitting and fry-
ing over the blaze, while the hunter was re-
clining upon the ground and wees watch-
ing it. As Summerfield approached, he arose,
and removing the meat, severed it into two
equal portions, and tossing him one, remarked :

‘*'Thar’s the last of one of the finest bufflers
I ever dropped.”

Summertield, like a:true hunter, relished the
steaming meat, and devoured it without the
least ceremony or further preparation.
hearty meal was partaken in silence.

_Thé hunter arose, and scattering the brands,

sar- | 80 as to extinguish the fire, again seated him-

 

self upon the ground.

 
   
 

 

a)
i
oo

 

 

 

em oe ling of chariot wheels ; and when,

‘*Do you not fear the approach of an enemy
during the night?” asked Summerfield.

«Not much. I'd like to see the red what
could git near me while’ I’s ‘sleep, without
Porky smellin’ him ; and me and Porky has no
secrets,” added the hunter, with pride.

‘Do you generally wander alone over this
dangerous country ?”

*<T don’t know what you mean by alone ; but
if you mean fellers, why I kin tell you, I hain’t
had much company fur the last ten year.”

‘May I be allowed to inquire your reasons
for leading such a strange life?” asked Sum-
merfield, beginning to feel an interest in him.

‘Tt would take too long. Not now,” he re-
turned, relapsing into a thoughtful silence,
which Summerfield thought it best not to dis-

_ tur.

CHAPTER IL
THE NIGHT-STORM,

A sravtirun night settled slowly over the
prairie. The air seemed to possess an unnat-
ural brilliancy and clearness, and the countless
millions of stars glittered in glorious splendor.
The Pleiades, Orion, and other constellations,
blazed in wondrous strength and brightness,
and the whole canopy,of heaven had a gorge-
ous magnificence that was indeed wonderful.

Nothing but the almost inaudible murmur-
ing of the streamlet, as it rippled over its bed,
could be heard, save now and then the dull
stamp of the horses as they changed their po-
sition. At intervals, a slight gush or breath of
wind moved the tree-tops, and gently swayed
the branches, and then everything relapsed
again into the usual deep silence.

Summerfield lay on his back, gazing in rapt
wonder and admiration upon the spangled
vault above him. He saw the constellations
slowly circle through the heavens, and watched
their progress through the openings in the
tree-tops, until their swaying confused him,
and he let his mind wander off upon a sort of
dreamy, aimless journey, forgetting for a time
his situation and new-made friend.

But occasionally there were stronger and
more fitful puffs, repeated at shorter intervals ;
and upon gazing upward through the branches,
he observed that the stars were gradually be-
coming obscured, while heavy clouds were
rolling tumultuously through the heavens. Al-
though the heat of the day had been suffoca-
ting, it was now uncomfortably chilly, and was
growing more 80 each moment.

Suddenly, several faint flashes illumined the
sky, and presently the rumbling peals reverbe-
rated overhead.

“This is goin’ to be a reg’lar snorter,” re-
marked the hunter, quietly. %

“That's certain, how the branches are
swaying! ‘There it comes!”

As he spoke, the sky opened like one sheet
of fire, and almost simultaneously with it came
a crash of thunder that made the prairie trem-

*
are for miles around. Its awful voice, slowly

rolling auny aes the heavens, sounded
plain was lightened up and shone out with

 

 

ON THE PLAINS; OR,

sudden and vivid distinctness, the falling rain
glittered like the spears of an innumerable ar-
my. Again and again, with appalling rapidity,
came the terrific bursts of thunder, and the
rain rattled like hailstones through the branch-
es overhead. Summerfield had never before
witnessed such an awful storm, and for awhile
was overcome by feelings of awe and sublimity.
He was about to speak, ‘when the sky flamed
out again in one blaze of shattered fire, and the
trapper yelled to him :

ss een up and snooze, or you mought git
we

He wisely took the warning, and was not
long in stowing himself away in his impenetra-
ble blanket. Thus he lay and listened to the
storm, which was raging at its greatest height.
Huge spouts of rain were shooting down
through the trees like the rattle of musketry,
while the bellowing thunder resembled the can-
nonading of some mighty army. As it paused,
at intervals, the roar of the brook, now a rush-
ing torrent, could be distinctly heard, and the
wind made mournful music through the limbs,
bending with water.

The fall of the rain lasted but a short time,
and Summerfield uncovered his face and gazed
around him. All was of an inky blackness saye
when the lightning darted through the grove.
Then the wet trunks glistened coldly, and the
water shone with a glittering light ; and when
some gust of wind, stronger than usual, sway-
ed the trees, they sent down for a second a
perfect deluge of water.

The storm was as short as it was fierce. In
a half hour more not a drop of water was fall-
ing, and only a faint flash of lightning conld
be seen at intervals. Summerfield, now that
the deafening tumult around him had ceased,
fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. This had
lasted about an hour, when he was aroused by
feeling a jerk at his blanket. He looked
around, but saw nothing in the darkness. —

«“What’s the matter ?” he asked, in a whisper.

‘sh! keep quiet,” returned the hunéer, in
the same tone.

‘‘ Any trouble?”

“Tm ’fraid so. Injins ai’ about, putty sure.”

‘“What! in the grove here ?”

“ Yas, cuss it, ya¥ ;-you ain’t scazt, are you?
I thort P'd let you know my ’spistlons, ’cause
ef I didn’t, you mought get int ® muss with-
out knowin’ it. Thai’ goes Po*y, again!”

As he spoke, Summerfield 2eard his horse
give a faint whinny and - Stamp that con-
vinced him that the trapy*? 8 Suspicions were
well grounded. ad j

“Just keep docile Ww,” admonished the
trapper, as he stole ayV- 3

He crept carefully’Ver the moist earth, and
in a few minutes reVhed his horse.

«What's up, p*ky?” he asked, rising and
Jacing his hend*lose to his ear as he spoke,
he animal another whinny, and, dark

as it was, Vetoven saw a body glide out of
sight in the/*"kmess. Quick as thought, he
sprang beh?@ 4 tree, and demanded, in a loud
and impey4Ve tone :

“ +, OF red ?”

In a (20nd came the answer :
«ywite. If that ain’t Vic Vannoven, then

skin?!”

@

   

 
THE RACE FOR LIFE. 7

“That you, Jim?” queried the hunter, in
turn, as the familiar voice struck his ear.
‘©Qome out here and show your carcass.”

The next minute the two hunters met with
genuine and unfeigned pleasure.

‘“‘What the dickens yer doin’ here?” de-
manded Vic, good-humoredly.

«‘ And what you doin’ here?” asked the oth-
er, in turn.

‘Why don’t you ax me, Jim Wandaught,
what I’m allers doin’ in these parts. Yer knows
well ’nough. I’ve been tramping ’round, and
happened to drop down hyer to-day, and seein’
as Asie thar’s gwine to be a reg'lar ring-tail-
roarer of a storm, why, thinks I, ‘Ole Vic,
yer d better stick hyer till it’s over; and so I
squatted till you come a nosin’ ’round.”

‘*Wal, me’ ’n Sam an’ ’nother nigger war
out when we seen the blow gettin’ ready, and
made tracks fur this place, but war catched
afore we got to it. Howsumever, that didn’t
matter, as we toted on till we got purty
near here, when I ’cluded to take a look at
things afore comin’ here ; coz, you know, thar
mought be reds about. I didn’t know what to
make of yer hoss, coz he smelt me afore I did
him, though I smelt sunkthin’ that I war purty
sure war you, Vic, and it warn’t no ’fumery to
brag on neither, I can tell yer. I ’cluded, as
how thar war signs "bout, and war just gwine
back to let ’em know it, when you come
*round.”

“Didn't yer have anybody with yer ’cept
Sam an’ tuther chap ?” :

“Yes; thar war a chap what called himself
Summerfield—one o’ these from the States that
don’t know nothin’.”

‘¢ That’s what I thort. He come ’round here
*while ago, and bein’ kindy clever, I let ’im
sleep in my bed with me.”

“<In your bed? Wagh! wagh!” t

“Yas ; in my bed. Don’t yer know nothin’,
Jim? In the woods hyer, I mean ; that’s my
bed. He’s green !”

«Yes; he wanted to come so bad that I
couldn’t help it, ‘cause I’s ’fraid he mought
boo-hoo himself to death ef I left him behind.
He’s a greeny ; no mistake.”

These compliments to Summerfield were
spoken in a tone loud enough for him to hear,
and, as may be supposed, there was not much
danger of his trying to impress his compan-
ions with any exalted ideas of his own prow-
ess and knowledge of border life after that.

Jim and Vic conversed for a few moments
more, when the former started out to bring in
his companions. They were snugly ensconced
in the thicket, and soon joined Vic and Sum-
merfield, to the seeming satisfaction of all. It
was a pleasant reunion after a day of exhaust-
ing riding. A fire wassoon rekindled, around
which all gathered to dry their soaked gar-
ments and to warm their chilled limbs. "

Let us, before proceeding farther with our
story, refer more particularly to those collected
there in that picturesque group—each relating
his story of news and adventure.

George Summerfield, of —, Missouri, has
been referred to, and with a remark or two we
will let him pass. He was the son of wealthy
parents who died in his childhood, leaving him
with no relation except a sister afew ycars

 

younger than himself. Naturally of a roving,
careless disposition, he had only entered. col-
lege to gratify a wish that his father had ex-
pressed upon his deathbed. After graduation
he returned home, and spent a year in doing
nothing in particular but reading and hunt-
ing. The next year he spent in travelling with
his sister over the Atlantic states, and returned
home again without any definite object in
view. One morning at breakfast, he told his
sister that he should take a tramp among the
Indians, just for the fun of the thing. Then
he hurried to Independence, gave 2 trapper a
hundred dollars to permit him to accompany
him, and the next day was outgpn the prairies,
half galled to death on an old pack-horse! He
determined to brave it out like a hero, how-
ever—and he did. He was gone about nine
months, and was given a good taste of wild
adventure on the northern trapping grounds.
_ After this, he remained at home for five or
six months, when he determined to make one
more journey to the plains, And for this he
was wise enough to make some preparation,
He purchased his own horse, and took Seth
Potter along with him. At Independence he
selected his own trapper—Jim Wandaught—
a selection that he never regretted. As might
be supposed, his sister opposed his entire de-
termination ; but he succeeded in gaining her
consent, and with a light heart he bid good-by
to his native state, and turned his face toward
the great prairies of the Far West.

Victor Vannoven was both a trapper and
guide, although for the last year or two he had
not served in the latter capacity, and preferred
to be only the former. Most of his life had
been spent upon the prairies. He said he had
no brothers, sisters, or parents, or if he had
them, did not know them. For a number of
years he had made most of his trapping jour-
neys with no companion but his horse. Once
or twice he and Wandaught had gone in com-
pany, but he generally preferred to be alone,
and sometimes he would be gone for two years
ata time. He was generally reserved and dis-
tant toward strangers, and his nature was
neyer understood until a long companionship
had gained his friendship. As we intend to
make a companion of him, we shall omit a
disquisition at present upon, his many failures
and virtues, and leave them to develop them-
selves as our acquaintance with him pro-
gresses.

Jim Wandaught, a trapper, born in St. Jo-
seph, Missouri, was now about thirty years of
age. He was rather below the medium stat-
ure, with a fine, compact frame, as agile and
powerful as the panther. He always wore a
cap that came down to his eyebrows, and fitted
80 closely that, at a short distance, it might
easily be supposed that he had no covering at
all upon his head. His eyes were of a light
gray, and their power was so famous that
many of his acquaintances termed him “Eagle
Eyes,” His hair was of dark grizzled color,
and so short that it was rarely seen except
when his cap was removed. No beard graced
his face, except a long, yellow tuft upon his
chin, the rest being a8 smooth as an infant’s.
His nose was slightly Roman, and rather
small ; he had a fine set of teeth, which were

 
 

8 ON THE PLAINS; OR,

always visible, as he ever wore a smile, or a
half-smile rather ; for he possessed the pecu- |
liarity that many persons have, of using but
one side of their mouths when they wish to
indulge in a silent laugh. He was good-na-
tured, always communicative, and rarely taking
offence at a slight or intended insult. He had
experienced an incredible number of hair-
breadth escapes and wild adventures, and his
fund of anecdote was exhaustless. He was
frank, open-hearted, and a man that could
never be a hypocrite. He possessed a rifle of
exactly his own length, from which he was
never known to be eee, and whose quali-
ties he could f¥ever laud too highly. There
were many points of resemblance between him
and Vannoven. He did not possess the great
strength and majestic form of the latter, but
was more fleet of foot, and his nature lay more
upon the surface ; it could be seen at once.
Seth Potter, as the reader has probably sur-
mised, was a companion of Summerfield, whose
father had adopted and reared him. He was
over six feet in height, very lank‘and cadaver-
ous, and with a form excessively crooked. His
head and neck projected forward, and when he
stood, as was his custom, with his arms folded
behind him, his knees bent backward, so that
his legs had the appearance of half-strung
bows, his whole body resembling the letter 8.
His features were rather pleasant than other-
wise, having a mild, blue eye, and an ingenu-
ous, half-comical expression. His nose was |
very long, and his prominent cheek-bones pre-
vented every one except himself from suppos-
ing he had a right to lay claim to any good
looks. His hair was long and yellow, his
limbs long and bony, and his whole appear-
ance that of a wiry, nervous, and ungainly
person ; yet there were few men of the West
who could get over so much ground in so little
time. Give him rough, uneven surface, and
there was not an Indian but what he could
easily overtake—provided his wind lasted.
Sam Redzel had been Wandaught’s compan-
ion for a year or two, and was as different in
every respect as could possible be imagined.
He was somewhat taller, had fiery red hair,
whiskers of the same hue, that grew in patches
on his cicatrized face ; an eye that glittered
like a coiled black snake underneath his shag-
gy eyebrows. He was taciturn and sullen, often
refusing to answer a direct question. The
sight of one eye had been destroyed, and, be-
ing of a milk-white color, and always half
open, it rendered his appearance more repul-
sive than it would have otherwise been. He
had a habit of leering with his one eye, and of
always contracting his brows, that gave one
the idea that he possessed a hidden, deceitful
nature. Whatever might be his character, it
was plain that it possessed not half the good
qualities of either Vannoven or Wandaught.

 

CHAPTER III.
A BAD CHARACTER

As the bright rays of the approaching sun
pierced the foliage of the grove, the trappers

 

were astir and making preparations for the

journey that was before them. Vannoven had

passed around the trees in order to see whether
there were any signs of savages ; and, finding
nothing to arouse his suspicions, had returned
and reported the state of affairs to the rest.

One of the number had kindled a fire, and
a huge piece of buffalo was soon roasted. In
a few minutes this was devoured, and the hunt-
ers, placing their different loads upon these
animals, started forth.

The storm of the preceding night had
wrought a wonderful change in the face of na-
ture upon the prairies. Where, the day be-
fore, nothing but a few black blades were seen,
was now visible tho velvety prairie grass, and
in some places the wild flowers had loaded the
air with perfume. It was an immense field of
verdure.

As the destination of the five hunters was
the same, it was agreed by all to keep company
for afew days at least. The eccentric Vanno-
ven had made up his mind to trap alone, and
he was fully determined that none should
share his company. Summerfield, with his
companions, were on their way north. toward
the trapping grounds, and from Vannoyen he
learned that they would trap within forty or
fifty miles of him. Yet, as we have said, he
would accept of no company, and assured the
rest that he should part with them in three or
four days at the most.

For most of the day the ride was over the
peculiar rolling prairie which prevails so much
in the Far West. This has an almost painful
sameness and monotony for any one save those
who, for years, have been accustomed to it.
Seth expressed his indignation every few mo-
ments, but little heed was paid to him by the
rest, and the company moved patiently and
quietly onward.

About the middle of the afternoon, Wan-
daught, who was riding considerably in ad-
vance of the rest, suddenly halted and raised
his hand above his head. The sign was un-
derstood by the rest, and, without speaking,
they reined up their animals and waited for
further communication. Ina momenthe low-
ered his hand and started forward, the rest do-
ing the same. All, however, now proceeded
more slowly and with greater caution than be-
fore.

He had gone about a mile or so farther,
when he again halted, raised his hand as be-
fore, and waited for the others to come up.

“What's the word?” asked Vannoven.

“Sign,” returned Wandaught.

‘What 2” same
‘“‘Kioways, and a big party.”

«Which way !”

‘‘East, and comin this way too.”

“Close on us ?” i

‘“Not very. They've bin round all the atter-
noon.” -

“Seen us?”

i not, but we'll ions bp ays our-
selves soon. Thar’s "bout forty or
on ‘em and they're goin’ "bout as fast aed
are.

“T. spose we'll have to get into another
muss,” exclaimed Seth, indignantly.

“You needn’t be afeard, Crooked Pegs,”

 

Ce a fF lUele ee ee

eeo

QaSHtG AS

’b
se

of

 
 

THE RACE FOR LIFE. 9

sneered Redzel, ‘‘that shootin’ iron would
scare all of em to death, providin’ yer didn’t
lose it.”

**T can tell you, if you were among them
you would find there was no danger of my los-
ing it, nor of the bullet losing the mark
either,” retorted Seth, stung to the quick by
the contemptuous remarks of Redzel.

““Come,” interposed Summerfield, ‘this is
child’s play.”

“Mr. Greeney, wait till yer axed to put in
your blab,” said Redzel, and then to Seth,
‘‘ How d’yer manage, gawky, to wabble "bout
on them pegs ?”

‘Very easy, I s’pose, as you may yet man-
age to see.”

“‘Come, don’t give me none yer talk,” ex-
claimed the trapper.

«Bah! I'd like to know whether you
think—”

Further utterance was cut short by a crash-
ing blow directly in the mouth of Seth. He
staggered back a pace or two, when as he
tasted the blood he clubbed his rifle, and be-
fore even his assailant divined his intention,
brought a murderous blow upon the head of
Redzel that felled him like an ox. Summer-
field sprang forward to interfere, as he saw
the bloody track of Seth’s rifle ; but in spite
of him, his assailant arose and leaped toward
Seth. The blood was streaming down his
face, adding a ghastly intensity to his passion,
while Seth stood quivering and perfectly white
with rage.

‘Let them have it out,” said Wandaught,
stepping back and complacently viewing
them.

‘Yes, if they’re fools enough to fight and
scratch, why, I says, let ’em doot,” added Van-
noven.

“This is a fine state of affairs,” exclaimed
Summerfield, bitterly. ‘‘ We are even now
discovered. by our enemies, and these two
fools must employ their time in using their
strength upon each other. IfI can prevent it
I shall.”

He seemed as excited as the two combat-
ants, and approached them with a determined
air. Stepping forward, he placed his foot
upon the breast of Seth, who was under, and
almost throttled by his adversary, and concen-
trating his strength, gave a powerful jerk.
The two separated, and, yielding to an im-
pulse, he flung Redzel a dezen feet from him.
The latter sprang to his feet, and, like a demon,.
leaped toward him. Vannoven and Wan-
daught, however, seized and held him.

«Come, Sam,” said the latter, «you've done
"bout enough. You're makin’ a fool of your-

self.”

of em, Lswear. They shall both die!”

«Come, come, that’s plenty, now.”

But the infuriated man heeded no advice,
but catching a rifle, cocking it, and raised it
to his shoulder. Wandaught just knocked the
barrel upward as it was discharged, and the
bullet passed so close to Summerfield’s head
that he involuntarily started. He said noth-
ing, but caught Seth, who was again start-
ing for him.

Redzel, seeing that he was prevented from

«Let me alone ; I'll have the blood of both |

| doing harm, gave vent to an oath, and sprang
upon his horse.

‘‘Remember, you'll hear of me agin!” said
he to Summerfield and Seth, as he struck his
horse into a gallop across the plain.

“Yas, and [reckon you'll hear of me about
that time!” returned Seth.

The four stood and watched him as he con-
tinued galloping away. Once or twice he
turned his head and made a threatening ges-
ture, but said nothing. His body continued
rising and falling and growing less, until it
was but a trembling atom in the distance, and
finally it faded from view altogether.

“There goes a dangerous enemy!” said
Summerfield, as he turned and méunted his
animal.

«That's so,” said Wandaught.
member you as long as he lives.”

‘Yes, and I'll remember him,” replied Seth,
furiously.

“Tm sorry Xs happened,” said Vic ; ‘‘ but
Sam has no one to blame but himself for it.”

“The precious fool ought to have been shot
long ago,” added Summerfield. ‘If he ever
has a chance to revenge himself upon us, he
will most certainly do it. I expected, when I
came across him at Independence, that we
should have trouble with him. I wonder how
Jim ever got along with him so long.”

f allers had to yumer him, and bear a good
eal!” .

‘Wal, we're likely to have trouble from oth-
er ones,” added Vannoven, with a significant
emphasis, looking at the same time in the di-
rection in which the signs of danger had been
seen.

It was now growing late in the afternoon,
and after a few minutes’ consultation, it was
decided to move forward a mile or two, where
Wandaught said was a small stream of water.
It was necessary to proceed with the utmost
caution, as it was more than probable that they
had already been seen by the Indians, and the
peril was indeed imminent.

The quarrel of Seth and Redzel had its ef-
fect upon Summerfield ; yet Jim and Vic seemed
to have entirely forgotten that such a thing had
occurred. They rode together, and now and
then exchanged.a word in an undertone, and
were wholly occupied with the safety of the
company,

The company reached the stream spoken of,
and commenced making preparations for pass-
ing the night. The spot possessed little ad-
vantage,’ although a great many disadvanta-
ges. It was in a depression in tho plain,
which formed a sort of breastwork around
them ; and yet there was not the smallest tree
to afford them a chance to conceal themselves.
The open prairie bounded them on all sides,
and in case they were attacked by the war
party, it can be seen that their chance was
poor indeed, see

Just as they halted, the sun sunk below the
horizon, and darkness commenced settling
over the earth. The four animals of the trap-
pers were picketed a few yards up the bed of
the stream, so as to give notice of the approach
of a foe from that direction, while it was de-
termined that Jim and Vic should act sentinel

**Sam’ll re-

 

through the night. In answer to Summer-

wi. 7a ali

‘ Ae
a

 
   
 

en teen nictetetmeepint ar

 

ee ed RO eee

10

field’s inquiries, Vie informed him that the
Kioways were not far distant, and that in all
probability they would be attacked before the
morning dawned.

There was no danger to be apprehended be-
fore late in the night, and Jim kindled a fire
without hesitation for the purpose of cooking
their supper. This done, they partook of it
leisurely, and extinguished it, and then began
to make preparations in earnest. Vic passed
a short distance down stream, while Jim went
out on tho prairie and reclined upon the
ground ; and, at Summerfield’s earnest request,
he was allowed to go a short distance in the
opposite direction. Thus Seth lay down se-
curely guarded upon all sides.

CHAPTER IV.
THE FIRST RACE FOR LIFE.

Ir must have been considerably past mid-
night before the slightest sign of danger was
heard. Summerfield had fallen into a sort of
half-asleep and half-awake state, when the
nerves are painfully sensitive, when he heard
a peculiar whistle from Vannoven. It was
slight, yet full of warning. He was about to
start to waken Seth, when Wandaught touched

him. ;

«_sh!” he whispered. ‘I’ve woke Seth.
Thar’ll be sumthin’ dun shortly.”

‘ Tndians ?”

‘‘Yaas ; they’ve been creepin’ around for the
last two hours. Thar ar about twenty or thirty
only, and they tried to come down stream
first ; but they found they couldn’t get past
= animals, and they’re comin’ up from be-

ow.”

‘Well, what is going to be done?”

‘Vie is down thar, and ‘Il let us know how
matters ar goin’ long. We ain’t sartin of thar
number, but they can’t be over tweity-five.
Tf they're less, I ca’culate there'll be sum fun
here, for we ain’t gwine to show sich a num-
ber our heels.” :

“Suppose there are more?”

«We must mount and make tracks, We'll
move out to where Seth is, and wait for signals
from Vic. If he says that thar are too many,
we'll get on the hosses and wait for him ; but if
he wants to show fight we'll wait for sarcum-
stances to develop themselves. Move still.”

So saying, Wandaught commenced walking
in a very prone position, while Summerfield
followed with the silence of death. Ina few
seconds they reached Seth, when there came
a suppressed whistle from Vic.

‘They're close on to us,” whispered Jim.
In a second or two the same signal was re-
twice in succession.

s goin’ to show fight! See that you're

As he uttered these words, the rifle of Van-
noven cracked, and they heard him yell :
“Give ’m blazes—the sneakin’ devils,” and
the shouts and howls of the savages mingled
with those of the hunter. At the same instant
Wandaught leaped forward, followed by Seth
and Summerfield, who in a few moments were

 
  
 

 

ON THE PLAINS ; OR,

in about as hot water as any one could wish.
It was so dark that the Indians could only be
seen when directly upon them ; then they ap-
peared like shadowy demons darting to and
fro in agony. There was constantly the reports
of rifles, and sometimes by the lurid flashes
the hideously-distorted features of the com-
batants could be seen; then again all would
be straggling furiously in the impenetrable
night.

Summerfield, when he rushed blindly into
the fight, came go violently in collision with a
gigantic Indian that the rebound threw him
backward upon the ground, and before he
could rise his swarthy enemy was upon him..
There is no doubt of what his fate would have
been had not Seth come to his aid at the crit-
ical moment. Clubbing his rifle, he brought
so terrible a blow upon the savage’s head that
the skull was literally shattered to pieces.
The Indian rolled to the ground without a
struggle. Summerfield sprang to his feet and
mingled in the fierce affray.

The contest was as short as it was terrible.
The assailants had not counted upon such are-
ception, and could not stand before the fury of
the trappers. They had expected to find them
off their guard, and hoped to scalp them with-
out any serious trouble ; but they found their
fatal mistake when half their number were
slain, and, setting up a mingled howl of rage
and disappointment, broke and fled in wild
confusion.

‘‘Whar’s the Engins? Whar’s the Engins?”
demunded Seth, darting about fairly wild with
excitement.

‘Most of ’em gone to—” (naming a terrible
place) answered Vic.

‘*Wagh! wagh! that’s what this chap calls
fun,” laughed Wandaught.

‘‘Blast it! it’s through too soon. Why, it’s
done before it commences,” said Seth, panting
with a perfect fever. ;

‘*You needn’t be disapinted, for you'll see
‘nough of this fore you see the States agin, I
can tell yer.”

“4 Aaaeny tor ®

«‘ [never gits hurt in such a scrimmage as
this,” returned Vic.

‘Nor me neither. How is it with you,
Somefield ?”

«{ have hardly a scratch worth mentioning.
I have had some rather rough usage, but I be-
lieve am more fortunate than any of you in
escaping.”

«We've all got some scratches, but nothin’
worth speakin’ on, less it’s Seth here.”

‘Oh, I ain’t hurt much, though I felt more’n
one knife.” :

“Well, what shall be done?” asked Sum-
merfield. _ «‘ Shall we build a fire ?”

‘We can’t build a fire, that’s sartin, and I
opine that we hadn't better wait till mornin’.
Them wasn’t all the redskins that ar about
these parts. They thought as how these fellers
here would be ’nough; but I guess they’ve
found thar mistake, and now they'll come down
in a perfect swarm, and I reckon we'll find
rather hot quarters here. My idee is to mount
hosses while night is hyer, and leave for other

parts.
«That's the talk,” added Vannoyen. ‘‘ Yon

ny

 

feller
me @:

the d
the h
ing tl
scene
ven’s
to wl
revol
as th
form:
point

“cc 7

6“ y
Wan

 sicke

he th
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en

THE RACE FOR LIFE.

fellers just go bring the animals round. while
me and Jim lifts hair.”

As Summerfield had no desire to assist in
the disgusting operation, he willingly went for
the horses. He feared that they had left dur-
ing the confusion, but they were all used to such
scenes, and had not moved. Taking Vanno-
ven’s animal, the others followed until he came
to where the two hunters were busy at their
revolting work. They were joking roughly
as they stooped, and, seizing the prostrate
forms by the tuft upon the head, ran the keen
point around it, and jerked it rudely off.

‘Your horses are ready.”

“Yes, I see. Ain’t that beautiful?” asked
Wandaught, holding up several scalps. Sum-
merfield made no reply ; for, although he felt a

- sickening sensation at the sight of the scalps,
he thought it best riot to express his opinion ;
but he could not help recoiling when, on ac-
count of the darkness, they were held so close
to his face as to nearly touch it.

“Oh, you needn’t be squeamish,” added
Jim. ‘You've got to git used to sich things.
I should think you'd travelled enough in these
parts to know the way to handle wild beasts.”

“Now, Vic, you lead the way,” said Wan-
daught, as they all mounted.

Without replying, the hunter moved forward,
and the rest followed. They had gone a mile
or so, when the faint streaks of gray in the
east showed that the day was close at hand ;
and, for this reason, it was necessary that haste
should be made, as in all probability the re-
maining savages were in the neighborhood. In
the course of an hour or so, the sun appeared
in the horizon, and the prairie was lighted
up by the broad blaze of light. Summerfield
glanced anxiously around, but saw no savages,
and congratulated himself upon his fortunate
escape. His hopes, however, were doomed to

disappointment. Before he had time to speak, |

he was electrified by hearing Wandaught ex-
claim :

‘Blow me to cinders, ef yonder ain’t the
whole lot!” ,

Turning their eyes toward the south, they |

saw as Many as a hundred mounted Indians
rapidly galloping toward them. They were
coming without any regard to order, and their
number appearedgnuch greater—so great that
the four hunters concluded at once that their
only hope of safety lay in their horses, and
that, could they not distance their pursuers,
there was little chance of ultimate escape.”

« Thar's a long run for us!” said Wandaught,
«Shall we separate, or keep together!”

The savages were coming from the southeast,
and the trappers changed their direction so as
to move in the same—toward the northwest.

Vannoven took the lead, and his horse sprang |

away, seemingly conscious of the threatened
nger.
i wid now plain to both the pursuers and
the pursued that victory must rest with the
orse which showed the best speed and endu-
Tance, Vannoven’s animal had been in such
raceg before, and was never overtaken by an-
other, and he himself was certain of finally
istancing his enemies. Wandaught had
twice come up to a foe with his, and had never
been deceived with him. Seth’s animal was

ete I ARPT: Ly

teen

i

similar to Summerfield’s, and they both had
some fears of their holding out in a very long
run. Summerfield knew that, for a short time,
he could leave any behind him, but he had good
reason to fear the bottom of the Indian animals.

Vannoven and Wandaught’s steeds started
off on a steady gallop—such as they were ca-
pable of continuing for many hours, while
Summerfield and Seth judged it prudent to
save the strength of theirs, and consequently
they gradually fell some distance behind the
former. This had been continued but a short
time when they saw that their speed must be
increased, for the Indians were perceptibly
gaining. Loosing the reins, they shortly came
up beside the two old hunters, who seemed to
feel no concern at all about the state of things.
Nothing was said for some time, when Wan-
daught remarked :

«They're gainin’, Heigh!”

The latter exclamation was to his horse,
which instantly thrust its head forward, and
increased its awkward but rapid gait. Van-
noven’s imitated him without amy command,
and the other two did the same.

The race now began to assume a serious char-
acter to all parties. Far behind could be seen
the picturesque and fantastic figures of the In-
dians, slowly but steadily and surely gaining
upon the trappers. Vannoven’s animal was
lumbering along on a sort of half trot and
canter, with his nose pointing directly ahead
and his thin tail projecting in such a manner
that it was nearly a straight line from it to his
ears. Vic himself sat composedly in his seat,
with his eye fixed vacantly upon the ground a
few yards ahead, his left hand loosely holding
the rein, while his right rested leisurely upon
his side. He seemed as though he was half
asleep, while his horse was running at his own
pleasure. A foot or two behind him was Wan-
daught, whose appearance was nearly the
same. He seemed, however, more conscious
of the situation, and now and then cast hur-
ried glances behind. His horse travelled the
same as Vannoven’s, and kept about the same
distance from him, Summerfield felt the most
anxiety of any ; not that he was possessed of
less courage, but because he had good reason,
He well knew that his animal was not one that
could bear such travelling for a long time.
Sooner or later he must break, and his heart
throbbed painfully as he even now saw unmis-
takable signs of weariness. He, however, re-
mained calm, devoting his whole attention to
the management of hisnoble beast. Now and
thsn he found it necessary to draw the rein, as
he plunged too impetuously forward. He,
however, maintained his position between
Wandaught and Vannoven, neither gaining
nor losing ground. Seth said nothing to any
one excepting his own horse, which he was
| constantly admonishing to travel a little faster,
| to keep steady, and not let himself be over-
taken by the merciless savages. He was sev-
| cral feet at the right of Vannoven, and also
| held his own ground well. In fact, when mat-
| ters had thus come to the pinch, his horse be-
| gan to show that he really possessed qualities
| equal if not superior to the rest. Thus the

four moved regularly and swiftly forward,
| Steadily the distance lessened between the

 

 
 

12 ON THE PLAINS; OR,

pursuers and pursued. The savages felt confi-
dent of success, and now and then gave vent
to fierce, exultant yells. All at once Wan-
daught gazed behind him and exclaimed :

“Thar it comes! look out!”

At the same instant several red tongues of
fire shot from the foremost Indians, and their
rifles burst upon the air. The distance, how-
ever, was too great, and their balls flew wide
of the mark.

“Now,” said Vannoven, ‘“s’posen we try
our hand, Jim?”

«‘ Hyer goes,” he answered. ‘

The two suddenly wheeled their horses half
round, and, raising their guns, took a quick
aim, and fired.

“Whoop!” yelled Vic and Jim in concert,
as they saw plainly that their shots had taken
fatal effect ; for, strange as it may seem, two
savages, mortally wounded, reeled and pitched
from their horses at the instant the pieces were
discharged. The infuriated Indians, giving
vent to their demoniac howls, fired again and
dashed forward. The two trappers deliberately
loaded, and again wheeled and discharged
their pieces, and with the same deadly effect.
They were used to such business and under-
stood it too well ever to waste a bullet. The
redskins, without returning the fire, pressed
forward more determinedly than before, bent
upon overtaking the whites at all events.

‘‘Heigh !” exclaimed Jim, ‘we've got to let
our hosses do their best!”

As he spoke, his horse and Vannoven’s
simultaneously leaped forward, increasing their
gait very greatly indeed. Seth’s did the same,
while the speed of Summerfield’s remained
unchanged. The latter saw this, and, hesita-
ting a moment, suddenly turned to the left, and
urged his horse into a full run.

**Good-by all!” he said, cheerfully. -‘Look
out for yourselves, I’m ina tight place, and
ean’t keep with you!” _~

He smiled pleasantly as they looked won-
deringly at him, and warned back Seth, who
turned to follow. The three saw that his move-
ment was the wisest course, and they lost no
time in idle words, but kept upon their own

way.

Now; Ned,” said Summerfield, ««do your
bestfor awhile. Oursafety depends upon you ;
and if you only show the rascally savages your
true mettle, we'll give them the slip yet. What
do you say, Ned?”

Ned said «I will,” as plainly as an animal
devoid of reason can, and so increased his
aoe that his rider saw with a thrill of hope

at he was distancing the savages. When he
changed his direction he had faint hopes that
the Indians would not follow him. © was,
however, sadly mistaken. As he gazed back
he could see at least a dozen in full chase.

Mile after mile flew under the feet of the
pursuer and pursued. For a half hour, Sum-
merfield distanced his foes; then for a time
the space separating him from them remained
unchanged, but now he saw too plainly that his
animal was giving out! The savages were
a rapidly and surely, Nobly and pain-
ully, however, did his animal struggle for his
master.

**O God!” exclaimed Summerfield, ‘am I

 

destined to die upon this friendless prairie ?
Is there no avenue of escape! Save, Lord, or
I perish !”

Several times he thought of surrendering
without further effort ; but he too well knew
the consequences of such a course, and still
clung tenaciously to the faint hope that yet re-
mained.

Suddenly he saw that he was saved? Direct-
ly ahead of him, he detected tho white tops of
a number of emigrant wagons. It was the
Oregon trail they were pursuing across the con-
tinent, and he well knew that strong and
friendly arms were there. Although far ahead,
he despaired not of reaching them, but urged
his horse again forward. Soon he ceuld see
the dark forms of the animals and men of the
train, and he raised a shout—a shout that
reached both friends and foes. The latter re-
turned. it, and fired their guns at him ; and
seeing that their prey had passed safely beyond
their reach, they halted, paused a moment, and
galloped away.

CHAPTER V.
THE EMIGRANTS.

THERE are times when it seems that Provi-
dence interposes directly in our behalf. We
are sometimes almost tempted to believe that
the days of miracles have not yet gone from
earth, and are assured that hardly a person lives
who cannot point to some day when the hand
of his Creator was made visible—when he felt
that something more than mere circumstances
governed his destiny.

When a man is brought so near death as to
despair of life, and is then saved, he is certainly
in the best frame of mind to believe thus ; and
if ever a fervent prayer of thanks ascended to
this saving Power, it did from George Sum-
merfield’s heart as he rode forward toward the
emigrant train. He could not but believe his
escape was miraculous.

His friends proved to be a company on their
way to the wilds of Oregon. As may be sup-
posed, they evinced no little surprise at our
hero’s appearance among them, and over-
whelmed him with questions and congratula-
tions, all of which he pleasantly replied to, as
his almost exhausted horse slowly made his
way toward the centre of their train. They
numbered about a hundred, all told, and were
well provided for the sufferings and dangers
before them.

‘Rather a narrow escape,” suggested one of
their number, looking up in Summerfield’s face
with a quiet smile.

“Yes,” returned he, ‘rather narrower than
I care about experiencing again.”

st Hew far have you ‘host coming at this
rate!”

“T can hardly tell. I suppose over a dozen
miles. Had you been a mile or two farther, I
should never have reached you.”

‘« What is the prospect of their gathering for
an attack om us, now that they have discovered
our train?”

- “Very certain,” answered Summerfield.

