4

NATHAN TODD;

THE FATE OF THE SIOUX CAPTIVE.

EDWARD S. ELLIS.

LONDON:

GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS,
THE BROADWAY, LUDGATE.

 
 
 
 
 

 
 

 
 

 

 

 
  
 

 

  

NATHAN TODD:

A SEQUEL TO “BILL BIDDON.”

CHAPTER I.
IN WHICH THERE IS A CROSS AND A CROWN.

* WzLL, here I am, at last, alone in the woods! and it’aa
wonderful adventure I’ve started upon, too! I, Nathan Todd,
of Lubec, have come to the determination to make a search
for Irene Merment, who like enough died ten years ago! No
one believes she is living besides me; and what am I going
to hunt her up for? As true asI live, I believe I Wve her;
and if she is ever found Ill offer myself to her.

“T flatter myself I have an extended reputation in these
parts, and my acquaintance is very considerable ; and, although
it's myself who says it, my moral character stands as high as
any of the people hereabouts. I know my motives are good ©

in remaining here. Relmond has found himself a wife, and I |

don’t see why I can’t. And if I do, won’t that Sarah Almina
feel bad when she finds it out? I know she wanted to get
me off here, so she could marry that Bill Hankins. I reckon
the shoe will be on tother foot when she sees me back in
Lubee with a wife and plenty of children, and the hundreds
of friends that I shall gather around me.” 5

Thus commented Nat Todd, as the last sound of the
steamer, which bore away William Relmond and Imogene
Merment, reached his ears. He stood in the midst of that vast
forest which stretches away to the west of the Missouri river
The words recorded will give an idea of the cause that led him

 

  
     
       
       
     
   
   
    
 
 
    
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
     
   
   
   

9

8 : NATHAN TODD.

to this course. During his stay among the Indiana of the
Northwest, he had often conversed with Imogene Merment,
the captive, in regard to her lost sister. Although she believed
that the latter was lost forever, yet the probability of her yet
living was such as to strengthen Nat in the determination
to make a search for her on his own responsibility. The only
clue to guide him was the suspicion of Imogene that the cap-
tors of her sister had proceeded westward to Oregon. From
the fact that she had never seen any Indians similar in dress
since that time, and from the recollection she entertained of
them, she gathered this impression,

“Let me see,” mused Nat, as he walked slowly along.
“Here I am on the banks of the Yellowstone, and Oregon is
quite a little distance away. I might have taken that steamer,
I s’pose, for some considerable ways, but I don’t s’pose it con-
nects with any railroad further up, so I wouldn’t have gained
so much after all. And it ain’t certain that Irene is in Oregon
yet, and I wish to make inquiries of the neighbors along the way.
I think I might pass for a redskin very well. That looks fine,
and no doubt would impress Irene with awe, if she should see
it,” continued Nat, taking off his plumes and surveying them;
“but they don’t fit my head so well, after all, as the old gray
hat I bought up in Lubec, one Fourth of July, and I’m afraid I
can never get along with these things. However, they must

_ answer till I get better ones; and it’s time I was moving.”

_ So saying, our hero replaced his plumes and walked slowly
away in the forest. He had evidently decided upon the
execution of some darling plan, for his face expanded into a
broad smile, and his steps were lively and animated. The
direction which he took was such as to lead him to the “ Death
Rock,” from which he had started the morning before. The
day was one of the most beautiful of the year. The appear-
ance of the vast mountains and prairies of the Northwest in
summer far surpasses that of the more settled portions of our
country. The change from the intense cold and stillness of
winter to the animated glory of spring is wonderful. The
snow disappears as if by magic, the ice-bound rivers break up
with a crash like thu shock of an earthquake, the naked trees
commence budding and blooming, and in a few weeks tne
country is transformed into a teeming Paradise - The nir is

 

   

 
—

 

 

 

 

 

 

“DEATH ROCK. es q
jarkened Ivy the flocks of birds circling overhead, the streama
are alive with the flashing trout and thousands of other fish,
and the vast droves of buffaloes may be seen sporting on the
plains or thundering forward in innumerable herds.. Now and
then immense numbers of horses may be seen, careering gayly
oyer the prairie, as free and joyous as the wind. ‘The forest
arches eclio with the notes of birds and the scream of the wild
animal, while myriads of the beaver and otter are hard st
work in the different streams, AlJl is changed as if by
enchantment.

Such an appearance did tbe forest present as Nat Todd
made his way through it. His sense of the beautiful was
limited, and the bewildering scene around he took as. ..atter
of course. It couldn’t well be otherwise, and so he judged it
best not to get excited over it. Once or twice he came in
view of an antelope that circled around him in.the woods, as
if in sport. Finally, becoming too reckless, it fell a victim to
his rifle. ; ¢

“You might ’ve knowed better than to cross Nat Todd’s
path, for he is a dangerous man, and it’s nothing short of
suicide to get before his rifle. Bill Biddon could have told
you that. I don’t feel very sorry, as I am amazingly hungry.”

As it was about noon, he halted and cut the choicest por-
tion from the antelope for his dinner. This was toasted over
t fire; he made a hearty meal from it, and in a short time he
was on his journey again. s

Just as darkness was settling over the forest, he reached the
‘Death Rock,” and crept into its dismal recesses, The night
was cold, and he started a fire, although it was as much to
cheer the gloomy place as to afford him any warmth. As the
plaze flamed up on the rocky floor, it lightened up many a
dark nook, and threw fantastic shadows into the forbidding
rents that yawned around. Here and there,a ghastly skull or
bone gleamed in the firelight, and in some places the skeletons
had been almost undisturbed by the ravenous beasts) As Nat
lit his pipe and gazed around him, his thoughts brought more
than one shudder to him. It seemed he could see the doomed
Indians clustered together on that fatal day, when the last one
defended the entrance against the relentless besiegers. He
could fancy the sullen, despairing gleam as the solitary savage

 
8 NATHAN TODD.

gazed behind him and saw his dead companions, and himself
the last remnant of his tribe; the lofty, heroical countenance
as the warrior folded his own arms in death; the yells of
baffied fury, as the besiegers poured into the cavern and found
not a victim left them; and finally, the last scene of all, when
the wolves swarmed into the cavern and completed the terri-
ble work. The human bones, strewn for many feet from the
Rock, showed what a wild carnival the beasts of prey had
held over their unwonted feast.

But the night had not far advanced when this gloomy pic-
ture faded from our hero’s imagination. An hour’s comfort
from his soothing pipe made him drowsy and forgetful, and he
was falling off into slumber, when he was aroused by hearing
a deep growl near him. Starting up, he saw several eyeballs
glowing in the darkness at the entrance of the cave, and could
detect more than one pai¥ of jaws gleaming and snapping
together. Without changing his position, he raised his rifle
and sent its contents among them, There were several sharp
yelps, a confused scafnpering, and the next instant the passage
was still as death.

“ Positively, no admittance under any pretense whatever,”
said Nat, as he arose and passed to the mouth of the cave.
“Pve camped here before, and never like to be disturbed, so
T'll just close the door. Hello! hit you, did I?”

This exclamation was caused by stumbling over the dead
body of a wolf which had fallen in the entrance. It was of
the species termed the “mountain wolf”—the largest and
most dangerous kind found in the West. Nat rolled it out-
side, where it was seized in an instant by its unfeeling com-
panions, and in a half-hour nothing was left of the unfortunate
anima except a few shiny bones, over which the others
wrangled for a much longer time. Nat, with a great deal of
labor, rolled a huge rock to the entrance, effectually barring it
against all except human intruders, and then returned to the
fire. Here, instead of wrapping himself up in his blanket and
lying down at once, he seated himself as if engaged in deep
thought. He remained a long time, gazing dreamily into the
embers before him, until, as was his habit, he commenced
talking to himself.

“There’s no use of thinking about it, for it’s so, just aa

   

 

 

 
   
 

WHY NAT PRAYED. ot

plain as was them wolves’ eyes awhile ago. Bill Relmond
used to pray every night and morning, and he’s gone through
ali safe, and got a wife in the bargain. That Imogene 4sed
to pray, and appeared to be always thinking about heaven and
the angels—that [ll bet are just like her—and she’s got a hus.
band. Bili Biddon used to swear like blazes sometimes, but I
know I once heard him ask the Lord to take care of him,
Well, here's me, Nat Todd, going on one of the greatest tramps
that was ever invented, and if anybody wants taking care of
it’s this same Nat Todd, and it ain’t noways likely the —
will take any notice of me unless I ask him to, So Til dot
T'll pray to him every morning and night.” &

This good resolution arrived at, Nat did not hesitate to put
it into execution. Kneeling on the rock, he spent a time in
eurnest oe and when finished, laid down at once to
slumber.

Several times he partly woke, as the snarling wolves fought
and tugged at the rock which blocked up their way; but he
did not arise, as he felt secure. When the light of morning
streamed into the cave, the brutes departed.

Not forgetting his morning devotion, he arose and made
ready to continue his journey. He had a portion of the ante-
lope sufficient to make a breakfast, and enough ammunition to
furnish him with all the food he would be likely to need for a
long time to come.

The weather still continued pleasant; and with buoyant
spirits he descended the mountain in a direction toward the
lake where he had first encountered Relmond, after his capture

- by the Indians.

“TJ wonder whether I'll find it,” he ised: “Tf I can get
that and a hoss, Tl be fitted out, and won’t care for any
thing else.”

He had seen as yet no signs of Indians, but proceeded with
extreme caution. During his stay among his tribe, he had
been allowed considerabie freedom, as has been shown; but,
now that Imogene had effected her escape, he knew a closer
surveillance would be kept over him in case he should unwit-
tingly come upon some of his captors.

“T wish I had a hoss!” he exclaimed for the twentieth
time. “I’m getting tired of this everlasting tramping. My
graciou3! what's them ?”

 
NATHAN ‘TODD.

As if in answer to his wish, he beheld, haidly a hundred
yards distant, two horses leisurely cropping the grass. A
second glance showed both to be furnished with Indian saddles
and bridles, though they were much scratched and disarranged
from their passage through the woods and undergrowth.

“T thank the Lord for that,” said Nat, earnestly; “it’s a
special providence that both are saddled, as I don’t like riding
bareback. When one get’s tired of carrying me, the other can
take a turn. Ah! they’re the two hosses that Relmond told
me got away from him and Imogene the other night. Yes!
there’s her pony, as sure as the world. Tve often seen her

‘with him. I must get him!”

With this, he proceeded to capture the Indian pony, which,
in reality, was the one once owned by Imogene. This was
exceedingly difficult, as the animal had already scented danger,
and stvod ready to bound away in an instant. But Nat was
equal to the difficulty, and at last seized the bridle and yaulted
into the saddle.

“Whoop !” he shouted, swinging his plumes over his head.
“Three cheers for Nat Todd !”

He had secured a prize indeed. His horse was a coal-black
pony, fiery and high-spirited, with clean, graceful limbs, and
of good bottom. He was obedient, too, under rein, and dashed
away as merrily as if he enjoyed himself as much as his
master.

“There’s only one thing more that I need, and I must
have that.”

Away his horse careered, as swift as the wind—now thun-
dering up some swell in the prairie, now plunging headlong
through the bushes, and then dropping into a walk as his path
led through the denser wood. Nat had left the mountaixz
which contained the “Death Rock,” and was journeying over
a well-timbered country, crossed by innumerable streams and
patches of prairie.

Late in the afternoon he reached the lake of which we have
spoken. Here he dismounted, and leading his horse a short
distance away, secured him, while he made a search for his
canoe. He found it just as it had been left. Sprirging into
it, he shot rapidly toward the opposite shore. It was a long
pull, and it required an hour to reach it. As the canoe grated

 

 
TWO OLD ACQUAINTANCES. 1

on the sand, he sprung out and hurried away a short distance,
when he halted beside an old rotten chestnut. His manner
was excited, and he breathed rapidly as he plunged his hand
into a rent inthe side. While feeling around in the darkness,
his eye suddenly sparkled with exultation, and he exclaimed:

“Tve got it! whoop! I’ve got it!”

And the next instant he hauled out into the light his—old
fur hat!

CO Ser) ERE
NAT’S FIRS? ADVENTURE,

“Yus, I've got it! I’ve got it!’ exclaimed our hero in
his joy. “ Nobody hasn’t disturbed it. There! that’s the last
of you!” he added, as he dashed his gaudy plumes to the
ground. Then, placing his own cool hat on his head, he con-
tinued, “ O-h-h-h! ain’t that nice !—Jerusalem !”

It was no wonder at all, that he uttered the last exclama-
tion, for, at the first turn in the walk he had commenced with
his recovered prize, his eyes encountered the chief of the very
tribe he had left! The savage was scarce a dozen feet distant, -
and had been watching him all the time. Nat recovered his
equanimity in an instant.

“How are you, Upsarena? Glad to see you—(no, I'll be
hanged if I am.) Hope you're well—(no, I don’t, either.)”

“The Long Knife hunts a great while!” replied the chief,
without noticing his words.

“Well, yes, twas quite a spell. Hope you haven’t been
anxious on my account.”

The chief gazed steadily at him a moment, and then said:

“The Long Knifé will go to the lodges of Upsarena.”

“ Wait, hold on you; I’ve left my—my—lI’ve left my pocket
000k on the other side of the lake, and must go get it.”

Before Upsarena could make a reply, Nat reflected that he
nad told a falsehood, and thus violated the vow he had made
the evening before. He resolved at once he wouldn't lie to
save his life. F

¥

 
 

    

NATHAN TODD.

“No, Upsarena, I haven't left my pocket-book, but I hay
tied my horse on the other side of the lake, and I would not
iike to go to your lodge without him, because he’s a hors¢
that'll make your eyes tingle.”