 

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THE RACE FOR LIFE. 13

‘‘ There are over one hundred Kioways in the |

baud, out on the war-path, and you may ex-
pect them down upon you this very night.”
This alarming piece of intelligence was soon
communicated through the company, but they
all proved themselves men and women. There
was a knitting of brows and compression of
lips that showed the terrible determination
upon the part of the men ; and though there
was more thanone blanched cheek and quiver-
ing heart among the women, yet nothing of
fear was said, and when Summerfield cheer-
ingly remarked that whatever affray there
might be, it would be a short and decided re-
pulse of the Indians, there seemed something

like cheerfulness to again pervade the com- |

any.
: Om hero felt nearly famished, and yielded to
their urgent solicitations to eat. The company
having concluded to halt for the night, he dis-
mounted, and seating himself upon the ground,
waited for his food. He was weary with his long
race, and the repose of security was nob un-
welcome to his spirits. Ee was at length
aroused frem his half sleep by a sweet voice
bending over him. Gj

*¢ Your food, sir!” :

The young man sprang to his feet, as if the
word “Indian” had been whispered in his ear.
There stood before him a very beautiful girl
of ciggteen, bearing in her hands a platter, on
which steamed a savory repast. Instantly the
blood shot to his heart like a thunderbolt;
then it rebounded and spread over his face like
asunset glow. He was confused, and trem-
blingly took the proffered dish. His eyes met
those of his fair purveyor, to find them strug-
gling like his own, to find some other object
upon which to rest, yet, like the charmed
bird, unable to look away. It was a moment
of mutual surprise and embarrassment but
why so, did neither know.

“Can I do anything more for you?” she at
length asked, hesitatingly.

«¢ Oh—ah—yes—~as I was going to observe. I
think so, too,” he replied, not knowing to what
words he was giving utterance. He saw a quiet
blush and smile upon the face before him, that
disclosed the beautiful teeth she possessed, and
convinced him that he was making a fool of
himself.

“If you wish anything, sir, just speak to.

this gentleman.” 3

«Excuse me!” he added, blushing and stam-
mering like a boy. ‘‘I misunderstood you. I
believe you spoke of the weather. Rather
pleasant, I think. Don’t know but what we
shall have a storm, however.” | ‘

«J observed that if yon wished anything,
you had only to speak to the gentleman at
hand,” she answered, with a half-coquettish
expression. : ;

«Thank you, thank you, I will. My mind
was so busy that I did not heed your remark.
Excuse me, will you?”

“Oh, certainly, sir. I supposed you were
deeply meditating upon something,” she re-
turned, turning and w: g away.

‘Ha! ha! ha!” laughed the friend referred
to, who had been curiously gazing at this in-
terview, ‘I do believe now that you were
Struck. But you ain’t the first one, old boy ;

 

and I spose it won’t do you no good, for she’s
got enough fellers hangin’ on her lips. But
blame me,” he added, sobering down, ‘‘I be-
lieve you're good enough lookin’ to cut out any
chap you're a mind to.”

Summerfield, as he saw thet he had been
observed, blushed deeply, and at the last re-
mark he felt a throb of pain. He hoped that
the man would go away ; but, on the contrary,
he walked closer, and added :

‘Don’t blame you much, for she is a fine
gal, no mistake.”

““Yes—don’t you think we're going to have
a storm ?”

‘Ha! ha! ha! why, you're green.”

‘‘T confess,” returned Summerfield, recover-
ing himself, ‘‘that I was struck with her ap-
pearance, and was foolish enough, I suppose,
to show it.” (However, this latter fact was far
from not pleasing him.)

“Wall, as I said, I don’t blame you much,
for there are a great many fellers who've got
themselves in the same fix.”

‘‘May I inquire her name ?”

‘*T spose so.”

‘‘Well, what is it, then ?”

‘*Miss Vennond.”

‘What is her given name?”

“T spose that was given to her.”

‘“¢No ; I mean her other name.”

“She hasn’t got it yet ; though I shouldn’t
wonder if it should be Summerfield one of
these days.”

“Fudge! don’t you understand me ?”

‘Yas, me and Viola both understand yer
feelin’s, and I must say that I am sorry for
you,” returned the imperturbable fellow with
a great grin. ‘Any nfore questions?” he
asked, deliberately seating himself by Summer-
field’s side, and giving him a pinch upon his
arm. Summerfield thought it best to preserve
his good humor, and so he asked :

‘Where are her parents ?”

‘‘Her mother is dead, and her father emi-
grated to Oregon some years ago, and she is on
her way to jine him. S’pose you wouldn’t
mind seeing her agin ?”

‘‘Well, yes; Ishould be glad to,” replied
Summerfield, with a poor attempt to conceal
his anxiety.

‘* Wal, come along, and I'll give you an in-
troduc.”

Thus speaking, be arose and walked toward
the main body, followed by our hero. A few
steps brought them to where the females were,
some seated and some occupied. All except
Miss Vennond arose, and busied themselves
with something. Sho was about to follow
their example when Summerfield’s companion
spoke.

‘Hold on a minute, Viley ; here’s a feller
what wants to get acquainted. Mr. Summer-
field, this gal is Miss Vennond. Now, go to
work,” he added, turning and walking rapidly
away.

Summerfield bowed low, and blushed deep-
ly. There was a slight flush upon the face of
Miss Vennond, as she spoke:

“Pray take a seat, that is, such an humble
one as we can offer.” se

Summerfield looked up, expecting his com-
panion to make some further observation ; but

 
  

i
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a it
la

 

 

14

as their eyes met, each changed their direc-
tion, and they were silent. He nervously
fumbled his cap, but could think of nothing
that would be appropriate. To his relief, she
asked : j

‘Have you travelled much in this country ?”

‘Well, considerable,” he replied, changing.
position as though he experienced infinite re-
liefthereby. ‘‘I passed over this country some
years ago with a company of trappers, and am
now going over the ground again.”

Here came another vexatious pause.

‘“‘T have heard,” commenced Viola, ‘that
an attack from the Indians is apprehended,
and believe that vou brought the informa-
tion.”

‘Yes ; I was certainly sorry enough to im-
part such intelligence. ‘Forewarned, fore-
armed,’ you know.”

“Certainly. And I heard, too, that you
narrowly escaped cavture. Do tell me all about
it. ” /

+

  

Summerfield, now relieved of all restraint,
gave a modest recitation of his adventure. It
certainly thrilled him as he noticed the interest |
manifested by his fair listener, and perhaps he
dwelt rather longer than was necessary upon
the narration. When he had concluded, she
asked :

«And you do not know what became of your
companions ?”

‘“*No; but I do not fear for them. They
were all well mounted, and without doubt
effected their escape.”

“Oh! this warfare must be terrible. How
I have prayed that we might be saved from an
encounter! YetI feel, and know, that awful
scenes will be enaéted before another day
dawns upon us.” pes 9

‘TJ trust that we shall not have much trou-
ble,” returned Summerfield, hopefully. “TI
am confident that your force is able to repel
pay and think it will be done in a short

e. ”

At this juncture, one of the females ap-
proached, and, apologizing to Summerfield,
whispered a word in his listenez’s ear, and then
turned away. Immediately Viola arose, and
said : 3
‘¢You will have to excuse me, Mr. Summer-
field. My presence is demanded, and I cannot
refuse.”

“Certainly. You must pardon me for de-
taining you thus long. But the minutes have
seemed as seconds, and I little dreamt that it
was thus late.”

“No apology is necessary, for I labored
under the same mistake. Pleasure made me
forget time.”

Summerfield arose, and added:

‘*As the evening is so close at hand, I sup-
pose that we shall not see each other till morn-

«If then,” said she, gazing into his face.
«Oh! Isee lam more hopeful than you are.
s any rate, I will only bid you a short good-
She extended her hand, and as he took it he
felt that it was in a perfect quiver.
“‘Good-by, then Miss—”
** Viola, I think, is better.”

 

‘Well, good-by, Viola, and God be with

ON THE PLAINS ; OR

you.” He felt his pressure returned, and
heard herlowreply. Ah! that pressure sealed
the business with both. As for Viola, she
wondered at her forwardness, and yet did not
regret it, and Summerfield confessed to him-
self that his heart was lost—lost beyond re-
covery. 3

CHAPTER VI.
THE NIGHT ATTACK.

Ar last tho darkness settled over the prairie,
and the emigrants commenced their prepara-
tions for the attack that each knew would be
made ere another sun should dawn upon them.
The wagons were arranged in the form of a
circle around another which held the females,
and within this circle the animals were placed,
to prevent a stampede during the confusion.
There were some thirty or forty men, most of
whom were connected by ties of blood, and
most of whom had something more than their
own lives at stake. They had wives and chil-
dren whose fate depended upon the issue of
the coming contest, and there was a resolution
shown by its own fearful calmness, by the com-
pressed brows and set teeth, by the forms gli-
ding silently back and forth, that they would
either die or conquer.

As soon as it was fairly dark the seftinels
took their stations. These numbered all the
men, who placed themselves around the out-
side circle, where they stood with fingers on
the trigger, waiting and expecting the slight-
est sound or movement to be a signal from
their deadliest foes. Tae night was intensely
dark, so that an enemy might approach within
a few feet without being discovered by the eye
of the keenest hunter. Summerfield took the
point from which he judged the onslaught
would most probably be made, and brought
the most subile powers of his being into play,
in surmising the course that would most prob-
ably be pursued. He formed his conclusions,
which in the end proved correct.

Several times he was upon the point of dart-
ing to the wagon containing the females, for
the purpose of reassuring them, but prudence
restrained him, and he remained at his post.
He did not know but that the Indians were
waiting for some such negligence upon the
part of the sentinels to commence the contest.
‘They had done such things more than once be-
fore,

Summerfield’s nearest friend was a few yards

off, and of course invisible in the darkness,

Several times they exchanged a word or two,
but it was agreed, after a while, to remain s1-
lent, as their situations might be betrayed to
the savages by the slightest ipadvertency on
their part.

In about an hour the darkness seemed to les-
sen, so that objects could be distinguished a
few feet — au a ae
listening intently during , but hearing
no sound of danger, he was about to risk a word
with his friend, when he fancied he heard a
noise as if of some one gliding upon the ground.
He peered forward, and was certain that he saw
a human form flat upon the earth. He waited

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THE RACE FOR LIFE.

amoment, and then saw it hitch forward, toward |

the next wagon. Hardly knowing what to make
of this he stepped forward towardit, when it
suddenly leaped to its feet and sprang away.
He would have fired had he been certain that it
was a savage, but he feared that it was one of
the emigrants, who had adopted this ruse to
see whether a proper watch was kept. How-
ever, as it was, he concluded to give the signal
of danger, and accordingly, placing his hand
to his mouth he gave two short, trembling
sounds, loud enough to be heard by all, and
his surprise was great upon hearing it return-
ed by several, thus showing that he was not
the only one who had detected danger. He
determined to speak to his neighbor.

“Say, friend, have you heard—”

The rest of the sentence was drowned in a
thousand terrific yells and shrieks, that sent
the blood shivering back to his heart! Then
came the deafening crash of fire-arms, the
whizzing of bullets, and shouts as though a
legion of demons were struggling for life. He
saw shadowy forms springing and leaping
around him, and in a second he was in the
midst of the fiercest fight that he ever witness-
ed. Some halfa hundred Indians had made a
rush, expecting to carry everything before
them, but were received at the very muzzle of
the. rifle. ‘The savages were determined to
break through the circle and drive off the
horses, and slaughter the women and children,
and the whites inwardly swore that not one
should accomplish this unless it was over their
dead bodies. At the first second the guns
were discharged, and drawing their knives,
the two parties fought like tigers. Summer-
field felt fired by the contest, and in a wild
ecstacy of excitement he leaped forward, and
in an instant was grappled in with a powerful,
swarthy savage. Together they rolled to the
earth, the savage desperately endeavoring to
wrench the rifle from Summerfield, who,
strangely enough, had not yet discharged it.

Numbers rushed over the prostrate, writh-
ing bodies, but noticed them not. Before
they were aware of it, they had risen to their
feet, and still continued twisting and striving
for the rifle. One hand of the savage was
closed around the barrel at about half the dis-
tance from the muzzle to the breach, and the
other was upon. the stock, while Summerfield’s
right was upon the lock and his left upon the
end of the barrel. Quick as lightning he thrust
his left hand forward, forcing the muzzle in
the face of the savage, and raising the ham-
mer, the rifle discharged its contents through
the head of the savage! ;

At this very instant the Indians made a
break and rushed into the circle, and now in-
deed commenced the struggle of life anddeath!
The whites well knew their situation, and as
fiercely and madly rushed they among them ;
thus in a moment they were driven tumultu-
ously back with half their number either dead
or in their death agonies upon the ground.
But this was not accomplished until the second
wagon had been reached and its inmates scat-
tered! Thinking that all hope was gone,
mdny of the women and children rushed out,
and in the confusion several were slain and
captured, and among the latter was Viola Ven-

 

15

nond! Summerfield had an instinctive know-
ledge or presentiment that she was in danger,
and sprang toward the wagon. Just as he
reached it, he heard his name called in fren-
zied accents, and turned to rush in the direc-
tion from which it came, when he felt that he
was shot, and, as his brain reeled, he fell to
the earth.

When he recovered, the noise of the battle
had entirely ceased, and in its place he heard
the moans and struggles of the dying around
him. Ashe arose to his feet, he found that he
had been severely wounded in the side, but in
the state of his feelings he felt but little pain.
Several fires had been kindled ; the wounded
were placed beside them and guarded and
watched by their mourning friends. Summer-
field passed hurriedly around the circle, andin
answer to his anxious inquiries was told that
Viola, with several others, had been carried
away by the Indians. It is true that this was
what he had expected, yet he felt nearly over-
come by the intelligence.

He examined his own wound, and found that
it was necessary to attend to it immediately,
The others were all occupied, and, without
seeking assistance, he bandaged it as well as
possible under the circumstances, and then
passed among the others to see what assistance
he could render.

At last the morning broke and showed the
full herrors of the night’s events, yet Summer-
ficld was glad to find it was not so bad as he
had feared. It was found that but five of the
emigrants had died, while nearly all of the
rest were wounded, yet none mortally. Two
females, besides Viola, had been carried away.
Nearly twenty savages lay stark dead around,
showing how dreadful and fearful the contest
had been. A few of the animals had been
killed, yet not enough to seriously disable the
company. A large grave was dug, into which
the five bodies were placed and covered up,
when preparations were made to resume their
mournful march,

The bodies of the Indians were left lying
above ground, where, in the clear air, they
might preserve their form and every feature for
many a long month, and about noon the train
set out upon their gloomy march.

Summerfield debated Jong whether to ac-
company them or not, but at last decided to
leave them. The distance to Oregon was
great, and there was, in fact, nothing to draw
him thither, while he experienced a desire to
not leave the neighborhood in which he sup-
posed Viola to be. He believed that tho tribe
which had captured her was at no great dis-
tance, and that it was in his power to rescue
her. Accordingly he bade his friends adieu,
and changed his direction more to the north,
hoping to intercept or come upon Vannoven
and the rest.

A lover—especially a young one—rarely pos-
sesses more reason and foresight than he
should, and it was not at all strange that Sum-
merfield should indulge in some wild and
improbable speculations, and form wilder and
more improbable determinations. As soon as
he was free from the caravan, he reined his
horse into a slow walk, rested his arms upon
his sides, and commenced meditating, It is

 
 

  
 

Cg pce!

 

16 ON THE PLAINS; OR,

not to be denied that hours flew past, yet
found him undecided. Night drew slowly on,
yet there was nothing in sight but the endless,
boundless prairie.

Casting a glance around the darkening hori-
zon, and seeing nothing but the monotonous
roll of the plain, he halted, dismounted, and
prepared for his comfortless rest. First, he ,
turned his horse loose, cautioning him to re-
main within hailing distance, and then spread
his blanket upon the earth. Then he looked
at it a moment, and lying down upon one edge
and coiling himself up, took hold of it with
his hand, and rolling over several times, he
was so completely wrapped up that nothing
but his head was visible. His wound so pained
him that he was compelled to lie in a certain
position to secure a comfortable sleep.

_For a long time he lay, giving full scope to
airy imagination, and forming new and
even wilder determinations, until, feeling the
drowsiness of slumber coming over him, he
invoked the watchfulness of Heaven, and was
soon oblivious to all external things.

He had slept probably an hour or so, when,
from some cause unknown to himself, he
awoke. He supposed he must have changed
his position during sleep so as to pain his
wound, and thus cause him to be disturbed ;
and, after lying quictly a few moments, he
again fell asleep. A few minutes after, he
again awoke in a perfect shiver of terror, just
as he had reached the culminating point of a
horrible dream. Although believing his wound
was the cause of it, still he experienced a pe-
culiar dread, that led him to draw his blanket
more closely around him, and prevent himself
from looking out to see whether there was
any cause for alarm.

He lay quietly, endeavoring to fall asleep,
when his heart leaped as he heard, not far off,
the sound of footsteps! At first he thought it
might be his horse ; but he was too well ac-
quainted with his step to be deceived. He was
confident that human beings were around him.
It was they who had awaked him.

For g moment he hardly breathed, listening
so intently. Then, as a faint hope that he
might not have been discovered began to
spring up, he felt some one pull rudely at his
blanket, and as it came off, he looked up and
saw a number of dusky forms around him.

‘Eh, white! dog! burn!” said one, closing
his bony fingers upon his arm like rods of
iron, and actually lifting him to his feet. Sum-
merfield said nothing, but suffered himself to
be led silently away. ©

CHAPTER VII.
CAPTIVITY.

Prrnars Summerfield’s state of mind may
be imagined, as the overwhelming sense of
his condition came upon him. His dejection
and melancholy were painful, and he had,
in fact, been suddenly hurled from his airy re-
gions of bliss to the chilling reality of woe—
a transition from hope to despair.

His captors jerked him rudely forward, giv-

 

ing vent at intervals to fierce and malignant
curses and threats in broken English ; and
their expressions of hate and intended venge-
ance were so constant, that he realized too
well the fate intended for him. One of them
had secured his horse, although all were
mounted. He was placed upon one of the In-
dian beasts, and with a wary enemy upon
either side, they broke into a canter and
struck toward the southwest.

The savages who had thus come upon and
captured Summerfield, belonged to the Pawnee
tribe, and were a portion of a war party. They
numbered but five, who had voluntarily sepas
rated themselves from the main body during
the day, and were returning ‘cecal home,
when they discovered a solitary horseman pro-
ceeding leisurely over the prairie. At first they
were disposed to shoot him down, but, as he
did not appear to know that he was observed,
they concluded to capture him by stratagem,
if possible. Accordingly, they kept him in
sight until night, when they set rapidly for-
ward, and late in the night, came directly upon
him, sleeping upon the earth. One or two
proposed to tomahawk and scalp him as he lay
asleep ; but, after a short consultation, it was
determined to capture and reserve him for the
torture, This was successfully accomplished,
and they set out to reach their tribe. ‘

The captors journeyed forward, after a time,
without exchanging words, save now and then
to utter some warning threat to Summerfield,
when they judged that there was danger of his
not fully realizing the pleasures that were in
store for him; yet their glances seemed to grow
more baleful and demoniac at every step, and
the captive concluded that, if there were ever
devils incarnate, they were now beside him.
They continued in nearly a due northwest di-
rection, sometimes, however, proceeding more
to the north, until noon, when they halted for
a few minutes. This was only to breathe their
horses, for they partook of no food, and were
shortly en route again. In the afternoon they
forded several streams of considerable size,
and reached a country of a much wilder and
more romantic appearance than what they had
passed through heretofore. Summerfield had
never been so far north, and even in his pres-
ent situation he could not help admiring the
enchanting scenery around him. He believed
that he was far beyond the trapping grounds
of the whites, and where no human except the
savage had trod, and where but few of them
even wandered. At first he had hoped that
they would remain in the neighborhood where
he believed Vic and Seth to be, but he was
now well satisfied that there was no hope for
him on that ground ; that what efforts might
be made for his escape, must be made solely
by himself, and what success crowned them,
must rest upon his own endeavors.

Just as the sun was setting, they reached
the Indian village. It was composed of some
thirty or forty rough wigwams or lodges, ar-
ranged so as to form a rough, irregular street,
As soon as the savages came in sight of it,
they uttered three long echoing yells, which in
a moment were returned by a hundred Jus
throats within the village. They then rode
forward and entered it, and were surrounded

\

aati Wh et,

 
 

nee eS eS ee

THE RACH

by a multitude of women and children, jab-
bering and screaming like wild beasts. Sum-
merfield they dragged mercilessly from his
horse, and, although they could not help ob-
serving his condition, yet he was subjected to
all manner of barbarities. The women jerked
and pushed him, the children belabored him
with sticks, and pulled his hair from his head
by the roots, He was nearly stripped, and un-
derwent all indignities possible. At first he
was disposed to resist these liberties, but he
saw that it was utterly useless, and made no
effort or attempt. His captors had left him
with the women and children, and gone on to
the extremity of the village and joined the rest
ot the warriors. Summerfield hoped that they
would, after a while, take pity upon his condi-
tion and let him remain. But he was mis-
taken. ‘The evidences which he gave of suf-
fering only increased their fiendish delight, and
they continued to torment him with greater de-
termination. He sank to the earth, but was im-
mediately overrun with children, who scream-
ed with pleasure. He saw that he would be
killed shortly should he remain thus, and
sprang to his feet, hurling his tormentors madly
from him. He felt the fever increasing in his
veins, and already his vision was becoming
strange and dizzy. It appeared as though he
were dreaming, the ground seemed rising and
turning, and he reeled like a drunken man.
Several times a true sense of his situation and
condition flashed across him, and then all was
lost in one wild, wonderful illusion. He was
raving mad!

The young savages paused a moment as they
saw the unearthly light that gleamed in his
eye, but in an instant they sprang upon him
again. As quick as lightning he leaped for-
ward, bearing a half-grown boy to the earth,
clutched him by the feet, and swinging him-
self clean around, dashed his head against the
earth, crushing the skull, and scattesing the
brains in every direction! Then, giving vent
to a half shriek and yell, darted away with the
swiftness of the panther. -

This latter movement had been seen by sev-
eral warriors, and they instantly rushed after
him. Summerfield’s unnatural strength lasted
but a few moments, and he had gone but a
short distance when he stumbled, fell, and was
unable to rise. In a moment his pursuers
were upon him, and had raised him to his feet.

Summerfield stared idiotically at them. Per-
haps at that moment they understood his con-
dition, and their stony hearts were touched
with pity. They gazed at him a moment, and
listened to his wild, incoherent raving, and
seemed to understand that his senses were
gone. They consulted a second or two before
returning. One proposed to brain him on the

ot; but
back, doctor him until he had fully recovered,
and then carry out their favorite idea‘ of put-
ting him to the torture. Accordingly, laying
firmly hold upon him, they led him slowly
toward the village.’ The young savages came
swarming toward him, and several sprang at
him, determined to fully avenge the death of
their companion. The men, however, kept
them back, and restrained the demonstrations
made by the Ts These latter,

the others determined to take hin |

 

en = an We nel

ee ee eee aeererore eee ee ty

FOR LIFE. ; 17

too, when they were made acquainted with the
captive’s condition, seemed to fecl a degree of
pity, and checked their cries and threats.
Summerfield was led to the extremity of the
village, to an odd, strange-looking lodge,
where dwelt the ‘fhedicine woman” of the
tribe. Here he was left in charge of the old
woman, and most of the rest, in obedience to
her commands, left for their several homes.

The medicine woman watched and attended
Summerfield with the kindnesg and assiduity
ofa mother. As she placed him upon the soft
bed of skins, he had a lucid moment, and re-
alized his condition ; yet he judged it prudent
to conceal the fact that he had regained his
senses, and still affect delirium. :

The lodge consisted of but a single room—
large, square, and with one opening for ingress
and egress. It was hung around with many
different kinds of skins, and with many Indian
garments. At one side, over a small, smoul-
dering fire, was suspended a common kettle,
with the contents of which she busied herself
as Summerfield was thus taking his scrutini-
zing survey of the interior. He gazed with a
strange fascination upon her repugnant fea-
tures, but his mind finally became drowsy and
wandering, and at last he dropped off into the
realm of dreams.

He slept until midnight, when, his fever in-
creasing, in a torment of thirst he awoke. The
medicine woman detected the movement as he
raised himself upon his elbow, and shuffled
quickly up to him.

‘Water! water!” demanded Summerfield.

She gently forced him back upon his bed,
and in answer to his wish, poured from the
kettle a steaming fluid which she placed to his
lips. He swallowed the contents eagerly. It
was bitter, and so hot that it fairly made him
writhe with pain. It, however, was an ano-
dyne, and in 2 moment s0 quieted his nerves
that he sunk into a peaceful, dreamless slum-
ber.

We need not record the story of his conva-
lescence. His wound healed readily, and the
potent herbs of the medicine woman drove
the consuming fever from his system. In a
few diys he was able to sit and partake of
nourishment, and in somewhat over a month
he had entirely regained his health. As soon
as he was able, he busied himself in doing
small chores for his mistress—such as carrying
water, building her fire, and the other jobs
that he saw was needed. He often anticipated
her desire, and sometimes took the vessel
pleasantly from her hand and hastened away
to accomplish her wish. This, of course, had
its effect. She could not help being pleased
(although she seemed to take particular pains
to conceal it) at this exhibition of hod will
and obedience,

This woman, as has been stated, was the
medicine woman of the tribe, which position
she had held for some half dozen years. Pre-
vious to this, her husband. had been the medi-
cine man for a great number of . The
couple were never blessed with children, but
were cheerfully supported and supplied with
food by the warriors of the tribe. When any
were wounded in battle, they were brought to
this lodge, and remained until they either re-

 
rr a ee ee

 

 

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  

ene near ne oe

Sen ee eae

  

18

  

covered or died, and those stricken down by
sickness received the same treatment that Sum-
merfield did. From long association with her
husband, this woman came, in time, to, possess
as good a knowledge of medicine as did he, and
upon his demise the unanimously de-
clared that she should fill his place. This was
not unexpected upon her part, for she knew
that none were as capable as herself. She was
self-willed, and exercised considerable influ-
ence over the rest. None durst ever thwart
her wishes. She beat the children when she
chose, and railed at the warriors and squaws
whenever the whim tock possession of her, and
really was their queen.

One day, some two months after Summer-
field’s capture, a couple of warriors came to
the lodge of the medicine woman, and de-
manded him for the torture. The only answer
she gave was a tremendous thwack over their
heads with a heavy stick, and the assurance
that he belonged to her, and she should keep
him. This was so unexpected that they ven-
tured to demur, which so enraged her that she
nearly cracked the skull of one of them, and

. bade them never enter her lodge again. T?.e

savages, much crest-fallen, slunk away and im-
parted the discouraging fact to the others that
they were cheated of their intended prey.
There was considerable murmuring and remon-
strance, but it was useless. The wish of the
medicine woman was law, and none durst

 

cross her path.
Summerfield had been a witness of this in- |
terview, and had learned enough of the Indian |
tongue to understand it. ‘How it thrilled him |
to the very heart when he siw that the terri- |
ble torture had been averted! How he loved
the old decrepit woman! He felt like kneel-
ing at her feet and kissing her garments. But
he checked his tumultuous feelings and en-
deavored to exhibit no traces of the wild
pleasure that filled him. From the first, it
was her intention to preserve his life and save
him from the others. She was getting old, and
felt the heavy hand of time upon her. She wish-
ed some one to fill the place of a son, and
determined to adopt the paleface. She meant
that he should be a son and a slave; she
would have all claim upon him, and her right
should not bo interfered with by the others.
One day, late in the autumn, a war party,
which had been absent nearly a week, return-
ed with a prisoner, and Summerfield learned
that he was to be burned at the stake that af-
ternoon. This fact was communicated to him
by the medicine woman, who further inform-
ed him that she should be present, and, gave
him also permission to attend. He had no
desire, however, to witness the torture of a hu-
man being, and he felt that it would be safer
to keep away from the savages at such a time.
Accordingly he feigned sickness, and remain-
ed within the lodge during the afternoon. He
could hear the wild, frenzied shouts and
shrieks of the tormentors, and thanked God
fervently that he had been saved such a fate.
Toward night the tumult ceased and the med-
icine woman returned. oh
Summerfield awoke at an early hour, and,
yielding to an impulse, arose and walked out

 

to the opposite extremity of the village, to the

 

ON THE PLAINS; OR,

place where the wretch had been burned.
Here he saw a sight that made him shudder,
The savage had been bound to a small tree,
and a huge pile of fagots placed around him.
These had been fired and had burned nearly
every particle of flesh from his body. Be-
low the knees, the bones were white and glis-
tening, without a particle of flesh, while in
different parts of the body were clinging a few
crisped cinders! The ashes still contained
live coals, and the smell of burning flesh
filled the air. As he stood gazing at it, sey-
eral bones dropped to the earth, and, sick at
heart, he turned and sought his lodge,

A short distance from the village, flowed a
stream of considerable size, which was a trib-
utary of the Yellowstone. Summerfield had
determined that this should be the route of
escape. Some night he would set himself
afloat upon it, and conceal himself until his
enemies had given over all hopes of capturing
him, and then reach the trapping grounds of
the whites, discover Vic, and rejurn with him
to the States. The following spring he fixed
upon as the period to make the attempt.

But he was compelled to see the spring and
summer months pass away without the slight-
est chance being given ; and, to make matters
worse, in the autumn the tribe gathered their
effects together and moved farther to the
westward. This migratory life is led by most
of the savages of the far west, who change
their abode at any moment the whim takes
them, They will sometimes wander for a hun-
dred miles before deciding upon a place to
form a village ; and perhaps after remaining a
few months, again take up their goods and
wander off again. Like the Arabs of the des-
ert, they journey from place to place and call
no spot their permanent home.

Another winter dragged wearily by, and
Summerficld’s chances seemed no better than
before. _Sometimes the thought would come
over him that he should never escape, but live’
and die among these savages; and then he
would resolve to make the trial at all hazards.
He would have a chance, and the worst result
could be but death, which would be no worse
than. his present mode of existence. But pru-

dence whispered in his ear to wait, and the

time would soon come. _

And during all this time he had not forgot-
ten Viola. Many a long and otherwise weari-
some hour had been passed in thinking solely
of her. He admitted that he loved her, and
something seemed to tell him that his ardent
passion was returned. He wondered what
tribe held her, and whether she was yet living
and unharmed. He sometimes thought and
believed that she was not many miles distant,
and the thought that he was securely fettered
was maddening almost to desperation.

And then again Summerfield ceased his anx-
ious hopes, and reflected of his gentle sister,
far away in the States. Ero this she must have
known that he was either dead or a prisoner
among the savages, His fate seemed crue] in-
deed.

In the spring, hope was again awakened and
turned fama direction. The tribe gathered
their effects together and made a long journey
to the southeast. In fact this was carried

-—t-
ee nn pee

THE RACE FOR LIFE. 19

so far that they located themselves directly in
the trapping ground of the whites. Summer-
field believed that the time for action had now
arrived, and determined that, in two weeks at
the most, his fate should be decided.

 

CHAPTER VII.
VIOLA’S CAPTIVITY,

As has been recorded, the savages, during
their night attack upon the emigrant train,
succeeded in breaking through the line of
wagons, and reaching the one that held the
females, scattering its terrified inmates. Viola,
leaping to the ground, was immediately seized
in the arms of a powerful savage and borne
rapidly away. She screamed and struggled
desperately, but it was useless, and in a few
moments was carried beyond the reach of
friends. She was placed upon a large, powerful
horse, and the company rode rapidly forward
until morning, when they halted. Viola was
surprised to see that no other captives were
with her, when she felt certain that several
had been taken. She learned shortly, how-
ever, that the company had separated—the
other keeping them. Her own party numbered
some thirty.

Her captors journeyed forward most of the
day, and in the afternoon reached the Indian
village, which was somewhat smaller than the
one belonging to the Pawnee tribe. She found
that she was among the Crows, a great and ex-
tensive tribe, now inhabiting Minnesota. As
a general thing, for a number of years past,
they have been friendly to the whites, although
now and then a war party, flushed with the ex-
citement of Battle, has been known to attack
bodies of emigrants; and it has often been
found that they have retained prisoners for
years. Their grounds are so far to the north
that but few opportunities are afforded for re-
nae any prisoner that they may chance to

old.

There was much commotion among the In-
dians when it was known that a pale-faced
captive was among them. The squaws gath-
ered around, and there was more than one
baleful glance of jealousy at the fair face of
Viola. Her meek beauty and loveliuess exci-
ted the admiration, and at that moment she
was not conscious what a wild passion she had
awakened in the heart of more than one say-
age. ‘She was taken to the lodge of the chief,
and given to understand that, for the future,
she was to consider this her home.

Viola felt that she was beyond the reach of
friends, and it was vain to look for succor.
Hope was gone, but she despaired not. She
determinod to do her utmost to gain the good-
will of the chief, and beseech him to return
her to her friends. She believed that she
could eventually prevail upon him to do this,

The chief of this portion of the tribe—for
it was but a portion— was a ‘middle-aged man,
much beloved by his subjects, and one who
wielded an all-powerful influence. The royal
lodge situated near the centre, was much su-
perior to the others. It contained several

 

rooms, and was furnished with all the luxuries
that ever graced the savage life. The choicest
apartment was given to Viola. She thanked
the chief kindly, and accepted it with pleas-
ure. (

Viola busied herself in arranging the glitter-
ing beads, and making small trinkets for the
two children of the chief. This pleased them
greatly, and in time they evinced a genuine
affection and love for her. They were both
boys, one a dozen, and the other some ten years
of age. Their father often sat and grimly smiled
as they gathered around her with their child-
ish pleadings and thanks, while the mother
would sometimes pause and utter some kind
word to her. Thus the winter passed and the
spring came. Viola had fixed upon this: sea-
son as the period to supplicate the chief to re-
turn her to the whites, when a strange circum-
stance occurred. ‘There was considerable
trouble among the neighboring tribes, and
several bloody battles had been fought. In
one case a party of Crows had attacked and
nearly exterminated a small company of emi-
grants. In this attack they would have been
most signally repulsed had they not been as-
sisted and led by a white man! He seemed
perfectly beside himself with fury, and urged
on the savages as long as there was a chance
to slaughter. Some half-a-dozen escaped only-
by flight, after being pursued a great distance.
This white man had signified his intention to
remain and live with the Indians, and had re-
turned with them. When they were told of
his great strength and prowess, they nearly
worshipped him as a superior being, and his
influence was nearly equal to that of the chief.
The next day after his arrival, he married one
of the squaws and erected himself a lodge.
Viola had been told of his arrival, and her |
first impulse was to seek him ; but when the
chief communicated to her the circumstances,
plain sense told herto shun such a dangerous
and evil-minded man. She endeavored to
ayoid meeting him, and for two weeks suc-
ceeded. But matters could not remain always
thus. Intelligence of her presence was com-
municated to the white man, and he deter-
mined at once to see her.

It was a pleasant day in spring that she was
seated in the chieftain’s lodge, playing with
one of his children. Both the man and woman
were gone, and she was alone with the boy,
who was full of sport. Suddenly the door
was darkened. She looked up and saw the
veritable white man before her. He was stand-
ing in the door, gazing curiously, with a half
grin at her. She started, and felt her heart
shrink as she observed his vulgar gaze. She
nodded slightly, when, without heeding her,
he remarked :

_ Rather warm day, this,” at the same time
lifting his cap and brushing the matted hair
from his forehead.

“Yes,” returned Viola.
in and take a seat?” ,

He stepped heavily in and seated himself
upon @ rude stool, near the door. Then he
threw one leg over the other, whistled paré of
a song, then hummed it, and concluded by
ejecting a mouthful of tobacco-juice in the
face of the boy, and making a jump towar?

««Won’t you step

 
  

20

  

him. Frightened and screaming with pain
the lad ran from the lodge as rapidly as his
fect could carry him. ‘

‘“*Wagh! wagh! wagh!” laughed the white,
leaning back and slapping his knee with his
hand. Rather scart, I guess. Wanted to get
im out of the way, so I could talk with you,
and ’cluded to take a ’riginal way to do it.”

Viola was justly indignant at what she had
witnessed, and felt like rising and leaving him
also ; but again something seemed to tell her
toremain and be civil to him.

‘‘So they've got you, hey they?” he
queried.

‘Yes ; I have been a prisoner some time.”

*¢ Yeah, like it much ?”

“Tam treated very kindly, although, of
course, I should prefer to be with my own
kindred.” {

“Yeah, Wal, being we’re both white, or
leastways I pretend to be, we mought as well git
acquainted. My name is Sam Redzel.”

“Viola Vennond is mine.”

‘‘Yeah. Dunno as I ever heard it.
the States ?”

“Yes ; from Kentucky.”

“Yeah. Wal, I’m from the States, too, and
hev tramped around considerable ; but I got
among alot of rascals, and ’cluded as how

“redskins were as good as any, and so I’ve took
up — ’em. You ’quainted with any trap-
ers ?”

‘*There was a man by the name of Summer-
field, who joined—”

‘¢What name is that ?”

«‘Summerfield—George Summerfield, I be-
lieve, who was with us a day or two, although
I did not see him after we were attacked.”

Viola was about to say more, but paused as
she saw the fearful contortion of Redzel’s face.
Some powerful emotion was stirring his very
soul. Suddenly he spoke :

“Say, gal, do you see that ’ar mark?” As
he said this, he turned his face toward her and
pointed to the cicatrized wound that Seth had

given.
“Ves,” faltered Viola.
«‘Wal, that chap done it!”
«What! Summerfield?”

‘*He didn’t himself; but he’s the cause of
it, and done what’s as bad, and I’ve sworn that,
ef that feller’s livin’, he’s got to pay for it.
Yas, sir-e-e!” and he clenched his fist spas-
modically and fiercely struck his knee. He
continued muttering a few moments, and then
an embarrassing pause to Viola followed. At
last, to change the subject, she asked :

«Did I understand you, Mr. Redzel, to say
that you intended to spend your life with this
tribe ?” ;

“TY don’t know what you understood, but
that’s what I said, and what I intend to do, too.
As long as whites live, why Sam Redzel ain’t
goin’ to live with ’em.” : }

««I suppose’ that you have great cause for
provocation.”

“That's so, gal.”

*‘T would thank you not to address me

From

 

thus,” said she, provoked at his coarse famili-

arity.
“Whew! how then, my beauty?”
** Any way but that.”

 

ON THE PLAINS ; OR,

‘¢ Miss Vennond do?”

‘Yes, sir.”

“Oh! no. Vily, Vily; that’s it, that’s it.
Shoot my old hide, Vily, ef you ain’t good
lookin’. That’s the fact.” And he arose and
patted her cheek.