“The Long Knife had no horse when he sought the woods.’

“ But he found one there.”

The Indian gave our hero one of his piercing glances, and
the latter saw at once that he was disbelieved. :
“Upsarena will go in the search !” said the chieftain, quietly.

Now this was as much dreaded by Nat, and was the first
determination the chieftain had expressed, and how to rid him
self of his troublesome visitor puzzled him greatly. But he
was equal to the emergency. Fortunately, he had been so
‘excited in his hunt for his cherished hat, that he had left his
rifle with his horse on the opposite side of the lake. Without
waiting as long as it has taken us to record it, he answered:

“Come on, then, Upsarena, for it will soon be dark.”

He led the way, followed by the wary chieftain, who
watched him as if he suspected mischief: Nat, shoving the
canoe into the water, stepped in and seated himself in the for-
ward part, although by doing so he used the long paddle
at a considerable disadvantage. Upsarena seated himself ia
the stern with folded arms, and with his rifle resting on his
up-gathered knees,

The canoe sunk to its very gunwales under the combined
weight of the two, but Nat impelled it through the water with
wonderful velocity. His heart beat quicker, as he reflected
upon the expedient necessary to get rid of his troublesome com-
panion. Several times he thought of shooting him, as he sat
so grimly and complacently in the stern watching every moyc-
ment; but he was prevented by several reasons. The first was,
his soul revolted at the thought of such a murder, even though
it might add to his personal safety; the second reason was,
that if murderously inclined, he had no rifle with him; and
the last one was, that even if he possessed a weapon, he was
afraid to use it in the manner mentioned—all of which goes
to prove that Upsarena was in little danger of being shot at
present.

Now and then he glanced furtively over his shoulder, as he
neared the shore of the lake, while the grim chieftain remained

  
A SWIMMING MATOH. : 18

as stern and immovable as a statue. Hitherto the canoe had
glided as smoothly as a bird; but suddenly, when within a
hundred yards of the shore, it careened, capsized, and before
the wily savage suspected mischief, he was in the water swim-
ming for life. Just as the boat turned, Nat sprung to his fect |
and made a tremendous leap toward shore, striking out with
all his might to reach it before his companion. His stratagem
succeeded to acharm. The water, about ten feet in depth,
was so clear that the smallest object was distinctly visible on
the bottom. Before Upsarena could grasp his rifle it sunk.
Unwilling to lose it, he immediately dived for it. He saw it
glistening on the pebbly bottom, but failed to recover it the
first time, owing to the shortness of breath with which he
descended. A second effort was more successful, and he rose
to the surface with the cherished weapon in his hand. At
this instant our hero emerged from the water, and made some
“tall walking” for his horse.. He found the animal as he had
left him, loosed his halter, vaulted into the saddle and sped
away.
“@ood-by, Upsarena!” he shouted. “Remember me to the
folks up in your parts; and now and then remember Nat
Todd, and the nice swim you and he took together.”

But Nat’s exultation was premature; for, as the last word
escaped him, and he swung his hat over his head, several
rifles flamed from the forest behind him, and as many bullets
whizzed through the air in uncomfortable proximity to his
body.

“ Jerusalem! Who fired them ? That’s more than I bargained
for !”

The truth was, the upsetting of the boat had been witnessed
by three savages of Upsarena’s tribe who had been hunting
with him. They supposed it to be purely accidental, and
snowing there was no danger to either, stood and calmly
watched the struggles of the two in the water.. When Nat
emerged from the water and hwried up the bank, however,
their suspicions were aroused and they dashed after him.
When they came in view again, the audacious white was gal-
loping away, shouting and swinging his hat in the manner
described. Their suspicions were confirmed at once, and the
three fired, without waiting for their chief. The latter was

 
14 NATHAN TODD,

with them in a moment, and, brandishing his rifle over his head
furiously commanded the capture of the white man. Forget.
ting himself, Upsarena raised his own rifle, took aim and
pulled the trigger. But the click of the lock reminded him
that for the present his weapon was harmless.

“ His scalp must hang in Upsarena’s lodge at the rising of
the sun!” shouted the enraged warrior, bounding forward in
pursuit.

Nat, if he did not hear these words, guessed as much, and
judged it best not to dispute with the chieftain about the
matter.

“ Come, my hoss, Jet’s see what kind of stuff you’re made of.”

The pony, as if sensible of what was required, burst for-
ward like a thunderbolt, leaving the pursuers rapidly behind.
The lake lay at the foot of a mountain, and was fringed by
dense masses of undergrowth, together with numbers of trees
of considerable size. As Nat freed himself from this cover, he
* emerged upon a rolling prairie scores of miles in width, and

open, save that, at long intervals, it was interspersed with nar-
row groves of timber, which, in turn, bordered the streams _
crossing it.

Fortunately it was growing dark, and he felt that his
enemies could not trouble him much longer. Nevertheless,
he was not the man to remain in danger when the oppor-
tunity was afforded for escaping it. So he loosened the rein
and let his horse go. The last glimpse he cast behind him
showed him the dusky figures of the savages far in the rear on
a hill, standing together as if in consultation.

“JT thought you'd come to your senses,” he remarked, “and
not spend your breath in trying to catch what can’t be
caught.”

Feeling thus secure from danger, our hero drew his horse
down to a walk, and made his way leisurely forward. The
night was cold and windy. There was no moon; in a short
time the’ darkness became so heavy as to vail every thing in
almost impenetrable obscurity.

After journeying an hour more, he descended a sort of val-
ley, and found himself in the midst of a grove of cottonwoods.
The sound of running water showed him what sort of place

_he had come upon, and he decided at once to camp for the

 
ON THE TRAIL. 15

night.* He led tis horse a short distance up stream, and
picketed him in such a manner that the Icast effort made to
escape could not fail to arouse the hunter. This done, he
peeled off a goodly quantity of the cottonwood bark, and
laying it in reach of him, made preparations for his own com-
fort. Under the circumstances, it was too hazardous to risk a
fire, and he was content to nestle down in his blanket at the
foot of a huge willow.

Sleep, heavy and sweet, gradually overcame the hunter, and
in a short time he was as unconscious of external things as if
he had never been born.

It was near midnight when he awoke. What it was that
nroused him he could never tell; but, he had grown to
believe there was a special Providence watching over him,
and attributed it to that alone. It sometimes happens that,
in the midst of heavy slumber, our senses are quietly but
instantaneously aroused, and it was thus with our adventurer,
Before he hardly knew it himself, his eyes opened as did every
sense. He lay perfectly motionless and listened. The wind
sighed mournfully through the tree-tops above him, and the
stream rippled as sweetly as ever. Still, he did not stir, for
he felt the danger that was ltrking in the air around him.

The next, instant he was startled by the snapping of a twig,
as though the foot of some one passing had broken it, and a
minute after he heard yoices! They spoke in the tongue of
the Sioux, and he thus knew they were his pursuers.

“The Long Knife has camped here,” spoke one, as if in
consultation with the others.

“Has he not passed through the stream and fled onward 2”
asked another.

“The trail leads to the trees and is lost. It is not on the
other side.”

A few moments’ silence followed the latter remark. Then
the savages recommenced their search, With feelings that
may wei! be imagined, Nat shrunk beneath the sheltering tree
and listened. Now the cautious tread came nigher and
nigher, until it seemed discovery was inevitable. Then again
the sounds grew fainter and fainter, until he began to breathe

* Whenever persons rest for the night they are said to “ camp;”’ and, ag
she term is used in the West, it is as applicable to a single person as te
more,

x Sa

 
 

 
 

i6 WATHAN TODD.

freer, wher a shiver would run over him as he heard the deep
breathing of une of his enemies within striking distance. How
his horse escaped discovery he was at a loss to tell; but in
such cases it often seems the instinct that protects the anima!
is equal to the reason that saves the man. It appears incred-
ible that such brutes as horses and cows can conceal them-
selves so as to baffle discovery even under the light of day.
But that such is the fact is well known.

The horse, apparently sensible of his duty, remained in a
standing position as motionless as the tree beside him; and
thus was no more likely to attract attention in the dvep gloom
than an inanimate object. Thus it was the cautious Indian
fairly brushed him several times without so much as suspect-
ing his existence. Another thing puzzled Nat greatly. How
was it possible for them to detect his trail in the darkness?
Sight surely could avail nothing in such an emergency.

“The all-fired imps have come on their hands and knees all
the way smelling of the trail,” he muttered to himself

The true cause was soon evident, however. Even while
speaking, he saw a small point of light glide silently forward .
and disappear on the opposite side of the stream. In a sec-
ond, it flitted to view again, and then was as quickly extin-
guished. Almost imniediately, a noise, as if some one were
stepping in the water, was heard, and then followed a silence
of five minutes’ duration. While wondering with a fear
which was not free from superstition, Nat suddenly duckea
his head, as a torch blazed to view within thirty feet of him.
Looking carefully out, he saw the torch moving to and fro,
and lighting up the gleaming, painted visage of Upsarena,
The savage was in a crouching position, moving as stealthily
as the panther, his eye balls glowing like fire.

“ How nice I could wipe you out!” thought Nat, “but J
forbear. It don’t look right to take a fellow so unawares,
Jerusalem! don’! some any nigher !”

The Indian was now so close that Nat feared the thump-
ing of his heart would betray his hiding-place. The chief held
the torch over his head, his basilisk eyes scrutinizing the
ground for any evidence of a trail. He moved slowly and
stealthily around, sometimes stooping and moving the grass
with his fingers, and then, rising to the upright position, he

x

 

 

  
 

 

 

  

AN INDIAN ARTIFICE, i?

glared ap into the trees, as though he expected to detect the
form of his foe among the branches, He must have had a small
opinion of our hero’s courage to thus expose himself to his shot
Suddenly the light disappeared, and a sharp, hissing sound, as
of a serpent about to strike, did not escape the adventurer’s
ears. The next moment the voice of Upsarena was heard.

“The trail reaches the stream, but does not cross. He has
followed the water above, and is not here.”

Then the tramp of the retreating savages was heard, grow- °
ing fainter and fainter, until no noise remained to show that
danger had lurked so fearfully near.

“Well, I feel a heap better!” exclaimed Nat, rising to his
feet and stretching himself. ‘Them ain’t very smart Indians
after all. They’ve been following me all the time I’ve been
asleep, and have hunted all around me without coming to the
point. I thought Upsarena wasn’t—”

Standing out in relief against a patch of open sky, Nat saw
the form of an Indian distinctly outlined. The truth was the
words of Upsarena were only an artifice to ascertain whether
the hunter was concealed in the vicinity. He uttered them
in a loud tone, and immediately ascended the stream, while
another savage glided forward a short distance, and then
halted, his ears on the alert for any suspicious sound. The long-
drawn yawn and words of Nat reached his ears, but the obscu-
rity was too great for him to deteuc the precise spot where, the
hunter was standing. At the same time, the Indian was not
aware that he was seen at all by his enemy.

For a moment both remained perfectly motionless, That
time was amply sufficient for Nat to collect his thoughts. The
sudden stoppage of his words showed the Indian that the
hunter suspected danger, although he was by no means aware
of his full knowledge. For a few seconds after the discovery,
our hero was completely astounded; but it was no time to
give way to his emotions. He saw instantly that either one
or the other must die, and naturally preferring it should not
be himself, made his preparations accordingly. Putting the
fock of his rifle under his hunting-shirt, he so muffled the
click, while cocking it, as to conceal the sound from his
enemy.

With the Indian, the mmute had been as pregnant with

cf

 

  
   
 

18 NATHAN TODD.

emotions as with the white man. His first thought when
startled by Nat’s words was to signal to his companions to
approach ; but he saw at once that such # course would give
the hunter timely warning, and being an ambitious man, he
determined to secure his scalp without the aid of his com-
panions.

Nat saw the head of the Indian slowly sink, and his body
gradually blend with the undergrowth, and taking as good ain
as the darkness allowed, he fired. A yell of agony and fury,
so horrible as to craze the hunter, followed, and the hurrying
tramp of feet was heard. Nat, hardly conscious of what
he did, ran a short distance, and brought up against a tree,
which he ascended in a twinkling. Cowering among the
limbs, he listened.

Every thing was as silent as death. Once a faint, sup-
pressed moan was heard, but nothing else, save the sighing of
the wind and the ripple of the stream, disturbed the oppres-
sive stillness. A faint moon had now arisen, and its light
illumined the prairie for a short distance. But the stream,
the trees and valley were like a solid mass of darkness wind-
ing across the country, and although he strained his vision to
the utmost to pierce the gloom beneath, it was all in vain.
With a great deal of difficulty and trepidation, he succeeded
in loading his rifle, and anxiously waited for the further
development of the danger.

In a half-hour, something was seen to flit like a star among
the bushes below, and a second glance showed our hero that
the torch was again in requisition.

“Tell never do for them to bring that candle under this
tree,” muttered the hunter. “They’d just as sure get a
glimpse of me here. Strange! they’ve no more fear of me
than to show themselves that way. Well! it’s time they
learned a lesson, and I don’t know of a person better qualified
than Nat Todd to give ’em one. I wish that plaguy In-
dian would just hold still a minnte till I can draw bead on
him.”

All this time he was dodging his head around, hurriedly
pushing the muzzle of his rifle through the branches, and
doing his utmost to get a sight at the savage holding the
torch. Failing to do this, and the light constantly approaching

   

  

 
 
A NIGHT IN A TREE. 19

nis hiding-place, he at last became so excited as to entirely
forget himself.