“Mr. Redzel, I would thank you very much
to treat me as the savages do,” said she, with
cutting indignation, arising and seating her-
self away from him.

“Wal, now, Vily, you ain’t mad, are yer?
Ts just in fun.”

“‘T don’t care about such fun as that.”

“Yeah. I wouldn't care either.”

‘And I would prefer to be alone.”

“Wal, blast ye, be alone then!” exclaimed
Redzel, enraged, as he arose and left.

At this juncture the chief entered, and Viola
related all that had occurred. He was pro-
voked, and assured her that it should not hap-
pen again. She seized the present opportuni-
ty to press her suit.

«Why not send me away, and thus be rid of
the trouble I cause ?”

The chief was perfectly taken aback at this.
He gazed at her, as if doubting her senses.
She repeated the question.

“Oh! Mascanagh cannot spare the white
maiden.”

‘“Why not? She does no good, and how
did he do before they robbed her of her
friends ?”

“No, no; she is a part of his household.
Mascanagh cannot spare her.” :

“O Mascanagh! the white maiden has
wrought for you, and been pleased with your
smile and disheartened with your frown. She
has done all that she can to soften your heart,
and will you not now restore her to her home ?
Oh! do not refuse me this!”

The chief seemed affected, and shook his

head. Viola sank on her knees before him.

‘*O Mascanagh, refuse me not this!”

“Arise,” said he, lifting her to her feet,
‘‘and I will talk with thee.”

Viola’s heart throbbed at this, and she raised
her streaming eyes to his.

‘The way is long,”, said he, ‘‘ and who will

guide thee ?”

“*Can you not?”

‘«‘T cannot leave my tribe.”

‘Surely there are many who would.”

“Viola,” said the chief, in a thrilling, ear-
nest whisper, ‘had better remain with Mas-
canagh. Many warriors love ber, and should
she leave with any they would kill her. The
white man loves her and woald make her
his squaw. She has no friend but Masca-
nagh.

This was a truth which had never crossed
her mind before. She had never dreamed
that she had awakened a passion in the breast
of any savage, much less in the heart of Red-
zel ; but now that her suspicions were aroused,
she recollected many things which went to
strengthen the remark of the chief. She re-
membered many strange glances that had been
given her, and many strange actions upon the
part of several warriors. =

“Cannot Viola be returned?” she asked,
mo :
se winds! returned the chief. ‘Say no

 

 
 

Pe re nent al

THE RACE FOR LIFE. 21

more about it, Mascanagh will do what he
can for the white maiden. Let her wait.”

«Thank you! thank you!” exclaimed she,
fervently.

The chief arose and passed out, and shortly
entered with his wife. The boy returned soon
with inflamed eyes, and the mother, enraged,
demanded that the white man should be
punished. The chief said nothing, but his
anger was great. Viola consoled the child,
and succeeded in pacifying the parents. She
urged them to let the insult pass for this occa-
sion. She saw that, should a collision occur,
it would be a terrible one between the chief
and Redzel. At last they consented to over-
look the insult, but Mascanagh affirmed that
the white man’s blood should pay for the repe-
tition of a similar act.

Meanwhile Viola waited and hoped. She
saw too plainly that half a score of savages
watched her every movement, and Redzel
dogged her steps whenever she left her lodge.
She felt alarmed at the state of affairs, and
earnestly hoped and prayed that she might be
delivered from the fate that seemed impending.

CHAPTER IX.
ESCAPE AND THE PERILS OF A NIGHT.

SumMMERFIELD, by long and seemingly cheer-
ful obedience to the medicine woman’s veriest
whims, succeeded in convincing her that he
meditated no hope of escape, and was willing
to reside with her tribe for life. Several times
she had hinted that there might be opportunity
offer, but he stated that, as he had no friends
among the whites, he cared not to avail him-
self of it; and thus, as we have said, she came
to believe, in time, that he was contented with
his lot. -Thus he gained considerable liberty
for himself, and was often absent for a long
time from the village without exciting any ap-
prehensions upon her part.

One morning he arose, and taking one of the
medicine woman’s rifles, told her that he be-
lieved he' should spend the day in hunting.
She made no objection, but admonished him
to be on hand before evening. He promised
obedience, and, throwing the gun over his
shoulder, stepped lightly forth. ‘The hour was
so early that, as he gazed about him, he saw
that the village was not yet astir.

But he was seen. ‘There happened, by
merest chance, to be a warrior who observed
him leaving the village. This savage was his
greatest enemy, and had abused him upon
more than one occasion. Seizing his rifle, he
stealthily and silently followed Summerfield,
who dreamed of no pursuer.

When he left the village, he had no thought
of attempting an escape, but intended to gain
still more of the old woman’s confidence by his
punctual obedience. He had wandered but a
mile or so, when the thought suddenly flashed
upon him that the proper moment had arrived
to make the attempt! The wild hope thus sud-
denly awakened completely overcame him.
With a heart throbbing painfully, he seated
himself upon the earth and gave way to his

 

emotion. In a few moments he mastered it,
and began calmly reflecting upon the chances
that favored him. He possessed a trusty rifle,
and was well supplied with ammunition. This
was his only weapon, yet it was sufficient to
answer all purposes. And when would another
more favorable opportunity be given him?
What was to hinder him now? Could there be
a better combination of circumstances in his
favor? He would make the attempt. He would
have a day and night before there would be
danger of pursuit, and in that time he could
place a long distance between himself and his
enemies. Yes, he would make the trial at
all hazards.

He had just formed this determination and
arisen to his feet, when he heard a step beside
him, and looking up, saw the form of an Indian,
whom he recognized as his deadliest enemy.
He affected no surprise, but gazed at him as
though his appearance at this particular mo-
ment was a matter of course. He could not
avoid, however, noticing the devilish grin that
was on his face. :

“Eh! very brave, gone to run away! eh!”
said the savage, halting and gazing into his
face.

Now that Summerfield. had formed the de-
termination, he had also determined that
nothing should stand in the way of the at-
tempt. Besides, he remembered the indigni-
ties that he had received at the hands of this
savage, and he made up his mind that they
were finished. He should suffer no more.

‘Who said I was going to run away?” he
demanded.

‘¢Eh, you run away!” gu

‘‘Who said so, I say?” we

“‘Me say so! me say so!” ny

‘«Then suppose I tell you, you lie!”

«* What's that? what’s that?” demanded the |

savage, not fully comprehending him.

‘‘ Nothing, only you're a terrible liar.”

““Me scalp you! me scalp you!” shouted
a Indian, his eyes glistening like a basi-

sk’s.

‘I don’t know about that, my copper-colored
friend ; it takes two to make such a bargain.”

‘‘Give me gun!” said he, reaching for Sum-
merfield’s rifle. $

“No, I thank you. I ain’t such a fool as

@ Savage was growi urious. He saw
that his ainda end refused, and he received
in turn insult for insult. :

‘‘Yourun away?” he asked.

“Well, yes, old copperhead, that’s my in-
tention. Any objections? I find I am losing
time in palavering with you, and if you have
got anything to say, why out with it most
mighty quick.” Summerfield leaned very gra-
— on his gun, and grinned in the savage’s
‘ace.

‘Give me gun!” he again demanded.

“Well, take it, then,” said Summerfield,
reaching it toward him. i

The savage stepped forward, but as his hand
touched it it was withdrawn, and Summerfield,
to console him in his disappointment, placed
his thumb on his nose, shut one eye, and
twirled his fingers in a tantalizing manner.
This was too much for the infuriated savage.

E »

 
 

22 ON THE PLAINS; OR,

With a whoop of rage, he jerked out his knife
and sprang upon him. But Summerfield knew
that this movement would follow, and was
prepared for it. Seizing his rifle by the bar-
rel, he swung it quickly around his head,
bringing the stock down with a stunning crash
upon the skull of the savage. This done, he
again rested it upon the earth, folded his arms
over the muzzle, and gazed complacently at
his fallen enemy.

“Come, old chap, how long are you going
to lie there?” he asked at last.

The only answer was several painful twitches
of the limbs.

«‘Tll give you a minute, and if you don’t
come to time, why you’re whipped. Do you
understand ?”

Several struggles as before were the only
answer.

“Well, old fellow, you’re whipped, and
whipped about as nicely as you ever were in
your life, I reckon,” said Summerfield.

The savage still remained unconscious, for
he had given him a wound that would keep
him insensible for a long time.”

“Being it’s you, suppose I relieve you of the
extra weight of these trinkets.” So saying,
Summerfield took a couple of knives from his
waist, rifle, and all his ammunition, thus leaving
him entirely unarmed, and supplying himself
as well as he could wish. ,

_ “There! when you come to, just give my
compliments to the folks at home, and reserve
my good wishes for yourself. Good-by.”

He sprang away, for he realized fully that his
time was incalculably precious. The Indian
would shortly recover, return, and the pursuit
would be commenced. Capture would be cer-
tain death. The medicine woman’s inter-
ference would avail nothing, and should she

.be convinced that her prisoner was endeavor-
ing to leave her, she would not resist the
demands of the tribe. -

He started off like a frightened animal. 'The
ground seemed to fly from under him, and he
hardly paused for breath until the sun was
high in the heavens. Then he found himself
upon the banks of a swift flowing stream. It
was some twenty yards wide, and appeared
very deep. The water was exceedingly clear
and limpid, and the white pebbles could be
seen glistening upon the bottom for a long dis-
tance. He hesitated about entering it, for it
was icy cold, and it seemed nearly impossible
to stem the strong current. At length, how-
ever, he ventured, and resolutely plunged in.
It sent the shiver through his frame, but he
breasted it manfully and succeeded in soon
reaching the opposite bank. He judged it was
now past noon, and concluded to rest awhile
and dry his garments. His ammunition was
still dry and ready to use ; but he was startled
to find that he had lost one of his rifles.
Though bound to his back upon entering the
water, one had slipped ont and fallen to the
bottom without his knowledge.

Hardly a half hour was spent in rest, when
he hastened on again. He travelled by the
sun, keeping in a southerly direction, and
carefully guarding against the tendency that

rsons in his situation are subjected to ; that
is, of journeying in a circle. Several times

s

cochlea 24 ‘ nie dee Md,

 

he found that he had unconsciously changed
his direction ; the utmost watchfulness was
necessary to guard against a mistake that
might be fatal. He judged that he could not
be far from the Black Hills, and that he must
be very near, if not directly upon the trapping
grounds of the whites. This fact nerved him
with hope, and gave him confidence in the
chances before him.

As the sun had nearly reached the horizon,
he came upon the banks of another stream of
considerable size. This, he saw, ran from the
direction he wished to follow. Instead of
crossing, he determined to keep along its
banks. There would thus be no danger of
travelling in a wrong direction, and a certainty
of going south. The stream had its rise in
the southern part of the Black Hills, and,
after flowing northward, united with the
Sweetwater, and eventually joined the turbid
waters of the great Missouri. The journeying
here was comparatively easy also.

Ere night came upon him nature began to
show itself. He was not only fatigued but in-
tensely hungry, and felt that he must have
food of some kind before he slept. Strangely
enough, he had not come across any game,
and it seemed that the country contained none.
But fortune favored him, for, all at once, he
stumbled upon a large bed of commotes. 'This
is a species of fruit found in the river bottoms
of this section. It so closely resembles the
commou radish, both in form and taste, that it
is often mistaken for it, andsome have gone so
far as to assert that it is really the same fruit
growing wild. It is more healthy and nutri-
tious, and is probably a different vegetable.

» Having fully satisfied the cravings of hunger,
and as darkness had already commenced, he
judged it prudent to look for a resting-place.
Bordering the stream were a number of large
cottonwoods, and selecting one of these, he as-
cended it. The branches were large and full,
and passing out upon one, he secured him-
self in such a position that he deemed no moye-
ment of his own could dislodge him. His rifle
rested upon the limb above him, and his posi-
tion was as really comfortable as it was pos-
sible to make it. ;

Resting thus pleasantly, it was not long be-
fore the drowsiness of sleep came over him,
Although he heard the clear, ringing yell of a
panther in the distance, he did not let it dis-
turb his repose, but resolutely closed his eyes,
and was soon in the realm of sleep.

Toward midnight he had a startling dream.
It seemed that he was running, without arms
of any kind, and was pursued bya gigantic say-
age, who gained rapidly upon him at every
step. He strove, in an agony of terror to es-
cape, but at last in despair, sank to the earth.
As the savage sprang upon him, he endeavored
to scream, and—awoke, and found that he was
falling. He clutched desperately at the limbs,
but it availed nothing, and gliding swiftly
through the branches he struck the earth. The
distance was short, and he was not hurt in the
least by the fall. He found, however, that he
was ina cold sweat of fear, and quickly as.
cended the tree again. The moon had risen,
and he could distinctly discern objects at a con-
siderable distance.

 

 

 

 
ta.

 

THE RACE FOR LIFE.

He was provoked at this mishap, yet it was
the most providential circumstance that could
have befallen him. Like many other misfor-
tunes, it was a disguised blessing. He had
been in the tree but a few moments when he
was startled by hearing a twig break, and gaz-
ing downward, he saw, stealthily moving for-
ward upon his trail, the being of his dream!
A swarthy, powerful savage was coming direct-
ly toward the tree! His head was bent, and
Summerfield well knew that he was seeking
his life.

There was no time for hesitation. The say-
age was upon Summerfield’s trail, and the
bright moon enabled him to follow it rapidly
andsurely. He did not deem he was so near
the object of his search, but still was using
customary caution. The breaking of the twig
was a strange accident. The whole truth
flashed across Summerfield at once, and reach-
ing up and taking his rifle, he took a quick
but sure aim at the savage and fired! There
was that cry of agony, the leap in the air, and
he lay a quivering corpse beneath the tree.

‘‘God grant that there are no more!” ex-
claimed the fugitive, hastily reloading. ;

He waited in fearful expectation a long time,
but as none others appeared, he concluded
that this must be the only one upon his track.
After an hour or so, he descended to examine
the body. He was gratified to find that it did
not belong to the tribe he had left. It was prob-
ably some solitary hunter who had accidentally
come upon his trail, and with characteristic
cunning judged it to be a white man’s, and
had followed it for the purpose of slaying him.
Summerfield found that the bullet had entered
at the top of the head and passed out through
the back ; of course he was stone dead, and
stark and stiff. Summerfield forced the fingers
apart, and took the rifle, his powder horn, his
bullet pouch, and his scalping knife. This
done, he ascended the tree, determined to
either bury the body in the morning, or care-
fully cover it with twigs and leaves.

Both rifles were loaded, and carefully ex-
tending them upon two branches overhead, he
arranged his position so that he might sleep
without danger of falling, and patiently waited
for the gentle goddess to come. He had lain
a half hour thus, and had reached that state
when one is neither asleep nor awake, when
he was startled by that long, indescribable
bow! of the wolf! It wasa long way off, but in
a moment more there was another chorus,
nearer, and still increased by a great number,
In a short time came an answering howl from
nearly the opposite quarter, then another from
a different point, and in twenty minutes it
seenred that the whole country was alive and
swarming with them! He supposed that a
number had scented his trail and that of the
savage, and had given these signals to the oth-
ers in the neighborhood. At any rate he knew
that they were all centring toward the tree,
and would be there in an unpleasantily short
time.

They were hot the common prairie wolf, but
the real mountain wolf—an animal as much
fiercer and more courageous than the former
as is the bear to the common dog. At this
season of the year they were nearly famished,

 

23

and would hesitate to attack nothing. They
generally united in great numbers, and no sin-
gle body could withstand their determined
onslaughts. Incredible as it may seem, instan-
ces have occurred in which the grizzly bear
has been overcome by their versistent and
prolonged attacks.

In a few moments he saw the lank form of a
large, gaunt wolf, and in an incredibly short
space of time the ground beneath the tree was
alive with them. They came from every di-
rection, and their numbers seemed exhaustless,
The foremost scenting the body of the savage,
sprang upon it and tore it in shreds in an in-
stant. Soon there was nothing left but the
glistening bones, and they still snarled and
fought over these, scattering them in every di-
rection. : :

Then they turned their horrid, bloody jaws
up to Summerfield, as if to ask him to de-
scend.

«Yes, I suppose you would like to taste my
precious carcass,” said he. ‘No doubt In-
dian meat has whetted your appetite some-

what, but I think rather too much of myself to-

mingle in your society. You must really
cuse me.”

The wolves were leaping and plunging up-
ward, fairly crazed by the taste of blood.
The moon was so bright that Summerfield
could discern their movements plainly. He
saw one large fellow become wounded by
the claw of another in the struggle. A small
quantity of blood issued from the wound, and
in a twikling he was pounced upon by a score
of others, who tore him limb from limb!

‘“What'a pity you wouldn’t all do that!”
said Summerfield as he witnessed it. —

. As he had two rifies and plenty of ammuni-
tion, he determined to do it for them. He

ex-

fired at random. A sharp yelp told the result,

and the snapping of jaws and growlings of
hiite betokened his fate. Summerfield waited
a moment, until he judged that this had been
devoured, and then discharged the second ri-
fle among them. All were instantly engaged
in the repast over the fallen one. Again he
fired, and again the same result. Their ap
tites seemed insatiate. Summerfield really
wondered whether the last wolf would not
still demand food after he had helped to eat
all the rest! Such a thing seemed probable
indeed,

.. He had just loaded his own rifle and placed
it above him for use, when it slipped and fell
to the ground. ‘The greedy animals immedi-
ately sprang upon it and clawed it as though it
were another victim. Summerfield immedi-
ately fired to withdraw their attention, lest
they should injure it. This practice he kept
up for nearly an hour, until he judged that he
must have slain over twenty. His powder was
now getting low, and he deemed it best to pre-
serve it for future use. Accordingly, reloads
ing it, he placed his gun above
engaged himself in gaz "
strange sight below. Their actions afforded him

amusement for a time, but soon they began to

alarm him. Some were leaping upward so’fu-
riously that they caught at the lowermost
limbs, and there really was danger of their re-
maining upon them. All at once, Summer-

him and.
azing down upon the ;

’

 
 

 

24 ON THE PLAINS; OR,

t

field saw that one had actually reached and
was upon the limb! As quick as lightning he
caught his rifle and sent the bullet crashing
through his head. The brute rolled to the
ground, where, of course, he met the fate of
his companions. ,

Our hero judged it best to fire at intervals,
when there was a probability of the wolves
becoming too clamorous and furious. Every
now and then he could see numbers approach
and join the main body, until nothing could
be seen but their dark, struggling bodies. As
the moon, at intervals, was veiled by some
passing cloud, their forms darkened, and re-
sembled some hideous denizens of the lower
regions. And then again, as their tawny hides,
flashing cyes, and glistening teeth, came to
view, their appearance was, if possible, more
horrid and terrific than before. Summerfield
felt that his was certainly a strange situation.
He knew not where a single human being ex-
cept himself was. He was alone in the Far
West, driven to a tree by a horde of famished
wolves, and in the middle of the night was
compelled to keep watch to save himself from

one of the most horrible deaths that could be- }

fall him.

Despite his fearful position and the terrific
noises around him, he began to give way to a
heavy drowsiness! He started with terror
when he found it gaining upon him, and strove
to the utmost to shake it off; but, strange as it
may seem, he failed. He kept moving from
limb to limb, until it seemed that his strength
was entirely gone, and then, with a sad want
-of foresight, concluded to seat himself com-
fortably and watch the yelping wolves beneath
him! What might be expected followed—the
result that had nearly been fatal. In ten min-
utes he was sound asleep!

Slowly, gradually, and surely, he commenced
sinking! he motion increased, and still he
slept! A limb brushed his face and he awoke!
He felt himself slipping, sliding, sinking, sink-
ing, sinking, so horribly! He screamed and
clutched like a madman at the frail twigs,
but they glided like fiery serpents through his
blistered hands! The wolves grew more furi-
ous and crazy! He yelled, and clinched and
struck out like a drowning man! Still he sunk
. lower, lower, lower, and it seemed he would
never reach the ground! Oh, the concentrated
horror of those interminable seconds! The
agony of a lifetime may be compressed into a
singlemoment! Summerfield felt like a writh-
ing body of fire.

But soon he passed below the limbs! There
was an indescribable dizzy gliding though air,
and he struck directly upon the back of a
wolf! At the same instant, he gave a yell—so
awful, so agonized, that it sounded far above
the combined howls of the animals! His sud-
den fall and terrific scream startled, for one
moment, those directly around him, and they
darted a few yards away. It was his moment
of respiie from a horrible death, and with a
full realization of his appalling situation he
sprang upward with the energy of despair.
His hands grasped the low sweeping limbs
above him. The wolves returned to their
prize quickly, but their very eagerness thwart-
ed their purpose, for, leaping from different

 

directions at the same moment they came in col-
lision and dropped to the ground in a contorted,
shrieking mass. How precious was that mo-
ment! ‘lhe power of Summerfield’s muscular
arms was exerted to its utmost, and he had
succeeded in gaining his position on a lower
limb, when one of the brutes by a desperate leap
fastened his fangs upon the man’s foot. The
creature did not let go its hold. Maddened at
this incredible tenacity, Summerfield shook
his limb desperately, and the wolf fell—his
poisoned claws cutting to the bone of the an-
kle, and stripping the moccasin from his lacer-
ated foot!

Cowering and quivering like an aspen, he
ascended to the topmost limb, and clung till
the morning. He drew a deep breath, and
saw that the wolves were departing ; one by
one they took themselves away, until none
were left. He waited a long time, and then
tremblingly descended. As he stepped to the
earth, the pain of his mangled foot caused him
to drop as if shot. The nails of the wolf,
from their having clawed the putrid carcasses
of animals, had a peculiar poison upon them.
This caused his foot and ankle to swell enor-
mously. After a few moments, however, he
was able to stand upon it, and limped around
and picked up his rifles. His own was twenty
yards from the tree! They were both consid-
erably scratched and disfigured, but not really
injured. Taking these up, and his tattered
moccasin, bedabbled with blood, he hobbled
to tae brook, where he sat and bathed his
wound in the cooling fluid. There was a pain-
fal smart at first, but he soon found it relieved
it, and continued his bathing until the swelling
had considerably diminished. Then he ceased,
and thought upon the best course left for him
to pursue.

But one course remained, and that was to
pursue his journey as rapidly as possible into
the Black Hills, in whose fastnesses he could
find safety and, perchance, might meet with
some adventurous trapper. Should he be dis-
appointed in this, however, he could pursue
his way cautiously to the east, leaving it to
Providence to direct his steps. With as much
speed as his swollen limb would permit, he
started on his way, first crossing the stream.
Tarrying on its opposite bank for a supply of
commotes, he was startled at hearing voices.’
He crept close into the heavy mass of
grass lining the bank of the stream, and then
peered cautiously out. Within a dozen yards
of him he saw three Indians following his trail.
He saw them leave the stream and go toward
the tree, where he heard them a long time in
conversation. Then they returned to the
stream and held another earnest consultation,
when they started rapidly on the back track!
They had thus given up all hope of recapturing
him, and he was safe from farther pursuit.

The explanation of their movement was
this. They had followed the trail of the fugi-
tive with much difficulty, yet with unerring
certainty, to the point where it was lost in the
numerous tracks of the wolves, Here they
saw had been some fatal occurrence very re.
cently. They observed the bones of the
wolves scattered around, and, at the base of
the treo, discovered the skull and some of the

 

\.
—

THE RACE FOR LIFE. 25

bones of the savage. This they supposed to
be the remains of Summerfield, and, of course,
nothing was left for them to do but to return
with that intelligence. Thus deeply are the
most direct providences often veiled. Sum-
merfield understood the meaning of the pro-
ceedings of the savages, and in the gratitude
of his heart he knelt upon the earth and offer-
ed up his fervent thanks to the preserving
Power that was thus watching over him. With
the knowledge that there was no pursuit came
a sense of conscious security, and he regarded
his ultimate escape as certain at that moment
as though he were in his native state. f

For two days he pressed on slowly. His
limb still pained him, but did not delay his
escape. During the afternoon of the second
day, when he had penetrated far into the depths
of the hills, he came suddenly upon the body
of a savage, but recently killed. There was
the bloody track of the bullet through’ the
breast, the scalp had been ripped off, and the
body stripped of nearly every shred of dress.
Tt lay flat on the back, each limb extended
wide, and the insects of corruption were
already at their work. He did not like this.
It proved that Indians were around, and com-
pelled him to exercise his utmost care. A
caion of the mountain now opened before
him, through which flowed a stream of consid-
erable size. Upon the banks of this ~he de-
tected infallible signs of beavers. There were
numerous tracks on the shore, and he was con-
fident that 2 dam was not far off. Examining
this bank closely, he came upon a place dug
in it, and feeling carefully a few inches under
the water, his hand touched the trap! There
were whites, then, not far off. Thank Heaven!
He could hardly constrain his feelings from
giving vent in a shout.

He proceeded up stream to find them. As
he walked on, ho thought he heard a whistle.
Following the direction indicated, he could
soon distinguish a tune—yes, it was that melody
of the West, tho ‘‘Arkansas Traveller!” Still
cautiously moving on, he came upon the
whistler. A tall, lank man, with his side
toward him, with a hat resembling a bee-
hive, and his arms folded over the muzzle of
his rifle, was contentedly whistling this melody.
Summerfield gazed | moment in speechless
astonishment. Those frightfully bent legs

 eould belong to but one person. Seth Potter
was standing before him!

CHAPTER X.
THE MEETING OF FRIENDS,

For a time, Summerfield was at a loss how
to proceed. Joy at this fortunate turn of af-
fairs completely upset his ideas fora moment.
At last he strode hastily forward and laid his
handuponthearmofSeth.

“How are you, old friend?” said he, famil-
iarly, his face aglow with pleasure. The indi-
vidual addressed, without changing his pos-
ture, stopped whistling a second with the re-
mark :

ic
«Wait a minute. Ijust got to the turn of

 

this tune,” and proceeded deliberately to finish
the ‘‘turn” of it; then ‘turned ” himself,
looked a moment in the face of the person be-
fore him ; stopped whistling ; dropped his
gun ; stepped back a pace or two, then jump-
ed forward. '

‘By thunder, it’s him! It’s him! It’s
him!”

And catching Summerfield’s hand, he shook
and pulled and squeezed and twisted it, until
the poor fellow writhed with pain.

‘For Heaven’s sake, Seth, don’t kill me! |
You have hold of my band.”

‘Yas, sir; it's him! It’s him! Whoop!
I'd like to know where, in the name of all
that’s curus, you’ve come from? Why, sir, if I
hadn’t just squeezed your hand, I’d believe I
seen a ghost.”

Summerfield smiled, and at last broke into a
loud laugh.

“Tl be darned if it ain’t enough to seta
fellow crazy. Why, man alive, Vic and mo
have been one winter trapping here, gone back
to Independence, come back here agin, and
just as we're going to tramp agin, you come
along. If that ain’t funny, why, that’s all.”

- aa Vic and Jim?” asked Summer-
eld... F
_ ‘Where's Jinr? He got killed at the same
time youdid. You mind that great chase when
we lost you. Wal, the Engins got so close
they hit Jim’s horse and tumbled him over.
Howsumever, that didn’t make no difference,
Jim kept on, jogging along as fast as before,
I told him to jump on my animal, ‘cause
you know there ain’t no hosses that I can’t out-
run. Jim wouldn’t do it, and bimeby he got
a piece of lead that throwed him in his ae
That was the last of poor Jim. Jim was a
good chap.”

“‘Where’s Vic? He’s alive, you say !”

«Yas, yas ; he’s up in the ‘Hole.’ He'll be
down pretty soon. We'd better wait till he
comes. Let's set down on this stone.”

** Ain’t there savages in this neighborhood ?”
asked Summerfield, as they seated them-
selves,

“Yas, a few; but they don’t know we're
about. We manage to keep the traps close.
Vic had a tussle with one down yonder yester-
day. He’d found out we’re about here, and
we seen his tracks where he’d been for two or
three days nosin’ around. He’s after our hair,
but lost his own.” ‘

, ‘‘I believe I came upon him a short time
since,” ;

“Yas ; well, let’s hear about your capers the
last year or two ; I want to know where you
come from, though them Engin fixens you
got on shows pretty near.” :

Summerfield thereupon proceeded to give a
short, rapid sketch of his experience from the
time of his falling into the hands of the Indi-
ans up‘to the present moment. He was often
interrupted by Seth, who was much excited
with his narration. When he had finished,
Seth asked : :

“Do you remember Redzel, George—that *
feller I had such a fight with ?”

‘*T don’t think there is much danger of my

| ever forgetting him.”

‘‘Well, sir, he’s up among the Crow Indi-

 
 

 

5

26 ON THE PLAINS ; OR,

ans. Vic seen him, last winter, with a lot.
He’s jined them—gone with ’em, and I ca’cu-
late as how that’s one reason why there’s been
so many murders “mong the emigrants this
season.” .

‘The fiend! Do you think he has had a
hand in it?”

“¢He’s had more than a hand in it—he has
had both hands.”

“Well, his disposition is evil enough.”

‘‘Heigh! there comes Vic. Wait a moment,
and just keep shady.”

Summerfield saw the well-remembered form
of the hunter approaching, and shrinking be-
hind Seth, veiled his face as tauch as possible.
In a moment Seth said, in a loud tone :

*‘ Come here, Vic ; here’s a redskin I catched
at our traps. Ive been trying to get his top-
knot off, but can’t manage him. Quick, I
want your help!”

“Just jump out the way and let me puta
piece o’ lead through his head. .’*T'wont take
me long to settle the job for him.”

Seth sprang away, and the movement had
nigh been fatal. Vic wasin the very act of
raising his rifle to his shoulder, when Sum-
merfield threw up his hands with a clear ring-
inglaugh. ‘To have seen the trapper’s appear-
ance then! His expression of comical won-
der cannot be described. He stood a second,
then dropped his rifle, took the cap from his
head, shaded his eyes, and stooping slightly,
peered forward in mute astonishment. At this
point, Seth commenced jumping and dancing,
flung his hat upon the ground, and went to
stamping it, exclaiming at intervals :

«That's the first time I ever got Vic. He'll
have to give in now!”

Vic’s eyes seemed to grow lighter and larger
each moment. He still stood in his prone po-
sition, seemingly bereft of all reason. Seth
continued going up and down, his legs flying
in every direction, until his foot came suddenly
in contact with a stone, throwing him heels
over head. ‘The state of affairs was beccming
embarrassing to Summerfield, and, stepping
forward, he said :

“Vic, don’t you remember me ?”

- I guess so. Ist you, Somefield ?” he
gasped. m

“Why, certainly. How are you?

And the two grasped and shook hands as
only friends can. Seth approached, spread
his feet far apart, placed his hands in the pock-
ets which he had rigged in his dress, threw

his hat on the back of his head, and looked: :
\ this was uttered that startled Summerfield.

on.

«You appeared to not know me,” said Sum-
merfield, pleasantly,

«‘Of course I knowed yer, but, bears and
buflers, who thort you’s him? I’s sartin it’s a
spirit I’s lookin’ at. Wagh! wagh! wagh!”

And the trapper threw his head back and
langhed—laughed till the big drops tumbled
down his cheeks.

“Vie, you're a fool,” remarked Seth gravely.

He paid no attention to this, but ceased
laughing, stooped, picked up his gun, and

id:

said :
“ Somefield, this yer’s the greatest time this
beaver ever seed.”
“So Isee,” returned Summerfield.  « But

 

it seems to me that we have enjoyed this sur-
priss long. Suppose we hunt up your lodgings
and return.”

As they proceeded, he continued :

‘Vic, is Wandaught dead ?”

‘There itis! Don’t you believe me!” de-
manded Seth.

‘‘ Well, no; Ihave some doubts about your
respect for truth,” replied he, with a smile.

Seth gave vent to a ‘‘Humph!” strode on,
and Summerfield looked to Vic for the answer.

“Yas,” said he. ‘Jim went under a long
time ago, and died hard. Did Crooked Pegs
tell you?”

‘He said that he was killed in that chase,
where I left you.”

‘* How ?”

‘First, his horse was shot, and then he was.”

“Yes ; Crooked Pegs told the truth for once.
I guess he'll be sick for it.”

‘‘Here, no personalities except on busi-
ness,” said Seth, turning his head half around.

“Wagh! wagh! Just look at them pegs o’
his. Did you know, Somefield, that he allers
ties ’em round his neck when he goes to sleep!
Took me and Jim—took me a half day to ontie
*em once.”

‘Shut up! Thunderation !” exclaimed Seth.

Summerfield had taken little interest in this
badinage and raillery, but had been reflecting
upon the death of Wandaught.

“Vic,” said he, ‘tell me the particulars of
Jim’s death.” s

«Thar ain’t much particlers,” said he, throw-
ing aside his frivolity. ‘His hoss got hit a
little while after you left, and then next thing
he got hit, and saying good-bye, keeled over.
He wanted me to lift his h’ar to save it from
the devils, but they're comin’ so all-firedly, I
hadn’t time. I hated to refuse Jim, ‘cause
Jim war a good feller, but Ihadto. He tum-
pled around hard until they come up, when
thar’s some tall howlin’ and screamin’ over
him. We had to work to git ourselves off,
and kept up the run till night.”

“Despite himself, a tear crept to Summer-
field’s eye at this rude narration of the death
of one who had been his friend. In his short
acquaintance, he hadformedasirong friendship
for Wandaught, who possessed better qualities
of head and heart- than are generally found
among those cf his class,

«Tt was a great loss to you,” remarked he,
thoughtfully.

«Yas ; great loss,” returned Vic.

There was something in the tone in which

Had he seen the expression upon the speaker’s
face, perhaps he would have been startled still
more, But-he did not, and continued :

“‘T regret his death more than it seemed I
ever could. But, of course, there is no use of
regretting it, He has been dead a long time,
and I suppose both of you have come to regard
it with feelings that time has softened.

“Yas,” replied both, in that puzzling tone
again. Summerfield looked up, but, as they
were before him, he could not see the expres-
sion upon their countenances. But at that in.
stant looking beyond them, he observed a
hunter at some distance, who was approach.
ing.

 

|
|

 
—>

THE RACE
*¢ Who is that?” he asked, as the man drew

ear.

««A feller what jined usa few days ago, re-
turned Vic.

‘“‘Tsn’t that Wandaught?” he asked, exci-
fedly.

“‘Spose he’s come to life, too!” said Seth,
with a laugh. j

Summerfield watched the stranger as they
neared each other, and was soon convinced
that he had not been mistaken. It was Wan-
daught. He said nothing, however, until they.
were together, when he stepped out with :

«How are you, Jim?”

The hunter hesitated a moment, but did not
evince as much surprise as either Seth or Vic.
He looked until he was sure of the person, and
then returned the salutation. Summerfield ex-
tended his hand, but it was not taken.

“Why, what does that mean?” he asked.

“<Didn’t you know I never shook paws in my
life? Ican’t do it. But, ole beaver, I can tell
you that Jim Wandaught is blasted glad to see

ou.”

At this point the questions commenced. Sum-
merfield gave a short history of his principal
experiences since they had parted, and learned
from Wandaught that neither he nor his horse
had been wounded in the chase mentioned.
Vic, all this time, stood gazing very compla-
cently upon them, giving vent now and then to
a loud guffaw, and finally bursting into a full
laugh. Seth had commenced whistling the
“Arkansas Traveller,” but found great diffi-
culty in keeping his mouth in shape. Finally
he gave up and joined Vic. They enjoyed the
joke hugely.

Nearly half an hour was passed in laughing,
explaining, and railing pleasantly at each other.
At last affairs were adjusted, and they came to
a sort of understanding. It was then deter-
mined to return to the ‘ Hole,” or their lodg-
ing place. This was certainly a strange place.

After walking some two or three hundred
yards, they reached a spot where the pebbles
extended quite a distance from the stream, as
though it had once been the bed of some great
basin. vi

‘‘ Now tread soft, and don’t stir the gravel,”
said Vic, leading the way. Wandaught fol-
lowed next, walking as carefully, and then
came Seth, who, after touching his feet, seem-
ed to think it necessary to make a dowzward
bend of his knee at each step, throwing up
each arm at the same time. Going a few rods,
an abrupt turn was made, when Vic halted be-
fore a large flat stone. Both he and Wan-
daught gazed cautiously around them a mo-
ment, when the former stooped and lifted the
stone, and disappeared beneath it. Wandaught
and Seth did the same, and Summerfield sup-

osed that it was intended for him to follow
suit ; 80, without hesitation, he raised it and
sprang down some six or eight feet. The stone
closed after him, and he found himself in inky
blackness. :

« Where under the sun are we?” he asked,

roping about.
& i Dewi here,” was the enlightened reply,

«‘T should think—confound it!” he exclaim-
ed as he pitched over somebody at his feet.
He arose, and was about to speak, when his

 

FOR LIFE. 27

nose came violently in collision with one of his
companions.

“Come, don’t but me that way,” laughed
Wandaught.

“‘How do you expect I am going to get
around here? I'll knock my brains out pretty
soon,” said Summerfield, feeling blindly
around with his hands. Judging it best to
not move until he understood his precise situa-
tion, he seated himself upon the earth and
quietly waited for one of them to produce a
light. In a few minutes, Wandaught succeed-
ed in getting some smoky substance lighted,
which threw its oily rays upon the faces of the
hunters. Summerfield gazed about, and saw
a dingy and singular looking place. It wasan
apartment some eight or nine feet wide, and
about a dozen feet in length, with an average
height of eight or nine feet. Connected with
this was another of about half its size. The
whole was so regularly constructed as to show
that, although Nature might have assisted, she
never had made it. ;

“Well, if this doesn’t beat all,” said Sum-
merfield, in unfeigned astonishment. ‘Did
you dig this out yourself, Vie?” =

‘‘No, sir. This war here ’fore you or Iseed —
daylight.” and, being in a communicative —
mood, he seated himself upon a bundle of furs, —
and said :

‘About ten years ago, up at Fort Hall, a
feller, called Stumpy Bill, got into a muss with
a Seminole what blowed thunder through his
carcass, and then left. There didn’t nobody
appear to care nothin’ about it, and so I nussed
him ; but, I see he’d have to go under. The
redskin’s lead had gone clean through him.
Bill knowed he’d have to go, and the night
afore, he called me to him and told me about
this place. He said a feller had told him of it,
what happened to find it by chance once. He
said the redskins didn’t know nothing boutit.
and as there war plenty beaver here, it was a
mighty nice place. I’d been in this neighbor-
hood once or twice, and hadn’t much trouble te
find it. Ashe called it the ‘ Hole,’ I cluded to
do the same. That ar war why I went alone fur
the last nine or ten year. Two or three times
I thought o’ takin’ some feller, but put it off,
till these fellers joined me, when I brought ’em
toit. Ihain’t changed it any, but left it the
same as I found it.”

_ ‘Is there not danger of your retreat being
discovered ?” oF

‘“Nary danger. I got chased by a‘lot of the
devils once, and ducked inter here orful quick,
and, skin me, ef a couple of the all-fired fools
didn’t squat themselves right square on the
stone up thar and go to jabberin’.”

“You see,” said Seth, who had seated him-
self upon a quantity of furs, ‘they don’t think
of looking in the ground for a house, and—”

‘Just shut up that meat trap,” said Vic.

‘Rather a narrow escape,” suggested Sum-
merfield.

_‘* Not so narrow as I had once, for a red devil
did git in here once while I’s tendin’ to my
traps. I come back, and wa'nt thinkin’ o’ no-
thin’, when, just as I lifted the stone, bang went
somethin’ through my cap—see, thar’s the hole.
Wal, you'd better believe I dropped that stone
as quick as if twere hot. Thinks I, who's

 
F
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Lh
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rb
By

 

28 ON THE PLAINS; OR,

down thar? Some feller’s gone inter the wrong
bed, and it’s time he’s gitten’ out. Coz why?
This feller wants to gitin! Iknow’d as how
thar wa’nt but one, for if thar war, I'd got all
their lead. So I just slips up to the stone thar,
and goes to groanin’ orful, makin’ b’lieve I's
hit. Then I floundered bout like a sick
grizzly, and then fotched a mighty long grunt,
and scratched and kicked the stones ; then gets
up soft, without makin’ no noise, cocks Polly,
steps back and lays low, waiten for sarcum-
stances to dewelop themselves. Putty soon I
seed the stone move a little ; then it war still
for an hour or so; then his noddle jumped out
and ducked in ’fore I could draw trigger. Ina
little while I seed the stone move agin, and his
noddle come out mighty slow, lookin’ just like
atappin’ snorkle. He didn’t see me, and kept
slidin’ out. Just then I blazes away, and the
gravel-stones flew. Iran up and found him

one under, the stone war on his back, an’ his
egs hangin’ down in the Hole. I lifted his
har, and pitched him into the creek. That's
it hangin’ up thar.”

Summerfield arose, and, with curiosity, un-
twisted some long black hair from the tooth of
& beaver, that was driven into the flinty earth.
It was covered with dust, the hair was stiff and
wiry, and as he took it down the dried skin at-
tached to it rattled like coarse paper. -

As it was now late in the afternoon, Vic re-
marked that he would pass out and see to the
traps. Accordingly he ascended and disap-
peared, and Summerfield proceeded to examine
more closely the curious apartment in which
he found himself. He turned to speak to Wan-
daught, but saw that he was stretched out and
sound asleep, while Seth was in the other apart-
ment with another light.

The examination showed him but little that
he had not already observed. The walls were
hard and gravelly, and there was little danger
of their crumbling or falling in. In one cor-
ner was a large pile of beaver skins, while sev-
eral others were extended upon the ground,
forming rude but warm and comfortable mat-
tresses.

Summerfield passed into the other apart-
ment where Seth was preparing the evening
meal. ’

“Do you cook here?” he asked, gazing at
8ome ashes in one corner.

“ Certainly—where would we ?”

“‘Where does the smoke go ?”

«There’s a hole up there, under a stone, that
lets it all out.”

‘But ain’t there danger of the smoke being
seen ?”

“We never have a fire except on dark
nights.” ,

«Well, I must say this is the most fabulous

lace I ever stumbled upon.”

e "Tis funny.. Made me open my eyes at

In a short time Vic returned, when Wan-
daught was awakened, and they sat down to
their meal. Not one forgot what had been the
custom of Summerfield on such occasions, and
with respectful solemnity, the three bowed
their heads while he invoked God’s blessing
upon the humble food before them. It was
certainly a pleasing sight to see these bronzed

 

and hardened trappers thus showing their re-
gard for the sacred truths of which they knew
so little.

The meal consisted simply of the tail of the
beaver. This really, when properly cooked, is
a delicious article of food, and much superior
to many dishes in yogue in civilized society.
At times it is the principal food of the trap-
per.

The meal was enlivened by jokes and re-
marks, and after its close a long time was
spent in conversation and story-telling. Sum-
merfield again gave his own adventures, not
omitting any particulars except that which re-
ferred to Viola. Vic related several thrilling
episodes of his life, with which neither Wan-
daught nor Seth was familiar; and Wan-
daught, in turn, recounted some exciting ad-
ventures which we will not transcribe at this
point. At a late hour they all lay down, and
all were soon wrapped in repose.

CHAPTER XI.
IN TROUBLE AND OUT OF IT.

Tun morning after Summerfield’s arrival,
one of the cold spells so common in that re-
gion commenced. ‘There was a constant fall
of rain, and it required their utmost endeavors
to prevent it entering the ‘‘Hole.” The
Platte—for they were upon it—was swelled to
arushing, thundering torrent, which rose above
its banks in a few moments, and carried every
trap away. This, in itself, was not much of a
loss, as they had more, and could easily con-
struct as many as were needed. The storm
showed them that the spring had now set in,
and the trapping season was over. All agreed
that, as soon as the rain abated, they would
leave their quarters and start for the States.

About a quarter of a mile up the stream
their horses were picketed, and visited by Seth
each day. At the head waters of a creek,
about fifty miles from the Platte, was the
war-ground of the Snakes, Cheyennes, Crows,
and several other tribes, and our friends were
liable at any moment to receive a visit from
them ; so that, as may be supposed, their situ-
ation was not the safest one in the world.

One cold, drizzly afternoon, Seth, with the
consent of the rest, built a fire for the purpose
of cooking ameal. It was the worst time that
could have been chosen, as the smoke ascend-
ed very slowly through the orifice, and could
be distinctly seen by any one who chanced to
be in the neighborhood. In fact, the smoke
filled both apartments, so as to nearly suffocate
Summerfield, and he besought them to extin-
guish it ; but, as it did not disturb the others,
they only laughed at his dilemma. The three,
however, resolved to have a whiff of air and
passed out, taking their way toward the stream.
Vic evidently did not feel at his ease about
the smoke and kept his eyesabouthim. They
had hardly reached the stream when they were
startled by hearing the firing of guns and the
yells of Indians! ‘

“They've got Seth!” exclaimed Vic, daft-
ing away. -

 

 
*

 

THE RACE FOR LIFE. 29

‘The devil!” exclaimed Wandaught, follow-
ing.
Buinmerfela sprang after them, and in a mo
ment discerned several dusky forms leaping
and firing into the opening from which they
had emerged. A second after, Vannoven and
Wandaught discharged théir pieces, and, with
yells of defiance, sprang in among them. There
was a sudden clinching, and amid the writh-
ings of several shadowy forms, a bright jet of
flame would burst, and now and then a blade
would gleam on high, as the combatants closed
in their deathly struggles. Summerfield, at
first bewildered, soon gained an idea of the
state of things, and rushed forward. “When
he reached them, he saw several forms dart
away, and not an Indian remained. During
the confusion, Seth had appeared, not injured
in the least. It seemed that the savages had
calculated upon discovering all within the
‘‘Hole,” and had commenced an indiscrimi-
nate firing into it. Fortunately, Seth was in the
farther apartment, and was untouched. Sin-
gularly enough, not a person oe been slain.
There had been some sharp blows and cuts
interchanged, but none of a fatal character.
‘The Indians numbered. not over half-a-dozen,
and were easily repulsed. :

“‘T calculate these quarters are getting rather
hot,” remarked Seth, after they had descended
and attended to their wounds.

«Yes; I should think a visit from half-a-

dozen Indians was a gentle hint that our re- |

treat was disputed,” added Summerfield.

“Cuss it!” growled Vic. ‘They’ve found
out this place, and they'll burn us out ef we
don’t leave blasted soon. I spose trappin’ here's
done with.”

«Yes ; we've got to move traps—that’s a
pinted fact,” added Wandaught.

‘Wal, boys, what’s the word?” asked Seth.
«‘T’m deuced sorry we’re found out, but there’s
no use of growling. We can’t help ourselves,
and the question is, when you're going to
leave ?”

‘¢ We've got to go to-night. There’ll be ten
thousand devils down here by daylight, and
we'll lose all the skins we’ve cotched in ten
minutes.”

‘¢Shouldn’t wonder if we did lose our skins,”
returned Seth.

«We've got to leave to-night, Seth. You'd
better go up stream and fotch down the hosses,
and we'll pack the skins.” ~

Seth quickly departed for the animals. Van-
noven and Wandaught bound the furs into
two large bundles, which were so closely
pressed that they seemed as solid as wood.

Jn about half an hour Seth returned, riding
upon a horse, and followed by five others. Two
of these were pack-horses, while the other
spare one had been reserved in case of acci-
dent-or necessity. It thus came most oppor-
tunely to Summerfield. The furs were brought
out and strapped upon the two animals of bur-
den. Then Vic carefully deposited the stone
in its former position, remarking : ;

“I spose I'll never go down there agin, but
I hope most plastedly the devils won’t find
you, and I ken snooze in there yet.”

They all now mounted their animals, Vie

 

taking the lead. The darkness upon the moun-

tains was intense, and their progress was ne-
cessarily slow over the broken fragments of
rocks and down the wild declivities of the
mountain. <A fierce equinoctial storm com-
menced, and raged furiously through the night.
It was the grand combination of rain, thunder,
and lightning, that ushered in the spring. Peal
after peal burst like the sharp crack of a piece,
of ordnance, and now and then tho white-
tongued lightning darted like an arrowy ser-
pent through the forest branches. Once or
twice the lurid bolts shivered the trees to
splinters above, and there appeared a continual
play of fire around the mountain top. The
supercharged earth would often return its
fiery element to the clouds, and then receive
it back again, as though heaven and earth were
mutually sporting with the most subtilo and
terrific power they possessed. ‘The scene was
indescribably grand.

But all this was favorable to the fugitives,
and they plodded along unmurmuringly—all
save Seth, who swore alternately, in his quaint
style, first at his horse, then at the ‘elements,
then at his companions, who would not hear
his complaints, nor appreciate hisjokes. -'The
weary night wore on, and the storm began to
abate. The booming of the thunder died
away into sullen roars, and then, at length,
ceased to vex the stillness of the hills. The
party had penetrated far into the mountains.
The heavy storm must have washed away
every evidence of their trail. A feeling of
comparative security prevailed. Saddenly
Vic—who all the while had kept the lead—

came to a halt, ordering thé others to do the

same, and to dismount. This order somewhat
mystified the party, when he curtly added :

“We're goin’ to spend the rest of this night
here. Stay where you are until I do for the
horses.” With this he started off, leading
Porcupine, and all the other animals follow-
ing close. After a brief absence he returned.

“Now, boys,” said he, “stick fast to me.”

And, kneeling on the earth, he commenced
crawling carefully forward, followed by his
companions, who soon saw by the inky black-
ness, and dry, hard rock, over which they
were passing, that they were in some sort of a
cave. After going twenty or thirty fect, Vic
halted and struck a light, and in ten minutes
more had a cheerful fire burning.

“Boys,” said he, as he noticed the wonder
on Summerfield’s face (Wandaught was never
known to exhibit it), ‘this is another of Vic’s
‘holes.’ Cac’late we can stay here avhile.”

_ This was agreeable news. 'The men all en-
joyed the fire, until, at last, overcome by
fatigue, they fell asleep.

Summerfield was awakened by the coldness,
which his dampened clothes gave him. All
the rest were up and busy. Seth was prepa-
ring the meal; Vic had gone out to seo the
animals and to bring in the furs. This was
soon done, and the meal eaten. Vic told how
he had discovered this cave while hunting one
day, and knew of several others, equally go
and convenient, to which he could resort i
case that retreat was discovered by savages.

“You fellers,” said he, “I want to stay
here, while I go out huntin’. We must git
some bufiler meat.”

w

 

 
Pe ee ae ee

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.
a
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BE

   

a net entra 1 roth!

ee oe

 

*

30 ON THE PLAINS; OR,

So saying, he shouldered his rifle and started
out upon the most eventful hunt that he was
destined to ever engage in. He little dreamed
of the game in store for him.

 

CHAPTER XII.
VIOLA.

Lona and hopefully Viola waited, until it
seemed waiting and hoping against hope. The
old chief promised that, when it was possible,
he should send her with a suitable escort to
Fort Leavenworth, where she should be given
up. to the whites without a ransom.

It seemed hard for the old chief to give up
the white maiden. He experienced a genuine
affection, and she had grovjn to be as a child of
his own; yet he was not selfish, and resolved
that his promise should be fulfilled, The power
of his white rival had become nearly as great
as his own, and it was a matter of difficulty for
him to choose from his warriors two in whom
he might place implicit faith. Viola was re-
garded by more than Redzel with envy. Many
savages, indeed, had determined that, before
another: of their number should obtain posses-
sion of her, she should be tomahawked. Yet
this was a secret feeling, and never evinced it-
self openly. Redzel did not dream that eyes
other than his own regarded her with passion,
and believed that his only obstacle was with
the object itself. He had fully made up his
mind that, could he not gain possession of
her by gentle means, he would by threats and
force. But, swiftly and unconsciously, the
summer fled, and almost before Viola was
aware, winter was upon her. In answer to her
inquiry, the chief assured her that it would be
madness for her to attempt to reach Fort Leay-
enworth before the spring opened. The truth
of this she was compelled to admit, although
it seemed inviting misery and death to remain.
She determined to spend the winter almost en-
tirely within the lodge, and, as soon as the
spring commenced, compel Mascanagh to ful-
fil his promise. The winter was mild, and

assed by without suffering among the tribe.
uffalo were numerous, and the village always
was well supplied.

It was at the close of one of the dreary days
of early spring. Viola had spent most of the
day in sitting within the lodge, and listening to
the blustering weather without. The rain had
been falling for nearly a week, and now rattled
against the lodge with a mournful monotony.
Often the fierce gusts would sweep madly
against it, shaking it to the very foundation.
Mascanagh was busy in constructing and try-
ing a bow, while his squaw was preparing the
evening meal. The two children were playing
around their father, while Viola was seated in
a corner, gazing listlesslyat them. She follow-
ge their motions mechanically, buther thoughts
were far away. She was indulging in a sort of
- day-dream, permitting her mind to wander

whither it pleased. Often she would find her-
self surmising of Summerfield. Was he liv-
ing? Was he a prisoner or free? Was he in
the States, and, if so, did his thoughts ever

 

wander out upon the prairie! The thought
thrilled Viola, and she dismissed it. -Although
memory gave her pleasure, doubt would
interpose and drive itaway. Yet often, indeed,
she nurtured the thought, and many a long
and dreary hour it had been her only com-
panion. .

It was a long time since she had seen Red-
zel, and she felt no fears of him. She believ-
edhe had given over all hopes of obtaining
her. On several occasions she had received
dark and meaning looks from the warriors,
yet, in her innocence she suspected nothing ;
but she knew that. more than one squaw re-
garded: her with a perfectly furious hate, and
her womanly instincts taught her to avoid them.

Then, as usual, her thoughts finally settled
upon her father, and her probable chances of
escaping to him. Five years had passed since
she had seen him, and her heart sickened as
she reflected upon the time that must neces-
sarily elapse before she could hope again to
meet him. She knew not whether he was in
Oregon, or had returned to his native home.
He might be a prisoner for aught she knew,
or, what was as probable, he might have been
slain long since by the implacable enemies of
the white.

Thus musing, night came on, and she re-
tired to her couch of furs to sleep the sleep
of innocence, and to dream the dreams of the
hopeful dependant on God’s providence. Sleep
floated over her with its drowsy wings, and
the night deepened. Suddenly she awakened,
alarmed and fully conscious. She had not
been dreaming, and could not divine the
cause. It seemed as though some soft, but
icy hand, had glided over her face and recalled
her to consciousness. The room was without
aray of light. At first she had determined to.

rise and secure alight, but she then concluded |

that there were no grounds for fear. and again
abandoned herself to sleep.

When nearly asleep, and exceedingly ner-
vous, her ear caught the noise of a footstep!
A fearful suspicion flashed upon her. She felt
certain that Redzel was in her room! The
very thought sickened her and brought the
cold drops to her brow. She moved uneasily
to prevent his approach, and concentrated her
burning thoughts upon the course left for her
to pursue. It seemed that the fevered leap-
ing of her heart would betray her suspicion,
and, pressing her hand to her bosom, she in-
voked the aid of Heaven in this extremity.

At first she determined to scream, but she
thought the consequences of this would be in-
stantly fatal. Then she reflected that, as the
door was within her reach, to silently open it
and steal out. Rising to the sitting position,
she reached her hand upward and gave a gen-
tle push. The rough board door opened out-
ward and was never fastened, but it yielded
not. She tried again, and with the same re-
sult. Finally, placing both hands upon it, she
exerted her full strength and found it had
been secured. It required her utmost powers
to keep herself from swooning when she learn-
ed this ; but, with a frightful calmness, she
sank back again and listened. In a moment
she knew the footsteps were approaching!
She did not move or speak, but waited. She

 

C
f
8
I
§
f
I
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1
1
f
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‘

 
THE RACE

could hear his hurried, husky breath, as his
foot touched her garment. There was then
an awful pause, broken only by the fevered
breath of both. Viola tried to move, but it
seemed some horrible nightmare palsied her.
Suddenly she felt a rough hand placed upon
her face, and passing over her features. Then
again it was withdrawn, and there was another
terrible moment, and, as she again heard a
movement, her strength returned. She drew
a long breath as though awakening, and movy-
ing slightly, heard a muttered curse and re-
treating footsteps. She felt she was saved for
afew moments. Ina few seconds she found
that there was but one course left, and that
was to alarm Mascanagh. ,

She believed that the instant Redzel knew
his presence was known to her, he would rush
forward and kill her. Inthe darkness there
was a chance to escape. This she determined
upon. Drawing her breath, she uttered the
agonized words : ;

‘Help! help! murder! murder!” and in-
stantly darted from, her couch.

“By ! there’s no help for yer!” mut-
tered Redzel, springing forward and burying
his knife in the spot where he supposed she
lay, then leaping like a panther through the
entrance and out of the lodge. In an instant
Mascanagh was in the room, and demanded :

«What's the matter? What’s the matter?”

Viola endeavored to answer, but the terrific
strain upon her nerves caused her to sink into
a deathly swoon. When she recovered, the
chief and his squaw were bending anxiously
over her. In answer to their inquiries, she
oe silently to the door. In truth, they

ad suspected the true facts of the occurrence,
and only asked whether she had been harmed.
Their swarthy features brightened up with
genuine pleasure as she assured them she was
uninjured ; but the murderous rent in the soft
fur showed how narrowly she had escaped.
No one doubted who the assassin was. Viola
had heard his voice, and was assured.

*©O Mascanagh!” exclaimed Viola, clagping
his knees, ‘‘ you want to kill Viola. You prom-
ised to send her to her home, and you keep
her to be murdered! She will soon die!”

The old chief was visibly affected. He un-
clasped her hands gently, and replied :

«*Mascanagh does what he says he will.
The white maiden shall be sent to her friends.”

««But when, when?” eagerly demanded Vi-

 

«‘ When sho wishes to go.”

« Will you, Mascanagh? Will you?”

The chief bowed his head.

«Let me go this night, then. Yes, this very

! ”

«But the storm rages, and the maiden will
be lost in the dark forest.” 5 Mhise

«TJ care not for the storm,” exclaimed she,
frantically. ‘‘O God! I have suffered death
once. Let me getaway from him!”

Her fears and those of Mascanagh seemed to
point at that night as the moment of escape,
since Redzel would be sure to keep within his
cabin to relieve himself of suspicion. The chief

: d out, and was gone a full hour, much to
the alarm of his squaw and of Viola, who both
feared that he had gone to seek the white man.

 

FOR LIFE 31

But his feturn solved all doubts, and made a
stirin the lodge. Viola was to fly that very
night. Two trusty warriors, with three fleet
horses, were secured, and even then pwaited
the maiden’s coming to begin their journey
to the East. She was carefully clad in a warm
dress of soft leather. A fine blanket was thrown
over her shoulders. On her feet the squaw
placed a pair of exquisitely worked moccasins,
Her limbs were incased in leggings of fawn
skin, ornamented with beads and Perens
quills. On her head was a cap of the same
beautiful materials. Thus equipped, she looked
like a very forest queen—as beautiful as a
nymph, and as imposing as a prophetess.

It now only remained to say ‘‘good-by!” It
was a painful leave-taking.

“God bless you, Mascanath { good-by,”
sobbed Viola, pressing his hand and averting
her face.

‘*Good-by to the pale-faced maiden. Mas-
canagh will see her again in the great Hunting
Ground. The Great Spirit will let her enter
hr No other pale-face shall see it. Good-

y ! ” ;

And yet Mascanagh wasa man. Within that
savage bosom throbbed a heart of humanity.
He who had never quailed in the hour of bat-
tle—he who had seen the mangled remains of
more than one brother without shedding a
tear—he who had closed the eyes of a dying
child and wept not—bowed his head and wept.
Yet it was but fora moment. As if ashamed
of his weakness, he raised his head and stood
proudly firm, to await her motions. Viola then
bade farewell to her mistress. They faltered
a few words, and embracing each other, sobbed
like children. The two boys, for fear of con-
sequences, had been sent away and were now
asleep. Viola, taking a light, entered their
room. They lay with their arms clasped
around each other’s neck, locked in dreamless
slumber. Viola stooped and kissed each dusky
cheek, and dropping a silent tear in their
faces, departed.

‘“‘Good-by again!” said she, smiling faintly,
as Mascanagh, taking her hand, led her out
into the darkness, where she was given into
the keeping of the guides. The chief touched
his lips reverently to her forehead, pressed her
hand to his heart with a fervor quite unusual
for a red-man unused to emotions of tender-
ness, and saying, almost in a whisper, ‘‘The
Great Spirit hover over thee like a good bird!”
left her,

The rain was still falling, and the darkness
was thick and impenetrable. Viola clung to
the arm of one of her guides, who conducted
her safely forward, and in a few moments she
heard the faint whinny and stamp of a horse.
She was assisted upon the back of this, and
handed the rein. The savages then mounted
theirs and started forward. Viola’s animal
needed no gnidance, as he followed the others
as closely as possible.

As the savages moved forward, they heard
the answering neigh of a horse near them, and
spoke to each other of it. But asthe darkness
was so heavy that they could barely distinguish
the heads of their own animals, of course they
detected nothing, Several times after, they
heard it, and once or twice there were other

   
 

ae

en lft RR oR RR aria ae
as Ia a
  

   

32

steps than Viola’s animal behind them. This
awakened their suspicions, and finally led to
the belief that some one was following them.
They could not divine how their intentions
had been discovered, but were convinced that
it must be the white man behind them. This
occasioned considerable fear; for, although
the savages were considered as among the best
warriors of the tribe, yet Redzel held an un-
bounded influence over them. They had often,
with the others, bent to his will, and although
numbering two, they yet feared him. *

Through that long, stormy night, the party
kept slowly and silently forward. The instinct
of the horses was their only guide as they
moved through the gloomy shadows of the
mighty forest. Viola could never catch the
forms of her guides, and could only hear the
hum of their voices or the dull tramp of their
animals. Once or twice they spoke to her,
but as she felt in no communicative mood, she
did not endeavor to continue the conversation.
She was securely and comfortably clothed, and
the chilling storm had no effect upon her other
than that of gloominess.

At last the rain ceased, and a dull, leaden
gray in the east proclaimed that the day was
at hand. Ina short time, the travellers could
discern each other’s forms, and in about an
hour the savages came to a halt and dismount-
ed for the purpose of resting their animals.
One of them patted the steaming sides of his
own and approached Viola’s. Ashe did so, he
started back with an exclamation of surprise.
His companion arose at this, and the two ex-
amined the animal more minutely. <A few
minutes sufficed to show them that a miserable
horse had been substituted for the one they
had taken. They were too cunning to suppose
this the result of chance. .They knew that
the horse had been substituted by some cun-
ning hand at the moment when they had
gone to the Iodge for the maiden. This, taken
with the footsteps they had heard during the
night, convinced them very nearly of the true
state of things. To satisfy themselves, one
of them took the back track for a considerable
distance, but detected nothing suspicious.
However, for all this, neither doubted but what
they were pursued.

After considerable difficulty, a fire was
started, and a piece of meat cooked. Viola
partook'sparingly, and, as she began to enter-
tain a suspicion of danger, from the actions
of the Indians, urged them to pursue their
jou She saw that her own horse was
inferior to the others, and felt some alarm
at it, but believed that they would not be
overtaken should they. keep moving steadily
forward.

Their course was in nearly an eastern direc-
tion, inclining slightly to the south, and would
necessarily lead them through the wild regions
of that spur of the Rocky Mountains, called
the Black Hills. The village was at no great
distance west, and early in the day Viola saw
the blue heads of the cliffs in the sky, end in
some places the white snow-covered caps far
up in the heavens. Lower down, the moun-
tain presented a grand, rugged appearance as
they approached it. Great, ponderous masses

 

of rocks came out to view, with their outlines, |

ON THE PLAINS; OR,

sharply defiled, and terrific rents and yawns
could be discerned in the sides of the moun-
tain, while cedars and pines, and old forest
trees, centuries in growth, towered high upon
the sides.

It was nearly evening when they reached the
base, where it was concluded to camp for the
night. There was some danger of molestation
from wandering hordes of savages, but the two
guides exercised the utmost caution, and it
would have indeed been difficult for a person
to come upon them unawares. They had cho-
sen a well-protected spot, and their horses
were picketed near at hand, so that they might
be reached in case of danger. During the
preparation of the evening meal, one of the In-
dians remained at a short distance as sentinel,
and with characteristic caution, one kept guard
during the night. The two arranged a pleas-
ant couch with their blankets, and wpon it Vi-
ola slept sweetly and peacefully till morning.
When she awoke it was broad day, and their
morning meal was waiting. The storm had
abated, and the genial sun was shining down
upon them, while the melody of hundreds of
warblers around told that the gloomy reign of
winter was over.

They had just commenced eating, when
some noise was heard. The savages sprang to
their feet and seized their rifles. One started
out to discover the cause, when the burly form
of Redzel appeared directly upon them. Nei-
ther party spoke for a moment, while Viola was
speechless wlth amazement and terror. Red-
zel seemed to enjoy the consternation his ap-
pearance had caused, and after surveying them
all a moment, exclaimed with a ‘laugh and

oath :

‘‘Wal, I guess you didn’t expect to see this
chap in these parts, did yer?” ee

“‘T did not,” returned Viola, white and trem-
bling with indignation ; ‘‘and nobody wished
to see you, I can assure you.” :

‘Wal, now, you don’t say, my beauty ; but
ole Sam wanted to see yer.”

«Why does the white man follow the maid-
en?” asked one of the Indians. \

“‘To catch her ole copperskin, and I'll be
cussed if he don’t git her too.”

‘Get who?” demanded Viola, quivering with
rage.
- “Why, my little Vily,” said he, with a horrid
grin that disfigured his repulsive face. Then
he approached and endeavored to pat her
cheek familiarly, but she sprang to her feot as
though stung by a serpent.

“Don’t touch me, foul monster!” she ex-
claimed, springing back.

“Whew!” he whistled, raising his Lands,
“that’s purty. That makes you look fine.”

There was, indeed, a wild beauty in her ap-
pearance as she stood with flashing eyes and
scornful lip gazing upon him. Her slight form
was proudly erect, and its faultless symmetry
was brought out in every motion. She stood
a few feet from Redzel, resting on one foot,
while on her blanched face there was a calm-
ness and determination that were frightful.
Her shawl was at her feet, and her wondrous
beauty complet ély awed the guilty hunter for a
eee + was vice and virtue brought face
to face. ny

 

 
THE RACE

«Set down, Vily. Set down! I won’t hurt
yer !”.

But she moved not until he had retreated
several steps, when she again seated herself.
All this time the two savages remained mute
spectators to the scene, each afraid to interfere.
It was plain that what violence Redzel might
attempt would not meet with opposition from
them.

«Why don’t you kill that villain?” demand-
ed Viola of them. ‘He is not fit to live.”

Her words seemed to arouse them somewhat,
but they made no answer, and only gazed up-
on her with stoical indifference.

‘Kill him, I say! Kill him!” she added,
frantically.

“Say, gal,” interposed Redzel, ‘‘yer mought
as well shet up, for them ole copperskins
daren’t do nothing, and you've got to talk with
me.”

“Talk with you,” repeated she, scornfully,
and gazing contemptuously at him. ‘Talk
with you. May Heaven forgive mo for ever
being guilty of it.”

‘Praps it would be best fur yer to think
differently,” replied Redzel, with a meaning
shake of his head.

‘¢What a villain!” muttered Viola to her-
self, yet loud enough for him to hear.

«Won't you let me set thar too?” asked he,
rising and approaching. As quick as lightning
she again darted away, and he fell back again.

« Wal,” said he, confidently, ‘‘yer can be as
cantankerous as yer please now, but you've got
to come to it sooner nor yer think. Jest re-
member that.”

“God grant that life may leave me before
that time comes.”

“Yer needn’t call on God. He don’t care
nothin’ "bout yer, and ef he did, I reckon he
wouldn’t undertake to hinder me.”

Viola gazed as if she expected a thunderbolt
to strike him for this blasphemy.

‘Foul wretch,” said she, ‘‘ that sin must be
answered for.”

““Wagh! wagh! wagh!” laughed he, ‘don’t
talk to mo “bout sin; don’t know what ’tis ;
guess I never done it.” Viola was about to
speak, but he added : "

‘“‘Vily, yer mought as well give up them

. capers. “Laintno use. Yer in my hands, and
the dociler yer ar the better it'll be for yer.”

«Tam not in your hands, and I warn you to
notimagine so. You have attempted—” She
was about to refer to his attempted murder,
but something checked her, and she deemed
it best to conceal her knowledge of that occur-

"rence, so far as it related to himself.

Redzel’s thick lip curled with a contemptu-
ous grin, and he contented himself for a few
moments in glaring like a wild beast at her.
Then, suddenly rising, he exclaimed, in a
commanding tone, accompanied by a furious

esticulation: :

: “Say, copperskins, you just make tracks for

hum. "Yer ain’t wanted here. _ Tell ‘yer boss

that Sam Redzel tuk care of this gal.”

Viola hoard this command with indignant
Scorn. She did not dream that the savages
would heed it, and they did not move, in fact.

_ “T would tell them agaia,” said she, sarcas-_

tically.
3

 

FOR LIFE. 33

‘Say, chaps, if yer ain’t gone in two seconds,
Tll shoot you both,” repeated he, growing
ghastly with rage. The two Indians arose
without a word, mounted and rode away!
This movement, so surprising and unexpected,
completely paralyzed Viola. She could hardly
credit her senses. It seemed impossible that
she was alone and in the power of Redzel.
But, the two cowardly wretches were gone,
and he was gleaming upon her with a de-
moniac smile of satisfaction.

The time for scorn and indifference had
passed. Entreaty was the only resource left.
She was now in Redzel’s power, indeed.

‘‘What will you have with me now?” sho
asked.

«‘Wagh! why don’t you flare up as you
done just now? Why don’t you call me all
kinds of names? Wagh! wagh!”

“Oh, why am I thus persecuted?” she ex-
claimed, burying her face, and sobbing aloud.
«‘ What have I done, that I should be followed
like a beast of prey ?” ‘

“No use; gal; you can’t come that game,
Yer oughter done it afore.”

‘* Have Iever hermed you?” asked she, look-
ing up.

«Not as I knows on.”

‘‘Why do you seek to harm me, then?”

“T don’t.”

‘* My life was sought,” she continued, “and”.
I have tried to escape the danger that threat-.
ened me, and would you take me back there.
again ?”

‘No; I ain’t particular whar I takes yer..
Yer can go home for all I cares, but, yer see, ,
I’m goin’ with yer.”

‘Will you then permit me to go on?” she.
asked, oe ; .

‘* Didn’t I say so!”

«Oh, thank you! thank you! Let us start, ,
then.” :

«““Wagh! changed your tune a little!.
Thought you would after a while.”

Viola pretended to not hear this insult, and
approached her horse to mount. Redzel step- .
ped forward, but she was too quick, and leaped
on his back in an instant.

‘«Now we'll soon reach Fort Leavenworth,”
said she, pleasantly, with a forced smile. Tho
hunter muttered something unintelligible to
her as he mountéd his beast and set forward.
Viola noticed the direction taken, and saw
that he was really proceeding on his way to-.
ward her destination. As she gazed back and
saw, in the distance, the two savages gallop-
ing leisurely along, she felt an almost irresist-
ible impulse to turn and urge. her horse toward
them. But she saw that such a thing would
be madness, as her animal was much inferior
to Redzel’s, and she could not hope to es-
ae him. . Suddenly, a strange idea struck

“J think you might exchange horses with
me,” said she, pleasantly. ‘I’m heartily tired
of riding this miserable beast.”

«Is yer hoss ’bout tuckered out ?” he asked.

‘Just look and see whether he isn’t,” was.
her meaning answer.

‘Wal, mine isn’t,” said: Redzel, riding up
beside her, ‘‘and so Til just.take yer up on.
mine, and we'll go faster.”

 
    

   

**Oh, no! don’t! I am sure mine can carry
me. I would not load yours more.”

«Yer needn't be afraid of that. Yer don’t
weigh ‘nough to make him feel it.”

‘‘Please don’t,” pleaded Viola, as she read
his determination in his eyes.

«Oh, yas!” he replied, not heeding her sup-
plication.

‘Don’t! pon’r! pon’r! I pray of you.”

But he reached out and placed his rough
arm around her and endeavored to lift her
from her seat. His touch seemed to fill Viola
with fire, and in her struggles she struck him
full in the face. Her screams frightened the
horses and separated them for a moment,
causing Redzel to loose his hold. But, giving
vent to a horrid oath, he jerked his horse’s head
around, and, mad with the pain Viola had given
him, he reached out and struck her! The
blow was not severe, but it sent a twinge of
pain through her ; and, as he again placed his
arm around her, she uttered a wild, unearthly
scream, that echoed far up the mountain side.
But, instead of checking Redzel, it only spur-
red him on. He swore that her resistance
should avail nothing, and concentrating his
strength, he was just lifting her to his horse,
when he was startled by a commanding voice :

‘‘Hello, there! Thunder and blastnation,
drop that gal mighty quick.” 5

Redzel did drop her as though a bullet
had struck him, and gazing quickly around,
he saw, not twenty feet distant, Vic Vannoven
and Seth Potter, gazing at him. A bolt from
Heaven could not have amazed him more.
The latter stood with one foot advanced, his
rifle cocked, and a rigid determination stamp-
ed upon his countenance. His conical hat
was thrown back upon his head, and his closed
teeth showed that he was in no trifling mood.
Vic stood in as threatening an attitude, with
the muzzle of his rifle pointed toward Redzel,
and his finger upon the trigger. Seth had re-
peated the command, and Vic added :

«*Come here, little one, that cuss shan’t hurt
yer.”

CHAPTER XU.
FACE TO FACE AGAIN.

For some minutes, the parties gazed at each
other in silence. It took Redzel some time to
realize that his two enemies were before him,
and that his intended prey had escaped him.
Viola was first to break the silence.

‘Save me! Oh, save me!” she exclaimed,
rushing toward Vannoven.

‘‘ You shan’t be hurt, my little’un,” said he,
gently pushing her behind him, and still keep-
ing his eye steadily upon Redzel. Tho latter,
when he saw this movement, gave utterance
to an oath, and forced his animal forward, in-
tending to pass by the hunter and seize her ;
but Seth caught the, horse by the bit and
threw him back upon his haunches, nearly dis-
lodging Redzel in the act.

“Sam Redzel, you're cotched,” said Vic,
calmly. ‘If you touch that creetur, Pll blow
your ugly carcass to—” 3

 

 

34 ON THE PLAINS ; OR, |

“Till have her, or my name ain’t Redzel,”
he exclaimed fairly livid with rage.

‘«T calculate as how there'll be somebody else
to say something about that,” replied Seth ner-
vously fingering the hammer of his rifle. He
trembled with some emotion, but not with fear.

‘“Wagh! that you, Crooked Pegs?”

“It’s pretty sartin it’s the chap that gave
you a fine dressing once.”

Redzel turned to Vic.

“See here, Vic,” said he, lowering his tone,
*‘you’n I never had no trouble, not at all;
but that gappin’ fool has got to squar’ ’counts
with me some time ; but, Vic, I don’t think it
best fur you and me to gil into a squabble.”

“Do yer ’sposo I'm afeard on yer?” asked
Vic, contemptuously.

“‘Mebbe not; but then ‘taint best; there’s
more nor me.”*

‘TI know what you mean. You've jined the
red-skins, and want us to know you’ve got ’em
to yer back.”

‘That's the talk, ’zacily.”

**And do you ’spose, Sam, you're goin’ to
come that game over us? Ef you gets this
creetur, it'll be arter me and this chap are out
the way. She’s goin’ back with us. I don’t
care about puttin’ a piece o’ lead through yer,
but it wont take many more yer tricks to make
me do it.” :

“Tt wouldn’t go hard for me to draw bead on
him,” said Seth, stepping about as though his
rifle burned his hands.

‘Vic, are you in airnest? Does yer mean
sure what yer says ?” said Redzel, in a subdued
tone.

‘Just ’speriment a little, and see whether I
doesn’t.”

‘Vic, if yer don’t let me have that gal, 70
burn you and that fool in less nor a week.”

‘¢ And, ef you touch “that gal,’ Pl shoot yer
in less nor a minute.”

‘Til bring a thousand Crows down here,
and we'll foller yer to the Missipp, ef we don’t
cotch yer before, and I swar you'll both burn.”

‘“‘Sam Redzel,” said Vannoven, with start-
ling calmness, ‘‘ we've talked long ’nough, an’
ef you say much more you wont get the chance.
It won’t take much for me to bring you off that
hoss a little quicker than you'd like.”

Redzel knew enough of the hunter’s nature
to comprehend that this was no: idle, threat.
Yet he still believed he could awe into
fear by threats, and a declaration of his inten-
tions in case he persisted in protecting Viola.