“Say, you, just look out for your head now—”

Instantly the light became stationary, and the bronzed fea-
tures of a savage were seen for a second, when all was dark-
ness again—but not before the rifle of our hero flamed out in
the darkness, with no effect save to desperately frighten his
enemies, each scattering to cover as quick as thought. For-
tunately for Nat, the flash of his weapon was not seen, and
his hiding-place remained as great a mystery to his foes.

An hour of undisturbed stillness followed. The hunter
was too shrewd to be deceived by the silence of the Indians,
That they were plotting some new mischief was certain, and
all that be could do was to do nothing but to lie close and
keep a bright lookout.

Despite the fearful circumstances in which Todd was placed,
a heavy drowsiness began to steal over him. First he gave
a sudden nod, bumping his head against the tree, which thor-
oughly awaked him.

“T really believe I was going to sleep,” he gasped, * with
them imps sneaking right under me. I won't wink both
eyes agin to-night.”

To enforce this good resolution he pinched himself, pulled
his hair, and resorted to every artifice at hand. Finally, he
began speculating apon the end of his present dilemma. He
must be out of it pretty soon by some means or other, or his
case would be hopeless. The morning could not be far off,
and when his situation became known, an unconditional sur-
render would be the only course left; and Nat well knew
that to fall into his enemies’ hands after committing such
crimes as he had, would terminate his adventures at once.

A similar situation and such ‘houghts as these were cer-
tainly enough to keep any ordinary mortal awake. But sleep
is as insidious an enemy as death, and, do his utmost, Nat
could not keep him off. He succumbed at last in spite of
aimself.

“The Injin’s all right, I guess—so’s Nat Todd—all right—
clever fellers—sall right !”

Thus he mumbled, as he commenced nodding again. Finally
he laid: his head on the limb before him, closed his eyes, and

 
   
 
   
   
    
  
 
 
   
   
  
   
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

NATHAN TODD.

resigned himself to his dreams. And the dreams came, and
his sleep was disturbed. He fancied he was in a hand-to-
hand struggle with Upsarena, and made an effort to give him
a kick. In so doing he unseate1 himself and dropped to the
ground. His rifle falling upon him effectually awoke him,
and he instantly comprehended his situation. He lay quietly
for a moment, and then felt cautiously around for his hat.
Placing this on his head, he grasped his rifle and then opened
his eyes and looked above,

His blood froze with horror as he saw two monstrous eyes,
seemingly of some dread animal, within a foot of his face!

_Arow of white teeth gleamed still closer, and the hot breath

of the monster mingled with his own. Nat closed his eyes
and shudderingly awaited his fate. He felt the breath grow
warmer, and heard it drawn louder as though his foe were
gathering to strike. He uttered a short prayer, and believed
that all was over. Something warm touched his cheek, as

‘ though an animal were licking it. He opened his eyes again

and saw that he had fallen at the feet of his horse, who was
thus manifesting his affection for his master.

“ve a good notion to shoot you for scaring me so,” mut-
tered Nat. ‘No, bless your old heart, you’re just the one I
want to see.”

He quickly cut the thong that bound the horse, leaped in
the saddle, and turning the animal’s head toward the open
prairie, started him on a full run. The inevitable shout and
swing of the hat accompanied this movement, but there was
no answering yell from the savages. They were at that mo-
ment several hundred yards up-stream, and caught a shadowy
glimpse of a man gailoping away in the darkness, as his tri
umphant shout reached their ears. One of their number had
fallen and their intended prey had escaped.

There were a few stars in the sky, which was gradually
lighting up with the approach of day, as he hurried his horse
away from the grove. The air was cold and raw—the scene
cheerless and dismal; but his spirits were too much height-
ened by his fortunate escape to notice this peculiarity. He
gave his horse free rein, gradually sheering him off to the left
until he was proceeding in a northern direction. When he
ieft the grove he had followed the back trail, so that this last

Pe.
ee

NAT REFLECTS, 21

course was taken to regain the lost ground. After a time he
made another turn at right angles to the one which he was
pursuing, and in such a manner that he described a semi-
circle.

As the first rays of the sun appeared above the prairie, he
reached the identical stream which had been the scene of his
adventures through the night, but at a point several miles
above. Making his way through the grove, he once more
dashed out upon the open prairie, and was galloping onward
toward the Rocky Mountains.

CAPT ae DoT
SHOWING THAT WE ARE NEVER TOO’ OLD TO LEARN.

Tuus far Nat Todd had journeyed without following any
definite course or plan. The all-absorbing object which led
him westward was sufficient to make one of his temperament
attempt any journey on the North American continent; but,
as said, he had laid down no course to follow, in order to
attain the end. Now, as he reined his horse down to a slow
walk, he commenced meditating upon the proper course for
him to pursue. -

He reflected that he had been guided up to this point by a
mere whim. A suspicion of Imogene Merment, that the tribe
who captured her sister had proceeded to Oregon, had grown to
aseeming certainty, and he had suffered, himself to be blindly led
by it. For aught he knew, she might have been taken to South
ern California or New Mexico, and it was as probable that she
was in possession of one of the hundred tribes of the Southwest
as of the Northwest. Over that mighty area of country,
comprehending twenty degrees of latitude, and exceeding in
extent all the States east of the Mississippi, roamed thousands
of Indians, any tribe of which might hold the object of his
journey; and the valleys of the Columbia, Sacramento, or
Colorado, or the slopes of the Cascade, Humboldt river, Sierra
Nevada, 01 Black Hills, might be searched without giving him

 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
   
 
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
   

  

ag NATHAN TODD.

~
,

intelligence of the lost one’s fate. This gigantic undertaking
our hero fully realized, and determined, if possible, to hunt no
further without some clue to assist him.

Scattered at great distances along the Oregon trail, and on
the rivers west of the Rocky Mountain slope, were forts or
stations, where, at all times, were congregated hunters and
trappers from every part of the Far West. Nat doubted not
but that he would be able to gain information from some of
them which would guide him in his search.

“Yes, that’s the plan,” he exclaimed, joyously. “Ti go
down to the forts and find out all about her, and then
hunt her up, take her home and marry her. Zhen won't
Alminy feel bad! Won't she !”

The morning was now quite advanced, and he concluded
it best to give his horse a good rest, and refresh himself before
proceeding further. He had noticed, for the last hour or so, a
peculiar dull roaring sound, like the distant roll of the ocean,
and was led to suspect he was near some river. Turning his
horse to the left, he had proceeded but a mile or so, when he
came upon a small river, which he knew at once to be the
Big Horn. It was narrow, but deep and clear, flowing swiftly
over a bed of pebbles, that could be seen glistening far out
from the shore. The water, hardly free from the snow of the
mountains, was of icy coldness. The grass along its banks
was luxuriant, and Nat turned his horse loose, knowing that
he would not wander far, while ne busied himself with hunt-
ing some food for himself. Singularly enough, he could not
catch sight of any game, not eyen a fowl or rabbit. Fish of
monstrous size could be seen lazily floating in the streams,
but it was out of his power to secure them, and he finally
made a breakfast off the numerous commotes and pomme blancs
that were growing around him.* This done, he returned to
his horse and started a fire, There were numerous trees
growing in the river bottom, and he had little apprehensiun
of disturbance from the Indians. The air, sweeping down
from the Black Hills, was as cold and bracing as winter, and
he vastly enjoyed the fire he had kindled.

* The commote is a vegetable resembling the common radish, which
ig often found in the river bottoms of the West. The pomme blanc iaa
native of the mountains, and much resembles, both in size and taste,
our turnip, although more nourishing than the latter.

-
—

 

i
4
|
|
SS

 

Se
¥

AN ALARM. 23

While preparing to resume his journey, he was startled by
the actions of his horse. He had raised his head, his mouth
still full of grass, and, with every manifestation of alarm, was
gazing up the stream. His ears were thrust forward, his fore-
feet planted firmly on the ground, his. nostrils dilated as
though he scented danger in the ,r. Nat bounded to cover

t once, and concealing himself behind a tree, peered cautiously
out to ascertain the cause of these actions.

The alarm of the horse vontinued. He suddenly turned
ynd ran a short distance, when he wheeled around with a
snort and faced the suspicious object again. <A slight wind
was blowing from that direction, and Nat well knew his
animal was not deceived. His heart beat faster as he re-
flected that a band of hostile Indians or a grizzly bear might
he stealing upon him, and he silently cocked his rifle, deter-
tnined to fire and then run for life.

While standing thus, every nerve strung to the highest
point, he saw a human head, surmounted by a coon-skin cap,
lowly rise from behind a clump of bushes, until the face and
yhoulders of a while man were visible. It remained a
snoment in this position, and then quickly disappeared. Nat saw
the features too plainly to be mistaken. They were those of
one of his own kin, and of one who was consequently a friend.
‘Without hesitation he called out:

“Hello, you, sir! Come out and show yourself! It’s me,
Nathan Todd, of Maine. Don’t be frightened, I won’t hurt
you.”

A moment alter, the person addressed stepped boldly into
view and advanced toward the fire, where our hero met him.
A glance showed the stranger to be a trapper from the mount-
nins. His dress was half-savage, similar to those generally
worn on the frontier—composed of moccasins, leggings, the
hunting-shirt, and the skin-cap, which was drawn down to
the heetling eyebrow in front. A thick, grizzly beard covered
most of the face, so that little besides the gleaming eyes and
the pug nose was visible. A long, dangerous-looking rifle
was held in the left hand, while the right was extended to
grasp the proffered one of our hero. -

“ How-de-do,” exclaimed the latter. “Glad to see you,
Hope your folks are all well. Jam, and you Joni as thongh
you might be.”

 
  

 

 

24 NATHAN TODD.

“What's your handle?” asked the trapper, in a voice that
sounded like the rumble of thunder, and which made Nat
start from where he stood. ‘ What's the matter ?” asked the

' stranger, as his eyes sparkled.

“ Nothin’, only I ‘stepped on a pin or tack that some one
left here—that is, I stepped on something. What's my name,
lid you ask? Nathan Todd — Nathan Todd—O heavens
? nath! don’t squeeze my fingers so! What's your name ?”

“Tom Langdon, trapper and Indian-fighter.”

“So I s’pose—so I s’pose. What are you doing here, if
you've no objections to tell a friend ?”

“Ym trappin’.. This ar’ the place whar I’ve circ’lated for
the last ten year, and it’s the fust time I’ve see’d a white in
these parts. I’d jest been ’round to ’tend to the traps and
skin the beavers, when I cotched sight of your smoke—”

“T hain’t been smoking—I hain’t been smoking !”

“But your fire has. Isee’d the smoke, as I’s sayin’, and
knowed it war a white, and a powerful green one at that,
*cuuse you wouldn’t cotch a red kindlin’ a fire right under my
nose that way. They’ve been down in these parts once or
twice since I’ve. trapped, and I’'d never knowed it ef I hadn't
smelt ’em. I see’d yer horse pitch and tear, ’cause he
seented the beaver-blood Ive got on me. But what brings
yer down in these parts? Not trappin’, I take it?”

“No; I’m searching for a lovely maiden that was lost many
Inng, long years ago.”

It would be difficult to describe the expression that illumined
the visage of the trapper at this reply. His monstrous beard
nearly concealed it, but there was a blending of surprise and
drollery in it, and he asked:

“ How come you to lose her? And what makes you think
you'll find her in this region? I never knowed gals were
circ’latin’ here.” :

Nat related, as briefly as possible, his own adventures and
those of William Relmond since leaving the States, dwelling
particularly upon the history of Imogene’ Merment and the
supposed fate of her lost sister. The trapper listened atten-
ively, and at its conclusion gave vent to a silent but hearty
laugh.

“What yon laughing at ?” asked Nat, indignantly.

  
    
  
 
 
    
  
   
    
  
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
    
  
    
 
   
   

    

A FACETIOUS TRAPPER.

ut X. ou.”

“ What Lave I done? I should like to know.”

“Oh, you're so powerful green /” replied the trapper, stili
-aughing.

Nat held a dignified silence until the mirth of his compan-
ion had somewhat abated, when he inquired :

“Am I going to have you for company ?”

“Ef yer waits ’yer till about two months more, and then
turns your nose toward the States and tramps, p'raps you
mought.” :

“ Jerusalem! if I had knowed that, I would have been ten
miles further on my journey by this time.”

With this, our hero turned and signaled his horse to approach.
The trapper looked quietly on, and suffered him to mount
without speaking.

“ Good-day, sir,” said Nat, nodding stifily.

“T shouldn’t wonder,” returned*the trapper, with a broad
smile.

Nat struck his horse into a canter, and had proceeded about
a hundred yards, when he heard himself hailed.

“What's wanting ?” he asked, wheeling his horse around.

“ Jest trot this way a minute,” said the stranger.

Nat slowly approached, and in a moment confronted the
eccentric hunter.

“Got a piece of pig tail handy ?” asked the latter.

Nat was so provoked that he hardly knew what to reply ,
but proffered the tobacco which he had obtained from the
Indians. The trapper took the plug, twisting a small piece
from it. Then holding it out, he asked:

“ That’s ’nough for a chaw, ain’t it ?”

“T s’pose so.” ;

“Wal, you take it then,” f

So saying, he coolly placed the larger picce in his pocket,
and turned his back upon Nat. The latter sat like a statue
for the space of five minutes, alternately looking at the rem-
nant of his tobacco stock in his hand, and at the one who had
deprived him of it. Then, with a half-suppressed “ What
an awful hog!” he once more cantered away.

“Hello, Nathin Toad!” called the trapper, when ho had
proceeced even further than before. :
NATHAN TODD.

Our hero cantered on without heeding.

“Hello, you, Nathin Toad!" came again in a thundering
voice.

“What do you want ?” asked Nat, spitefully.

“Jest come here a minute.”

Had our adventurer deemed himself fairly out of rifle-shot,
no commands would have brought him back; but, not know-
ing what his new-found acquaintance would take into his
head to do, he concluded it hardly safe to tempt him too
much.

“Well, here I am again,” he said, as he once more con-
fronted his troublesome companion. “TI hayen’t any more
tobacco to spare, though.”

The trapper bent his keen gaze on him a moment, then
asked :

“You're lookin’ fur a gal, ain’t you?”

“For a maiden—yes.”

“And you haven’t axed whether I didn’t know nothin‘
*bout her.”

Nat started, for the idea of obtaining information of the
person before him had never entered his mind until he had
thus been reminded of it; and he saw, moreover, that the
trapper was in earnest.

“My gracious! I never thought of it—that’s true! Do
you know any thing of her ?”

“ Yes,”

“ When ?—how ?—where ?—what did you say ?—who’s got
her ?—when did you see her?” eagerly asked Nathan, fairly
beside himself.

“Jest hold on now. Let—me—see,” slowly repeated the
trapper, removing his cap and scratching his head, as if to
help his memory. ‘“T’ve heard of a gal somewhar, but you
may raise my ha’r ef I can tell whar it was.”

“You don’t say! Can’tyouremember ?” excitedly asked Nat.
‘Think hard; you'll recollect in a minute. Tl die if I don’t
‘ind out something now.”

“Nathin Toad,” said the trapper, looking up in his face,
“the minute you told me that story, 1 knowed some one had
‘told me sunkthin’ like it, and I tried to think who it war
I cnited yer back and axed yer fur that pig tail, jest tc see

t

    

    
   
A CLUE TO TRENE. 27

how you'd take it. Ef youd been mean, I wouldn't said
nothin’ to you about the gal; but you’s pretty clever like, and
Tl try and overhaul this memory of mine, Let—me—see,”
repeated the trapper again, fixing his eyes upon the ground
and thinking intently. :

“She’s a splendid-looking maiden,” quickly added Nat, as
'f to assist his recollection.

“Jest put a stop on that meat-trap of yourn, while I cog-
tate awhile.”

So saying, the trapper folded his arms over the muzzle of
his rifle, and leaning his chin upon it, appeared to gaze far off
at the clouds that were straggling through the western horizon.
His eyes had that vacant look which showed his mind to be
entirely occupied with itself, and totally oblivious of every
thing else. Nearly twenty minutes were thus occupied, dur-
ing which, it may well be supposed, the impatience of Nat
could not but manifest itself He whistled, coughed, sung
fidgeted in his seat, but it availed nothing to the trapper. The
solid rock was not more motionless than he. At last he eee
a long breath and resumed his upright position.

“Come, let’s hear it quick,” said Nat.

“Tt ain't much, I allow, but I make no doubt it’s sunkthin’.
It was two year ago, down at Brown’s Hole, that I heard it,
A lot of us fellers were tellin’ stories round the fire thar one
night, in the winter, when old Sol Jagzin, or ‘Oregon Sol,’ as
he was called, (yes, ’m sure it was Sol, now,) told a wonderful
story ’bout a white gal he’d sce’d somewhar up in Oregon, near
the Blue Mountains, I think. He had trapped two seasons,
near the canon of one of the rivers thar, and was cac’latin’
stayin’ another, when one night one of the most bootifulest
critters, outside the States, came down on him and told him
the reds had spotted him, and war gwine to lift his ha’r and
borrer his traps and peltries. He axed her some questions,
and larnt that she lived ’mong the reds—though what tribe,
I don’t mind. She said she and her sister had been took by
the knayes when they wan’t taller than a young beaver. Sol
offered to take her down to one of the forts and start her home
agin. But she said she had no home ’cept ’mong the Injins,
and wouldn’t go. Sol said she was powerful handsome, dressed
‘up like a squaw, with jest such black eyes and ha’r, and with’

 
28 NATHAN TODD

a little foot not bigger than a beaver’s claw. He coaxed her
a little while, but it was no use, She didn’t ’pear to want to
leave. She said the reds had found one of Sol’s traps the day
afore, and they cac’lated on haying tall times when they come
down on him. She had managed to find out what they was
drivin’ at, and had hunted ’round till she found out where he
hid himself.

“Wal, Sol had jest time to pack up his skins and get out
of the way of the imps when they did come down on his
house. Howsumever, he was all right, and got off cl’ar. Sol,
as I said, told me this two year ago, and it was two year afore
that he had see’d this gal. He said he had gone up in them
parts two—three times since, jest to find out "bout the gal, but
never had heard or seen any thing of her since. Remember,
she wan’t a woman, but only a little girl, and may not be the
one you're arter, ’cause I know them reds ar’ desprit on cotchin’
sich poor critters.”

“Who is Oregon Sol ?” asked Nat, breathlessly.

“He’s a feller that’s trapped up in Oregon nigh cnto
twenty years, and who’s got that name on that account.”

“ Where is he now ?” ;

“Ugh ! gone under, like enough. Hain’t seen him since I’s
down to Brown’s Hole two years ago this last winter.”

“ ¥f living, where do you suppose I could find him ?”

“ Dunno—he’s a quar dog. He’s got a home somewhar up
in Oregon whar he lives alone, and ef you sarch around thar
for ten or fifteen year, you might run afoul of him some dark
night.”

“But how was it you saw him at Brown’s Hole ?”

“ He comes down thar once in awhile, I b’lieve. It was in
the winter, as I said, that I see’d him, but I dunno whether
that’s the time he takes to make the folks a visit or not. He
come ‘the day afore and he left the next mornin’ arter he told
us that story.”

“ Well, now, my friend, you’ve started me on the right track,
I think, and youre welcome to all the tobacco I’ve got. Now,
Tm bound to find that maiden if she’s to be found. What
plan would you advise me to follow to do this ?”

“Tt’s a dubous hunt, Mr. Toad, and, ’yer’s as thinks it'll bea
song hunt and no game—a long trappin’ season without a

   

 

  

 

 
   
   

 
   
 

NAT STRIKES A BHRE-LINE. 29

beaver or otter. Bat, et you're bound to put the thing through,
why strike a bee-line for Brown’s Hole, and jine some of the
trappers as goes to Oregon. Find out whether ‘ Oregon Sol

is livin’, and hunt him up ef you can, though he’s so strange-
like I don’t b’lieve he’d have you with him. Ef he ain’t gone
under, you'll hear of him down at the ‘ Hole,’ though it’s likely
vou'll have - wait awhile, as most of the boys ar’ up on the
beaver runs.”

“ How long will it eke me to reach the place.”

= Four—five days will take you thar ef you don’t stop to
make any calls on the reds ‘long the ways.”

“Tye got to cross the Rocky Mountains, of course? I
know where Brown’s Hole is, and think I can easily find it.”

“ Poller up this Big Horn to the mountains, and you'll find
a pass that'll take you through.”

“ Whoop! hurrah !” shouted Nat, swinging his hat over his
head and dashing away, without pausing to bid his friend
good-by. The trapper watched him a moment, and then
muttered :

“It'll be a long hunt, I’m afeard.”

In a short time the joyous Nat Todd was hid from view by
the intervening trees and undergrowth.

 
NATHAN TODD.

GAAP BY
SHOWING THAT IT IS NOT ALWAYS BEST TO BE ALONE,

AFTER leaving the trapper, Nat rode at a brisk gallop in +
westerly course, and soon emerged from. the river-bottom into
the open prairie again.’ Far ahead loomed the peaks of the
Rocky Mountains. Viewed in the clear summer air, their
summits seemed tinged with a faint blue, and resembled an
irregular pile of clouds resting in the horizon. Away to the
northward, as far as the vision could reach, the mighty cliifs
alone met the eye; and sweeping around in a western direc-
tion, so as to inclose the adventurer in a semi circle, rolled the
Black Hills, one of the grandest spurs of the whole Rocky
Mountain chain. On the loftiest heights, the pure snow
blended almost perfectly with the clear sky beyond. Now
and then a blast of wind swept down from the mountains,
bringing its arctic climate with it.

When a scene similar to this is gradually approached by
the traveler, he experiences its sublimity in all its fullness,
The roar of Niagara frequently impresses the senses with a
feeling of terror so great as to overcome all other emotions.
But the solemn, eternal stillness that surrounds these moun-
tains is so impressive as to be almost azdible, like the faint
yoar of the ocean; and the soul seems filled with a thrilling,
responsive emotion,

Nat neared the mountains on a brisk canter; but, for a
time, seemed to make no progress at all, for distance is as
deceptive upon the prairie as upon the water. During the
afternoon he entered a pass several miles in breadth, opening
before him like a tunnel. He was satisfied, however, that it
was not the famous “South Pass,” at the head-waters of the
Platte, through which the Oregon trail leads On either
hand the gigantic walls towered above him, piercing the very
clouds. Rocks, jagged and massive, were piled up thousands

 
 

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  

 

 

  

A PANTHER. 81

f tet above him, and the stunted cedars, a few scrub-oaks,
an. briers, were the only sign of vegetable life. Our hero
gazed above and around him, feeling as though passing
through the gate of another world. Full a thousand feet
above, seated on a projecting rock, he saw something move
whicn resembled a large squirrel, but which a second look
showed to be a grizzly bear. Further on he detected
another, but they were so distant he had no fear of them.
Viewed from the cliffs, Nat and his horse would have seemed
.ut a mere speck moving through the gorge below.

“T declare this beats all,” he mused. “I must call on the
President when I go back, and tell him this is the place where
the Pacific Railroad should cross the Rocky Mountains,
Wont them grizzlys open their eyes when they see the loco-
motive thunder through here, and hear it give one of its reg-
ular hurricane screams? And if old Upsarena should be
sulky enough not to give the track when the train comes
along, wont he get a bump?”

It required several hours, even at the hurried rate at which
he was going, to get through the pass. Toward the latter
part the way was rougher, and he met with more obstructions.

“Well, here I am at last,’ he exclaimed, as he found him-
self once more upon the open prairie. ‘There are no more
mountains to cross this side of the fort, I believe. I'll fetch
up there in a day or two, see that Oregon Sol, find out where
Irene is, hunt her up, take her down to the States, marry her
vf course—blazes! what’s that ?”

A full grown panther stood within a dozen feet of him.
Passing a small cluster of trees, the animal bounded in front
of his rearing horse with that wondering stare which a brute
gives at the first sight of a white man. Nat restrained his
horse from fleeing, and hardly knowing what he did, tried to
ride down the panther, but his noble horse refused obedience.
After a while, our hero bethought himself of his rifle, and
without stopping to take aim, fired at the brute. The aim-
less hall did no harm, and the frightened beast scampered
away at a rapid pace.*

* The panther found among the Black Hills is an animal totally dissrm
ilar from the one of the Bast. The former is of smaller size, scrawny and
cow ardly,and rarely can be induced to face the hunter, even when wounded,

3 ae

   
 

  
   

 
 

88 NATHAN TODD.

“That’s the luckiest move you ever made,” shouted Nat,
after the retreating animal. “Jf I had time Pd follow you
1p, and teach you better than to stand before such a danger-
cus rifle as the one Nathan Todd possesses.”

Darkness had now legun to settle over the prairie, and our
traveler concluded it bist to seek a place for encampment.
The place around bore evidence of having been traveled
before; and after searching until dark, he decided upon a
spot in a valley-like depression, where the remains of a camp-
(re were visible. He judged it best not to kindle a fire, as it
might attract more disagreeable visitors than his last one did.
First picketing his horse, he lay down within a short distance,
depending upon the animal's sagacity to arouse him in case
of danger.

The beast had already given such evidence as to make it
certain that no foe, however wary, could approach without
exciting his alarm. Invoking, as usual, the protection of
Heaven, Nat closed his eyes in slumber. He had precaution
enough, however, to collect a large quantity of wood, so that
in case he should need a fire during the night, he would not
be at a loss to obtain it.

Just before closing his eyes, he was startled by hearing
among the mountains a long, peculiar cry—a sort of lengthened,
tremulous howl of the most dismal tone. Although he had
heard nothing like it before, he judged it to proceed from the
dreaded mountain-wolf. He listened awhile, and hearing no
repetition, closed-his eyes, little dreaming that the trail of bis
horse was the occasion of the ominous sound.

A half-hour later, he was brought to his feet by the most
appalling cry that ever pierced his ears. There was some-
thing so unearthly—so horrible about it, that for a time he
was completely unnerved. It was that sound which his horse
had given in the agony of extreme fear; and not even the
wild yells of the mountain-wolves, that followed it, were so
fearful.

Nat found his horse rearing and tugging at his rope, his
eyes fixed and glowing, and his body quivering with fear
He approached him, and after a time succeeded in partly paci
fying him, and then looked eround to ascertain the cance of
his alarm. WNothing was visible, although the moon enxbled

 

 
 

MATTERS LOOK SERIOUS 83

him to see quite a distance. About twenty fect away he
noticed a stump, around which he deemed it best to start his
fire, as he believed the fright of his horse was occasioned by
some animal lurking in the vicinity. Accordingly, he gath-
ered an armful of fuel and tossed it toward the stump. His
surprise was unbounded when he saw what he supposed to be
a stump rise to its feet, with a threatening growl, and spring
back several yards, where it resolutely confronted him.

“ Heavens!” exclaimed Nat, with a start. ‘ Who thought
you were a sneaking wolf? I took you for a rock or some
old stump. How you like that ?”

He did not miss his aim this time. The wolf doubled up
like a stcel-trap, uttering a dying howl, that was answered
by a hundred throats from the mountain. Admonished by
this fearful warning, Nat scon had a brisk fire burning, and
enough wood piled beside it to keep it going wutil morning.
He then led his horse up to it, so as to. be out of reach of
auy animal, and loading his rifle waited for his visitors.