\ “I jes wanted yer to know what I'll do, that
all, You won't be the furst whites I’ve led
the copperskins aginst.”

“Vic,” said Seth, raising his rifle excitedly,
‘ef you'll say the word, I'll stop that talk thun-
dering soon !”

“No, let the cuss go. Sam,” said he, turn-
ing, ‘“‘Ijes want yer to understand what I'll
do ef you say much more. You've got an ac-
count to settle with me, and after yer done with
this chap, I'll settle it. Efyer wants to get off,
you'd better be movin’.”

- «Tl go, but—” a meaning shake of the head
told the rest.

Vannoven surveyed him as he turned, and,
as an idea struck him, he called out:

‘Hold on a minute.”

j
|
:

 
SS Eee

TEE RACE

Redzel checked his horse and wheeled him
around. He expected that Vic had changed his
mind, and intended to give him Viola. But
he was somewhat surprised to see both him and
Pane standing with their rifles pointed toward

im,

“Tl give yer two seconds,” said the former,
to get off that hoss and make tracks. Ef you
ain’t off then, you'll be helped off.”

Redzel comprehended this command, and,
without endangering his life by testing its
earnestness, he slid offand walked silently away.

“That'll be this little one’s,” said Vic, ‘‘ but
don’t touch him till Sam’s out of sight. Keep
Lo peeper peeled, or he'll turn and pick you
oO La?

Redzel walked slowly a short distance, then
suddenly turned, bringing his rifle to his shoul-
der, expecting to find them unprepared ; but
this motion of his had been anticipated, and he
knew better than to fire. He reluctantly low-
ered his piece and increased his gait. Vic and
Seth watched him until he was barely visible
upon the prairie. The latter then approached
his animal, which had hardly stirred since he
had been left. As Seth took his bridle, he gazed
again toward Redzel. He saw that he was
standing and watching his motions. He saw
hisarms move, then a red tongue of fire flash-
ed apparently from his face, a blue jet of
smoke curled slowly upward, and in an in-
stant the faint report of his rifle was heard. It

_ was a foolish venture, however, for the dis-

tance was great, and the bullet sped wide of
its mark. ~

Seth, at this point, led the animal to her.
The one which she had ridden was allowed to
Wander off, as he was not needed. Seth was
Impressed and affected by the beauty before
his eyes, and seemed extremely anxious to
make an impression in turn. Lifting his hat,
and making a very humble bow, he said :

‘‘Miss—I don’t know yer name—allow me
—-allow me to be so condescending as to assist
you to get on—to mount this solidungulous
quadruped.”

‘‘Beavers! who’d a thort yer could taik
Dutch?” exclaimed Vic, ovening his eyes with

._-wonder.

‘«‘Mr. Vannoven, that ere’s the language of
cultivated society,” returned Seth, scornfully,
and with an air of extreme condescension.

“He's a little green—kinder soft,” said Vic,

to Viola, who had mounted, and was waiting

their movements with a pleasant smile. Seth
tarned, and seeing her, said :
Ǥo, you've ascended. I guess we'll go on,
then, toward our far distant destination.”
“May I ask where that is?” queried she.
“Not fur,” returned Vic. ‘* We've a couple
more chaps a ways off.”
“But, I mean, are youon your way to the
States ?” .
“Yes ; we're on our way
h “Thank Heaven again!
ome, after all.” prone
Vie now started forward, followed by Viola’s
animal, while Seth walked by its side. It was
necessary to proceed with great caution, as the
Way was difficult, while the mountains con-
ined enemies, both animaland human. Seth,
Conceiving that a capital opportunity was now

thar.”
Then I shall see

 

FOR LIVE. 35
given to make an impression, availed himself
of it, and grew exceedingly loquacious, expa-
tiating upon everything that came into his
head. Several times he asked Viola for her
history, but did not give her a chance to speak
a dozen words before he interrupted, and rat-
tled away again ;

«You see, Miss I-don’t-know-your-name,
this is » wonderful country in these particular,
necessitous parts. There isn’t an inch but
what I’ve trodden and examined. Mr. Vannoven
thar, ahead, I brought out here when he’s a
boy, and teached him how to overcome, sud-
due, and conquer the aboriginals of this coun-
try. We are on our journey to reach and con-
verse with two other personages, whom both of
each I teached also, likewise. One fellow—
Wandaught—are a fine one, and you will ad-

mire and appreciate ; but the other are fool-

ish, exceedingly, indeed.” He was becoming
jealous. ‘‘He thinks and esteems, and esti-
mates himself admirably handsome, and—and
—and so forth ; but he ain’t. I would not no-
tice him, not at all, if I was not you. You
will see at once, immediately, when you first see
him, that he is the one what thinks he’s some-
thing more than the rest of these. He ain’t
smart neither, by no means, not at all, nor—”

“Shet that blab, or you'll make the little
one wish she war with Sam agin,” cried Vic.

‘Oh! Tam very much amused,” returned
Viola. She was indeed amused, and listened
with becoming gravity to her loquacious com-
panion. Seth curled his lip with proud scorn,
as he remarked :

“You must excuse ws manners. He ain't
never been among cultivated persons, and in-
asmuch as he cannot appreciate the good
breeding evinced forth in others, I find it
sometimes occasionally at times quite difficult
and—and—quite difficult to listen in silence,
without not disapproving him for his conduct
at times upon such occasions. How did you
say you escaped from the Engins ?”

««Tt was through the kindness of an Indian
chief, whose good-will—” :

«Vic, Mr. Vannoven, I should have observ-
ed, is rather peculiar, and funny, at times, up-
on certain seasons, in his general comportment
and behavior also. But, however, notwith-
standing, in spite of this, you will perhaps,
ees sped etal no trouble with him.

at young chap will be only one that yo’
will not like.” r oe nh

Thus Seth rattled on, till Vic suddenly halt-

ed and raised his hand as a signal for the oth-
ers to stop.

CHAPTER XIV.
A SURPRISE.

Arter Vic and Seth had left the cavern,
Summerfield and Wandaught remained inside,
arranging things so as to make their stay more
comfortable. The cavern extended some thirty
feet back, gradually enlarging and widening
from the entrance, until it terminated in an
apartment of considerfble size. Here, in one
corner, their furs were placed, so as to form,

 

 
 

——

with their blankets, several casy and comfort-
able couches. There was no escape for the
smoke save through the entrance, which, of
course, wasslow enough. Yet, for all this, not
one found any difficulty of respiration when a
bright, crackling fire burned hour after hour
within the apartment.

In the absence of Seth, Wandaught acted
the part of cook, and soon had a steaming
meal prepared. This was devoured without
much ceremony, and in the afternoon of the
day it was concluded to venture forth in the
mountains, agreeing to be absent but an hour
or two. After emerging from the mouth of
their rude abode, they halted for a moment to
decide upon the best course to pursue.

‘Perhaps we should separate at this point,”
remarked Summerfield.

“Wall, I’m willin’,” returned Wandaught.

‘But we must agree upon some signal. One
of us might get into difficulty and need the
assistance of the other. Suppose we agree
upon firing a gun as the signal of distress ?”

_ That won't do. Thar mought some hear
the shooter as we wouldn’t want. Ef I wants
to see you, I'll give the whistle you’ve heard
me give, and ef you wants me you kin do the
same. Til know what it means, and he on
hand in less nor no time.”

is That is understood, then ; and let us now
start.”

With this, the two started forward, their di-
rections diverging considerably at the com-
mencement. Wandaught’s face was toward the
mountain top, while Summerfield proceeded
in nearly a direct line ahead. It was his in-
tention to visit the cafon of the Platte. He
had been near it several times, but had had no
opportunity of giving it more than a passing
glance. It was at no great distance, and its
thunder could be plainly heard at the cavern.

Pressing cautiously forward, he reached the
caion in the course of a half hour, and ly-
ing down upon it, he felt amply repaid for the
danger he had passed through to reach it.

The waters of the Platte are as clear as crys-
tal, and it sweeps swiftly and silently along
over its bed of gravel and pebbles, until it
reaches the Black Hills. Here its volume is
suddenly compressed into a narrow tunnel-like
passage, and thunders along with inconceiva-
ble velocity. On either side, huge walls of red
sandstone and siliceous limestone rise, and in
some places are so close as to nearly touch.

_ Tho waters of the caiion are very deep, and as

they are hurled along through the jagged pas-
sage, in some places become one mass of boil-
ing, surging foam. At several points, Sum-
merfield saw the thick mist arising from the
commotion, and where he stood the spray was
scattered plentifully over him. Then at some
places the walls retreat, and the emerald wa-
ters lose their froth and foam, and glide in
swift silence along, like a river of molten glass.
Soon this becomes agitated, and ina short dis-
tance becomes as wild and tumultuous as be-
fore. Thus, for more than two miles, the
Platte makes its way through the Black Hills,
when it reaches a natural bed again, and ex-
panding, moves forward the same as before.
its egress from the mountains is but a short
distance above the celebrated Warm Spring.

 

36 ON THE PLAINS; OR,

Summerfield remained at this wonderful
spot until he saw the night was not far dis-
tant. Then he proceeded leisurely toward the
cavern, keeping, however, a cautious lookout
for danger.

He had nearly reached the cavern, when he
heard the whistle of Wandaught. He halted
to ascertain its direction, and heard it again,
given something like the tones of a warning.
This sufficed to put him on the guard as he set
out toward it. It sounded directly above him,
and at no great distance. As he worked his
way up, he returned it at intervals, agd the
two thus kept an understanding of their rela-
tive position. After going about a quarter-of a
mile, he passed around a rock and came upon
Wandaught, standing with his rifle ready
cocked in his hand.

‘“What’s the matter!” asked Summerfield
in a whisper.

‘sh! I want to show yer a sight.”

«¢ Well, let’s see it.”

“Now be powerful keerful, for it’s a sight
that’ll make you open your peepers.”

Thus saying, the hunter sank upon his knees

and commenced creeping stealthily forward. —

Summerfield did the same, wondering what it
all meant. Wandaught passed but a short dis-
tance in this manner, when he arose silently to
his feet, motioning for Summerfield to remain
still, It was now quite dark, and objects were
growing indistinct in the shade of the forest.
In a few seconds, Wandaught turned and mo-
tioned for Summerfield to stand beside him.

«ssh! be keerful!” said he, as he arose to
his feet.

Thus speaking, he parted the undergrowth,

he re
This.
emp’
sinc
find
Van
acco
capt
and
mer

and stepped back for Summerfield to look. As

he gazed, he saw, a short distance off, a large

fire burning, and around it, extended upon the ©

ground, a score of savages, painted and arrayed
in their war costume. He counted over twenty
before he withdrew. Wandaught turned, and
the two retreated as silently as they came.
The forest had become now sombre and
gloomy, and it was quite difficult to make their
way over the twisted roots and irregular masses
of stone. Several times they stumbled, and,
when at a short distance only from the Indian
encampment, by a sad misstep, Summerfield
pitched forward upon his face and discharged
his rifle by the concussion. Almost simulta-
neously there arose a series of wild whoops
and yells, and the savages plunged toward
them in pursuit,

‘‘Make for the rocks,” said Wandaught, dis- 1

appearing like a shot in the darkness. Sum-
merfield sprang up, but found he had sprained
his ankle severely, and concluded it the safer
plan to remain where he was. Creeping seve-
ral feet, he lay down under the face of a rock,
with his face turned upward. In this position,
he saw five dusky forms of his enemies leap
past within as many feet of him. He hardly
dared to breathe until certain there were no
more in the immediate neighborhood. Then
he arose and limped painfully and slowly for-
ward. Often he paused and sank to the earth
as he fancied the approach of a foe. Once,
he believed he was seen, and pave up in despair,
but it was only his imagination, and at last,
after two hours of mental and bodily suffering,

 
wonderful
ot far dis-
toward the
is lookout

when he
te halted
Lit again,
warning.
as he set
ove him,
rked his
and the
eir rela-
irter-of a
ne upon
> ready

merfield

& sight

3 knees
rward, —
what it
ort dis-
nily to
emain
S were
forest.
d mo-
im.
ose to

eee ee 0 ae NaS ee ee

THE RACE

he reached the cavern and crept anxiously in. |

This, to his surprise and consternation, was
empty, andit was plain had not been visited
since his departure. He expected certainly to
find Wandaught there, and probably Seth and
Vannoven. ‘The absence of the three was un-
accountable. The former, he believed, was
captured by the Indians, and perhaps scalped
and slain. Under this impression, he com-
menced starting a fire. In doing so, he strutk
a body and stumbled over it. Thinking it one
of the bundles of furs that had been displaced,
he paid no attention to it, but kindled the fire.
Asit blazed up, he turned to replace it, but
started as he saw that it was the body of Wan-
daught.

‘Why. Jim, what’s the matter?” asked Sum-
merfield, anxiously.

There was no answer. save a deep, heavy
breath, and he repeated the question. Failing
to receive an answer again, he turned him over
on his face, and saw a scene that thrilled him
with horror. The hunter appeared literally
cut and hewed to pieces. His dress was in
shreds, and the flinty floor was covered and
clotted with blood. He slowly, opened his
eyes, and closing them, murmured something
that was unintelligible to Summerfield. The
latter took his hand and found his pulse strong
and steady, as though the system were suffer-
ing no pain or torture.

This was too much for Jim. He suddenly
doubled up, and fairly screamed with laughter.
‘*Oh, you're a great doctor. Didn’t know if I
was alive or dead. Why didn’t you put a coal
of fire under my nose.. That would ’a told if
I war playing possum,” he kindly added. ‘I's
hurt some, George, but nothin’ to make me
sick of grub. Most of this blood on my car-
cass come off the red-skins.”

Thad an orful tussle with a couple, and it
want fur from here neither. I’s thinkin’ as
how I'd giv ’em the slip sorter nice like, when
a couple pounced slam on tome. It took me
by s’prise first, but I give one a dig that made
‘im see stars and thunder. I thort t’other
would run when I done this, but he stuck to
me like mad. He’s the hardest redskin I ever
had hold on. We pulled and pushed and
bit and scratched and tore and dug and fit,
till we blowed like ba’rs. I didn’t know, once,
but what old Jim’d have to give under ; but I
come the back action over him and got ’im
down and my knife into his hide. Wal, sir, I

_ had to set down and blow awhile afore I could

it nough tion to lift his ha’r ; but arter
eile Pacne it and tuggedforhum. I found
Thad one or two ugly cuts, and felt kind o
squeamish when I crawled in here. Arter
blowin’ awhile, [heard youcomein. I's aguine
to speak put felt sorter weak, and thort I'd let
you find out fur yourself. Howsumever, Iwa’nt
as bad as I pertended, and could ’o throwed
yer when I let you turn me over. I'd gota

’ the re' son me, and thought
a oS clan's Wisc much ef I should

iderable.”
er aoa chat has become of Vic and Seth ?”

“They’re all right. Guess they steered clear

7 : ”
: refoa think, then, they did not encounter

them ?” a

‘ she, i tan
te ore ae

FOR LIFE. 37

“Can’t tell, you know; but if they have,
guess they’re kicking yet.”

Thus most of the night was spent in con-
versing and surmising. Wandaught recount-
ed several adventures, and Summerfield learn-
ed much of his former life, although the trap-
per, as usual with his class gave but a very
meagre idea ofit. At last they stretched them-
selves out with the intention of sleeping. But
in a few minutes afterward, Vic’s well-known
voice was heard at the entrance.

‘Hallo, in thar? Anybody bout ?”

‘«Nobody here!” returned Wandaught.

«You and Summerfield come out here.”

Wandaught passed out, followed closely by
Summerfield. They saw Vic standing by his
own horse, while Seth was assisting a female
to alight. The face of the latter was turned
so as to conceal her features, and Summerfield
asked, in a whisper :

“Where did you come across that person?”

“Sam Redzel had her.”

- At this moment Seth approached with her.
Summerfield started and turned pale. He
looked again. Could it he possible? Yes;
there was no mistake. It was Viola. She
recognized him at the same mome

“Why, Viola, is this you?” he said, stepping
forward and taking her trembling hand within
his trembling own. *.

«Whose surprise is the greatest ?” asked she,
with a deep blush. :

‘““ Where is it you have come from ?”

‘« These two friends rescued me pa ki
aa

me a willing prisoner here, You
my capture—or don’t you?” she asked, in a
lower tone. Me ht
“<I guess I haven’t forgotten. it,” returned :
Summerfield, with a smile. : a
‘‘Well, I have been a prisoner ever since
then. The chief, however, promised me my |
freedom, and I was on my way to obtain it,
when a man named Redzel, drove my two |

Indian guides home, and took charge of me

himself, and was with me but a short time
when these two good companions of yours
rescued me from him.”

This reminded Summerfield that he ought
to explain to the others the circumstances of
their acquaintance. ae conversation,

vie and Wandaught had busied themselves
with talking, gazing, however, at intervals to-
ward them, while Seth was nearly stupefied
with wonder. Hoe so far forgot the politeness
and good breeding he had endeavored to evince
thus far, as to throw his hat back from his fore-
head, drop his gun, run both hands in his
pockets, and, spreading his feet apart, gaze in
silent consternation at them. At last he com-
prehended that the two were old acquaint-
ances, that he had made a fool of himself in
striving to prejudice Viola against Summer-
field, and with a muttered “Humph!” turned
= seed away.

eckoning to the hunters they approached,
when George freely told thealteh: This prior
relations with the young lady, and strove to
express his thanks for her delivery. But the
honest Vic would hear of no thanks, and at
once led the way into thei

  
 
  

  

 

brought up the rear—th
inquisitiveness and morti

  
 

eee Sr

“So

Hi.

 
 

i

38 ON THE PLAINS; OR,

The two hunters, although unused to female
society, were considerate and kind-hearted,
and showed their good intention in evety word
and movement. There was considerable re-
straint, but it was more self-imposed than oth-
erwise. Vic, with the rough gallantry of his
nature, spread his blanket upon the rock, and
depositing several furs with it remarked :

“Thar, Miss Vennond, that’s yours as long
as we stay here, and ef a feller touches it—I'll
—Tll—jes see how you like it.”

“Oh, thank you! thank you,” replied she,
seating herself upon it. *‘It is exquisite, but
wouldn’t you as lief call me wh&t you did be-
fore you learned my name ?”

“Yes, and a good ’eal ratherer too. So, my
little one, you like it, does yer?”

“¢Tt couldn’t be better, I am sure.

«That's good, and sounds jest like yer.”

The others had seated themselves upon the
opposite side of the cavern. Summerfield,
sceing that Vic was engaged with Viola, com-
menced a conversation with Wandaught, while
Seth sat apart in dignified scorn. As it was
growing late in the day, Vic turned to him and
observed :

‘Hadn't we better have some feed—sunk-
thin’ to eat, I mean?” asked Vic turning to
Seth.

“T s’pose so,” he returned curtly, stroking
the yellow tuft on his chin, and gazing in an
opposite direction.

‘Wal, why don’t you git it, then?”

«That ain’t my business, I rather ca’clate,”
he returned, stroking more vigorously, and
darting a glance at Viola, to see its effect upon
her,

“No, Vic,” interrupted Wandaught, ‘you
know he tumbles off his hoss and boo—”

‘«‘Did you say you wanted supper ?”

“¢T rather guess I did?”

“Oh! I didn’t understand you. Shall we
cook our game ?”

‘Yas, an’ be quick.”

He passed outside, where he usually cogked
the food, and during his absence a general
conversation ensted. Vie related the partic-
ulars of his rescuing Viola.

“Do you believe he will attempt to cap-
ture us, and search these mountains with a
band of Crows at his back.”

«In course he will. Sam’s a chap what
does what he says. He'll sarch the mountains
fur a month with a lot o’ Crows at his back,
an’ fore he gits us, thar’ll be a lot more of
crows and buzzards at him,” said Vic, with a
meaning look. .

‘His power is unbounded,” observed Viola,
“Tn truth, I believe in case of a rupture among
the Indians, he would have as many adherents
as Mascanagh. ‘The chief sent a couple of his
most loyal warriors with me, and at a word
from Redzel they turned and left me in his
power.”

‘“«Did he misuse you?” asked Summerfield.

“He struck me once, that was all!”

All three started as though some one had
struck them.

“Strike yer, did you say ?” asked Wandaught
simultaneously with Summerfield.

“T struck him at first,” returned Viola, with
a laugh, ©

 

*T hope he will come, then!” said Summer-
field, compressing his lips with passion.

“Why, boys, and my little one,” remarked
Wandaught, starting up, “yer don’t know Sam
Redzel as I does. I come across him in Louis-
ville, some years ago. He war walkin’ the street
with me one day, when an’ ole feller stumbled
aginst "im—jest happened to, you know. I
cotched Sam, or he’d tumbled, and hung fast to
keep ’im from hurtin’ the ole man. Isoen he
eyed him orful close, but I didn’t think he’d do
nothin’. The next mornin’ thar’s a mighty fuss
all over the place, when some one found the ole
chap had been murdered. I had my idees about
it, but didn’t say nothin’ till we got out on the
prairie, when I axed Sam if he didn’t doit. I
thort he’d tear me to pieces ; but that night,
when he got asleep, I heard ’im say ’nough to
let me know that he’d done it, sure. I found
out, too, that that wan’t the only time. I
heard ’im talkin’ once about some woman he’d
killed. Howsumever, I didn’t let ’im know,
arter that, that I thought he’s bad. I yumered
im and got along as nobody else couldn’t. He
told me that he used to live in Philadelphy or
some place out thar, and gittin’ sick of it, went
to trappin’; but he used to be so skeerish when
he got in the States, that I know’d sunkthin’
else made ‘im leave. One night he come to
me in Independence, a good many years ago,
in a great hurry, and told me he wanted
to. start fur trappin’ ground right off. He

wouldn’t wait even till mornin’, but wanted

me to start that hour. I axed him what’s up,
and he wouldn’t tell nothin’, and said ef I
didn’t go, he’d start himself. I hadn’t been
in long with my furs, and it wasn’t time to
start agin fur two or three months. SolI told
im I couldn’t do it. He was mighty mad first,
but kinder laughed purty soon, and told me
he’s goin’ to start, and axed me ef thar war
anybody axin’ about ‘im, to keep mum. He
tole me whar to find ’im when I got out here,
and went off in a big hurry. The next mornin’,
sure, I seen two fellers pokin’ round and in-
quirin’ arter a feller that seemed mighty like
Sam. They had some papers stuck up that
folks said told about Sam, and said if any-
body’d cotch ’im, they’d get a pile. These
chaps, with brass stars, looked through every
house in the place, but it wan’t no use. Sam
warn’t thar, and they didn’t arrest nothin’ but
the attention of the women, which they say
is all them does want ar out East. Thar wara
good many what had seen Sam about with me,
and I got pulled and hauled by them ossifers,
as they call ’em, but in course I didn’t know
nothin’ ’bout Sam, and tole ’em so, and they
had to go back without ’im.

«When the time come, I picked up my fix-
ens and started for the trappin’ grounds, and
sure cnough I found Sam out here. When I
tole ’im what a fuss had been made about ’im,
he seemed to be mad ’nough to shoot me. He
staid the season with me, an’ went back agin
to Independence, but he didn’t stick thar long.
{ tried to get rid of im, but he allars jined me
up ‘mongst the Delawares, arter I got well out
on the perarie. One day Summerfield, here,
met me an’ told me as how he’d heard I’sa
trapper, an’ wanted to know what I'd ax ’im ef
Yd let ’im and a friend go ‘long with me onco.

 

 
Summer.
on.
‘remarked
now Sam
in Louis.
he street
tumbled
now. [|
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seen he
he’d do
hty fuss
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0 it. T
night,
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ne. T
1 he’d
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THE RACE FOR LIFE.

I tole ’im I didn’t care ’bout sich company, as
thar war a heap o’ trouble, but the reason I
didn’t want ’im war cause I know’d ef he had
any sperit, he an’ Sam would be at it. He
said, howsumever, he’d pay me a pile, an:
stuck an’ hung so, that I tole ’im I didn’t care,
jest to git red on’im. The next mornin’ he
come round to whar I’s hangin’ out, and had
that crooked-legged gawk with ’im, I told’im
I guess he’d better stay whar he war, but it
wan’t no use. He had a couple o’ the purtiest
hosses I ever sot eyes on, an’ offered me one
jes like em ; but I tole ’im thar wan't nothin’
goin’ like Buster. He give me a bushel of the
best baccy I ever seed, and kinder got inter my
*fections. We started one fine mornin’, an’ I
struck north to git out the way of Sam, for I
know’d ef he jined us thar’d be a muss, sure 5
but, skin me—I didn’t say that—ef we didn’t
come ’cross him the next day. As soon as I
had a chance, I tole Summerfield to be keer-
ful, coz he’s a b’ar When his dander was up. I
didn’t think o’ tellin’ Crooked Pegs, coz he
didn’t look as though he’d hurt a beaver ; but I
soon found out he’s the one I orter told; fur yer
remember, boys, the squabble he and Sam got
into. I didn’t think Crooked Pegs had much
spunk till then, but he doubled Sam up as he
never war before.” :

At this point Seth entered, bearing a steam-
ing piece of meat. The choicest portion was
given to Viola, of course. Seth had lost his
amusing affectation and was himself again. The
rude meal was enlivened by pleasant conver-
sation, and far into the day, the parties sat
and were unmindful of the lapse of time.

Then the three men dropped, as if by acci-
dent from the little circle, leaving the loved
and beloved together. Was there any mistak-
ing of their relations to one another? Untutor-
ed as were Vic and Jim, they still knew enough
of heart life to read in the eyes. in the words,
in the exquisite gentleness of George and
Viola, that their friendship was of a holy na-
ture, and the rough men were as respectful
and considerate as women. The lovers were
at last alone together ; most trying but most
blissful moment !

They commenced a commonplace conver-
sation, which terminated in what might be ex-
pected. We might record it, but it has al-
ways been a question with us whether it is
right to transcribe a conversation which should
never be heard by a third party There is a
sacredness and interest about it that can never
be felt by the reader, and many would regard
with disinterestedness whatt were words
fraught with hope and happiness to the hearers.

Summerfield spoke of the feelings she had
awakened when he first met her ; of the many
hours he had spent in thinking of her alone .
how his love had never slumbered, bunt in-
creased steadily and surely until the present
time, and ended by offering her the pure un-
divided love of his heart. And Viola, after a
few minutes of silence, too full of bliss to pre-
vent her speaking, told Summerfield the same
story that she had listened to. She confessed

for and hoped to meet him, and yet

39

nourishing ; she had striven to forget it, but
could not, and finally ended by accepting and
returning his love.

Then Summerfield spoke of his distant home,
of his adored sister, and declared that, were
she living, he would only need Viola’s pres-
ence to complete his happiness; and she re-
lated her own history, and stated that, when
certain of the fate of her father, and with his
consent, if living, Summerfield might consider
her as belonging to him. This was followed
by plans, and questions, and answers, that
need not be referred to. It seemed that they
had not said much, when Vic and Wandaught
returned, evidently to discuss matters of im-
portance.

“ Boys, the question is, what we’re going to
do ? How long we're going to stay here ? Now
Sam Redzel ’ll be here afore we could git out
o’ sight the mountains, and he'll hunt a week
fur us ef he thinks we're bout. It won’t do
for us to start now, fur ef we did he’d be arter
us, and we’d lose all our furs, sure, if he
didn’t fotch us. We've got to stay here till
we make him think we ain’t here. “He'll wait
a long while ‘fore he gives us up, and we've
got to keep mighty close. Ef anything turns
up so that any of yer are treed in here, Pll
show yer the way yer can give ’em the slip and
git off cl’ar ef you works right.”

Here the speaker arose, and approaching
Viola, lifted a loose rock, disclosing a dark
rent in the flinty floor.

“This,” said he, ‘* goes down a few feet and
then turns off, and arter goin’ under some
stones and bushes, you come out behind a big
stone, a purty good distance from whar we
come in. [ don’t know how it got here, but I
s’pose some fellers have been here and used it
like they did the ‘Hole.’ I staid here one
winter when I’s trappin’, and found a good
many qua’r things scratched up thar, that
looked as if some feller mought hev made ’em
with his knife.”

‘Where are they? Perhaps they may af-
ford some clue to a strange history,” asked
Summerfield.

“ Right over my little one’s head.”

Summerfield seized a brand and approached
the spot indicated. As he raised the torch, he
Saw & number of rude letters scratched over
quite a space, and after considerable difficulty
he managed to trace the words :

** Alvarado Gentillino, C. M. Harrison, F.
Holmes, 1828. Got drove in here by Injins, and
after two days they tried to burn us out. At
night we dug out and got away.”

“That explains it,” said Summerfield, after
he had read it aloud. “A couple of fellows
were compelled to make that passage for them-
selves, and, after digging it, have recorded the
fact there,” sane

““T thort as how that place wa’nt allers thar.
Wal, you see, it mought be of some use to yer
at some time. I happened to see the stone
loose one day, an’ arter lookin’ round found
what it war." Wal, as I’s sayin’,” he resumed,
“we've got to stay here some time, though
praps we kin go to-morrer, pervided Sam
ain’t about. Me an’ Jim ‘ll look ’round and

 

* frightened when her own nature
told eee the deep passion that she was

4

ch ne

see ef thar’s any sign, an’ ef thar isn’t by to-
morrer we'll be off.” <i

bid, ee
ee

 
 
 

INTE Tg rm eg rr ae SR

|
|
|
i
t

  
 
 
   

 

 

ele emer ea NO era

40 ON THE PLAINS ; OR,

This all acknowledged, was the best plan to
be pursued, and, without more words, Vic left
the cave. Theanimals, Seth stated, were in as
secure a place as were their owners, being in
a gap between two huge walls of rock, which
war only approached by a rough, irregular
footpath.

Vannoven had not been gone more than a
couple of hours, when he returned.

‘See nary thing ?” asked Wandaught, care-
lessly.

“Yes, sir; I've seen ’nough I reckon. Sam
Redzel ain’t half a mile off, an’ he’s got over
twenty Crows with ‘im, an’ thar’s devil in his
eyes. Iseen’em comin’, an’ waited till they
stopped, when I counted ’em. They’re all
daubed with war-paint, aid are goin’ to give
this ole mountain an overhaulin’. I’m afraid,
boys, we’ll have to,close in with ’em.”

*¢ Do you know how they intend to proceed?”
asked Summerfield.

“T s’pose they'll hunt one by one till we're
found, when they'll come down on us.”

“This yer'd be fun,” said Wandaught, play-
ing idly with his knife, ‘‘ef it wa’nt fur this
little one. In course it won't do to get ina
scrimmage now. We've got tokeep sly and git
off ef we can.

“Heaven grant that we may escape that
man,” said Viola, fervently. ‘Suppose he
gets me again, George!” added she, in a husky
whisper, looking in his eyes.

“ He will not get you,” returned he, with em-
phasis.

‘‘No,” said she, after a second, with solemn
slowness, ‘‘he will never obtain me alive.”

“Please don’t feel thus,” added Summer-
field, alarmed at her manner. ‘ You are safe
with us certainly, dear Viola.”

Don’t be skeert,” said Vic, noticing her ap-
pearance. ‘Sam Redzel won’t git his hands
on yer as long as we're bout ‘im. Iguess we'll
he bout awhile too.”

“Tam sure I am safe with you ; it was but a
momentary fear,” returned Viola, much affected
at this exhibition of good will.

“Tl be darned if I won’t blow every Engin
to thunder and lightning,” exclaimed Seth, ex-
citedly, and forgetting himself entirely, ‘before
they shall hurt you.” Thisremark produced a
smile from all.

‘“‘That’s so!” he added shaking his head and
bringing his clenched hand down upon his
knee. ‘And if you don’t believe it, just wait
till the chance comes.” :

“T don’t doubt it, Seth,” replied Summer-
field, ‘‘neither do I doubt the willingness of
every one here to defend Viola even unto
death.” i

“That's the talk!” exclaimed Vic.
ain’t skeert now, little one, are you ?”

‘No, no ; I feel no concern for myself ; but
I fear that some of you will have to suffer. I
have a dread that one at least among us will

‘You

fall by the hands of that man or his follow- | sky.
ers. ”

“And what of it?” queried Wandaught.

«Ym sure I wouldn’t feel squeamish ef I knowed

it war g’wine to be me. We've all got to go
under some time, and what's the odds when it
is? Tharain’tnobody, ’cept p’raps them here,
what would cry much over Jim Wandaught,

ere ar ee ae -

 

and ef I had my choice, I wouldn’t keer a bed!
ver skin when I gits throwed in my tracks.”
“That's my idee,” added Vic ; “I s’pects

some these times the varmins will get Vic, and I

don’t stop to think or care about the time. Ef
Ts sure my little one ’d git home all right, I
wouldn’t feel sorry ef the Enjins should wipe
me out; but when they go at the business, in
course I can’t help tryin’ to do them the same
favor, and I’m thinkin’ when Vic does go un-
der there'll be some tall kickin’ and fightin’.”

‘‘T don’t know as I am particularly anxious
about giving up the ghost,” remarked Seth ;
* and, come to think, I'll be blasted ef I want
to yet awhile. There is a gal—a lady, I mean—
down in Louisville that would die ef she should
learn Seth Potter was no more.” The fellow
heaved a great sigh after he had delivered him-
self of this, and looked at Viola. It was his
last attempt to produce an ‘‘impression” upon
her. He believed that if she entertained any
passion for him, this remark would call it
forth. She caught his glance and replied :

“‘T hope you will see her, Seth—for you de-
serve to—and make her heart glad.”

“T hope so,” he replied, solemnly.

‘*Wal, thar ain’t none of these gals to care
fur me,” said Vic.

‘Nor me nuther,” added Wandaucght.

“There is one who always will,” said Viola,
earnestly.

‘‘T believe that,” said Vic, with feeling.

Several times one of the hunters crept to
the mouth of the cave to look out for danger.
Late in the afternoon Wandaught detected an
Indian a long way off, but none of them came
near enough to awaken any apprehension.

After a long time night settled over the
mountains. All felt that another day was to
dawn upon them. A faint moon had arisen,
which rendered the ponderous faces of the
rocks visible, and their gloomy shadows more
gloomy than before. Seth set out to visit the
animals, but he proceeded with extreme caution

|, and spent a half hour in passing the hundred

yards. He was fully armed with his rifle and
a couple of knives, for he deemed it highly
probable that he should encounter some ene-
my before returning. He reached the spot,
however, without detecting anything suspi-
cious, and passed down among the horses.
They all knew him and manifested no fear at
his approach. He patted each one, and seeing
that they were provided for during the night,
was about to turn and ascend, when one of
them gave a snort of alarm. As Seth stood in
a sort of yawn or rent, it was perfectly dark
around him, while above he could see the
blue piece of sky and the edges of the rocks
clearly defined against it. As he gazed up, he
saw the head of an Indian above peering down
upon him. He watched a moment, and saw
it gradually slide into view until fully one half
of his body stood in bold relief against the

The Indian remained motionless a moment,
save that he he his head swaying like a
snake’s about to dart upon his prey. He then
bounded lightly down. Seth crouched so as to
keep him against the sky, and waited his ap-
proach. Then he arose like a cat, and elutch-
ing the savage by the throat, pressed his knife

air

she

 

 
THE RACE FOR LIFE,

to the hilt in his body. There was a spas-
modic quiver and struggle ; then all was over.

* «Thar! cuss you!” exclaimed Seth, ‘‘I wish
I could serve you all like that.”

Seizing the body, he carried it a short dis-
tance, then threw it down between two rocks,
and covered it with stones, so as to conceal it
from what others were roaming in the neigh-
borhood. He then proceeded as cautiously
back to the cavern, and, in answer to the in-
quiries, stated that he had seen nothing alarm-
ing, But when Viola was sleeping, he told
the others the whole circumstance,

 

CHAPTER XY.
HOT QUARTERS AND SMOKE.

In the morning following, a long and earnest
consultation was held. As usual, the opinion
and will of Vic were the law of the rest. He
stated that none need expect Sam to leave un-
til he had searched every spot likely to con-
tain them ; thatis, every spot likely to contain
them in that section. He was now exploring
the valley, and in the course of the day either
he or some of the savages would be above.
The only way to escape discovery was by strat-
agem. If they could effectually mislead them
until night, they might change their hiding-

lace to some distant part of the mountain,
and finally baffle him.

‘**But,” said Vic, ‘it am the hardest thing
fur me ter sneak round tryin’ to keep out the
way o’ that cuss and his redskins. Wagh! I’m
itchin’ ter hev some fun.”

“So’m I,” added Wandaught, ‘but in course
we've got ter keep kinder low ‘long as thar’s
somebody else in the matter.”

Vic said, ‘‘In course,” and then proceeded,
‘« Two or three of us must git out o’ here soon
an’ make tracks in some other parts up above,
so as to make them b’lieve we ain't down in
these parts, and ef they don’t find this place
by night, we'll give ’em the slip.”

“Tll be darned if we won't!” exclaimed
Seth, excitedly.

‘Vic, yer allers war some on plannin’,” said
Wandaught, admiringly, ‘‘an’ Lain’t afeard but
what we'll git out all squar’ with our little
one.”
‘Well, who is going with you, Vic?” asked
Seth. 7 \

After a short conversation, it was decided
that Wandaught and Seth should accompany
him, while Summerfield should remain with
Viola. They expected to return before there
was any probability of their retreat being dis-
covered. But, even should the savages come
upon it in their absence, there was little cause
to fear. It will be remembered that only one
could enter at 2 time, and one person with a
trusty rifle might effectually dispute the pas-
sage of a hundred or a thousand.

This decided upon, the three, with many
warnings from and promises to Viola, made
their way from the cavern, and began cau-
tiously ascending the mountain. Summerfield
and Viola followed them out and watched their
movements until they were lost to view among

 

41

the wild regions above them. Summerfield
then re-entered the cave and made prepara-
tions for resistance in case an attack should be
made before the rest should return. Ina few
minutes Viola came in and seated herself upon
her accustomed seat, and watched his move-
ments.

“What does that mean?” she asked, as he
carried one of the bundles of furs and deposited
it a number of feet nearer the entrance.

«Can you not comprehend, dearest?” he re-
turned, with a smile.

«Yes ; I suppose you intend it as a means
of defence. But do you think we shall be dis-
covered ?”

“No; but such a thing might occur, and, of
course, we should “be prepared for any emer-
gency. Ido not think the others will be ab-
sentlong, and there is hardly a shadow of prob-
ability thet there will be any savages from
the valley below before they return.”