Tne place which he had chosen for his camping-ground
was, as said, a sort of hollow or depression which so concealed
his fire as to prevent its being,seen until one was directly
upon it. The death-howl of the wolf near him was stil!
echoed by others, and it was casy to tell by the sounds that
they were signaling to each other, and were rapidly centering
ercund the spot which contained their dead companion. In
2 moment, Nat saw through the smoke a pair of glowing eyes
fixed upon him, and a lengthened whine, terminating in a
sharp yelp, brought a score of others almost instantly to
their side.

Matters were, certainly beginning to look serious, but Nat,
knowing the dread which every animal has of fire, felt that if
watchful and vigilant, there was no personal danger. His
only fear was that the terror of his horse would become so
great as to make him uncontrollable, and he would burst
across the prairie and be lost forever to him.

The wolves continued to increase in number until it seemed
that several hundred were gathered on the bank above. The
first intruder, whose death was the penalty of his temerity,
was seized by the forenost of the others and devoured in a

winkling. This served only to increase their thirst for blood,

 
 

84 NATHAN TODD.

and they became Aoubly furious and venturesome. Although
Nat held his horse so close to the fire as to scorch them both,
a huge weif made several leaps, and snapped his jaws so close
that his animal sprung into the flame to escape him. He
instantly leaped out again, and it was with the greatest diffi-
culty that he could be restrained. The wolf, encouraged by
his success, endeavored to get at the horse’s heels so as to
namstring him. Lying down on his face, he crawled within
a foot or two and then made a spring; but the horse seemed
to understand his intention, and, quick as was the movement of
the wolf, he encountered the heels of the animal with such
force as to split his head open and scatter his brains to tha
wind. The wolf, while yet quivering in the throcs of death.
was pounced upon by his companions as usual, and torn limb
from limb !

Nat was struck with admiration at this exploit of his horse,
and determined to attempt the same thing himself. Hc
waited until another huge fellow had ventured rather close,
when he stepped forward and gave a furious kick, closing the
animal’s jaws like the spring of a stecl-trap. But before he
could withdraw his foot it was seized by several with such
power as to bring him upon his back, and he felt that he was
being drawn away from the fire by. the infuriated beasts !

‘Murder! let go, can’t you?” he shouted, clutching
madly about him, and still retaining the halter of his horse.
In his frantic movements, he seized a firebrand and hurled it
blazing among the swarming bodies. His foot was freed
‘nstantly, and the wolves retreated several yards, but imme-
diately returned. Before they reached him, he was on his
feet again, and too close to the fire for them to reach him.

“ Confound it! I wish’d I’'d gone home with Bill Relmond,
instead of coming out here like a fool to hunt up that squaw
of an Irene Merment!” exclaimed Nat. “I might better have
staid home, any way.” :

But regrets could avail nothing; and, to use a common
expression, he was “in for it,” and compelled to make the
best of what seemed a bad affair just at present. It now
vecurred to him to attempt an expedient which he remembered
hearing the trapper, Biddon, mention as having been used by
himself in a Similar case, Raising his rifle at random, he

 
  

l

  
—___—__ a

A FIGHT WITH THE WOLVES. wi

fired into the group. It was almost impossible to miss killing
one, and a sharp yelp showed that he had not failed. The
slain wolf followed the fate of the others, and was devoured
with as much gusto as though he had been Nat Todd himself.
As soon 28 the latter could reload, he discharged his gun
again. This time the bullet plowed its way through the
haunch of one wolf, and buried itself in the head of another.
The latter, not noticing his own hurt, sprung upon the fall-
en one. Before this one was fairly devoured, severat
scented the blood of the wounded one, and although he was
as active and powerful as the rest, he was borne down to the
earth by a score of ravenous ones, and quickly dispatched.

Nat fired over twenty shots into the herd, and more than
that number fell victims; and still it seemed to have no effect
save to whet the appetite of the others. Several more were
slain, when the hunter noticed his ammunition was getting
low.. Prudence compelled him, therefore, to desist from his
work of slaughter. With much care he reloaded his rifle,
determined to use it again only as a last resort. But the fury
and courage of the wolves had so increased, that he saw some
other expedient must be resorted to, or his life would not be
his own ina halfhour. He threw several firebrands among
them. This always scattered them for a moment; but it
could not be continued, for the good reason that it must
deprive him of his fire, and thus make his case entirely hope-
less.

As an additional means of defense he kindled another fire,
and finally had four in full blast, so that he was inclosed in a
circle of flame. This served every purpose, and no matter
how great the hunger or temerity of the wolves, not one durst
venture over the magic boundary. A feeling of relief and
security now came over Nat, and he congratulated himself
upon having foiled the insatiate brutes at last.

But it was not long before this emotion of relief gave way
to that of sickly terror. He saw that his fuel could not
possibly last until morning. A couple of kours more at the
most, and it must die out. Nat, in despair, looked up to the
heavens, and saw by the constellaticns that it was hardly
midnight.

Several times he revolved a desperate scheme in his mind:

 
 
 

86 NATHAN TODD.

it was to mount his horse and start cf on a fuli run. It
seemed the only hope ieft, and yet a second thought told him
it would be certain destructioa. Impeded with his weight
the horse must finally succumb and fall a yictin. The lank,
cadaverous wolves were capable of worrying any animal of the
prairie to death; and the most terrific speed to which the
horror of death could urge his animal would preserve him but
an hour or so. No; he dismissed this plan, satisfied that it
could avail him nothing.

Hour after hour gradually wore away, and the fires slum-

~bered low. With feelings which none can imagine, our hero

threw the last stick upon the fire! As yet no hope of escape
dawned upon him !

Up to this time the yells and clamor of the wolves had been
deafening; but Nat all at once noticed that they had ceased,
and the silence of death reigned oyer the scene. Some great

' fear had fallen upon them, and they now dashed away in a

tumultuous drove, leaving the hunter entirely alone with his
horse.

“Some greater danger, if possible, threatens !” he exclaimed,

Scarcely had he spoken when he caught the outlines of a
cvuossal form above him, and saw instantly that a grizzly bear
was approaching. His horse caught sight of the brute at the
same moment, and, with a wild yell, broke from him and
dashed across the prairie, his .mane streaming in the wind.
The bear instantly followed, on a loping, tumbling gait, and
Nat’s heart thrilled as he saw he was entirely alone.

“Now’s my time!” he exclaimed, catching a brand and
running up the embankment. He caught sight of a dim
cluster of bushes or trees, several hundred yards ahead, and
waving the brand aboye his head, made a Gesperate dash for
the refuge. He had not gone one-half the distance when he
was surrounded by a dozen wolves, who had been frightened
from the pursuit of the horse by the appearance of the grizzly
bear.

“Clear the track !” he shouted, in a sort of wild ecstasy, as
he swung the flaming missile around him. The wolves fairly
touched him, but the brand was all-potent. He reached the
tree without a scratch. Here he was nonplussed for a
moment. In one hand he held his rifle, and in the other the

  
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 

@

  
e

4 RUN FOR It. sy!

protecting torch, which his rapid run had fanncd into a roate
mg blaze. It was impossible to climb the tree without
dropping beth. The hunter decided in a moment. Raising
a loud shov', and waving the brand over his head, he sprung
toward the wolves, scattering them like chaff. When they
were a few rods distant, he flung the dreaded flame directly
aracng them, and leaping back to the tree, dropped his gun
and made a bound upward, catching a limb and sustaining
aimself by one hand. Over this he threw his feet, and was
twisting bimself over it, when, as if fate was against him, the
limb broke and he came to the ground again. Nothing dis-
concerted, he made another leap, and catching again, brought
his body up among the limbs. But so close were the wolves,
and so nerrow the escape the last time, that he found himself
lightened of a large part of his hunting-shirt, it being in the
teeth of ‘he greedy cannibals below.

“Nov howl as long as you want to!” shouted Nat, as he
clambersd up the tree and perched himself in the very top.
“YH bet J won’t fall asleep to-night, and you'll wait awhile
before you breakfast off of me.”*

* To rvyoid giving a false impression, we may state that the wolf of the
West wll never attack a person unless the latter has the smell of fresh
blood a ,0ut him. They will follow a traveler for miles, keeping up their
disma! \owling, but he is perfectly safe so long as there is no fresh wound
upon bk .m, or meat in his possession. But a few drops of blood will draw
the wc ves from mils d stant to the trail. In the incident above given,
the fy 7 of these anivaals was caused by a small wound in tha horse's foot

wh hed teft its unerk ib gevera) places.

 

 
  

CTE ACP TL ER..Y..
WHICH IS MOSTLY HISTORICAL.

Never did shipwrecked mariner hail the siglit of morning

‘with greater joy and thankfulness than did Nat Todd the first

glimpse of day in the east. As the sun appeared above tne
horizon, the wolves, one by one, shrunk away, until none
remained, Seeing the coast clear, Nat ventured to descend.
He found his rifle full fifty feet away from the tree, where it

had been clawed and disfigured by the ravenous animals. It

had suffered no material injury, however, and he was glad
enough to recover it as it was. From the situation of the
sun he was able to tell what direction to take to reach the
Fort, and without losing any time in useless repinings, he
started off on foot.

He traveled on until noon, when he shot a bird, which
fnrnished him with a hearty dinner. He was never at loss
for a fire, as his flint furnished the means; and the weather
was so cool this day, that he could not resist the pleasure of
enjoying it for awhile. Unconsciously to himself he fell into
a deep slumber, and did not awaken until dark. Startled at
his indiscretion, he sprung on, resolved to travel the most of
the night to make up for lost ground.

The prairie continued mostly of the rolling kiad; and,
aided by the faint light of the moon and stars, he made con-
siderable progress. Several streams were crossed, and finally
a sort of grove, of perhaps a half-mile in extent, was entered.
A cold, chilling fear crept over our hero as the dark shades
encompassed him; and it was in no way lessened when he
heard the footsteps of some animal behind him. In fact, we
doubt whether there is a more uncomfortable sensation a
person can experience, than the consciousness that someone
cr something is dogging his footsteps in the dark. Th¢ sup-
pressed step, followed »y a treacherous silence—the imaginary

 
    
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 

 

 

4

  
ag os

 

 

4

* BROWNS HOLE.” 89

approach of a foe, and the expected blow, make the suspense
harder to bear than the danger itself, At intervals, the rustle
of the leaves sounded closer and closer, until he was so
wrought upon by fear that he coukl stand it no longer.
Cocking his rifle, he dodged aside, and concealing himself
behind a tree, waited the approach of his foe. Closer and
closer sounded the suspicious footsteps, until, all at once, not
4 wild animal or a human foec—but his horse walked directly
in front of him. i

“Thank heaven !” exclaimed Nat, fervently. “ This is tie
most fortunate thing that could have happened.”

The horse seemed as much delighted as his master, and
when he once more felt him upon his back, he seemed unable
to restrain himself

“Now you may go till you're tired,” said Nat, as he
emerged into the open prairie. The horse, with a neigh of
delight, straightened his limbs and sped away like a swallow.
His rider ceased wondering at his escape from the wolves and
bear when he saw with what speed he was carried. ;

With now and then an occasional halt for rest and refresh-
ment, the journey was continued until noon of the next day,
when he crossed a large stream of cold, sparkling water, and
several hours later he discerned in the distance the plain of
Brown’s Hole. He struck his horse into a canter at sight of
it, and moving through the bluffs, crossed two smaller streams
that tumbled down from the stratified cliffs on his right
After passing a few rods further, the whole area burst upor
his sight. A man dressed like a hunter stood in front of the
Fort, amusing himself with the antics of a couple of degs. He
caught sight of our hero and turned toward him. Nat found
himself the recipient of a hearty welcome, and felt that he
had stumbled upon something like home in the wilderness.

“ Brown’s Hole” is one of the most remarkable forts on the
Pacific slope. It was once termed “ Fort David Crockett,” but it
is now more generally know by the former name. It stands
on the Sheetskadee or Prairie Cock river, and is more than a
mile and half above the sea-level.* The plain upon which it
ig situated is about six miles across, and is walled in com-
pletély by a chain of mountains rising fifteen hundred feet

* This stream js now marked on mavs as Green river.

 
 
 

as

 

40 NATHAN TODD.

above. The Sheetskadce enters the plain from the northwest
side, aud sweeping round in a beautiful curve in front of the
Fort, makes its way through the mountain-cliffs full a thousand
feet in height, where it moves over with a solemn calmness
that is indescribable.

Not the least remarkable peculiarity of this plain is ita
climate. Forming a plateau, as it does, over eight thousand
feet in height, one would suppose an eternal winter to hold
reign, On the contrary, the rich mountain-grasses, with
numerous copses of willow and cotton wood, are growing the
entire year; and when the blasts of winter whirl the snow in
blinding drifts over the mountain-peaks and in the country
around, the herses of the hunters may be seen calmly cropping
the herbage on the banks of the Sheetskadee, and the hunters
theniselves are in the height of enjoyment.

The Fort some years since was a hollow square of log-cabins,

with the roofs and floors constructed of mud. Around the out-

side were numerous Indian lodges, where the families of the
white trappers remained while the latter were absent among the
mountains or beayer-runs. Many of the Shoshoné or Snake
tribe are found at the Fort. They appear in the largest numbers
during the winter months, when they bring large quantitics
of the meat of the mountain-sheep and other animals, which
they furnish to the travelers and traders in exchange for beads,
trinkets, ammuuition, &c. A store-house also stands outside,
where the trappers barter their furs, and the Indians their
horses, for hatchéts, knives, fishhooks, lead and whisky.

The Shoshonés are the nearest assimilated to the whites
and during the winter months the whole tribe, numbering
considerably over a thousand, pitch their lodges on the plain
around the Fort; while scores of trappers and hunters congre-
gate within the Fort, or among their Indian squaws, and a scene
of enjoyment, such as is rarely witnessed, takes place. There
are gatherings among the Indian lodges, where both races
congregate, while moccasins, buffalo-robes and “legzins” are
sewn with deer-sinews. The wild song of the dusky warriors
is heard; and there is dancing, and music, and love-making,
and marriage—all that go to make up life, where, for the time
being, the participants give way to social pleasure. And
many is the thrilling legend related by some hunter, whe,

 
   
  
 
   
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 

ey

  
ey

A CHANUB TO BE PATYENT. 41

perhaps, has hunted for years on snow-shoes in Princa
Rupert’s Land, or penetrated to the Frozen Sea for seals and
walruses; many is the escape narrated by the trapper, wha
nus stealthily secured his peltrics on the shores of the far-off
Columbia, or among the wildest fasinesses of the Rocky
Mountains, in spite of the treacherous Blackfeet or Flatheads.

Wat arrived at the most unfortunate time at the Fort. It
being in early summer, the only white men were the store-
keeper and three or four hunters who chanced to be in the
neighborhood for a few days.

“{f you seek any of the hunters, you will have to wait till
autumn, The men are off hunting, some of them hundreds

of miles distant. They'll be in, perhaps, in the course of
scyeral months, before starting off for Lhe beaver-runs.”

This information was given by the trader, after our hero
had been within the place an hour or so, and had explained
bis object in appearing in that part of the world at such a
time.

“Do you know any thing of a fellow called Oregon Sol ?”
he inguired.

“Od Sol Jagzin, you mean? Ah—yes, No man except
Kit Carson is so well known this side of tie Mississippi.”

- “Where is he now ?”

“That's a question I can not answer, and I doubt whether
any one else can except the individual himself! I haven't
seen him in a long time.”

“ How long since he has been here ?”

“Let me see: he hasn't been in these parts this year. The
last time was winter before last. He was here only a day or
two, just long enough to dispose of his peltrics, and lay in a
supply of tobaceo and ammunition, when he was off again.
I expected him down last winter, but he failed to appear.”

“What do you suppose the reason to be? Have no idea
that he has collapsed—been killed, I mean 7”

“I hardly suppose that, and yet it may be true after all
Sol is a most experienced Indian fighter and hunter, and after
going through such a course of training as he has, it isn’t
ikely he’d go under at this time of life; but then a trapper's
sife is a hob-nob with Death, and though the latter must win
at last, he does it sometimes sooner than is expecte?. How:

 
 
 

42 NATIAN TODD.

ever,” added the trader, with a more cheerful air, “ I have lit-
tle fear for Sol.” 5

“What reason then do you give for his absence when you
expected him ?”

“One reason is this: he traps somewhere up in Oregon, na
one knows where, for he always goes alone. Since we Ameri-
cans have got hold of Oregon, the emigrants have commenced
coming in there, especially during the last few years. This
has made the beavers somewhat scarcer, and Sol, like enough.
did not secure sufficient furs to make him think it worth while
to come down at the usual time. So he thought he would lie
over for a season.”

“Did you ever hear him say any thing of the lovely girlthat
I have been speaking about ?”

“Now that you have referred to it, it occurs to me that ]
hayve—but only once, and that was the time of which Tom

‘Langdon spoke. I distinctly remember his relating the inci-

dent, just as you say it was told you. It excited my curiosity
somewhat, and I made several inquiries of Sol, as well as of
others who have been in Oregon. But neither he nor any
one else could give any additional information.”

“Do you suppose this lovely gal to be living ?”

“T can only conjecture, which you can dv yourself. I should
not despair of finding her alive and well until I received
indubitable evidence that she was dead.”

_ I don’t suppose any one besides this Sol could give me any-

information which I seek ?”

“No; itis hardly probable. You see, it might be termed
an accident by which he obtained his knowledge, and I doubt
yery much whether he could tell you any more than I have.”

Nat was somewhat discouraged, but not entirely dis-
heartened by what the trader told him. His first impulse
was to start for Oregon at once; but second thought told him
that such a course could avail nothing. By a singularly good
fortune, he believed he had obtained a clue to what he sought;
and that patience and perseverance were only needed to fol-
low it up to a successful termination. It was now ear:y sum-
mer, and he concluded to remain at the Fort until the arrival
of Sol Jagzin, or until it was known that he would not make
his appearance. .

  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
     

———
WAT ATTENDS A PARTY, 43

The dme passed heaviiy to the ardent fellow. Day after
day dragged by, and week after week, until several months
were past. Still there were no signs of the hunter’s return.
Several trappers made their appearance at intervals, and
remaining a day or two, took their departure. Once or twice
large bodies of the Shoshené visited the store-house, and, bart-
ering with the trader, rode away again. Toward the middle
of summer a distinguished Russian traveler, accompanied by
an American, remained several days at Brown’s Hole. Nat
made their acquaintance at once, and the time passed pleas-
antly during their stay. The three had several hunting and
fishing expeditions together, and our hero was thrown into
ecstasies when the American informed him that he was a friend
of Relmond, and had met him in St. Louis on his return from
the Yellowstone. Besides this, Relmond and Imogene, having
a faint hope that the traveler would chance to come across
Nat, had dispatched their best wishes for his safety. Relmond,
as before mentioned, had determined not to let Imogene know
the true cause of Nat’s erratic expedition, for fear that it might
awaken hopes which conld only occasion the keener disap-
pointment.

After the departure of his two friends, Nat found time hang
more heavily than ever upon his hands. He frequently spent
days in rambling over the mountains, hunting the different game -
shat so abounded. He wondered why the hunters should go
40 great distances to seek their prey when there was such an
abundance at their doors. But no signs of beaver and otter
were seen in proximity to the Fort. :

Finally the summer departed. Cold, blustering autumn —
made its appearance. The trader informed Nat that the trap-
pers might be looked for every day. Indeed, the same week
several came in. But no one brought tidings of “ Oregon
Sol.”

A fortnight after this, when the Shoshenés pitched their
‘odges around the Fort, and over thirty trappers and hunters
were on the ground, Nat received notice that a great party
would be held that evening, which, of course, it was expected
he would attend. No refusal could be expected, and there was
little danger of any being offered.

At the appointed time they all assembled in the lodge

 
ii Ni aE ISON IS

44 NATHAN TODD.

which had been prepared expressly for the purpwe. The
oily lights disclosed a singular and characteristic scene. Thera
were Old, weather-bexten hunters, shaggy and scarred, lithe,
graceful warriors, and maidens of all shades, from the dusky
hue of the autumn-leaf to the pure Caucasian. All ages, from
the mere youth to the man of three-score and ten were seen.
Wives, husbands, brothers, sisters and lovers mingled together.
There were a couple of “professors” on the violin, so that
abundant music was furnislied. All went into the sport as if
they relished it. Some danced as finely as if made of Damas-
cus steel; some bounced square up and down; others shoved
themselves around with a slow, solemn motion; while some
shot hither and thither, like bslls of India-rubber.

Late in the night Nat found himself ¢ete-a-tete with a beau
tifal half-breed. While engaged in an earnest talk, she sud-
denly exclaimed :

“Yonder is old Solomon, I declare !”

Nat saw, at the opposite end of the room, a short, stumpy-
looking fellow, clad in the garb of a trapper, and around whom
were congregated a number of both sexes. A moment later,
tbe trader touched Nat on the shoulder and whispered:

“That's Oregon Sol. He is in an unusual good humor to-
night. I spoke of you to him, and he says he will see you in
the morning. Be frank and_to the point with him, and 3
think you will have no difficulty in gaining all the information
you wish.”

It was near morning before the party broke up. In spite
of the exciting expectation which Nat felt relating to Oregon
Sol, it must be confessed he slept soundly until near the mid-
dle of the forenoon. As soon as he awoke, he repaired to the
warehouse to see the trader. He found not only him, but
Oregon Sol, who had just disposed of his furs, and secured his
wiuter-stock of ammunition and stores. The trader introduced
the two at once. We will not detail the tedious conversation
to which Nat was compelled to submit before he obtained his
information, but give the substance of what he learned. The
old trapper was whimsical and eccentric, and it required the
-ombined skill of the trader and Nat, before he divulged what
little he knew. He stated, substantially, what Langdon had
aiready given, pointing out only in addition the precise loca

 
 

   

YANKER GRE AB

‘ion of the place in the Blue Mountains at which he was visited
by the “lovely maiden,” and stating that the Indians belonged
to the Cayuse tribe. The place where he was attacked was
just above the canon of a stream which debouched into Lewis
river. Nat, who possessed a thoreugh knowledge of the
geography of the country, trsced out the very stream cn 4
map in the possession of the trader, and gained such an idea
of the country as to make him confident of his ability to reach
it alone; but he counted much on the assistance of the old,
terrible-looking trapper.

It was, then, with the sorest disappointment that he learned
that Oregon Sol was not going to return again to Oregon.
He had obtained information from a friendly Cayuse of a
region literally swarming with beaver and otter, to which
the two were going in company. He would not disclose its
location, save to say it was in an entirely different direction, and
hundreds of miles from the Blue Mountains. Nat used every
inducement at his command to get the trapper to change his
intention, or at least to postpone it until another season; but
it avaiied nothing. As a class, no men are more stubborn
than those western, half-civilized rangers; and the adventurer
finally saw that if he made his contemplated journey to Oregon,
ig would have to be made without any companion or guide.
a

48 NATHAN TODD,

Os ASP SER SVE,
IN Wilt: 4 HAUL IS MADE CONTAINING A MYSTERIOUS LETTER

WHEN a person comes to an unexpected resolution, his first
impulse is pretty sure to be to carry it out at once; and
undue haste is almost equally sure to characterize his move-
ments, .

A half-hour subsequent to the exclamation recorded in the
last chapter, Nat Todd, well mounted and armed, was riding

at a brisk canter toward the North. Brown’s Hole and its
swarming population already were invisible behind the mighty
cliffs that walled it in from the outer world. The trader at
first, opposed this erratic course, but was compelied to admi\
at last that it was the only one left to him. None of the
trappers present in the Fort were going to the same section ;
and, as there were none who would consent to lose a season
for the purpose of aiding in what could be of little profit or
interest to themselves, it will be seen that the course of Nat
was perhaps the best under the circumstances.

He determined to follow the Oregon trail to Fort Hall,
about two hundred miles distant, on Lewis river. Having
thoroughly posted himself, during his stay at Brown’s Hole,
on the difficulties of the journey, he apprehended no trouble,
except it might be from the Blackfeet, whose war-parties often
hovered around this highway. For something over a dozen
miles he kept up the valley of the Sheetskadee, one of the
most beautiful rivers in the Far West. The water of this
river was clear as air, of uniform breadth, and m no place over
three feet in depth. The mountains rose on either side to the
height of a thousand feet above the level of the stream. He
camped at night on the bank of this river, and at an early
hour resumed his journey.

Nat had taken the precaution of furnishing himself with
® goodly quantity of meat before starting, as the trader

 
 

 

  

THE DESERT. ees RQ

informed lira that he was about to enter a desert, where the
probabilities of obtaining food by the aid of his gun would be
slight indeed. A few miles from his camping-place, he reached
a point in the mountains through which the river wore its
way in such a manner as to make a canon, and, for the dis-
tance of five miles, he was compelled to clamber over frightful
precipices, along brinks of yawning caverns, and over paths
not more than a foot in width, where there was nothing saye
the naked face of the rock to cling to, and where a single
misstep would be instant destruction. But his Indian hors

was as firm and sure-footed as the trained mules of the Andes,

The day passed without affording him a glimpse of a single
human being. The only signs of animal life, besides himself
aud his horse, were a few crozking ravens and magpies that
circled overhead and gaye their dismal welcome to this deso-
late region. His camping-place afforded a view ‘of the
Anahuac Range, which stretched away in the direction of the
Great Salt Lake. He expected to encounter no white persons,
unless it might be one or two trappers, as the season was one
in which few, if any, emigrants braved the perils of the
mountains, The next morning he continued his journey in a
northern direction, over a sort of rolling plain of coarse, sandy
gravel, upon which no sign of vegetation, save the forbidding
wild wormwood, was observed. One or two miserable-looking
prairie-wolyes were espicd in the course of the afternoon.
They slunk along the river-bottoms, giving vent, now and then,
to a howl which echoed like a wail of death from cliff to cliff.
As if to increase the gloom of this desert, a flock of famished
ravens followed him for a long distance, chanting their dis-
cordant notes and darkening the air with their funereal wings,

On the afternoon of the fourth day, the adventurer struck
Ham’s Fork, a tributary of the Sheetskadee. At this season
the river was quite shallow, but during the spring it is over
two hundred feet in depth.

His journey was a long and often tedious one; but there
ere many natural curiosities encountered, which sometimes
served to interest him for a time. Among these were the
remarkable Steamboat and Soda Springs, the Three Buttes,
and the Valley of Chasms.

H3 underwent much suffering from the scarcity of food, and

 

  
& NAIMAN TODD.

upon several occasruns his horse became so weakened as ta be
unable to carry him. Had he been aware of the formidable
journey he had undertaken, his enthusiasm would have failed
to carry him through. But on the tenth day he ascended a
bigh ridge, which — him a view of the great southern
branch of the Colu#fbia. Far to the northward, in the land of
the Shoshoné, could be seen the Three Buttes looming up ir
the sky, while to the southwest stretched a rugged chain of
mountains. But, a more cheering sight than all, there was
Fort Hall, nestling down in the plain, its white battlements
glowing like burnished silver in the clear sunlight.