“George,” said she, after a moment’s deep
thought, ‘‘I don’t know how it is, but I have
not felt easy since I have known that Redzel
was pursuing us. I have heard it said that
persons are sometimes given a shadowy ap-
prehension of what is about to transpire. Ido
not believe in presentiments that I often hear
spoken of ; but if there is sucha thing asa
presentiment, I have had one for the last day
or two.”

‘© A presentiment of what?”

‘‘Of the death of—”

‘Great heaven! what is that?”

At that instant, with fearful distinctness,
came the sharp crack of half a dozen rifles, ac-
compauied by a number of wild whoops of
agony and of defiance. They were distant, and —
yet the stillness of the region rendered them as
audible as if but a few rods away. |

For a few seconds, they remained as motion-
less as two statues ; once they heard the dis-
charge of a single gun, and now and then
could distinguish several faint shouts. Again
they heard a number of yells repeated, and in
a moment there was the hurried tramp of some
one approaching atarapid rate. Summerfield
cocked his rifle and bent his eye to the nar-
row entrance of daylight. The tramp contin-
ued, and in a moment he saw the twisted mem-
bers of Seth suddenly halt before it. Then the
cave was darkened, as he wedged his body rap-
idly in.

“Quick, George, for God’s sake! there’s for-
ty after me, and’ Sam’s among ’em,” he ex-
claimed, plunging in. :

Summerfield rolled the bundle of furs far-
ther ahead, and rested his rifle onit.

Good!” said Seth, “they'll be here ia a
minute,” ;

‘ Where’s Jim and Vic?”

“Don’t know ; guess they’re kickin’ round.
We all three run into a nest of ’em ‘fore we
knowed it. Iseen Jim jump square over one
of ‘em and go down a place a hundred feet
deep. Lord a’mighty! I seen stars, too!”

‘Did they pursue you?” P

‘Yes, yes ; here’s the devilsmow! Look.”

A number of moccasined feet and naked
legs could now be seen flitting before the en-
trance, and a triumphant shout of exultation
told the savage joy of those outside. )

 
Sera

=
i

   
 
 
 
 
 
   

    

49)

**Shan’t I crack some of them legs?” asked
Seth, placing his finger on the trigger.

“No ; don’t crack anything but a head, and
you'll have enough of them too.”

At this moment one of the forms stooped and
the horrid face of Sam Redzel was visible.

*¢ Hallo, in thar!” he bawled.

*Helloah! back agin. How you like it?”

“That you, Crooked Legs ?”

“It’s the feller that walloped you most
thunderingly once.”

‘‘And what’s goin’ to get sizzled, cuss yer
liver. Hallo, Somefield, you thar too ?”

‘‘Tam here, Sam Redzel, as you will proba-
bly find.”

‘And me too,” added Summerfield, imita-
ting the voice of. Vannoven.

‘‘Bah!” laughed Redzel, ‘‘you can’t come
that, ole hoss. Vic Vannoven and Jim Wan-
daught ‘Il never cross my path agin.”

«And you can’t come that, ole woman fight-
er,” retorted Seth. ‘‘ Vic and Jim are kicken, I
guess you'll find.”

Seth sighted his rifle and took aim at the
face of Redzel. Summerfield saw the move-
ment, and drew back for him to fire; but just
as the finger pressed the trigger, and while
Redzel was giving utterance to an insulting
command, he placed his hand beneath the
hammer.

‘George Summerfield,” continued Seth, as
he dropped his gun and gazed in his eyes,
‘¢you hindered me from killing that devil, just
now. Don’t ever try it again. If you do, I will
shoot you as sure as there is a God um heaven!”

‘‘Seth, what’s the matter ?”

*¢ Don't do it again; that’s all!” and he calm-
ly resumed his gun and raised the hammer
again.

At that instant a warrior’s body was visible
at the entrance. Seth fired, and a howl that
made their cars tingle with horror, told his
fate. As his companions stooped to draw him
away, Seth jerked Summerfield’s rifle from his
hand and killed another Indian.

The yells of rage that followed the death of
these two Indians were absolutely deafening.
The bodies were withdrawn in a moment, and
when the clamor had abated Seth called out :

‘Sam Redzel, I shot them two. I thought
the first one might be you, but it wasn’t; you
are very careful to keep your precious hide
outofexistence. Why don’t you show yourself?”

*‘Bah! you think I’m a fool, don’t you?”

“Of course. I’ve always had that opinion
since I licked you so easy.” —_,

At this instant, there was the discharge of a
number of rifles, and their bullets rattled
harmlessly against the sides of the cavern.

“Try again,” called out Seth, ‘you might
hit the rocks again.”

At that moment they heard the discharge of
two pieces, apparently at some distance. This
was followed by an excited conversation
among those upon the outside.

“By thunder and lightning, but especially
the lightning!” exclaimed Seth, joyously,
looking round to Viola, ‘‘ if that ain’. Jim and
Vic, then I’m a sinner, sure.”

‘‘ Whoop!” he yelled, ‘‘thought Jim and
Vic wouldn’t cross your path any more. How
do you like the fun, old prison bird?

Ne ee eee

 

ON THE PLAINS ; OR,

There was no reply, but the rapid mum-

bling and the hum of voices continued. Ina ,

ee they heard the treading of departing
eet.

‘“What does that mean?” asked Summer-
field,*

“‘ They have sent off a lot to fight the boys,
and the rest staid here to—”

‘Hallo, in thar. Is Summerfield thar ?”

“Tam here. What have you to say ?”
ne “Ts’pose yer got that gal thar? I want
er.”

‘Well, get her, and you can have her.”

“TU tell you what I'll do, Summerfield. Ef
you gives up that gal and don’t help Crooked
Legs—coz me’n him have got ter settle an ac-
connt—Tll let yer off and promise yer, yer
shan’t be hurt.”

‘**Redzel, we will both defend her against
you as long as we are able, and I will assist
Seth to shoot you at the first opportunity.”

“That's the talk!” exclaimed Seth.

‘‘Then look out,” thundered Redzel, with a
fearful oath. ‘‘ We'llsee how you like smoke.”

There was a commotion among the assail-
ants. Soon several commenced pushing brush
and sticks into the entrance with poles, keep-
ing their bodies concealed. Seth succeeded,
however, in breaking the arms of a couple
of savages, who unconsciously exposed them.

‘‘ What are they going to do?” asked Viola,
in a whisper.

«Burn us out,” returned Summerfield, with
asmile. ‘That is, if they can,” he added, as
he pointed backward toward the outlet that
had before saved three human beings.

“Seth,” said Summerfield, as he witnessed
these preparations, ‘‘it will assist us, I think,
if we make Redzel believe that we are alarm-
ed at the present turn of things, and have no
thought of eluding him.”

“Don’t know but what it would. Good
idea. You do the talking, as you'll be the
most likely to touch that tender heart ot
his.”

“Say, Sam!”

“Wal, what’s up ?”

‘‘ That’s a mean trick, I think. If I couldn’t
dislodge a foe, I wouldn’t burn him out.”

“Bah! you wouldn't, eh? Wal, I would.
Do you give up?”

“Of course not, and do not intend to ei-
ther.” \

‘‘Wal, smoke then. I give yer the choice I
done a while ago. Ef yer ain’t a mind to
— it, why you kin take what you can’t

elp.”

While he was speaking, a savage stooped to
light the fagots. As quick as thought he leap-
ed to his feet and fell in the agonies of death.
Seth had shot him through the neck. Another
ventured more warily, but Summerfield caught
a glimpse of him as he was in the very act of
applying the torch, and sent a bullet through
hisabdomen. As the Indian disappeared from
view, the dry twigs flared up into a blaze and
ignited the rest. He had succeeded although
it had cost him his life. In a few moments
the whole entrance was in a blaze ; but, con-
trary to the expectations of all, the smoke pass-
ed outward, not a particle entering the cave!
This was unaccountable to Summerfield, who

 

 

 
WS T

THE RACE FOR LIFE. 43

expected that some smoke, at least, would
enter ; but, as he felt a draft of air from behind,
he turned and saw that Viola had displaced
the stone that covered the outlet, and there
was a constant rush of air inward. She
smiled as she saw the expression of surprise
upon his countenance, but neither spoke.

The Indians, not content with simply start-
ing the fjre at the entrance, were continually
making efforts to push it farther inward ; but
this was a perilous task, as they were compell-
ed to stand directly before the entrance, and
either Summerfield or Seth would catch the
outlines of their forms, and fire, and never
miss. But their continued attempts were par-
tially crowned with success, for quantities of
the burning embers would yield to those in
front and be pressed considerably backward.
Still there was no immediate danger from this.
Their respiration was free, and as yet they
experienced no inconvenience from the heat.

“Seth, it won’t do to make an attempt to
leave here before night, will it?”

“Of course not. It wasn’t far from night
when I got chased in here.. In two hours it
will be as dark as a pocket. They will keep
the fire going all night, until Sam concludes
we are purty nigh used up, and then they will
crawl in and haul us out like roasted potatoes.
I hain’t noticed where this hole comes out, but
it can’t be a greatedistance off, and I can tell
you, George, you mustn’t think you're half
through the danger yet.”

“Of course I don’t ; but I can’t help feeling
pretty joyous now and then, when I think of
the discomfiture that Sam will experience
when he finds we are gone. ‘No doubt,” added
Summerfield, with a look at the embers, ‘‘the
nest will be warm but the bird will be flown.”

Both watched the entrance incessantly. The

‘slightest exposure of their savage foe was sure

to result fatally to them. Thus over two hours,
unconsciously to Summerfield in his excite-
ment, passed away, and during that time seven
Indians had fallen by the hands of Seth and
himself. i

“George,” said he, turning suddenly toward
him, ‘do you know it is as dark as pitch? We
can talk about leaving now. Viola, see here a
minute.” F

As she approached, he continued : ;

‘‘ These fellows will keep that fire going for
two or three hours yet, and our chance of get-
ting away isin these two or three hours. They,
in all probability, have no idea of our eluding
them by going out a back door, and all that is
needed is caution and self-reliance. This un-
derground passage opens a few yards dis-
tant, and near enough to be fatal to us if the
slightest mistake is made. Before going, I
think it best for one of us to examine the pas-
gage in order to be sure of the course to pur-
gue. I will do it, I guess; and, George, keep
blazing away while I am gone.” k

So saying, he let himself down the opening.
He sank to his chia only, when stooping, com-
menced crawling on his knees.

In a few moments, the head of Seth rose to
Seay all right,” said he anticipating their
question. “It goes about thirty feet, all the
way under rocks, and comes out behind one,

 

where there isn’t any chance of a savage being
stationed. The way is clear, and all we have
got to do is to be quick and silent. I will go
first, you next, and let Viola follow. Let me see.
We have everything we can take, have we not?”

‘Yes ; but Vic will have to lose his firs ; but
if I ever reach the States he shall receive their
full value.”

“That will make him madder than anything
else, but it can’t be helped. Are you all
ready ?”

Each signified consent, and he again stoop-
ed from view.

‘Come on,” ‘came his faint and muffled
voice, and Summerfield sprang down.

‘‘Now, dear Viola,” said he, “keep close to
me, and be careful and hopeful.”

With this he also disappeared, and in a sec-
ond called for her to follow. She did so with-
out any hesitation, and commenced groping
through a dark damp and crumbling passage of
earth and gravel.

In a few moments Summerfield asked her to
pause. Thenshe heard a movementand again
groped on. A few seconds after she was lifted
to her feet, and found herself standing above
ground. The chilly night air was blowing
against her, and she could just discern the out-
lines of Summerfield and Seth, so deep was the
darkness. A short distance off she could hear
the voices of the savages, and above the black
forms of the rocks could see the reddened glare
of the flames that their enemies had kindled
for their destruction.

‘Here, George,” said Seth, ‘‘ take my hand.
It won’t do to get separated.”

Summerfield did so, and in turn took Viola’s,
and the three co need moving slowly and
cautiously forward. Beth was a few feet in ad-
vance, and was obliged to feel every foot of his
way. Once or twice he paused upon the very
edge of some awful precipice that yawned at
his feet, and, without speaking to the others,
changed his direction so as to avoid it. Thus
they moved along for nearly a half-hour, when
Seth, whose powers of vision were sometimes
wonderful, saw, but a few yards ahead, two
forms rise apparently from out the very earth!
He halted as quick as thought, and sank noise-
lessly to the earth, almost simultaneously with
Summerfield and Viola. Without a word, the
two unloosed their rifles, and held them on
the cock, ready to be discharged at the first
necessity. The forms continued to approach,
when, suddenly, they halted almost upon them,
and one spoke in an undertone ;

“That you, boys?”

4 three rose to their feet at these words, for
it was Vie who had uttered them.

“Took us some time to find yer,” remarked
Wandaught.

“‘Why, how did you know we were here?”
one Viola, nearly overcome with wonder and

oy.

“Why, my little one, didn’t you spose we
could see that ar light off yonder, and didn’t —
you spose we know’d you'd erawl out the fust
chance? We've been iin’ round ever sin
dark for yer.” :

“But,” said Summerfield, suddenly, ‘what
can we do without horses? Our own
are too close to the savages to obtain.”

MI tw od ore:
eat pi ilieaeia daiaelinienli tes

 

 

 
  

44

 

‘They is, am they? Wal, Iruther guess not. |
Do you spose we’re green ?”

Summerfield did not understand fully what
he meant, but, without saying anything more,
he followed them. They proceeded more rap-
idly now, as the way was better known. A
short distance travelled, and they reached a
spot where stood their horses. All were there,
= seemed waiting impatiently for their ri-

ers.

‘‘ Well, if this doesn’t beat all?” exclaimed
Summerfield, in admiration.

“‘In course,” remarked Vic to Viola, ‘* we
wan't goin’ to come to look for yer till we’d got
the hosses. So Jim, he sneaked up about dark
and fotched ’em off. We brought ’em out
here, and then commenced lookin’ fur ye. We
thought we wouldn’t come onto you when
you’s too close to the devils—the Engins—
cause yer mought think we belonged to ’em
too, and thus hurt our feelin’s, and p’raps our
hides, too. Jest let me boost you up.”

In five minutes, every one was mounted and
on their way. Vannoven took the lead, Wan-
daught was next, and was followed by Seth,
while Summerfield and Viola came last. Thus
they again resumed their homeward journey,
and with it the perils and suffering that not
even Vic or Wandaught anticipated.

CHAPTER XVI.
FLIGHT,

Two or three hours of rough and dangerous
riding, their horses plunging and pitching
over rocks, gullies, and gorges, brought the
fugitives to the base of the mountain. The
night was still of an inky blackness, and
the air cool and bracing. During the journey
down the mountain, Vic and Wandaught, as
might be expected, exchanged not a word.
Seth now and then made some remark, yet the
occasion, although far different, so forcibly re-
minded him of a previous one, that he was
less loquacious than usual. Besides, he had
several galling wounds, which prevented too
joyous a flow of spirits. Summerfield remain-
ed close to Viola, admonishing her when some
unusual obstruction was in the path, and en-
livening her with some cheering remark when
the riding would permit. ;

Suddenly Vic and Wandaught halted. As
the rest came up around them, the former
spoke :

‘We're now on perarie, and thar’s good
trampin’. We've got the best hosses of the
devils—redskins, I mean—and I propose that
we let ’em went.”

“T second that motion, especially if this
horse is willin’,” saidSeth. ‘‘He’s been pran-
cing as though he kinder itched to be off, and I
itch too.”

“Then I s’pose you've got the itch,” retort-
ed Wandaught.

‘-O no, not at all ; I didn’t mean that.”

‘* My little one,” said Vic, good-humoredly,
‘are you afraid to ride fast ?”

*T can ride as fast as my animal can go.”

“Good. All ready. Come on.”

 

ON THE PLAINS; OR,

As he thus spoke, his horse broke into a gal-
lop, as did also the others. Their beasts were
magnificent ones, and chafed with anger under
the restraint imposed upon them. Wandaught,
with characteristic cunning and foresight, had
selected the fleetest and most powerful of the
number, and the easy canter upon the level
prairie, in the bracing night air, only awoke
the slumbering fire within their veins. It was
almost impossible to curb them, and almost
unconsciously, to the riders, their gallop was
increased into nearly a run.

‘* Oh! this is delicious!” remarked Viola
to Summerfield. ‘After being cramped for
two or three days in that narrow cavern, it
sends the thrill through one to fly over the
ground like this.”

‘Tt is glorious,” he added. ‘‘ Doesn’t it give
you an overflow of spirits ?”

‘Tt does indeed. It seems I could ride for
many hours thus.”

‘‘ How doesit affect that presentiment?” he
asked, lowering his voice to a jesting undertone,

‘*Don’t refer to that,” she quickly returned,
in a deep whisper.

Hour after hour they thus galloped forward
over the level prairie. They were crossing the
northern part of what is known as the Great
American Desert. They might be said, in fact,

to be in another country, so different was it .

from the region they had just left. The air
they found continually growing warmer as they
receded from the mountains, while the earth
beneath them was dry and hardened, as though
the sun had blazed uninterruptedly upon it for
many a day. It was evident that the fierce
storms of thunder, lightning, and rain, which
they had experienced, although but a few miles
distant, did not reach this section. The stunted
prairie grass brushed their horses’ sides as they
went through it, and now and then the suffo-
cating dust arose from their hoofs.

Soon it began to grow light ahead of them,
and rapidly increased until the sun appeared,
and the day wis upon them. Vic and Wan-
daught reined in, and in a few moments they
all came to a halt.

‘‘T rather ca’culate as how thar’ll be some
tall swearin’ in a little while up that way,” said
Wandaught, jerking his hand back of them.

‘‘Wouldn’t I like to hear that feller when he

crawls in and finds there ain’t nobody there ; -

and when he don’t find his horses, thunder,
won’t he rip and tear!” added Seth.

The exhilarating ride had had its effect upon
all. Even Vic’s eyes sparkled with genuine,
healthy humor, and Summerfield felt disposed
to be funnier than usual.

‘‘How does this set on your stummick, my
little one?” asked Vic, as he surveyed her
glowing form with unfeigned admiration.

“O Vic! Iam nearly crazy with pleasure.
I never enjoyed such a ride. Doesn't it make
your heart jump ?”

‘Yas; thar’s an orful thumpin’ in here when
I think what a sweet little chicken we’ve got
with us. Blastnation, Jim! did you ever see
such a birdy ?” asked Vic, turning with a happy
grin toward him.

“No, sir; ef you and me war young, Vic,
and as purty as Sam Redzel, we mought make
George step ’round.”

 

 
THE RACE FOR LIFE. 45

This sally was greeted with a hearty laugh,
in which Viola could not help joining. The
crimson glow on her face deepened, and she
made an effort to pout, but she could not resist
the feeling that all experienced.

“You ought to be ashamed of yourselves,”
said she, glancing at Vic and Wandaught, and
yet she admitted to herself that, next to Sum-
merfield, their admiration would gratify her

more than any other one she could imagine.

“ Come,” she continued, ‘let us go on.”

‘“No ; we'll stop a while to let our hosses
rest,” returned Vic, springing from his. At
this they all dismounted, and, removing their
saddles, let the horses crop the buffalo grass,
that was quite luxuriant. Before Summerfield
had turned his loose, Vic approached Viola’s to
unfasten the saddle for her. Unloosening the
girth, he pulled it partly off, and-then resting
it on the side of the animal, turned his face
and asked, in an undertone :

«Yer ain’t mad at old Vic, am yer, my little
one ?”

‘««T don’t know,” she returned, shaking her
head. ‘You mustn’t talk so.”

“Wal, blast it, you am a sweet, purty, little
thing, an’ I jest said so, kase it war so.”

Viola really believed the rough but kindly
trapper feared he had offended her. She ap-
proached closer to him, and placing her white
hand upon his ponderous shoulder, gazed into
his twinkling orbs as though she would read
his very soul. She saw one or two of the
others were noticing her, and Seth had made
an excuse to pass near her in order to hear her
words. But her voice was so low that it
reached no ears but those she intended it
should.

“Vie, I love you as though you weft my
father, and I know you will never offend me.”

The hardy old trapper winced, and felt as
uncomfortable as if a rifle-ball had struck him.
Viola waited amoment, expecting him to speak,
but seeing that some strong emotion was at work
in him, she turned and approached the others.

The day had now so far advanced that the
prairie was visible for many miles, Away the
faint swells stretched as far as the eye could
reach, and before them the horizon -closed
down upon the level prairie, as though it were
the ocean. Behind them rose the gigantic
chain of the Rocky Mountains, veiled in a
thin, bluish haze, that softened their jagged
outlines and wrapped them in a soft splendor.
And many miles in the distance rose the sharp
point called the Peak. Several clouds were
floating near its summit, which made the top
resemble a white cloud in the sky. ‘There was
a majestic grandeur in the whole scene, as
much in the vast, undulating, and withered

vairie as in the mighty chain of the moun-
tains that extended for thousands of miles
over the continent. ¢

As the sun rose in the sky the air became
milder and pleasant, so that Seth relinquished
his idea of starting a fire. There was no food
to cook, andynone needed the warinth of it.

«We ort ter have a bite,” said Vic, «for it
never sets well to ride far without it. How-
sumever, I could go fur two or three months,
but I s’pose my little ’un ort to have sunk-

thin’.”

Sahih s

 

Sp = ee ie We ee ee
teen ett 5 SB iat, a oe i io. SS) aa
RE Be epi =

“T can stand it, Mr. Vic, as long as you
can,” she returned, with spirit.

This made the hunter laugh again as though
he would kill himself. He had admired her
beauty and appearance before, and now he re-
spected her spirit.

The men had seated themse!ves upon the
ground, and Summerfield spread his blanket
for Viola.

“There,” said he, “rest yourself, for I sus-
pect we shall have a long ride.” .

“T hope so,” she returned. Then, turning
her face toward Vic and Wandaught, said :

‘Come, while we are idling away the time
here, I want you to tell me about the trouble
you had with Redzel’s men.”

_‘It wa’nt much,” returned Vic, ‘but me’n
Jim made bigger fools of ourselves than wo
ever did afore. We knowed thar war troub-
ble "bout, and yet, fur all that, we run our
noses right into it. We orter bin blowed to
blazes fur it, The fust thing I knowed I
didn’t know nothin’ in pertic’ler, ‘cept as how
we'd walked squar into a thunderin’ big nest
of em. ‘They rose right up ‘mong us, and
commenced crackin’ away. I seen Jim throw _
aback spring and go over inter some place
whar I knowed he war all right, and I smashed
a couple of red devils’ faces and got into cover
with only two or three holes in my carcass.
Crooked Pegs, thar, was gappin’ “long ahind
us, and when he seed the trouble you orter
seed him slide. Wal, then—wagh! wagh!
wagh,” and the trapper leaned his head back
and laughed, while Seth looked at him as
though he would like to annihilate him: A.
broad grin illuminated Wandaught’s counte-
nance also, and Summerfield and Viola could
not resist smiling at the exquisite drollery of
the scene.

“I never thort he could use his legs as he
did then. The way he straddled over the
ground would have scart a grizzly. I couldn’t
see nothin’ else of ’im but his feet ; but they
saved im. There wa’nt one that could come
nigh him, and so he got down to the Hole and
give ’em the slip arter all.” '

As the speaker finished, he turned toward
Seth, and, seeing his expression, burst into an-
other fit of unrestrained laughter. : :

“T can’t see what ther’s to laugh at,” said
the latter, indignantly.

“Wal, we does,” said Wandaught, joining
them. ‘Why don’t you laugh yourself!”

“Some folks don’t know what manners is,”
remarked Seth, with a meaning emphasis, and
looking off upon the prairie.

‘* And some chaps knows as what—”

‘Darn! I think it’s time we started,” ex-
claimed the persecuted fellow, suddenly spring-
ing to his feet. er

“So do I,” added Summerfield, rising,
a out of sympathy for Seth than anything
else,

¢

‘And I have been thinking so ever since we’
halted,” joined Viola.

After a few more indulgencies in laughter,
the two trappers prone and made prepa-
rations for starting. e horses had not wan-
dered far, and in a few moments were brought
up, re-saddled and mounted. The line of march
was the same as before, with the exception that

 
 

 
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

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46 ON THE PLAINS; OR,

Wandaught rode four or five hundred yards in
advance, for the purpose of keeping a lookout
for danger. Seth and-Vic rode side by side,
just ahead of Viola and Summerfield, who kept
up a continual conversation.

The travellers continued uninterruptedly
upon their journey until nearly noon. The
horses were kept upon a rapid, easy walk, as it
was necessary to preserve their strength for
apy contingency that might arise.

All at once, Summerfield, while replying to
a remark of Viola’s, saw Wandaught suddenly
halt and raise his hand above his head.

‘¢ What does that mean?” she asked.

‘‘Something is wrong, I fear.”

Vic and. Seth had reined up their animals,
and the four stood waiting the movements of
Wandaught.

‘*What is the matter ?” asked Viola of Vic.

“Jim sees sunkthin’, and is waitin’ till he
knows what it mought be.”

The four now sat and gazed silently upon
Wandaught, who, for full ten minutes, did not
make a movement. Then he rose to his feet,
and standing upon the back of his animal, gazed
a moment ahcad. Then he reseated himself,
and turning his head motioned for the others
to come up. 5

“Sign?” asked Vic.

“Engin.”

This was all unintelligible to Viola, but the
rest understood it, and Summerfield explained
it to her. There were Indians on their track.

They now started slowly forward. After a
while Wandaught stated that the party ap-
proaching did not number over half-a-dozen,
and was no war party. Ina short time, Viola
could see them nearing her, in their picturesque
costumes. ‘They appeared to fear no harm,
and approached with such an air of confidence
and security as to disarm all suspicion of evil in-
tention upon their part. In explanation of this,
Vic replied they belonged to a friendly tribe.

‘* What tribe ?” asked Summerfield.

‘The Sioux.”

‘* What are the Sioux doing in this section ?”
queried Summerfield.

«They often tote around here after bufflers,
and to git sight of things. Hello, Jim’s gab-
bin’ with ’em.”

The savages had come up, and were now
holding a conversation with Wandaught. Ina
moment the two parties were together. The
Indians had halted, hoping to effect a barter
with the whites. Summerfield saw that they
had a quantity of buffalo meat, and with a few
trifles he purchased sufficient to make a good
meal for all their party.

As there was nothing to detain them longer,
the party set forward again. Viola suffered
considerably from thirst during the day, as the
water in the American Desert is exceedingly
scarce. In truth, in some places the stranger
would perish from thirst. Quite a number of
streams, however, cross the upper part of it,
and none of the company really experienced
any danger on account of it.

About noon they reached a narrow stream
that had once been a river. Its banks were
white, and the sun had cut them into great

curling cakes of mud. A short distance down, ||

 

showing that a drove of them had quenched
their thirst at this small stream. The water
was fresh. In many places the tiny springs
bubbled up through the silver sand, imparting
a delicious coldness to it.

Choosing a suitable place, the party dis-
mounted and made preparations for quite a
lengthy halt. Wandaught started a fire from
the buffalo grass and a few dried sticks that
lay scattered along the stream, brought down
a long time before, when its volume had been
swollen to a torrent. With these, after consid-
erable difficulty, he succeeded in cooking the
meal that Summerfield had purchased of the
Sioux. A good, substantial dinner. followed.
While eating, all kept up a running conversa-
tion except Vic, who appeared sullen and dis-
pleased at something that had occurred. This
grew so marked at length, that Viola ap-
proached him, when he was sitting apart by
himself, and asked him his trouble. At first
he refused to answer, but, being pressed, re-
plied loud enough for all to hear.

“T’ve bin thinkin’ as how them skins hev
all gone to the devil—”

“Don’t talk that way, Vic.”

‘‘Wal, gone to—gone then. ‘Nuther tramp’s
good for nuthin’.”

Summerfield approached him with a smile.

«« What was the value of all your furs, Vic?”

“‘Kit Cheatum promised me two or three
hundred dollars for ’em if I’d take em to West-
port for him.”

‘* Will you sell them to me?”

‘Sell ’em to you?” repeated the trapper,
staring at him as though he thought he had
lost his senses. :

“Yes; sell them to me, Imean. I want to
buyéhem.”

“See here, ole coon, ef you want to pick

a muss, I’m ready fur ye,” said Vic, rising to /

his feet and approaching Summerfield.

‘“‘Why, what's the matter, Vic? Can’t you
make a bargain? I want to buy your furs,
that is all.” Summerfield, seeing that he had
better explain himself, continued : ‘See here,
my old friend, you and Wandaught have made
every exertion in your power to save my life
and that of Viola. Whether you succeed
further matters not. I have already incurred
a debt which I never expect to repay ; and, as
a moiety of the payment, as a slight token of
the gratitude I feel for you, I shall place five
hundred dollars into your hands as soon as I
can communicate with home, upon our arrival
in Independence.”

‘No, you don’t; you can’t come that, it
would be stealin’,” returned Vic, resolutely
shaking his head.

“ Stealing !” exclaimed Summerfield. “‘Why,
I took your furs and let the Indians.shoot into
them until they were riddled and completely
ruined, and now, because I offer to pay for
what I did, you call it stealing. O Vic!”

“Of course,” joined in Viola, “‘ you ought to
receive,payment for them.”

‘“‘Sartin, Vic, you're kinder green,” added
Wandaught.

Still the honest trapper suspected the truth—
that he was only making it as a screen to an
act which his heart prompted. He continued

they came upon myriads of tracks of horses, | shaking his head.

 

 

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ea THE RACE FOR LIFE. 47

«Just let me get an idea into that thunder-
ing old head,” said Seth, stepping forward.
He spread his fees apart, and raisiug the broad
palm of his left hand before him, and dropping
the index finger of his right hand into it, com-
menced :

«You seo,” here the speaker frowned learn-
edly, and raised and let his finger fall upon his
palm to give more emphasis to his words,
‘you see here’s the point—”

‘What, that ar a pint?” interrupted Vic,
pointing to Seth’s monstrous finger.

‘Wait a minute,” said Seth, as ‘the others
laughed, ‘‘ wait a minute. You see, this is the
way of it. You got some furs (a fall of the
finger) ; these furs you put in a cave (another
fall of the finger); you went way and left
them there (fall of the finger) ; you get into a
muss with Engins (fall of the finger) ; steal
their horses (fall of the finger) ; therefore,
therefore, I say George owes you just five hun-
dred dollars” (a triumphant flourish and fall
of the finger at the last sentence). ’

«That so?” asked the hunter of himself,
scratching his head and thoroughly puzzled
at the explanation.

“Of course, it’s so. Plain as day. You see
you just got the furs (here the hands drop-
ped, and the speaker commenced going over
the grounds rapidly), got into a muss with the
Engins ; therefore, Summerfield owes you five
hundred dollars.”

“That's the fact,” returned the hunter,
ashamed to appear ignorant.

‘¢ And as Summerfield was present,” contin-
ued Seth, ‘‘when they were destroyed, you,
therefore, owe me two hundred dollars.”

Vie raised his head and foot at this, and
gave Seth a tremendous kick, saying :

“Thar ’tis, then!” ‘

This put the whole party into the best of
spirits. Vannoven agreed to accept the sum
offered, and Summerfield promised Wandaught
as liberal a remuneration.

As the stream afforded a good camping
ground, it was decided to remain in their pres-
ent position until morning. Accordingly prep-
arations were made for spending the night,
and, keeping a good look out, they seated
themselves upon the earth iu sociable conver-
sation. ’

 

CHAPTER XVI.
THE BURNING PRAIRIB.

Suortiy after this it was concluded best to
turn in for the night. Wandaught agreéd to
perform the duty of sentinel, and, taking his
rifle, he passed a short distance, so as to be be-

ond the light of the fire. Vannoven rolled
imself in his blanket, like a huge turtle in his

“shell, and in a few minutes was unconscious to

inos. Summerfield, at Vic’s request,
ae rith his back to his, in order to preserve
the warmth of their bodies, and in this posi-
tion, with the exception of Seth and Wan-
daught, the company were soon sound asleep.
Summerfield was roused from a sound re-
freshing sleep by feeling Seth’s elbow thrust
several times rather forcibly in his back. .

 

 

‘* What you at?” he demanded, irritated at
being thus disturbed.

“Say, George, I want?to ask you something.”

“Well, if you want to keep your head whole,
don’t speak to me again.”

“Well, that’s a darned fine way to talk, I
should think,” indignantly retorted Seth, po-
king his head from under the blanket, and
glaring at the swell where Summerfield lay.
“Keep your feet on your own side,” he added,
giving one a kick. Then, as he sunk back
again, continued :

‘Some folks are mighty particular how others
speak to them, but like to talk to themselves.
Tam always willing to hear what has got to be
said, for my part.”

At this point Summerfield droppe
which lasted five minutes, pounth aes —_
there was a flounder from Seth that startled
him as though a buffalo had fallen upon him.

_“S'pose you are mad at that movement,
ain’t you ?” said Seth, as he felt Summerfield
moving. The latter, finding that no sleep
could be gained thus, arose, and, smothering
his wrath, passed to the other side of the fire,
where, in twenty minutes, he was sound asleep
again, despite the philosophizing of his com-
panion.

A half hour, he again felt some one touch
him, and started up, determined to compel Seth
to cease disturbing him; but instead of en-
countering him, he saw Wandaught leaning
over him.

“Come, it’s time to git up.”

‘Is itmorning? Isuppose so. That con-
founded fellow has spoiled this night’s rest.”

“No, ’taint mornin’, but it’s just the same.”

‘¢What’s the matter?”

Wandaught pointed toward the west.

Summerfield looked in that direction, and saw
the horizon lighted up for a long distance, as
though the sun were rising. This he knew
could not be a fact, as it was there he had seen
it sink upon the day before, Still he did not
understand the cause.

«¢What does that mean ?” he asked.

Wandaught made no reply, but snuffed the
air, which was strongly tainted.

“«Isthe prairie on fire ?” asked Summerfield,
springing to his feet,

“That's it. You've got it at last.”

At this point, Seth approached, and in a mo-
mient there was a movement of Vannoven’s
bundle, and he crept forth. He walked slowly
up to the others, keeping his face turned to-
ward the light, which was growing stronger
every moment,

“LPve smelt that ever sin’ noon,” said he,
“but I didn’t think Sam Redzel war such a
fool to burn the perarie when he found we war
on it, though I spose he felt mad ’nough when
he knowd we'd gone off with the best of his
hosses.

‘Why, is that his work?” questioned Sum-
merfield in astonishment,

‘Tn course, don’t you know nothin’ ?”

‘How soon will it be here ?”
‘Couple of hours.” /
_ Well, Ishould think it near time some pro-
vision were made against it.” 2
“Sosh’d I, Jim, s’pose we ‘fire’ ?”

By ‘‘fire” he meant setting fire to the grass —

/

 

 

 
 

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48 ON THE PLAINS ; OR, .

around them—a precaution that all understood,
and one which, as our readers are aware, is in-
variably adopted atsuch times. The two trap-
pers approached the smouldering fire, and seiz-
ing a brand, each went a few feet east of the
lodge where Viola lay, and twisting several
bunches of the grass into compact masses,
stooped and blew them into a blaze. This com-
municated readily with the rest, and in a few
minutes there was a broad wave of flame ex-

-panding, cracking and flying with the wind

from them. During this proceeding, Seth had
secured the horses, which exhibited some
signs of making a stampede, and Summerfield
called Viola. At first she felt some natural
alarm at the unusual aspect of the héavens, but

soon understood that there was no personal,

danger.

There is a terrific sublimity in a burning
prairie. The tumultuous ocean of fire and
flame that surges forward like a tornado, out-
stripping the fleetest race-horse ; the pointed
spears of fire that twist and twirl in dazzling
gyrations ; the unearthly reflection and glare
upon the clouds above ; the infuriated tramp
and bellowing of the buffaloes ; the thundering
tread of the snorting horses ; the hissings and
writhings of the scorching serpents, and the
sharp crackling and roaring of the fire itself ;
all these are fearful exhibitions of some tre-
mendous Power, and are scenes which no pen
can describe.

The fugitives rode close in the blackened
track of the fire they had kindled. The grass
was so thin and dry that the flames merely
flashed over them ; yct the ground was heated,
and in many places there were little twists of
flame that snapped and crackled, and the
horses would sometimes leap with pain as they
trod upon a burning twig or root. Once or
twice enormous snakes were seen, half burned
in two, and lashing the ground in agony ; and
the situation of the fugitives at least was a
strange one—riding as they were, between two
mighty volumes of fire.

When they had gone about half a mile, they
halted, determined to wait till the morning.
As they turned their faces backward, they saw
that the fire was less than a mile distant.
There was, if possible, a more awful sublimity
in its appearance. The revolving spouts of
smoke and flame could be plainly seen, and
overheafl were millions of sparks and cinders
that seemed to shoot upward, and when their
force was spent, slowly float in mid-air. The
unusual disturbance of the atmosphere had
created a strong wind, which at times would

force part of the flames to the earth and hold’

them still a moment, and raise them up and
drive them like chaff before it.

All had wheeled their animals round, and
stood facing the approaching element, like
wild beasts at bay. Not a word was spoken,
so complete was the spell that bound each
tongue. Once Summerfield turned toward Vi-
ola, whose animal stood beside his. ‘The lurid
reflection of the powerful light lit up her coun-
tenance with an unearthly and almost ghastly
brightness. Her bosom was swelling and heay-
ing with excitement, and through her thin, part-
ed lips he thought he could hear the fevered
breath come and go. Her dark eyes were flash-

 

ing, and as the wind lifted her floating tressea
from her shoulders, there was, indeed, a wild
sublimity in her loveliness. 'The horse with
his arched neck, dilated nostrils, and glaring
eyes, harmonized well with his rider.

As Summerfield was gazing at her in rapt
admiration, his ear detected a noise resembling
the distant roll of thunder. He listened in-
tently, thinking perhaps it might be the fire,
but the sound was so different, he was soon
satisfied that it was not ; and although it might
be mistaken for thunder, yet it had a different
sound. There was a peculiar, indescribable
noise that might be compared to a trembling
wave of thunder, and which, at last, Summer-
field was convinced was the tramping of myr-
iads of feet whon the prairie. He turned to
Vic and Wandanght, but saw that they had no-
ticed it, and were conversing about it.

‘‘ What is that?” he asked of the former.

‘A drove of bufilers,” he replied.