In a couple of hours he drew rein in front of the. Fort,
shouting for those inside to come forth. Instantly an armed
man made his appearance who gave him welcome.

“Got any thing to eat?” asked Nat. ‘I’m terribly hungry.
, Do you think you’ve got enough to satisfy me ?”

The guard surveyed the strange comer with a quiet smile,
and then replied:

“Tf you doubt it, come in and try it. Come, come, man,
don’t sit there; you’re not serving your horse right.”

“That is true—nor myself either,” answered Nat, hurrying
within the gate. :

The hospitality offered him was the most genuine and
hearty. His horse was well taken care of, and himself feasted
like a prince. Within he found quite a collection of hunters
and trappers, At the conclusion of his meal he arose and
remarked :

“Gentlemen, if there is a man in this company who feels
perfectly satisfied for the present, that man is Nat Todd.”

“Nat Todd, did you say ?” questioned the man who had
welcomed him to the Fort, as he arose and came toward him.

“The same, sir, at your service.”

“There is a letter here for Nathan Todd.”

“A letter for rie?” he repeated, catching his breath, and
feeling a sudden loathing of the food he had just swallowed.

“Yes, sir; I will give it you in a minute. Jn fact, I
aelieve we have two, if I am not mistaken.” E

“Who has written me letters? Can’t be it’s the
lovely maiten I’m looking for, She hain’t learned my aiddrese
vet.” . : é é

   

  

    
 

   

   

NAT IS DUMBFOUNDED. 49

In a moment two letters were placed in his hand. One
was plump and heavy, and a glance at tke superscription
showed Nat it was from his widowed mother. A mist floated
before his eyes as he tremblingly broke the seal, and his heart
fairly leaped while perusing it. It was a hopeful letter, suck
as an affectionate mother would write “to the eldest of four
grown-up sons, breathing prayerfully of his fate, and contain
ing a few words from each of the “children,” and giving, as
a part of the gossip, the fact that his Alminy had married Bill
Hankins shortly after the departure of Nat for the West.

“Just what I «xpected !” remarked Nat aloud. “I might
have known that, when she coaxed me so hard to go to Cali-
fornia—though I was such a fool that I thought she did it out
of pure, genuine love. Never mind; wait till I take this
lovely maiden home that Iam going to find up among the
mountains.”

The letter closed with an earnest wish for Nat to come
home. The farm was large enough to support all, and the
fond mother could not see the necessity for even one of her
children leaving the dear old home. Nat folded up his letter,
resolved to spend a day in answering it, and to promise to
return home the next summer.

He glanced at the next envelope, but failed to recognize the
handwriting. The wonder with which he broke the seal was
increased to literal amazement when he read it. The con-
tents were as follows:

“To Naraan Topp:—Follow the trail to Burnt River,
and then strike off to the northwest to the Blue Mountains,
The one for whom you are looking is in the possession of the
Cayuse tribe.”

_ “Jerusalem! who wrote that letter?” he demanded, look-
ing around him. There was no signature to it, nor any thing
besides his own name upon the envelope.

“Where did you get that letter?” he repeated, turning
toward the friend who had welcomed him to the Fort.

“Tt was left here about two months since by a man who
rode into the Fort, the same as you have, on horseback, and
irom the same direction.”
“What was his name?”
69 NATHAN TODD.

“He did not inform us.”

“ What did he look like ?”

“There was nothing about his appearance that seemed unu:
sual that I am aware of He remained over night. In the
evening, he wrote that letter, and told me to hand it to you
when you reached here, which he said would probably be in
a month from that time.”

“Why, it beat’s all! Mow did he know any thing of me,
much less of the lovely maiden for whom I am searching ?
You do not know where he came from ?”

“From the States, I suppose, although I am not certain.”

“ Know where he was going ?”

‘No, sir; yet I suspect it was to California.”

“Tell me how he was dressed—how he looked.”

The man laughed outright, at Nat's eagerness.

. “Had I suspected this anxiety upon your part, I should
nave certainly made this mysterious perscn leave his name, at
least, with us. He rode upon a coal-black pony—was dressed
in such a manner as to show he was from more civilized
regions than are found this side of the Mississippi. His hair
was long and dark, his face clean shaven, with handsome, reg-
ular features.”

Nat thought deeply upon what his friend had just related,
but could bring up no remembrance of having evcr seen a
person who bore the slightest resemblance to the one just men-
tioned; and, since leaving the Yellowstone, he had met no
hors2 similar to the one referred to. For a long time he
thought of nothing else, and puzzled himself greatly to solve
the riddle. He re-read the note a half-dozen times, and made
his friend repeat the description nearly as often. He ques-
tioned three others who had seen the man, but none could add
any thing to what had already been told. At last, he was
compelled to give up the hope of finding out who the
unknown could be. The whole affair was a mystery. It
was destined to remain so a long time to him.

The afternoon was spent in wriling home. He gave a
whole account of his adventures, not omitting to state that he
was in pursuit of a “lovely maiden,” as far superior to
Alminy as the sun was to the moon; and hinting the proba-
bility of his making his appearance in Lubec the vext

   

a

;
:
|
:
|

 

 
   
ee

gg

  

 

  

FORT HALL, 5°

season, with her as his bride. He closed with a glowing
account of his health, which, under the invigoratirg climate
of the Far West had become rugged and settled, and urging
his mother to feet no anxiety upon his account. ' The letter
finished, he handed it to his friend, who promised that it
should be sent eastward as soon as opportunity offered.

The entire night was passed by Nat in meditating upon the
future. The advice of the note he held in his hand corre-
sponded with that of Oregon Sol, and he had no doubts that
both were correct; but he felt, at that moment, that he would
give all he owncd in the world. if it would be the means of
explaining the mystery of the letter. It was inexplicable,
How a man whom he had never seen, and in a region which
he lad never visited, could know the object which brought
him hither, was incomprehensible.

“At any rate, Pil go. ‘ Follow the trail to Burnt River, it
says, and then ‘strike off to the Blue Mountains’ That course
will take me to the very spot which Oregon Sol mentioned ;
and then it says that the Cayuse tribe hold her. The same
thing was stated by both, and of course must be true. It’s a
long journey, but Nat Todd has not come all this distance to
turn back at this place. No, sir! The trail which he has ©
started upox must be followed to the end.”

Nat remained at the Fort a couple of days in order to
recruit himself and horse. He made the acquaintance of all
those within it, but gained no additional knowledge of what
most concerned him. Fort Hall was built in the year 1832,
by a man from Boston, for the purpose of opening trade with
the Indians in the vicinity. At this time the nearest post of
the Hudson Bay Company was seven hundred miles distant
and he had little fear of competition from them. But thi
wealthy firm, with its vast resources, soon forced him to leave,
Fort Boise was instantly established on Reid river, and the
British company sent out scores of their agents, who literally
surrounded the unfortunate American, and by underselling
him in every thing, in a short time compelled lim to “break,”
and sell out his Fort, at a great sacrifice, to the Hudson Bay
Company. The course of the latter body in this affair may
strike the reader as dishonorable; but, if he will reflect a mo
ment, he will see that nothing was done by them which is not

 

  
   

52 NATOAN TODD.

practived around us every day. It was but fair competition,
and the American Fur Company, as well as many others,
amply retaliated in time. Long after Oregon fell into the
hands of the Americans, the Hudson Bay Company claimed
and held the right of trade within its territory. With a short-
sightedness which is unaccountable, our Government allowed
this claim, and to this day the British reap the benefit of it.*

It was a pleasant morning in autumn when Nat Todd
emerged from Fort Hall, and turned his face toward the
northward. It would be tedious to the reader were we to
follow our hero step by step until he reached the Blue Moun-
wains. His journey to Fort Boise was much the same as the
one from Brown’s Hole. An hour’s ride brought him to the
limit of vegetation. The earth became of a red, fiery color,
coyered here and there with shriveled cottonwoods and
shrubs, and with barqy suflicient grass to keep his animal
from starving. He passed close to the cclebrated “Three
Buttes.” These are pyramidal-shaped peaks, two thousand feet
in height. Their tops were covered with glittering snow’
further down, small streams issue forth, and bands of vegeta
tion encircle these peaks to the base, giving, during the sum-
mer months, a most beautifnl exhibition of the different zones
of the earth. Eight days of constant terror from the roving
Indians—of painful traveling over the knife-like stones—over
black, barren swells—through a vast, untimbered country—
sometimes fording the river beside which the trail led—some-
times camping on the hard-baked earth—at others beside the
softly rippling river—at times ready to give way to despair,
and turn back—at others renewed by Lope—eight days of
such travel as this, and one afternoon a solitary horseman,
scarcely resembling Nathan Todd, drew up in front of Fort
Boise.

A week’s stay at Fort Boise was sufficient to put Nat and
his beast in the best of spirits and condition. He found the
hospitality of its inhabitants as genuine and cordial as those

* The treaty of 1816, says: “‘ The possessory rights of the Hudson Bay
Company, 1nd of all British subjects who may be already in occupation of
the land or other property lawfully acquired within said territory, shall be
1espected.”? Gen. Harney maintained that the right of this company to
exclusive trade on the Northwest Coast, expired in May, 1859, and took

ossession of one of their forts. The members of the British company

eft under protest, and it is but a short time since that the trouble war
satisfactorily adjusted.

   

a

 
~~? —

—

 

4A WHR, 53

of the otaer posts, and left them with may expressions of
regret.

The country over which he now journeyed steadily ta
proved in appearance. A short distance from the Fort,
came upon a number of springs whose waters were much bet-
‘er than those of the Steamboat Spring. At night, he
encamped upon the northern bank of the Malheur, a tributary
of Lewis, which put in from the western side. The next day
he continued still upon the Great Trail. Far to the west. in a
parallel direction with his own, he could discern the peaks of
the Blue Range, stretching far along the sky. At night he
reached Burnt River, a stream as cold and limpid as a moun-
tain-spring. It was at this point he was to “strike off” to
the west. The night was a clear moonlight one, and he con-
tinued his journey a long time, until stopped by the wild char-
acter of the region. In the morning, an hour after starting,
he reached a broad belt of prairie, stretching away to the very
base of the mountains. Here his horse relapsed into a delib-
erate walk, while he fell into a deep and lasting reverie. This
musing fit might have continued a long time had it not been
interrupted by the sudden whiz of something before his eyes.

“Hello! what’s that?” he exclaimed, looking around him,
Just ahead he saw the barb of an arrow sticking out of the
earth, and behind, scarcely a furlong distant, nearly a dozen
(Indians running towerd him with the speed cf the wind!

 
 

54 : NATHAN TODD.

CHA Pal BR Vihd»

’ PROVING THAT IT IS NOT ALWAYS nt8T TO LOOK TEFORK
you LEar,

One glance was enough for our hero to see that discretion
was the better part of valor. One loud yell, and his horse,
with a wild snort, sprung forward like a racer. The flaunting
apparel of the savage seemed to alarm the latter as much as
his rider, and he needed no urging to flee. The Indians dis-

,charged another flight of arrows, and giving vent to their
chilling war-whoop, sprung with renewed speed after the
fugitive.

“Blazes! I think this is a mean trick!” muttered Nat,
glancing furtively over his shoulder. “TI should like to know
what they’ve got against me and my hoss. Never mind,
they’ve got to dig gravel fast to overtake me in this race.”

The speed with which the Indians ran was wonderful, but
it could not be expected that it should match with that of the
norse. He was a noble animal, and skimmed over the ground
with great velocity. The distance between the pursucr and
pursued so rapidly lengthened, that the latter began to hope
the race would be shortly resigned by those who held it at
such disadvantage. Already beyond the reach of the
strongest bow, it was with a peculiar relief that he observed
the savages had no firearms. He was in a region seldom
visited by the whites, and where, from all appearances, the
red-men were determined such a state of affairs should con-
tinue as long as possible.

The trepidation with which this race of life and death was
comimenced by Nat Todd, all at once becanie terror, when he
saw that the prairie over which he was flying terminated a
mile or two ahead. At that point the ground assumed an
uneven, rocky charactcr, which increased until ‘4 was literally

 

 

 
 

 

A RUN FOR LIFE. R

composed uf gorges, cayerns and precipices!' Through these
‘t was impossible to force his animal at a faster gait than a
common walk.

“ By gracious! things begin to look squally! Come, hos,
you must go it while you can.”

If it were late in the day, Nat would have had more hope ;
yut it was early in the forenoon, and the relentless savages
nad a long time in which to secure their victim.

When the latter reached the end of the small prairie, he
sprung from the saddle, and, giving his horse free rein.
plunged in among the rocks to keep up his flight on foot.
He. indulged in one fearful glance behind him, and saw his
pursuers a third of a mile distant, shouting and gesticulating
furiously, as they deemed he was as well as secured.

“The more haste the less speed,” is an adage whose force
was never so distinctly shown as in the present case. WNat’s
only thought was a wild desire to go ahead, and he scarcely
heeded the means by which this was to be gained. He
plunged madly around rocks, pitching headlong into unseen
hollews and stumbling over bonlders, and all the time it
seemed to his tormented brain that he was absolutely gaining
no ground at all. In the midst of his flight, he unexpectedly
found himself between two huge rocks that rose far above him
and extended quite a distance in front, gradually narrowing
until the opening at the opposite. end seemed hardly large
mough to admit the passage of his body. He deemed it
would be too great a loss of time to turn back and run
around, and determined to take a start and make his body go
through. Stepping back a foot or so, he drew in a deep
breath and ran with all his might. As he felt his arms brush-
ing the rocks, he concentrated his strength and made one
desperate, frenzied leap, intending to pass clean through. The
consequence was, he found himself immovably wedged in

between the walls! 4 é
“ Vast, as sure as I live!” he gasped, endeavoring to foree

himself out again. But it was of no use; the force with
which he had driven himself forward was so great that no
sirength of his could extricate him. He kicked and twisted,
and tried to push the rocks little further apart, but it war
unavailing, 3

 
     
   
  
 
 
 
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    

NATHAN TODD.