‘¢ Will they not trample us to death ?”

““P’raps so.”

With this consolatory remark, the two trap-
pers dismounted, calling on Seth to see that
their horses were restrained from fleeing in
their absence. They then gathered a number
of burning twigs and sticks together, and blew
them into a bright blaze. When this was fin-
ished, the thundering clatter of crackling hoofs
upon the prairie had grown rapidly louder and
neare?, until all knew that they were compara-
tively close at hand. The trappers waited a
moment, and then, when they could discern
the dark forms, fired into them, then seized
several brands of fire and hurled them toward
the approaching bodies. Onward they came,
not checked in the least, but the stratagem of

' the hunters had saved the lives of the fugi-
| tives. At the point where the buffalo had fallen

(for it could not have been otherwise) the herd
divided into two great diverging bodies. These
plunged on as irresistibly'as before, but left
the spot in which our friends were standing
perfectly open and safe. :

It wasa strange sight—this herd of a hundred
thousand buffaloes plunging past them. On
each side, before and behind, they surged for-
ward like a vast sea, their ponderous heads and
backs pressed close together, and sinking and
rising like the heaving water. Their hoofs gave
forth a peculiar, crackling noise, like the rapid
discharge of musketry, save that it was fainter
and more continuous. Their long, pointed
horns resembled the presented spears of an
army, and their tails lashed the air as though
in torment. Now and then a sharp bellow
would tell of some unfortunate one gored and
trampled to death in an instant, and at inter-
vals a huge body would be forced above the
others, or would leap up and in a moment fali
back and mingle again with the dark sea of
bodies.

Thus, for an hour, swept this mighty herd —

along. The dust from their hoofs was nearly
suffocating, and dimmed the glare of the fire so
much at times that it was scarcely visible.
When they had finally disappeared, the trap-
pers remounted their animals, and the com-
pany moved slowly forward in their track. Be-
hind them, the fire had spent its force, and was
now visible far ahead and upon each hand, but

’
;
1
5
1

 
=

‘

THE RACE FOR LIFE. 49

was raging more fiercely toward the south.
Vannoven informed them that this conflagra-
tion had not extended over much surface, and
would travel but a short distance farther. This
section being rarely visited by storms, was
peculiarly liable to be overrun with fire. The
grass, although stunted and sparse, was always
dry, and burned readily; yet, as has been
shown, a fire originating here was not likely to
extend to a very great distance, but was mere-
ly a local one.

The fugitives had gone some two or three
miles, when they saw that morning had dawn-
ed. A halt was made, and they breakfasted
upon a portion of the buffalo that still re-
mained.

Ever since the flight of the buffaloes, Seth’s
horse had manifested an uneasiness and terror
that rendered him almost unmanageable. Seth
coaxed and railed him, but as it did no good,
began to fear the consequences.

‘Whoa, darn you!” he ejaculated, giving
him a yank that threw him upon his haunches.

«What's the use acting this way? "Iwon’t
do you no good,” he commenced, in a persua-
sive tone, as the animal grew more docile, and
began prancing gayly around.

“That's a nice horse. Whoa! whoa! nice
horse,” and he patted the animal kindly upon
the neck. Perhaps the beast had discovered
for the first time that he was not carrying his
Indian rider, and he was determined at all
events that the one upon his back should be
dislodged.

«Skin me, ef he ain’t scart,” remarked Wan-
daught, contemptuously.

‘¢ Who's scart? Whoa, nice horse. WHOA!”
he exclaimed, as the animal commenced
whirling around like a top. Summerfield
sprang to the earth and caught his head, or
there is no telling what would have been the
result.

_ By thunder! ef I don’t kill that darned
infernal thing!” exclaimed Seth, furiously,
springing to the earth, and holding him by the
bridle. Then, gathering his strength, he
made a maddened kick at the animal, which
wheeled around at that instant, as he divined
his intention. The consequence was, the
whole force of the kick was lost in air, and, in-
stead of being spent upon the horse, it lifted

‘Seth from his other foot and let him drop upon
_ his back. Summerfield sprang and caught the

animal again, or he would have escaped. Seth’s
discomfiture was greeted with a hearty laugh,
which enraged him only the more ; and, as he
arose, he commenced clawing blindly arqund
in search of something with which to strike
the horse ; but nothing, save a long, charred
stick, rewarded him. This, however, he
clutched eagerly, and running up, struck such
a blow that it broke in his hand, and the herse
him again.
sortie, then, > blasted, bloated skinflint, low,
greasy beast, I mean !” and with this, he threw
the cudgel after the flying beast. In vain Vic
uttered his horse-call whistle ; the infuriated
animal sped away over the plains, . and, ere
long his form was lost in the distance. ;
“Now yer in a pretty fix, Crooked Pegs!
exclaimed Vic, ‘What are to become on ye,
fur as sure as shootin’ og Redzel ’ill be down

 

hyer in less nor two hours. You'll have to set-
tle accounts, then, sure.”

‘“‘I kin whip Sam Redzel any day. Jist let
him come on!” shouted Seth, fairly beside
himself with fury, as his long arms beat the
air. ‘‘I kin lick the whole onye. Jist jum
hyer if ye wants accounts squared!” and Se
began to “peel.” This was too much for the
company, They laughed until tears stood in
their eyes. Seth spreading his legs wide apart
like two long braces to an old house, thrust
his hands into his pockets and scowled furious-
ly. Even Viola was convulsed, but she too
strongly commiserated his case to refrain
from condolence. Approaching him she laid
her hand on his shoulder, looking full in his
face. Soon the thunder-cloud began to dis-
sipate, and ere Vic and Wandaught had re-
covered their equanimnity, Seth’s face was like
a full round sun of smiles.

Thus good humor was restored, although
there was no forgetting that Seth was in a bad
predicament.

 

CHAPTER XVII.

PURSUIT, AND AT BAY.

Axrnovex Seth had been deprived of his an-
imal, the party determined that no time should
be lost in plodding upon the way, as hereto-
fore ; and, instead of adhering to the general
wish to tarry there for the night, Vic informed
them that they should not halt again until
dark. They spent no more than fifteen min-
utes in eating their meal, and Seth mounting
behind Summerfield, they struck their horses
into a brisk gallop. Seth would ride about an
hour with each, and thus they succeeded in get-
ting over ground about as rapidly as though
he possessed a horse of his own.

The prairie passed over in the afternoon was
mostly of the rolling kind, and was much better
watered than the portion over which the fire
had raged. In some places it was well tim-
pered, and resembled another country, which,
in fact, was the case, for they had passed the
confines of the Great American Desert, and
were again upon the billowy, fertile prairie.

The seepeny continued moving forward,
and, as Vic had declared was his intention, did
not draw rein until it was dark around. They
then halted upon a small stream, fineed by a
number of cottonwoods, and in a short time
Viola’s rude tent was erected, as it had been
the night before. After partaking of the even-
ing meal, she retired, and Summerfield, Seth
and Wandaught stretched themselves before the
crackling fire ; Vannoven remained on duty as
sentinel much of the night. Seth strove to
engage Wandaught in conversation, but he was
more reserved than usual, and in a short time
the three wrapped their blankets around them
oO sunk to sleep,

annoven had strong icion that his com-
pany would be visited ‘before morning, and,
instead of remaining in one position, he con-
tinued walking around the camp at intervals
all night, on the alert, for the slightest sign of
danger. But the company were undisturbed,
and at an early hour they arose refreshed, and

X ;

 

 

 
 

SOR mace tt egrene tee ee

50 ON THE PLAINS; OR,

made hasty preparations for resuming their
journey.

There was a sudden and unexpected change
in the weather during the forenoon of this
day. The air was still tainted with a smoky
smell, and the conflagration of the prairie had
created a great disturbance in the atmosphere.
There were short but strong gusts of wind at
intervals, and a sudden turn to cold that was
wonderful. In two hours it was asif they had
passed from a tropical into a frigid climate,
and, to make the change more wonderful still,
a snow-storm commenced at noon! Huge

flakes were blown almost horizontally against.

the travellers, and were whirled around their
heads until they were perfectly blinded in the
white mist. In twenty minutes more, not a
particle of snow was in the air, and hardly a
flake visible upon the ground. Seth conclud-
ed that ‘‘things had got out of order ; shouldn’t
wonder if that blasted hoss was the cause of
it all.”

After the cessation of the snow-squall, the
air seemed to possess an unwonted brilliancy,
and objects could be seen at nearly double the
distance they could before. As the fugitives
were now in dangerous terrftory, Vic rode quite
a distance ahead, while Wandaught, possess-
ing a keener vision, remained about the same
distance behind !

They had not journeyed over a mile thus,
when Wandaught suddenly rode up among
them.

“Danger ?” asked Summerfield.

“Yas, sir, thar is! Thar’s a lot of redskins
follerin’ us!”

Vic, who had also returned among them,
exchanged a meaning glance with the speaker
at these words. Every one was silent a few

_ seconds, when Wandaught said :

_ Thar’s no use of hiding the matter, boys.
Sam Redzel and his whole pack have been after us
ever sin’ we left the mountains, and they’rein sight
now !”

All turned their eyes instinctively at these
words, and sure enough, far behind them could
be discerned a number of moving specks in
the distance. Had a shot struck Viola, she
could not have been more startled than she
was at this intelligence. She had ceased en-
tirely to fear Redzel, and this sudden con-
sciousness that at this moment he was so near,
was almost a revulsion from hope to despair.
A short consultation or council of war was held.
Had Seth this horse they would have feared
nothing ; as it was, the course decided upon
was to run at all events. This determined,
Seth mounted behind Wandaught, and the
fugitives struck their horses into a full gallop
over the prairie. Now commenced a run for
life.
From the very commencement it was evident
that the pursuers had the advantage. All were
well mounted upon equally gees horses, while
the additional weight of Seth embarrassed
the progress of the fugitives. He changed
from one to another, until, as a last resort,
Summerfield gave up his horse to him, and
mounted Viola’s, holding her in front of him.

«What will be the end of this?” asked she,
as she felt Summerfield’s arm pass around her
quivering form and drew her fervently to him.

,

 

“Heaven only knows. They gain upon us
at each mile, and sooner or later we must
fight.”

They conyersed together, and at intervals
Summerfield would glance behind him, and
every time he did this he was compelled to ad-
mit that the pursuers were gaining at a rate
that was fearfully certain and rapid.

‘¢Thar’s our only chance, boys !” called out
Vic, pointing in a southeast direction.

As Summerfield turned his eyes in that direc-
tion, he saw, several miles distant, a huge,
dark rock, that some freak of nature had raised
seemingly out of the prairie itself. It was of
great size, very irregular in its outline, broad
at the base, perfectly perpendicular upon one
side, while upon the other it was inclined like
a very steep plain. It was one of those strange
refuges that are found in some parts of the
Far West. Upon the prairie, many miles from
the slightest elevation, these piles of rock are
found, whose construction is a source of won-
derment to the curious. Some of them are
so admirably adapted for defence as to com-
pel the belief that they were erected at some
remote period for that purpose. What is
equally strange, is that they are often found
in sections where the slightest pebble is un-
known for miles.

It may appear improbable that the refuge in
question should be discovered at the precise
moment it was needed, but it was not chance
that brought them upon it. Both trappers
knew of its existence, and had shaped their
course in the morning so as to pass it. They
well knew its value.

As Vic spoke, Summerfield comprehended
his meaning, and said to Viola :

‘‘That is fortunate, certainly. We can make
a stand upon that rock against an army.”

At this instant they heard the faint shout of
their pursuers.

“IT fear nothing,” he added, ‘‘we can an-
nihilate the whole company from that stand-
point.”

Viola made no reply, for her heart was too
full for any. ;

When within a couple of miles of the rock,
Seth’s horse suddenly stumbled, throwing him
several yards over his head. He was not in-
jured much, and turned to remount his animal
But he was still down, and in spite of his ut-
most efforts, could not be made to regain his
feet. Summerfield called to Seth to hurry, as
every second was precious. He still endeavored
to raise him, but finding it utterly useless,
turned, and striking into his own canter, was
soon up to the others.

And thus they continued their flight. The
pursuers saw their misfortune, and divined
their intention in hastening toward the rock,
and strained to the utmost to overtake them
before it could be accomplished. Seth ran as
he never ran before, and the others rode as
they never rode before. Redzel’s exulting
shouts could be heard, and several shots were
‘sent from his company.

At last the fugitives thundered their panting
horses up to the rock.

«Jump, and up with you!” exclaimed Vic,
springing from his horse, and, with charac-
teristic foresight, carrying the buffalo meat

 

 
 

a a ail

A ; ras

THE RACE FOR LIFE, 61

with him. Summerfield grasped Viola’s half-
fainting form, and, with almost superhuman
strength, bounded up the steep face of the
rock, followed by the panting Seth. Vic was
directly behind them, and Wandaught came
Icisurely up in the rear. As they reached the
top, a score of bullets rattled off splinters of
rocks around them, yet fortunately touched
none. The rock was surmounted by a per-
fectly horizontal cap, circular in form, and
about thirty feet in diameter. Around the
edge of this were piled a number of stones,
open only on the side by which the fugitives
had reached it.

On dashed Redzel with nearly forty shrick-
ing savages. They intended to follow the fu-
gitives and capture them by absolute force,
‘and made an impetuous rush up the steep; but

the rapid, deadly discharge of the rifles from

above told too fearfully upon them. The fore-
most were shot through and rolled like logs,
in their agony, to the ground. Several, with in-
sane frenzy,made their way to the top, and there
met their fate. Seth clove the head of one
nearly in twain with his clubbed rifle, while
Vic, concentrating the terrible strength of his
frame into his arm, struck a savage a blow that
cracked his skull like a cannon shot, and sent
him spinning full a dozen feet through the air.
Wandaught caught another, and, with a light-
ning-like movement, run his knife to the hilt
in his body, and then grasping him around
the waist, sent him headlong to the ground.
There was but one avenue of approach, there
was but one vulnerable point, which was now
invulnerable, and the savages could stand this
terrific resistance but a short time. Breaking
in complete bewilderment, they fled wildly
back, and at a few hundred yards distance
gathered together to hold a consultation over
the best means of dislodging the fugitives and
avenging the death of their comrades.

“Whoop!” shouted *Vic, giving way to his
feelings, ‘that ar’s the tallest kind o’ fun.”

‘*Pity they stopped so soon,” added Wan-
daught, complacently wiping his brow.

‘There was some excitement in that, I al-
low,” said Seth, as he seated himself near the
latter.

“T guess they were taught one lesson not to
be forgotten very soon,” said Summerfield. ‘I
imagine they will consider somewhat before
they make another such a rush. But where
was Redzel all this time? I saw nothing of
him.”

‘‘He took precious care of his old hide,” re-
plied Seth. “I saw him standing at the bottom,
yelling like all fury for the others to go up, but
was very careful not to attempt it himself.”

“It’s quar he can’t be knocked over. I
move that we pick him off the next chance we
git, and then we'll be done with his bother-
nee.
«My sentiments exactly. It ought to been
done long ago.”

“ cane ate, ” said Summerfield. “They
are hatching some new scheme, I warrant.”

The trappers kept an open eye upon the
movements of Redzel, and were ready for any
manifestation upon his part. Summerfield
seated himself beside Viola and conversed
cheeringly with her, assuring her that there

 

was no probability of the Indians making a
successful attack.

It was now quite late in the afternoon. The
weather seemed to grow colder again, and the
savages made preparations for encamping upon
the ground. ‘The horses, which the fugitives
had left at the base of the rock, had been cap-
tured, and of course they retained their own,
so that they had little fear of an escape being
attempted before morning.

Vic had a quantity of the buffalo meat cook-
ed, as was his invariable custom, and of this
they partook sparingly. Viola retained her
portion without tasting it. She knew not how
soon they would suffer for it. Water could
not be obtained, and this simple fact occasion-
ed more alarm than did all the others com-
bined.

Gradually the night closed around them ; the
savages lighted their watch-fires at different
points, so as to surround the fugitives. Al-
though the weather through the day had been
singularly variable, and the heavens were full
of straggling clouds, yet & moon arose late
in the evening, and the prairie was bathed at
intervals in its full flood of light.

Four fires‘ were blazing at as many points
around the rock, at a considerable distance,
and about these could be discerned the shadowy
forms of the savages stretched upon the earth, or
passing between them. Once or twice Vic and
Wandaught succeeded in picking one of these
off; but the distance was too great and the
aim too uncertain to spend many shots in the
attempt, and they contented themselves with
merely keeping a watch to prevent an ap-
proach. Each trapper, with Seth and Sum-
merfield, took it upon himself to watch one of
the fires through the night.

‘“‘Here, boys, what does this mean ?” sud-
denly asked Seth, in a suppressed voice, turn-
ing around and pointing out upon the prairie.
Wandaught approached, and peered cautiously
over a moment, then stepping back, said, in a
low, but joyful whisper :

«Thar’s three or four sneakin’ up to git them
carcasses down thar. Let’s wait till they git
close, and then blaze into ’em.”

E Several dark forms could be seen stealthily,
silently, and slowly approaching the rock.
Wandaught remained in an immovable posi-
tion, gazing upon them with as much zest as
would a hunter upon his prey.

. ‘Now, boys!” said he, in a husky, almost
inaudible whisper.

_All sprang noiselessly to his side, and as
silently sighted their rifles, Then there was
a simultaneous crack. ‘A wild, deathly howl
of agony pierced the air and rolled far over the
prairie. Several forms could be seen clutching

‘the earth in their death struggles. Four In-

dians were stretched full length upon the
ground. One lay flat upon his back, his limbs
extended in the rigidity of death ; another,
upon his side, with his arm beneath his head,
as though he were quietly slecpings while a
third was doubled ap Hike a twisted Phot. All
va pet forg6 7
at was a night never to be forg

the fugitives, Not ce slept. Viola, Though
she feigned sleep, did not close an eye. Now
and then they would exchange a word or two

ih Nae a alia A i ail 8 ieee A i a

 

 
 

 

CORI ae caine os
gt = FRE MERON Tse HITE OMT I eee mn

 

   

“7

52 ON THE PLAINS; OR,

in an undertone, that rendered the silence only
the more oppressive, and once in a while, per-
haps, Summerfield and Seth would change
their positions for a few seconds. Several
times the former approached Viola, and gazed
down into her sweet face with a look of tender-
ness, mingled with pity that so frail and beau-
tiful a being should be doomed to such
tortures, both of body and soul.

Toward midnight, another change in the
weather took place. Huge clouds continued

flying through the heavens, until the moon was:

nearly obscured. A black, threatening mass
of vapor overspread the sky, and in a few mo-
ments a hail-storm commenced! This lasted
but a short time, yet an incredible quantity of
enormous hailstones fell like bullets upon the
rock and prairie. This wasa most timely god-
send, and came near convincing Summerfield
that Providence does sometimes step aside to
favor his erring children ; but when his mind
was about to turn, he received a stunning crack
from one that changed the nature of his
thoughts entirely. . Seth was fortunate enough
to be struck by a couple that set him dancing
like a madman for a few moments. ‘He, how-
ever, in obedience to Summerfield’s suggestion,
collected all that could be found, and presery-
ed them until they should melt into water, ina
large hollow in the rock.

Again the storm passed and the struggling
uncertain light of the moon was seen at inter-
vals through the sweeping clouds. Summer-
field peered downward and saw that the Indian
bodies were gone. They had been taken away
during the darkness of the storm.

Slowly and painfully the night wore away,
and at last the welcome light of morning illu-
mined the prairie. Tho watch-fires slumbered,
and the Indians congregated again into one
body and held another consultation. Redzel
was in the costume of a savage, and could
only be distinguished from the others when
he was comparatively near the fugitives. He
generally managed to keep himself moving
among the others, so that it was about impos-
sible for them to gain a shot at him.

Wandaught remained on duty while Vic
turned and distributed the morning meal. All
felt considerable hunger and partook heartily.

«Hat away, my little one,” said he, noticing
that Viola hesitated, ‘‘no matter ef ’tis the
last. We wont die that way.”

‘‘How then? by thirst ?” she questioned.

** No ; nor that way either.”

Summerfield and Seth locked to him for an
explanation, and he answered :

“Thar’s nobody goin’ to set roostin’ up here
like we just have, ‘nother night, Ef we're
here when it gets dark agin, afore it gets light
agin we're goin’ to be down thar,” he said,
with a meaning gesture.

“Do you mean that, instead of waiting for
them to attack you, you will attack them ?”
asked Viola, amused, in spite of herself, at his
manner.

“That’s@he talk, my little one. How'd you
like it?” ;

‘* Well enough, for I suppose it must come to
that sooner or later ; but it seems a mad ven-
ture for four of you to rush among nearly ten
times that number.”

 

“Pye ventoored greater things than that in
my day.”

“But,” remarked Summerfield, ‘I can’t
help thinking they will make a final effort,
ani the crisis will come sooner than you antici-
pate.”

«‘P’raps so!” returned Vic, vigorously chew-
ing a huge piece of buffalo meat. ;

“TIl be darned if I don’t ache mightily,”
observed Seth, as if a new thought had struck
him. ‘This lopping around so on these stones
don’t agree with my constitution—”

“Tt didn’t once!” interrupted Vic, with a
sly twinkle.

“Td like to git off, if possible, without fight-
ing ; but I have come to the conclusion that it
can’t be helped ; and being it can’t be helped,

why the sooner it is done the better. Them’s

my sentiments.”

At this point, Vannoyen rose and exchanged
places with Wandaught, who seated himself
and commenced eating with a cheerful coun-
tenance.

‘‘T suppose you are aware,” said Summer-
field, ‘‘that Vic intends to attack those fel-
lows to-night, if we remain here till that time ?”

“Yas, I heerd you talkin’, and have come to
that c’lusion myself.”

‘Do you not think, Jim, they will attack us
before that time ?”

‘No, sar; they won’t do no such thing.
They got ’nough of that yist’day, and Il now

to starve us out.”

«‘Ah!” exclaimed Seth, his eyes lighting up
at this intelligence,

‘That's their idee, and the only way we kin
help it is to tumble down thar and make a scat-
terin’ among ’em.”

The pointed remarks of Wandaught made
each thoughtful for a time. Seth sat cross-
legged, gazing mechanically at each piece of
meat that entered his mouth, which operation
was so spirited that he seemed as if continually
id to himself. Summerfield sat apart with

iola.

‘Here, Jim, you’re wanted this way; you
too, Somefield,” called Vic from his lookout.

“What's up ?” asked Wandaught.

“They want to hold a gabble, I b’leve.”

“Oh, Isee. Here, George, you must do the
talkin’.”

Redzel was standing a short distance off,
holding a fluttering rag, fastened to a stick, as
a signal that he wished to make some commu-
nication with those above. Summerfield saw
that he held his ‘rifle in one hand.

‘*Make him drop that before you hear him,”
said Seth. :

‘‘T guess there is no danger,” said Summer-
field, hesitatingly.

“Make him drop it,” added Vic, in a man-

ner that said there was no need of question- .

ing the propriety of such a requirement.
“See here, Redzel,” spoke Summerfield,

stepping out to view. ‘What do you mean°

by retaining that rifle ?”

‘‘ Retainin’ that rifle ?” he repeated, holding
it out abarm’s length, and gazing contemptu-
ously at it. ‘‘ Retainin’ that rifle? Don’t
mean nothin’, of course.”

‘‘Well, then, for the appearances of things,
place it a few feet from you upon the ground.

2 in nN

 

:
a

er

 

 
>~

yer

 

-

«starve you down. Ef you're a mind+o

ot

 

THE RACE FOR LIFE. 53

T hold no arms, and it is no more than just.to
require the same thing of you.”

“Never mind that. Iwas just-going to ask
i,

‘“‘Redzel, do you intend to hold that rifle
while you speak ?”

“In course I does. As I’s sayin’—”

«Then I shall hold no communication with
you,” returned Summerfield, stepping back
from view.

“Wal, I'll doot then, bein’ it’s you,” said
Redzel, hastily muttering an oath at the same
time that did not escape the ears of those
above. Summerfield looked down again, and
saw that he had laid it at his feet.

“ Step ten feet away from that,” called he to

« D—4 pertic’lar!” replied he, sullenly
moving three or four feet from it. Summer-
field noticed these suspicious manifestations,
but concluded to listen to the communication.

‘‘ Well,” said he, ‘Iam now ready to hear
what‘you have to say.”

« Fust, I want to know whether you mean
to stick it out ?”

«Tf you knew more than a fool you wouldn’t
asked that question, Redzel.”

‘* Next, I want to know how long you think
o’ stickin’ thar ?” .

«That depends on circumstances—just as
the notion takes the rest. Perhaps we will
descend and give you a call during the day.
Perhaps not until to-morrow.” tis

«Yas, do ; we'd be glad to see you.”

‘* Hardly as glad, I suppose, as your friends
that spent part of the night where you are

» now standing,” said Summerfield, with a cut-
ting sarcasm, ‘

Redzel winced, in spite of himself, beneath
this pointed thrust, but rallied quickly.

“* We'd be glad to see you, anyhow; don’t
miss comin’.” ~

“You needn’t fear; Seth, here, wants to
make a closer acquaintance with you. He
says he would like the fun of thrashing you
again.”

This brought an oath from Redzel, too fear-
ful to transcribe in this plece. He replied :

“Tll give him the chance, and you, too, if
you want it.” : : ;

‘But this has nojping to do with the busi-
ness on hand, you anything more to
ask or give?” ;

“Tll just state my intentions, that’s all.
You've got that gal up thar, and I hain’t chased
her this fur fur nothin’. I didn’t bring a lot of
friends to the mountains, and then foller her
out here for nothin’. I’m bound to have her,
and if you don’t come down from thar,

d Crooked Pegs up, Pll say nothin’ to ‘the
greet; put ef you don’t, Tl do whatIsaid. That’s

«Provided, Redzel, you can. There is no
use in bandying words, I will not enlarge
upon your virtues, Sam. What if Wandaught
did save your neck from the hangman several
times ; what if he kept your cowardly hair
from your’ ‘friends’ ; of course, if he under-
takes to protect an innocent being from as foul
a wretch ag ever breathed, of course, I say,
you ought to hunt him down like a dog. This,

   
 

 

you know, is just. Iwill not say anything,
Sam, except I am pretty firmly convinced that
you have no sense, or you would never come
here to prate as you are now doing.”

“Then you don’t agree to what I offer?”
questioned Redzel, eagerly, moving stealthily
nearer his rifle.

“Never ask again, for you always will be
told no!” replied Summerfield, stepping quick-
ly and quietly back from view.

“By thunder?” exclaimed Seth, in a half
whisper, “you missed ‘getting a hole through
you that time by a close rub.”

‘That's so,” added Vie, ‘if you’d stood ’no-
ther second you'd ’ve tumbled back. ‘That fel-
ler meant sunkthin’ by bringin’ his shooter with
him. Sam/’ll do anything, and the meaner a
thing the sooner.”

‘He has got to be shot afore he’s out of our
way,” said Wandaught. ‘He’d follow Sum-
merfield and Viola to the States ef they should
git away from him now, and stick ’em both
some night. I’m sorry, but I’m sure now, to
git out of his way, we’ve got to git him out of
our way fust.”

Nothing worth recording transpired through
the day. No attack was made, and it was plain
that Redzel intended to follow out his threat
to the very letter. The savages remained at a
good distance, some reclining upon the ground,
others lounging leisurely about, and all dis-
posed to enjoy themselves as best they might.
In the afternoon, Vic and Wandaught com-
menced firing at the Indians, and succeeded
in picking off several. Seth saw one leap and
grasp the air, that he was certain was Redzel ;
but Wandaught assured him that it was not ;
and the savages ‘finding how much they were
exposed withdrew well beyond their reach,
The weather remained cold and windy, and
finally a raw, gloomy night settled over the
prairie.

Redzel, feeling confident that no attempt
would be made to escape during the night,
had but one fire kindled ; yet, with customary
caution, @ number of the Indians prowled
around the rock to see that the fugitives en-
deayored to carry out no plan they might have
concerted. All but Summerfield took their
stations again. He, seeing that his presence
was not needed, seated himself beside Viola.
While conversing with her, he noticed that the
two hunters were talking together in a low and
earnest tone. When they ceased, Vanftoven
stood a few moments buried in deep thought,
and’then facing around, said :

it ye Boys, we've a chance, and it’s time to tako

 

    

a

- “CHAPTER XIX.
FRIENDS AND SOMETHING MORE.

Suumerrmrp and Seth gazed up in aston-
ishment. They knew (hat maha air and un-
expected scheme had been decided upon from
his manner, and that immediate action had
been determined. Wandaught commenced
walking slowly and cautiously around the edge
of the rock, scrutinizing every foot of ground
that was possible.

EL

ais tnn-nl ne ini i a tei pm
Re a i i ae in Be i i la Mao aa iliai

Sa

FS ree

 
 

54 ON THE PLAINS; OR,

‘* Yas, boys,” said Vic, ‘‘thar’s a new idea
‘round, We've got neighbors not far off, be-
sides these chaps down here. Jist stand up
here and you kin see.”

As he spoke, he arose and pointed out upon
the prairie. It was so dark that they could
just follow the line of his finger ; and follow-
ing this they saw, far away, a small, bright fire
burning, appearing in the distance but a small
brand or point of flame ; yet they knew it was
the camp-fire of some body of persons, for the
rays from it came over the plain, like the
moon’s light upon the water. After gazing
steadily at thisa moment or two, they turned
their eyes toward the fire of Redzel, which was
in a slightly different direction. Several forms
were visible around this, stretched, in apparent
sleep, upon the earth, but all else was shrouded
in the impenetrable darkness.

‘*Do yer see that, little one?” asked Vie.

“Yes, very distinctly,” she returned.

‘* Wal, let’s squat agin, and I'll tell yer what’s
to be done.”

And doing this, he proceeded :

“That fire off thar b’longs to either red-
skins or whites, and I opine to the whites, coz
ef they war Engins, these down here would’ve
found ’em out by this time ; but ef they war
whites, they’d let ’em go, fur they’ve got thar
hands full now. Jim says they’re white, too,
and the idee is this—one of us can git away
from here easy enough, and we must git out
thar and bring em down here. and we'll have
some tall times here to-morrer. As Crooked
Pegs, here, am so good in gittin’ over the
ground, I think he’s the chap to go.”

««'Them’s my sentiments exactly!” respond-
ed Seth, enthusiastically, starting up as though

‘he were to go the next moment.

“Wait ; set down,” said Vic, ‘‘thar’s no
need of bein’ in a hurry. Now, as you're goin’,
we'll fix up matters. You kin git away from
here easy nough, but in course you've 'got to
be sly bout it. Wal, hyer’s what yer to do:
When you git outside of these things, dig like
mad fur the camp. I guess you kin see it from
the ground, but ef you can’t, don’t matter,
*cause you know which way to go, and kin see
it after pin’ a little. When you git thar,
ef they’re white, bring ’em down; ef they’re
red, in course, let’em go. Jist fore you start
back with ’em throw some of the fire up, so
we'll know all is right, and you've started ; and
when you git out close by, jist give that whis-
tle of yourn, to let us know you're bout ; we'll
be ’spectin’ yer then.”

While Vic was speaking, Seth stood panting

like a restrained hound, so anxious seemed he
to be off upon his way. As the trapper paused
he started off like an arrow.

“Hyer!” called Vic, impatiently, ‘what's
the matter? You don’t want yer shooter. Jist
see that yer knives are all right, and then dig.
You'd better not go down thar, as they mought
be lookin’ for some of us, but jist drop over
by Jim.”

“ Now, Seth, be careful,” said Viola, impres-
sively placing her hand upon his shoulder.

* Don’t be afraid for me,” he returned cheer-
fally.
«‘ And be cautious in approaching the stran-
gers, whoever they may be,” added Summerfield.

 

‘‘Ef these chaps down here should happen
to catch you,” said Wandaught, earnestly, as
Seth stood by his side, ‘jist raise an all-fired
yell, and we'll be down thar and bring an end
to this botherin’.”

Seth paused a second, waiting for what else
was to be said, and then, uttering a quick
‘‘good-by,” leaped quickly and fearlessly over
and disappeared. Wandaught gazed down
after him and saw him rise unhurt and steal
noiselessly away in the darkness ; and as the
fugitives listened a long time, and heard no
unwonted commotion among the savages be-
low, they knew that Seth was safely upon his
way toward the distant camp-fire.

As has been said, Redzel and the Indians
had little fear of the fugitives attempting a
flight, and, in fact, abandoned nearly all the
precaution they had taken heretofore to prevent
it. Consequently Seth had not much difficulty
in eluding them, although he passed several
times in close proximity to one or two Indians.
But, in twenty minutes from starting, he was
out upon the prairie, bounding over it like a
shot froma cannon. He had been so confined
and cramped for the last few hours that he
felt a luxury in running and leaping again at
freedom, and the enjoyment was delicious.
He tried his usual canter, then a peculiar trot
original with himself, and then wheeling sud-
denly around without checking his speed in
the least, continuing his running backward, lift-
ing his heels as though he were going up _hiil.
This, however, was dangerous, for, striking
some obstruction, he well nigh dislocated his
neck in a fall that followed. He felt an almost
ungovernable desire to give several shouts or
yells, but had enough prudence to restrain
himself ; but his antics were too wild and way-
ward to be described here.

In the course of half an hour, he was as near
the camp-fire as he durst approach. It was
burning vigorously, but he could not detect a
single being around it. He discerned several]
bundles, or imagined he did, partly in its light,
but he could not make outa single one. He
made a complete circle around the camp, and
even then had not seen a human being. This
puzzled him considerably. Plunging his hands
into his pocket, spreading his feet apart, and
dropping his head, he commenced ruminating

upon the wisest course gl Before he.
0

had formed any conclusion, he was startled by
the commanding question :

‘White or red?”

“White—white as gun-flints!” he returned,
instantly approaching the fire. As he did so, a
couple of forms came from opposite directions
in the darkness, and stood around him. One
was a large, massive, loose-jointed, bony speci-
men, full six feet in height, who held a mon-
strous rifle in one hand, and a huge piece ot
tobacco in the other, from which he twisted
a prodigious mouthful as unconcernedly as
though he saw no one before him. Seth gazed
wonderingly at his gigantic frame, and, with
his instinctive knowledge of human nature,
rightly concluded that he was an honest-
hearted hunter and trapper; and, as he noticed
his ponderous shoulders and great swelling
chest, he felt-he had already gained a valuable
ally. He had large innocent eyes, a broad

i
;
:

 

 

a

 

neds

 

 
 

THE RACE FOR LIFE.

but pleasant mouth, a homely nose, and a few
straggling, yellow hairs upon his unshaven
face. Ue was an individual, as he termed
himself, ‘‘ extensively laid out.”

The other was aman of about the medium
size, with a smooth, cheerful face, bright,
pleasant eyes, and a peculiar ease and grace-
fulness of motion that made his impression al-
ways favorable at first. Seth also noticed
another person, who had risen to the sitting
position as the others had gathered around,
and he observed, too. that he himself was re-
garded with interest and no evidence of mis-
trust. s
«Wal, friend,” said the second mentioned
individual, ‘what's the story?”

*‘ Well, quite a considerable one. In the first
place, I will introduce myself. I am Seth Pot-
ter, Esq., and was born some years since in the
town of Lubec, state of Maine. Iam a dele-
gate, or, more properly, a committee, elected
by a unanimous yote, without a dissenting
voice, to confer with you, and that is my busi-
ness at present. The truth is this, friends,
you have all seen that big rock some miles off,

havn't you ?” Y
“Yes,” returned they, interested in his nar-
ration.

‘¢ Well, three or four days ago, me and three
other gentlemen got chased by Engins, and
were drove up there, where we have been ever
since. There's thirty or forty of them, camped
around that rock, led on by a white devil.
They have tried to get up among us two or
three times, but can’t come it, and have made
up their minds to starve us out. They have
got our horses, so we can’t run away, and, you
see, we're ina scrape. Well, we’d concluded
to do something mighty despirit, when one of
our chaps happened to set eyes upon your fire
here, and made up his mind you were white,
and nominated me, on account of my superior
qualities, to visit you, and I’m here for that
purpose.” '

«“Didn’t I tell yer, Jake,” said the smaller
person, addressing the larger, ‘‘ there’s sunk-
thin’ wrong up that way, just afore dark ?”

‘© Y-a-s, b’leve yer did say sunk’in’ or other
"bout it,” replied the Hoosier, discharging a
mouthful of tobacco-juice in tho fire, thereby
placking a large quantity of the glowing em-
bers. ss i
During Seth’s narration, a third person had
arisen to his feet, a finely-formed, middle-aged
man, with a melancholy expression upon his
countenance, who regarded Seth with much
interest. :

«Wal, friend,” continued the smaller man,
addressing Seth, ‘you're in trouble, and in
course, we're bound to be in it too. We are
ready to go with yer, ain’t we, boys?”

« Y.a-!” drawled the larger man, taking an-

: Ww:
ote a go with us?” asked Seth of the

man who had not as yet spoken.

‘ arse,” he returned, in a softened
‘ob a4 Tt Would be criminal not to assist
friends when hard pressed, as you say you
ie ”

« Well, s’pose we tramp, then! cs

With this the four started, after replenishing
the fire and visiting their animals, which were

 

55

picketed but a short distance off. Seth led
them, and was as loquacious as usual as long
as there was no probability of his being over-
heard by any of his enemies.

In the meantime, Wandaught and the others
had kept their eyes continually upon the dis-
tant camp-fire. Viola stood beside him, also
watching it. Suddenly he turned to her, and
asked :

“Vily, are yer peepers good ?”

‘Why, yes ; I ieters bo." she answered.
“Why did you ask that question ?”

‘* Wal, I want yer to watch that firo, to see
whether yer don’t see nothin’.”

She kept her eyes upon it, as also did Sum-
merfield and Vie most of the time. A long
time after, Wandaught asked :

‘Have any of you see nothin’ ?”

“‘T have discerned the fire, that is all?” an-
swered Viola.

‘That is all I have seen,” said Summ:

“‘T hain’t seen nothin’ more nor that” Vax.
noven also added. :

‘* Wal, ole Jim’s peepers am the best, then,”
said Wandaught, pleasantly, ‘‘fur I’ve seen

Crooked Pegs throw a piece of fire up into the:

air three times, and none of you hain’t seen
nothin’ of it.”

All admitted that the power of Wandaught’s
keen orbs was wonderful. Vic said he “allers
knowed he could see jist as fur as he’s a mind
to,” and Summerfield who had heretofore had
some doubts of their being superior to his own,
freely admitted their superiority.

An hour after, when there was a deathly
stillness over the prairie, the fugitives heard
the suppressed signal of Seth. Wandaught
returned it, and a few minutes after he and
Summerfield saw several dark forms at the base
of the rock. 7

« All right!” whispered Wandaught.

An instant after, Seth with two or three
bounds stood among them; then came the
Hoosier, who appeared to absolutely take but
one straddle to reach the top ; then the elder-
ly one, who clambered noiselessly up, and fi-
nally the smaller person, who came up as nim-
bly and quickly as a panther.

““Wal, friends,” said the latter, cheerfully,
me he stood among them, ‘we're hero to help

er.

‘And we're most mighty glad you’ve come,”
said Vic, approaching and extending his hand.

As the person addressed took his hand, he
looked closely at him, and asked :

" Ain’ t this Vic Vannoven ?”

‘That's my handle, but you’ve got the best
of me. I don’t know yours.”
unk ee yer?” asked the stranger, in a
» half femini i i
ed laugh, inine voice, and with a suppress-
Vie bent forward, and scrutinized his fea-
tures as closely as he could in the darkness.
‘I've heard that voice,” he repeated, slow-
ly. Yes, skin me,” he exclaimed, starting
a, r Is that you, Kir Carson ru
at's my name,” he returned, enjoying
tho start of wonder among the others. -

‘

“What! are you Kit Carson?” asked Seth,.

hardly believing his senses.

“Yes ; that’s my name, Ib’lieve.”
‘“‘Darned if I hain’t read about you in the:

Pree eiors

   
 

 

 
 

56 ON THE PLAINS; OR,

newspapers. Guy! I didn’t think I’d ever see

you. They say you're something uncommon.”

«Let me make you ’quainted with my
friends,” said Carson, ‘‘ This feller is Jake
Gavin, from Illinois ; and thisisa friend that’s
goin’ back to the States.”

Vannoven grasped each of their hands and
returned the cordial pressure, and in turn in-
troduced his own company.

“I s’pose you know this chap,” said he, al-
luding to Seth, ‘“‘so I'll pass him. Do you
know Jim Wandaught, Kit?”

“«T b’lieve not.”

‘‘Wal, this ar him. He’s a good beaver, but
wont shake paws.”

Wandaught returned the salutation of each,
and then resumed his place as sentinel.

‘This are George Somefield.”

“*Glad to see you!” said Carson, taking his
hand. Summerfield felt honored, indeed, as
he grasped the soft palm of the most renowned
Indian fighter the world ever produced. He
answered him gracefully, and then shook hands
with the Hoosier, who gave a brief ‘‘How’r

- yer?” and with the other man, who seemed
little disposed to converse.

‘How do you do?” said Seth, approaching
Carson, determined to enjoy the privilege the
others had. Carson answered him good-hu-
moredly, and shook his hand warmly.

Vic turned to introduce Viola, but she had
withdrawn to her nook. ‘

‘Wal, Vic, what’s to be done?” asked Car-
son, turning toward him.

‘We're treed, you see, Kit?”

‘‘You four fellers treed by a few red-
skins!” repeated Carson, with sarcasm in his
tone.

‘¢We wouldn’t’ve been if we war alone ; but,
you see, @ woman’s in the matter,” answered
Vic, pointing toward Viola.

*‘Oh, that’s it!” said Carson, lowering his
voice, with his natural gallantry, and gazing
toward her.

‘*You see,” said Vic, speaking confidentially,
‘we're bound to take care of her. We got her
away from that cussed white snake, and he’s
been follerin’ us a week to git her. Ef we'd bin
alone, we’d ’ve blowed him to blazes ’fore this,
but we darsen’t leave her to do it, the way
things stand now. But, bein’ you're here, we'll
drop down on ’em in the mornin’, and there'll
be the tallest kind o’ fun.”

‘‘ How long yer been here ?”

‘This ar the second night.”

“Don’t you want sunkthin’ revivin’ like ?”

** Wouldn’t mind it, that’s a fact.”

‘‘ Here, Jake!” called Carson. ‘A little spe-
rits is wantin’.”

The Hoosier approached and produced from
some unseen pocket a capacious flask of bran-
dy, which he handed to Vic. He took several
swallows, and passed it to Wandaught, who,
in turn, handed it to the others. Seth took a
rather large quantity, for it was a long time
since he had tasted spirits. Summerfield ap-

. proached Viola, and compelled her to take a
small quantity, for he knew she needed it as
well as himself. After this it was returned to
the owner with its contents seemingly undimin-
ished. :

Carson, Vic, and Wandaught, remained on

 

duty during the night, while the others dis-
posed themselves as best they could.

Nothing of note occurred during the night.
Redzel kept his fire burning brightly, and
when some Indian approached and replenished
it, he seemed to be the only living object in
the neighborhood, so still and gloomy was
everything around. The camp-fire of Carson
could be seen until near morning, when it
died out. He and Vic remained in earnest
conversation the whole night, interrupted now
and then by quiet draughts from the friendly
flask that had served them once before. They
were old acquaintances and friends, and enjoy-
ed each other’s society as only two genuine
trappers can. Vannoven seemed to have en-
tirely lost all antipathy to the companionship
of his fellow-beings that he evinced when we
first made his acquaintance. The prospect of
the next day’s occurrences, added to the effects

of the flask referred to, made another person

of him.

Wandaught acted strangely. He sat at some
distance from them, hardly moving or speak-
ing through the whole night. He refused to
partake of the brandy, and seemed to wish
that he might be left entirely to himself.

Finally morning dawned upon them, and
there was a movement among the Indians be-
low. But as they beheld the forms upon the
rock, they concluded that all was right, and
sunk back again into a sort of half sluggish,
indifferent slumber. Redzel was not seen.

Summerfield was the first to arise. He
greeted Wandaught warmly, but receiving no
reply, approached and laid his hand familiarly
on his shoulder. The trapper turned and mut-
tered a good morning, then lay down upon the
spot where Summerfield had spent the night,
and in a few moments was asleep. Summer-
field passed on and greeted Vic and Carson,
each of whom returned his salutation with
much friendliness and pleasure.

A few minutes after, the Hoosier slowly
arose, and deliberately stretched his great
body, with a yawn that sounded like the groan
of some dying animal. His next movement
was to place his hand in his pocket for his old
friend the flask. Not finding it there, he
started, with the exclamation :

“Whar’s my gun?”

Hearing a laugh from Vic, he turned in that
direction, and received itfrom him. He man-
ifested no ill nature at having been deprived
of it, but merely took a strong pull, replacing
it in his capacious pocket, he stepped to the
wall, and leaning lazily over it, gazed down.

A few moments after, Summerfield felt a
hand laid upon his shoulder, and looking up,
saw the middle-aged man spoken of standing
by his side. There was a deathly paleness
upon his features, and his whole system was
terribly convulsed by emotion.

‘““What is her name ?” he asked, pointing
his quivering finger toward the sleeping form
of Viola. ‘

“Viola Vennond,” returned Summerfield.

“0 God! so I thought,” he added, turning
yet paler, as if fainting. Summerfield sprang
forward and caught him.

‘‘ What is the meaning of this? What is she
to you?” asked he, eagerly.

 
_

oe

THE RACE FOR LIFE. 57

‘« She is my daughter !” he returned, recover-
ing himself.

“How is this?” asked Summerfield, hardly
knowing what he said.

‘*Why plain enough. Iam her father.”

At this point Viola awoke. .

‘‘Ask her to come here,” said the man, in &
pleasing tone, at the samo time turning his
back toward her.

‘Viola, step this way a moment,” called
Summerfield. She tripped lightly forward,
her radiant form all aglow with pleasure.

«Tet me introduce you to your father.”

«* What is that?” \

Summerfield made no reply, for her. father
had tnrned his face toward her. Viola’s face
flushing a moment as she gazed bewilderingly
into his face, and the next instant she sprang
forward and was clasped in his arms. ‘Their
joy was too great for utterance, and their mu-
tual sobs were all that was heard. Summer-
field turned away, not wishing to interfere
with or interrupt’such a scene, The others,
who had witnessed it, comprehended its mean-
ing, and showed their participation in their
pleasure by a respectful silence.

“Gosh amighty! what's the matter?” ques-
tioned Seth, starting up and gaping wonder-
ingly at them.

«The little one is dead, and he’s tryin’ to
revive her,” replied Vic, gravely.

«Here, you, you can’t do her any good that
way,” said Seth, earnestly, striving to separate
them. But Summerfield pulled him quietly to
one side and. admonished him to let them
alone.

As the father released the daughter, the
others removed their gaze, and permitted them
to seat themselves without being interrupted
by any rude stare of theirs. They remained
sented full an hour, engaged in earnest, thrill-
ing conversation. Viola related the whole
particulars of her life since their mutual sepa-
ration up to the present moment, not omitting
a single particular that she could recall. And
the father stated the _— incidents of his.
He had remained in Oregon a number of years,
succeeding better than he anticipated, until he
determined to send for his daughter to come
to him. He had sent for her, and hearing
nothing of her for a long time, made up his
mind to visit the States himself. When about
to start, he felt such a desire to leave the new
country he was in, and spend the remainder
of his days in his native state, that he dispos-
ed of his possessions and set out with that in-
tention. He accompanied a number of emi-

ts returning, discouraged and gloomy, to
their homes again: They proceeded s0 slowly,
that he could hardly restrain his impatience,
and gladly joined a couple of trappers who
overtook them one day. He had been with
¢hem but three days when he discovered his
long lost daughter. A short time more was
spent in conversation, when the father arose
and addressed the others. :

«« My friends, you will pardon this exhibition
of feeling which I have given, when I explain
it, Little did I dream last night, when I
reached this spot, that I had found my long-

 

lost daughter, whom I had not seen for years.
However, such was the fact, and a short time
since, for the first time, I was made aware of
it. I have not concealed the heavenly, the
perfect joy which it has given me. She has
told me the whole circumstances of the noble
interest you have manifested in her behalf, I
cannot thank you now as I should, but I will
assure you, Mr. Vannoven, Mr. Potter, and the
friend who lies sleeping there, that, when we
reach the States again, I will manifest my
gratitude in a more substantial way than by
bare naked thanks. And, Mr. Summerfield,
from the depths of my overflowing heart, I
thank you deeply, earnestly and fervently ;
for, to you four, under Heaven, is the preser-
vation of my daughter owing. Isee that you
meditate some immediate action. Let it not
be delayed longer, and let me assist you in car-
rying it out. Pray, say nothing,” he added,
as Summerfield and Vie were about to speak,
“T appreciate everything you have done, and
do not wish you to depreciate it, as seems your
intention.”

“But let me say,” persisted Summerfield,
“that I deserve no thanks. I have done
nothing. These three others have saved my
life and your daughter’s also.”

‘See here, Somefield,” interrupted Vic, «et
you tell ‘nuther such whopper as that, [ll
“ you headfust over fur the varmints down
thar.”

“T understand it all,” said Mr. Vennond,
smiling at these remarks.

“Tl do’t!” added Vic, with a threatening
motion of his head.

“Tt seems to me,” observed Seth, ‘that
it’s getting time to do something. The En-
gins down below, and Mr. Redzel, will get out
of patience.”

“Mr, who?” asked Vennond, with a start.

“Mr. Sam Redzel, the gentleman that’s
trying to cut me and Mr. Summerfield out of
your daughter’s affections.”

‘He is the one who has pursued her thus
far, and to whom she has referred, without
mentioning his name ?”

‘The same.”

‘‘T understand everything now. It was not
all love and passion that has led him to fol-
low you thus far. It was vindictive hatred,
revenge |”

‘What do you mean, father?” asked Viola,
earnestly,

“Never mind, darling. It is nota story for
your ears. At any rate not until Sam Redzel,
mee enemy, isdead. But go on, friends.

at is the intention, Carson?” __
ch ve're goin’ to make a rush down among

“Hallo! up thar!” came the voice of Red-
zel at this moment. Carson paused, and Vic
gazed down to see what was wanting.

“* Whar’s Jim Wandaught ?” he asked.
ae here. What do you want to know.

rp” ne

“T want to talk with him a moment.”

Accordingly Summerfield stooped and gen-
tly awoke Wandaught, and communicated tho
intelligence to him. d

 
 

etn,

58 ON THE PLAINS; OR,

CHAPTER XX.
THE PRESENTIMENT’S FULFILMENT.

As soon as Wandaught understood what was
wanted, he sprang without hesitation upon the
wall, his fine muscular form standing out in
relief against the sky.. Seth, out of curiosity,
looked over, and seeing that Redzel held his
rifle in his hand, whispered :

“Jim, make him drop that gun before you
talk to him.”

** You'd better do’t,” added Vic.

‘‘Sartainly, friend, don’t stand that,” joined
Carson, and Summerfield also said :

‘‘For Heaven’s sake, Wandaught, don’ run
into such danger as that.” ’

But Wandaught, instead of receiving these
friendly warnings as he would at any other
time, appeared slightly touched and displeas-
ed thet all should offer advice to him, and,
without following their entreaties, simply re-
turned: ‘Sam won't do nothin’ mean to me.”

The others said nothing more, and the trap-
per turned his face toward Redzel, and de-
manded :

“Wal, Sam, what you want of me ?”

*¢ Jim, I wants to ax one favor.”

‘Wal, out with it ; if I kin give it, I will.”

“In the fust place, me and you are old
friends, ain’t we?”

‘In course, and I hope wé allers will be.”

‘*We've been together considerable ?”

“That's a fact, and. I’ve done you some good
turns, hain’t 1?” p

«Yeah ; and I've allers felt good ’eal of grat-
ertude fur it.”

“ Glad to hear it.”

** And I don’t want to quarrel with yer, Jim,
nuther.” S

“Nor me with you; but'what’s yer favor
you’ve been talkin’ ’bout?”

‘Wal, Jim, bein’ you’n me are such fast
friends, I want to ask yer if you won’t do yer
best to put that gal and Crooked Pegs in my
hands! Cuss it! Im tired of waitin’; I
mought as well had her the last two, three days
and nights I’ve been here.”

There was a suppressed laugh from those
behind Wandaught when they heard this. He
answered :

‘*Sam, I want ter ax yer one favor.”

“Wal, what is it, my ole friend ?”

‘“‘T don’t want yer to ever ax me that agin.”

‘Why don’t yer want that ax’d?”

‘«’Cause it won’t do no good.”

‘s What, won’t yer grant me that little favor ?”

‘‘ Why, Sam, would it be the right thing?”

‘‘ Ay’ yer goin’ ter grant it ?” he interrupted,
impetuously.

“T told you no, fur if I did—”

Wandaught’s words were interrupted at this
point by the sharp crack of a rifle, and, pla-
cing his hand to his breast, he stepped qui-
etly down, saying :

«‘T'm done for, boys

As they saw the deathly ghastliness of his
face, and the crimson blood dribbling through
his fingers, they understood all. Summerfield
sprang forward, and, catching him in his arms,
asked what he knew was the truth :

“My God! Wandaught, are you shot?”

Shad

 

“Yas; I’ve got my last shot; but don’t
make any fuss over it. It can’t be helped.”

‘And the trapper, refusing all assistance,
seated himself upon his blanket, and reclin-
ing a second, finally lay down with one hand
beneath his head, as though he were sleeping.
During the movement, a sharp cloud of pain
brushed over his features, and his hand was
displaced from the wound in his breast. A
streaming gush of blood bubbled out when it
was removed, and he vainly endeavored to
stay it. Vennond and Summerfield sprang
forward and did their best to assist him.

The two closed hands, and each turned their
heads. Vannoven never saw him again in this
world. He stepped away, carefully shading
his face, but his herculean strength and will
could not conceal his terrible emotion.

‘And now, Vily, a good-by to you. I have
died for you, but I would die agin a hundred
times for such a dear, sweet, little creature.
Once in a while think of old Wandaught, when
he’s gone, and when you git up above ax to
see me the fust one. Good-by.”

‘*Good-by. Oh!—”

She could say no more, but returned the
strong grasp of the rough hand that held hers.
Her eyes were full of scalding, blinding tears.
She felt the pressure suddenly increase, and as
she cleared her vision, she gazed into Wan-
daught’s eyes.. And thus, with their eyes upon
cach other, without the slightest stir, except
from one or two sobbing around, or a word
from any one, the soul of the trapper departed.

Departed, we fondly believe, for a better
region than it left. Had Jim Wandaught been
as are generally those of his class—had he de-
ferred calling upon his Maker until the
eleventh hour, we might doubt it. But it was
not thus with him, Little did he know of God
and his attributes, as we understand him ; neyer
since a mere child had he visited a house of
worship ; yet, in the great wilderness, with no
human being near, he had seen and felt an in-
visible Power, and his simple heart had gone
up in earnest adoration. - In the silent mid-
night hour he had lain and watched the gor-
geous constellations of Heaven, and felt that
the same Power held them in their places. In
the wild perils of his life, something told him
that his preservation was due to no strength
of his own; and the memory of a sainted
mother, that had told him, away back in the
sinless days of childhood, of a wonderful re-
gion of happiness that he might visit at some
time, had neverbeen forgotten. His hand had
more than once been restrained by no will of
his own, and the gentle voice of conscience
was ever heard. And we repeat, that we be-
lieve his spirit is at this moment within that
glorious clime.

Summerfield and Vennond were the only
ones beside Viola who saw him die. She did
notrealize it, and looked up inquiringly to her
father, as she saw how filmy and glassy Wan-
daught’s eyes had become. i

‘He is dead,” he answered softly. —

Then she gently lifted his head from her
lap, and Summerfield and her father ‘carried

the inanimate form to the wall, and there de-

positing him tenderly upon his blanket, cover-
ed his form with another, and, without speak-

 

 
THE RACE FOR LIFE. 59

ing, turned to Carson and Vannoven to see
what was to be done next. The latter had
choked back his grief, and there was a terrible
calmness upon his features. ;

‘Sam Redzel must pay for that,” he replied,
in atone that was awful from deep meaning.
He then turned to Carson and conversed in a
half-whisper for a moment, and it was evident
from their appearance that they had agreed
upon the course to pursue. me

During this time, Seth stood with his arms
folded over the muzzle of his rifle, gazing
stoically at the covering of Wandaught. Sud-
denly he turned around and spoke : i

«Boys, I've one favor to ask of you. Jim
was my friend. Sam Redzel has killed him,
and swore thathe’ll have my life too. The first
chance you see to shoot that viper, let me
know. Let me do it, and that will be all I
ask.”

All promised that his wish should be grati-
fied. On the side of the wall toward the say-
ages were several orifices that were large
enough to admit the barrel of a rifle, yet they
were so irregular, and the wall was of such
thickness, that the position of the gun could
be raised but slightly. They had been con-
structed, it seemed, for the purpose of firing
upon an enemy at some distance. As the say-
ages were now congregated, they stood before
this, and at the very point where a shot could
be made to reach them. The Hoosier placed
himself before one of the apertures and gazed
intently upon them. It was hardly five min-
utes before he turned and exclaimed :

‘«Ha’r’s yer chance !.”

Seth sprang forward and peered through.
There, directly before his vision, he saw Sam
Redzel standing and pointing toward the rock,
and gesticulating madly, as though giving di-
rections to his savage allies. With hardly the
slightest quiver, he pushed his rifle through,
and, dropping upon his knee, took deliberate
aim at the villain’s breast. Every breath was

held as his finger pressed the trigger. Seth fired | gr

quickly, and waited to see its effect. His nerves,
in spite of his forced calmness, were somewhat
unsteady, and the shot was not as good as he
expected.

Yet it was mortal! As the smoke cleared
away, he saw Redzel stagger a moment, fling
his arms wildly above him, and, with a half
howl and shriek, and an awful oath, pitch for-
ward upon his face! He saw this, as did the
others, and, with a calmness that was certainly
singular, to say tho least, he drew his rifle
forth, and turning to Vannoven, said, in tones
scarcely loud enough to be heard : ‘

“T’ve killed him! What are you going to
do next?” : ie ;

«We're goin’ to kill the rest,” returned Vic.
««Sposen we imbibe, friend.” i

The Hoosier produced his exhaustless flask,
and each took a long draught. Vannoven then
stepped to the opposite side, and, with the as-
sistance of Carson, rolled a large stone from its
place. This done, he spoke :

«We must hop down thar and make a rush.
See that yer knives and shootin’ irons are
ready.” i 5 G

All signified their readiness, and, without
more i Vic dropped silently to the earth.

 

Then came Carson, followed by Gavin, Van-
nond, Seth, and Summerfield. The latter
paused a moment to speak to Viola. He as-
sured her that the deciding blow had been
given in the death of Redzel, and they were
going to but finish the work, and that there
was no fears of the result. He then leaped
over.

_ The leadership, by mutual consent, had been
given to Carson. He stood as calm and col-
lected as though he were no avenger! Gazing
around upon each, he spoke in that low musical
voice of his.

“See that all is right. Blaze away as soon
as you see em. Now!” ;

As he uttered the last word, he bounded
away, and almost simultaneously six human
forms shot around the rock, six rifles were
discharged, and as many savages rolled writh-
ing in their own blood! Then, like as many
crazed animals, they bounded over the inter-
vening ground, and in an instant were among
their enemies raging like lions over their prey.

The battle was short, but so terrible that no
pen can describe it. The savages, instead of
withdrawing upon the fall of their leader, main-
tained their ground with determined obsti-
nacy ; and, at the moment the six whites
but upon them, were preparing for another
attempt to dislodge the fugitives. The on-
slaught of the latter was so sudden that it was
fatal. They were thrown into confusion, yet,
in spite of it, made a bold stand, and struggled
with the fury of desperation.

And thus it was contested, and thus it wag
gained. No earthly power could have with-
stood that charge of the whites. Seth Potter
was so insane with excitement that he could
never recall the slightest incident of the fight
after hearing the command of Kit Carson. He
grasped a savage tho first one, and slew him ag
he would an infant, then sprang into the air
with a yell, and brandishing his rifle over hig
head, leaped upon another and bore him tothe .
ound. Thus he fought, impelled by the un-
controllable passion that was burning him up.

Vannoven and Summerfield remained side by
slde, and fought with more coolness than any,
yet there was a fierceness about their moye-
ments that never before possessed them.

The Hoosier went at it like some ponderous
machine, working wildly from the excess of
power that was driving him forward. He
Scemed to push instead of strike, and pull in-
stead of jerk, yet no obstruction or impediment
could avail against his irresistible strength.
He appeared actually at times to crush and
break the Indians in two! And all the time
his huge jaw continued regularly closing upon
an enormous mouthful of tobacco, and once or
twice he ejected large. quantities of juice in the
face of his struggling victim !

ic Vannoven, for the time being, was a de-
mon in his fury. The first blow he made, he
drove his knife through and through the body
of an Indian ; and, as it slipped from his oe
he wheeled around and brought a blow wi
such force in the face of another, that it was
absolutely crushed to a jelly! A terrific kick
sent another a dozen feet, doubled up like a
knot in his agony ; and as he drew his other
knife, he plunged deliriously at the others,

 
 

60 ' ON THE
His simple grasp appeared sufficient to mash
the very bones of his enemies, and not a
savage could stand for an instant before the
raging madman.

And yet Kit Carson, the small, gentlemanly
agent at Santa Fe, performed more incredible
wonders than this! There was not the wild
impetuosity in his movements that character-

* ized those of Vannoven ; but there was an in-
conceivable celerity and quickness, more fatal
in in its results than his. He fought with a
knife in either hand, leaping in every direction
with an agility that was astonishing, and un-
equalled by the others.

There is a feat that is sometimes performed
by the trappers in the West upon horseback,
yet few indeed are those who ever acquire the
necessary dexterity to accomplish it. The
trapper, in making his charge, takes a knife
in each hand, and, lowering his head, urges
his horse directly between two savages, and in
the passage slays them both! Very few in-
deed can do this, and yet Kit Carson did it on
foot? At two separate times he slew two of
his enemies at the same instant.

Such terrible slaughter could not last long.
In a few moments the remaining savages broke
and fled. Hight only were able to avail them-
selves of this resource, and it availed ye#no-
thing. As they leaped away, they were fol-
lowed by Carson, the Hoosier, and Vannoven,
who slaughtered them ag they ran!

Summerfield, Vennond and Seth halted and
drew breath as they saw not an Indian upon
his feet. All were stretched before’ them,
either dead or dying!

When they had rested, Summerfield arose
and gazed after his companions ; but the pur-
suit of the Indians had carried them beyond
his sight, and he proposed to the others to
await their return upon the rock. As they
were starting, Seth said :

“Boys, I don’t see that Redzel around here.
Can’t be he’s run off with the others, and if
he hasn’t, where is he!”

They examined each form, and true enough
indeed was it that Redzel was gone! All were
puzzled to account for this. Seth, in his opin-
ion of the villain, really believed the Evil One
had assisted him bodily away. Summerfield,
indeed, feared that Redzel had escaped, and
that all trouble with him was not yet over.

Full of these feelings, the three approached
the rock. Viola stood waiting them, and had
witnessed all of the fearful contest. She had
seen the fight of the savages and the pursuit,
and knew that none of her friends had been
slain. Yet the awful groans that reached her
ears, and the terrible scenes she saw, prevent-
ed anything like a joyous feeling. She indeed
was glad that the savages had been routed,
but mourned deeply that it was accomplished
by annihilation only.

As Summerfield passed around the rock, he
recoiled with shivering horror at the sight that
met his gaze. There, stretched upon the earth,
lay the still gasping form of Redzel! He was
bleeding profusely from the wound that Seth
had given him. He had stopped the flow with
his hand until he reached the rock, against

which he crept! hoping to die without being

seen by any one. Singularly enough, his

PLAINS; OR,

wound was nearly in the same place as Wan-
daught’s, varying enough only to prolong his
torture. His hands and clothes were dabbled
in his blood, and there was a ghastly horror in
his appearance that was awful!

As his rolling eyes met those of the others,
a sudden pang of the acutest torture shot over
his features. All feelings of hatred or revenge
were driven from the hearts of the observers
as they gazed upon this sickening spectacle.
Summerfield felt for the miserable wretch, and
ow and askgl, in a sympathizing

one :

“Can I do anything for you, Redzel?”

He made a strong effort to speak, but his
mouth was too full of blood, and only a gur-
gling moan escaped him. He, however, mo-
tioned feebly with his left hand for Summer-
field to remove his right, which was lying be-
neath him. He raised him tenderly, and as
he pulled the hand forth, the dying wretch,
gathering his strength, struck savagely at the
breast of his friend, passing so close as to cut
his garment! Seeing that he had failed, he fell
back, with a half-uttered oath that sent the
blood from his mouth in every direction, and
gave up in despair.

‘* Kill the infernal snake!” exclaimed Seth,
clubbing his rifle, and raising it to brain him
upon the spot. Summerfield caught his arm.

‘«You are saved that trouble. He is dead!”

‘‘He is with his Maker,” said Vennond, sol-
— ‘*We have nothing more to do with

im. ”» .

They then ascended the rock, where Viola
was anxiously awaiting them. She had seen
Redzel crawling painfully toward, and had
known, although she could not witness, that
he had died near her.

As they reached the top of the rock, they
looked out, and far away could see Vannoven
returning. But he was alone, on horseback,
and leading four others. This occasioned
much wonderment, and none could account
for it, except by the supposition that Carson
and his companion were returning at some
distance behind. But when Vic reined up be-
neath them, no other person was in sight.

‘*Where’s Carson and Gavin?” asked Sum-
merfield, looking down upon him.

‘Half way to Independence by this time.
Kit came ’cross some fellers, who said he war
wanted most blastedly out thar, and he ’cluded
to start without waitin’ for us.”

In the attack there had been a stampede of
the animals belonging to the Indians, and
they were flying over the prairie in every di-
rection. The Hoosier secured a couple, upon
which he and Carson continued their pursuit.
Vic also secured one, upon which he was ena-
bled to capture several others, and with which,
as has been shown, he returned.

‘« Well,” continued Summerfield, ‘how soon
shall we leave ?”

‘* Right off.”
ane must bury Wandaught, you know,

At this Vic dismounted, and, securing his
animals, ascended the rock. ‘The form of the
dead trapper was then lifted and borne gently
down, followed by Viola. After a few minutes

 

consultation, it was determined to bury him

 

|

 

 
fi is

&

 

 

THE RACE FOR LIFE. 61

within a few feet of where he had been slain.
Accordingly all set to work, and with much
labor, scooped out a grave sufficiently deep to
contain him. Into this he was placed, and,
while the others bowed their heads in sorrow
and reverence, Summerfield knelt and uttered a
petition to high Heaven. ‘This done, they
commenced covering his body, and, as in a
few minutes it was hid from their sight, not
one could repress the tears that rose to his
eyes. Not a word was spoken as the earth
was packed over him, and when finished they
turned toward Vannoven.

“Now git on,” said he, ‘‘and let’s leave
this place.”

‘Wait a minute,” said Summerfield, ‘let
us give Redzel a burial also. We shall never
regret it.”

As he spoke, he passed around the base of
the rock, and the others instinctively followed.
Vic gave a perceptible start when he saw the
frightful appearance the dead body presented.
Allset to work vigorously, and in a short time
another grave was dug, into which Vennond
and Summerfield deposited the form of Red-
zel. Neither Seth nor Vic would touch it.

And now occurred a most singular and un-
accountable circumstance. Just as they step-
ped back to throw the earth again into the
grave, all were startled by hearing the angry
warning of the rattlesnake.

«Jump, boys,” called Vic, ‘‘thar he comes!”
Albsprang away, and as they gazed back they
saw a monstrous rattlesnake, uearly black in
its hue, and whose swelling body seemed
covered with glittering scales, slowly gliding
from beneath the rock, and, with head erect,
approaching them! All ran a short distance,
and stood ready to shoot the reptile, and yet
pausing through some peculiar feeling that
took possession of them. What was their hor-
ror at seeing the animal, instead of coming
nearer, suddenly dart into the grave of Red-
zel and coil himself around the body! They
approached him, and he gave a warning rattle
again, rearing his head in rage ; but, without
waiting, the others fired, sending several bul-

— lets through its neck and head. The contor-
tions of the snake, though terrible, did not

_ remove his body, and when he gasped out his
life he was still lying upon the breast of
Redzel. ; :

«‘ Bury them together,” said Seth, ‘they're

ood companions.”

«The idea is too horrible,” replied Sum-
merfield, placing the point of his rifle beneath
the reptile and flinging him forth. The ani-
mal was dead, yet there was an involuntary
motion in several parts of the body, and, as if
to add unearthly horror to the scene, Seth af-
firmed that it resembled Redzel’s dying move-

ents ! ;

a This unpleasant duty finished, the com-
any now made ready to take their leave of a
place that had been so prolific with misery to
them. No prayer was said over Redzel, for
Summerfield felt ty it would have been
ery to attempt it.
~~. now near noon, and, without waiting
to partake of any food, the company were
soon en roule for the States. Vic had found a
good quantity of meat among the savages,

 

which he hesitated not to appropriate to the
use of his friends, so that there was nothing
to fear in that direction.

When they departed, they turned their
backs upon a heart-sickening scene. Scatter-
ed over a large surface of the prairie, were
lying over a score of bodies, cut and mangled
im every conceivable manner! There they
were to lie until torn asunder by fierce animals,
or until they had rotted beneath the blazing
sun and chilly weather!

—_—-.

CHAPTER XXL
THE CONSUMMATION.

_ Waar more is to be said? To all good sto-
ries there is a happy end—says the proverb.
Perhaps it is so : at least, we shall not say it
is not so, even if by saying this we claim that
our story is a good one. For, what could come
out of these perils, these races for life, these
episodes of hunter's life, and of heart-life, if
not a happy consummation ?

A few episodes, and all is told.

‘Viola, do you remember a little talk we
once had, under not quite so favorable cireum-
stances?”

‘Oh! yes, we had a great many pleasant
chats, for all our situation was not as we might
have wished,” she replied, blushing slightly,
and pretending not to comprehend him.

«That is true; but I refer to that one in the
cave.”

«When we made our way out. I don’t think .
it was very pleasant.” :

‘*No, no; you little witch. I mean when we
were all alone, and I asked you whether you
would be my wife, and you said you would
some day. Don’t remember that, I suppose ?”

‘‘Let me see,” she repeated slowly and re-
flectively, as though endeavoring to call up
some forgotten circumstance, and yet unable
to repress a smile at Summerfield’s quizzical
appearance. Ah! there was no danger of her
forgetting that conversation. He waited a
second, and then catching her impulsively in
his arms, he added:

“You remember well enough; but it doesn’t
make much difference whether you do or not.
I do, and, of course, will hold you to your
promise,”

i Then releasing her, and imprinting a warm
iss Upon a warmer i i
aaa my er cheek, he continued, in an

‘Viola, your father has given me his con-
sent, and you have, To-day I shall leave for
home, and if I find my sister alive and well—
as God grant I may—I shall visit your home

and claim you at once. A:

soon hear from me, oS See

: At this point, the little foolish creature went

io crying. a few moments, however, she

anise up, ae beautiful than re and

ough her sparkling tear d :

‘* You will come, will’ you ?” : . .
“I guess so,” returned Summerfield, giving

another burning kiss, which was returned.
Shortly after, they were joined by Vennond,

 
 

ON THE PLAINS; OR,

_ who understood everything, and laughed and
joked them greatly, wondering what had
grieved Viola so much, and made Summerfield
so aglow with pleasure. And Viola tried to
pout and couldn't to save her life, and at last
Bieatierfield laughingly bade them good-by
and departed, he for Eastern Missouri, they
for Louisiana.

* * * * * oe * *

In the morning, Summerfield, accompanied

by his sister, set out for Louisiana, and reach-
ed the residence of Viola the next day. As
might be supposed, she and Marian were
ardent friends at once. There was a great
deal of unimportant tall, as there always is at
such times, and at last the great wedding day
was fixed by Marian and Viola.

And of the wedding it is perhaps useless to
speak. Hundreds of others are daily taking
place which are as much as was thisone. The
nuptials were celebrated at Viola’s residence.
Vic Vannoven, the hardy trapper, and Seth the
eccentric fellow, were two important person-
ages who were present. The former, at first,
was embarrassed by the gorgeous splendor of
the scene; but the others understood his
nature, and succeeded in making him feel per-
fectly at home. He grew very loquacious,
declaring that Viola ‘‘ war as purty as a young
beaver,” and Summerfield, ‘‘wal, thar, he
allers thought he’s a blasted fine chap.” Prob-
ably the excellent wine had some effect upon
him, for, before the company broke up, at
Seth’s suggestion, he performed for the com-

THE

 

THE RACE FOR LIFE.
pany a genuine Sioux war dance, without
omitting a single howl or yell, and ended the
matter by hugging Viola somewhat after the
fashion of a grizzly bear, and kissing her eyes!
His performance created much merriment, for
they all knew his rough but generous nature.
Seth never remembered that he himself had
once entertained a tender feeling for Viola ;

but joined in the proceedings with a gusto ©

and heartiness equal to the trapper. He exe-
cuted some marvellous gyrations in the dances
he undertook, and showered his congratula-
tions upon every one he spoke to. Nothing
occurred to mar the pleasure of the evening,
except an inadvertent remark of Vannoven’s
that, ‘‘ ef Jim war thar, thar’d be a tall time,
no mistake.” This brought a tear to more
than one eye. ‘

Summerfield has just informed us that Van-
noven has consented to give up his trapping
life after one more journey. He says the plains
have too many whites upon them, and the
overland mail is spoiling the countzy, and
there is not enough of beaver to pay for the
trouble. He starts upon his journey in a few
weeks, so that if our readers wish to know his
whereabouts, they may conclude that, by the
time this concluding chapter reaches them, he
is somewhere up among the Rocky mountains,
pursuing his exciting and dangerous vocation.
Summerfield ‘has. informed him that he is go-
ing to be in the newspapers, and he intends
returning as soon as possible to see how his
name looks in print.

END,

 

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AMERICAN TALES
THE PEOPLE’S TEN CENT SERIES.

Srxciarr Tousey, as Agent for the Publishers, has arranged for the issue of a series
of Original and highly Popular Stories, under the title of THE AMERICAN TALES,
to comprise the works of the Best Authors in the field of Border and Indian Romance,
and in the romance of the War. Each issue will be complete, printed in large octavo
form, with beautifully illustrated covers, and will contain in quantity more than any
book now offered for-its price, TEN CENTS.

The lover of good books will find in this enterprise Just those works best designed for
the camp, the fireside, and the office, and which in price, in beauty of typography and
quantity of matter will defy competition.

pa 1. VOW READY.

ON THE PLAINS:

| OR, THE RACE FOR LIFE.
A STORY OF ADVENTURE AMONG THE BLACK HILLS.

 

This fine romance reads like a transcript from life as it really i is. It is silanes in ifs inci-
dents of hunters’ and trappers’ experience, of Indian life and warfare, and of Love, for there is a
woman in the case, around whom centres a novel interest. It is one of the -best border stories yet

produced for the some public.
————_ + +o

1? 2. In Press.

THE BORDER SPY;

me BEAUTIFUL CAPTIVE OF THE REBEL CAMP:

A STORY OF THE WAR.

BY LIBUT. CoOL. HAZELTINE,
: Formerty Carr. Co. A, Farmown's Guanp,

 

: The title of this fine story implies its chatacter es is a very exciting novel of the wav in the

_ Osage Country, in which the author has introduced the Rebel General Price and other celebrated
characters, as well as a Delaware Indian, who plays a leading part in the incidents. The boots"as &
eae pee Pt cover prneng, is one of the most cee ever produced in this country.

THe sexi OF THE COLORADO HILLS:
at i. ROMANCE OF THE PAMPAS. ie 2

BY WM. H: BUSHNELL.

ey ~

$ hiv i is a peculiar but very striking story of the Texan Pampas. - It introduces gus: e wild
‘Tife’ of the Plains, to the great cattle droves of the herdsmen, to the savage Comai Fi , and
to the strange being, the Hermit of the Hillls—a character not “es fictitions. There i is also

in the story, as @ leading feature, the element of female interest. Altogether, the romanee is one of
its, Pe popular author's best productions, and will give general satisfaction.

SINCLAIR TOURS Publishers’ Agent,
‘121 WMSSAU STREET, WV. ¥.

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