“Oh! I’m lost!” he mourned. ‘The Indians will be here
hefore I can free myself, and I shall lose my scalp after all.
This is worse than the Iron Shroud that I once read about.
Heavens! is there no help for me ?”

He gazed up pitifully and pleadingly, as if the rocks would
be moved by entreaty to release their vice-like grasp. He
appealed in vain, not to a heart, but to an inert soul, of rock:
he was fast, apparently, forever /

He was compelled, at last, to cease his exhaustive efforts and
listen. He expected, every moment, to see the forms of a
dozen infuriated Indians rush upon him, or hear the twang of
their bows as their arrows were aimed at his devoted head.
But, as minute after minute passed away, and he heard no
signs of them, a faint hope that they had lost all scent of him
began to animate him, and he renewed his efforts to extricate
himself. By exhausting his breath and doubling his efforts,

- ,he suddenly found, to his inexpressible joy, that he was free

und on his feet once more.

Our hero now committed a blunder for which there was
certainly no excuse. The result of his former haste should
have been heeded. In the rocks around him there were
plenty of places in which he could have concealed himself,
where even the basilisk orb of an American Indian would
have fniled to detect his presence. He committed a blunder,
we say; and yet, in the end, as is often the case, it proved one
of the happiest efforts of his life. As no one could have sus
pected the singular termination, its short-sightedness was non¢
the less.

He emerged cautiously from the rocks, and gazed about

him. There were no signs of his pursuers; and, supposing

tuey had been deceived, he determined to continue his flight
tuward the mountains. He crept stealthily along a short dis-
tance, when he descried, a few rods atead, and directly in his
path, a huge gorge, too broad to leap, and extending, appar-
ently, for miles to his right and left.

While debating how this new difficulty should be getten
over, two arrows shattered their heads upon the rock besida
aim, and an exulting whoop showed he was discovered. Ha
glanced back and saw tbe forms of his enemies springing
from rock to rock, and dodging in every imaginable manne!

_

 
 

 

 

 

   

 

A DESPERATE LEAP. BY
® avoi! his own shot. Retreat was impossible, as they were
spreading themselves out like a fan so as to encompass him
in his present position.

“Do or die, and the Lord help me!” he exclaimed, com
pressing his lips and preparing for the final effort.

It was a deed no sane man would have attempted or suc-
ceeded in. But terror—an-absolute horror of falling into the
the Indians’ hands—accomplished it. Drawing in his breath,
Nat made several bounds forward, and as his foot reached the
edge of the precipice, sprung out with superhuman strength !
For an instant, his crouching form was seen in mid-air, and
then disappeared! But he had succoeded in striking the
opposite side, and, half-stunned by the concussion, clambered
to his feet and limped away.

The Indians paused in amazement at secing the white
man’s wonderful leap. As he was lost to sight, they rushed
forward expecting to see his mangled body far down the
dreadful abyss. Reaching the edge, they caught a glimpse of
him, several rods in advance, turning the corner of a projecting
ledge. Their astonishment was unbounded, and they believed
him to be a supernatural being. Not one of their number had
the temerity to attempt the same feat.

A cold sweat broke out upon him as he realized he had
cleared the frightful chasm, and his fecling of terror changed
instantly to uncontrollable hatred of the savages, that they
had forced him to such a desperate effort for life. He
was so much bruised by the shock as to be barely able to
limp behind the ledge alluded to. Here he sunk down, not
even able to walk further. He peered cautiously around the
corner of the rock, and saw his enemies standing in full view,
talking and gesticulating as though engaged in some earnest
argument. He examined the lock of his rifle, and, seeing that
it still remained unharmed, brought it to his shoulder and
sointed it toward the group. But the exhaustion of his sys-
“em was so great as to throw his whole body into such a tremor
ns to make him unable to draw sight on a single one,
‘*ailing in this, he lay flat on his face, and, resting it on the
rock, aimed at the center of the group and fired.

“There’s one imp rubbed out, curse him !” he muttered, as
he saw a reeling savage caught in the arms of his companiuns
d borne away.

  

  
5g NATHAN TODD.

By the time he managed to reload, not an Indian was
visible. A bomb-shell could not have scattered them more
effectually, Now was the time for him to continue his flight;
but, besides being crippled, as stated, he felt an obstinate
determination to make the Indians suffer for what they had
done.

To understand the events which follow, it is necessary that
we should digress for a moment, and explain more particu-
larly our hero’s situation.

The chasm which separated him from the Indians was one
of those immense cracks or yawns which are often scen in the
Far West, that were made at some remote age by an carth-
quake. He had leaped it at the narrowest spot, so that it
was impossible for his enemies to reach him unless they used
some artificial means to cross, or should go round it. It was
not likely the latter course would be taken, as it would involve
too great a loss of time; and Nat, accordingly, prepared to
guard against the former stratagem.

For a half-hour not a sign of an Indian was seen. At the
end of that time a branch fluttered for an instant in the air and
then disappeared. He rose to his feet, and, looking carefully
toward the suspicious point, finally detected a shaven head
the body of which was concealed. It was at a point lowa
down than the one where they were last seen; and before he
could cover it with his aim, it was withdrawn. Still watching
the same point, he soon noticed a piece of rock projecting, like
the leaf of a table, from the opposite side. A closer scrutiny
revealed the alarming fact that it was gradually crossing the
chasm. It apparently moved without human aid, but no
second thought was necessary to reveal the agents at work.
Nat was satisfied that before they could accomplish any thing
they would be compelled to show themselves, when he deter-
mined to lodge a bullet somewhere among them. Feeling
little fear from their arrows, he ascended the top of the rock,
where he could have a view of their operations. His trepida-
tion had given way to a settled calmness, and he seemed now
to possess the most genuine courage. He vowed that, before
the savages should cross the chasm, some of them should go
to the bottom.

Es sat in this position a few moments, without (detecting

 
  

   

 

 

 
  
 

    
 

NOW TO BRIDGE A GORGE. 59

suy further movements of the ridge of rock, when it cccurred
to him that his foes might be extending operations in another
direction. It was well he took a second glance; for, as it
was, it had well-nigh been his last. To his left were three
Indians, and the very instant he turned toward them, the fore-
most had his arrow drawn to the head and pointed directly at
Nat. As quick as thought, the latter turned a back-summer-
et, landing on the rock below in a manner more expeditious
han dignified, while the arrow glanced over him and shot
away in the air with deadly velocity.

Nat now saw that he was to be assailed at two points, and
all his efforts must be turned against these. After watching
their movements awhile, he found the same artifice was to be
adopted by both parties. Each was to force a huge, tabular
rock far enough across the gorge to allow them to leap across,
There was no timber of any size in the vicinity, but the cun-
ning of the rascals was sufficient for every thing. Ponderous
boulders were in readiness to roll upon the end, and preserve
the rocks in their psaces while the miscreants passed over.

In spite of our hero’s most vigilant efforts, the savages suc-
ceeded in pushing these partial bridges far enough to answer
their purposes, without affording him a chance to pick off one
of their number. By means of bushes, and by keeping them-
selves behina the boulders they were rolling, they placed it
out of his power to harm a single one. The point was now
reached which was to decide the contest. All that remained
vas for the Indians to cross, é

The fatal shot of Nat had the effect of thoroughly alarming
the rest, and there was not one who dared expose himself to
his aim. They now endeavored, by every artifice in their
power, to draw a shot from him, their intention being to rush
across before he could have time to reload. The adventurer
understood this, and made his resolution to reserve his fire
until the last moment, not using it until he was compelled to.

Now and then a bronzed head would rise to view and then
flit ont of sight again; and one or two, bolder than the rest,
sprung to their feet, brandishing their tomahawks over theit
heads, and leaping about so as to distract his aim. Once a
dark ball, surmounted by a gaudy tuft, remained in plain sight
several minutes, as if inviting a shot; but Nat was too shrewd

 
  
  
   
  
    
    
  
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
     

NATHAN ODD

  

to imagine that any real savage would expose his skull in
such a manner. He preserved his silence with a provoking
coolness.

At last an Indian sprung up and essayed to run out upon
the lid of rock, but dropped quickly behind one of the bould-
ers, This stratagem well-nigh brought the wished-for shot from
our hero. His finger was pressing the trigger when the say-
age whisked out of sight.

A moment after, the same thing took place above him, and
Was repeated at both places several times. The game, at this
point, assumed an exciting character. Nat knew it was the
easiest thing in the world for these redskins to leap across,
and he believed they intended to do it whether he fired or
not. The only trouble with them was that each knew it
would be instant death to one of them; and these demonstra-
tions were continued, each one hoping his friend would
commit suicide for the benefit of his race.

He watched the visages of both, until he saw one assume
an air of determination. This Indiar, had resolved to mako
the attempt. But he was not given the opportunity. While
rising in the very act of starting, he gave a frenzied yell and
leap in the air, pierced through the breast by the bullet of Nat
Todd.

A loud howl rent the air, and the forms of five dusky red-

skins rose in view. The foremost, without hesitation, ran out .

on the edge of the rock and made a bound outward; but,
while in mid-air, he gave a death-shriek, and, doubling up like
a ball, went spinning down the chasm.

The others paused in astonishment at this second shot, while
Nat hurriedly reloaded his rifle. Scarce a moment elapsed
before he fired the second time among them, and his own shot
was echoed by that of another from an unknown quarter, and
two savages bit the ground at the same instant. This was toc
much for the Indians, who really believed the Evil Spirit was
upon the opposite side of the gorge, and they scattered and
fled as if he pursued them.

The consternation of these savages was no greater than the
amazement of Nat Todd at such an unlooked-for assistance,
Two fatal shots besides his own had been fire’, and they hai
saved him.

 
 

4 FRIEND IN NEED 64

“When I pulled the trigger the first time, I asked the
L~rd to preserve me. He has done it, and I thank him
for it!” said he, reverently. “Still some human hand hag
been used to do it, and he must be around; so I'll. hunt him
u pee
"This was easier said than done. He spent a long time
limping around the rocks, and searching for his unknown
friend. But it was of no avail, and at last he shouted :

“Hello, whoever you are! Come out and show your-
self, It’s Nat Todd you've befriended, and he wants to see
you !”

A suppressed laugh reached his ear. Wheeling around,
he saw a large, powerful-looking man, dressed in the garb
of a trapper, leaning on a long rifle, and leisurely surveying
oim. :

“Heaven save me! if there ain’t Bru, Bropon then my
nseme isn’t Nat Todd”

 
NATHAN TODD.

CHAPTER . VIIA,
IN WHICH THE NARRATIVE MAKES BUT SLIGHT PROGRESS.

“ How ar’ yer, Nat ?” queried Biddon, extending his huge
nand toward our hero.

“Why, well, and nearly crazy with joy at secing you hera
agin. What brought you out in this part of the world ?”

“What brought yersclf? I s’pose we’ve both got a little
story to tell, and so let’s jis git under cover somewhar and
have a powerful talk. No fear of the reds now,” added the
trapper, with a chuckle, as he moved away.

It cost Nat considerable pain to keep pace with him, and
he was compelled, at last, to cry out for him to walk more
slowly.

“ What's the matter ?” queried the trapper, turning toward
him. “ They didn’t git none of them arrers in yer, did they ?”

“No; I took a pretty long jump and got bruised somewhat.

I wasn’t much afeard of their arrows.”
* “You wasn’t, eh ?” asked Bill Biddon, as he picked up the
¢ne which had been discharged at Nat. ‘ Wasn’t much
afeared of ’em, eh? Do you see that reddish stuff on the
pint of this arrer-head? Wal, sir, ef that had pricked yer
skin, you’d a swelled up like a grizzly, and at last busted,
Coz why? It’s the rankest of pizen. Shoot the imps! I
know thar tricks.”

The trapper led the way some distance further, when he
halted before what seemed the face of a solid rock. He turned
around, carefully scrutinizing every rock and bush visible;
when, apparently satisfied, he passed a few feet further, then
made a short turn and suddenly disappeared, leaving Nat in
the most unbounded astonishment.

“Come in, come in!” said the gruff voice of Biddon, sound-;
ing from the cavernous recess of the rock. “ Come in, come:
in, or one of them pizened arrers might hit you,”

    

4.
~

 

 

 
 
   
   
 

-

    
eittiaMt, © puscntte:

Aelia

 

A TRAPPERS LODGKH. 65

“Yes, yes,” repeated Nat, with an involuntary start, for,
strange as it may seem, the presence of the formidable trap-
per made him less courageous than when alone. “ Yes, yes;
but how is the thing to be done ?”

The face of his companion now appeared at a small open-
ing, and he noticed, for the first time, a peculiar longitudinal
aperture, through which it seemed impossible to force a human
body. When attempted, however, it proved an easy matter,
He found himself standing within a small, narrow cavern,
lighted by the openings at either end. Beaver and otte:-sking
were hung around, and the apartment looked very com-
fortable.

“Ts this your lodging-place ?” asked Nut,

“Yas, sir; this is the place where Oregon Sol has slept for
a long time; but he’s give up the business in these parts, and
offered me his house to rent.”

“Oregon Sol! Do you know him?”

“Wagh! Does we know each other? Me and him war
born in the same house in Boonslick County, Missouri, on
the same night, and growed up aside of each other for a dozen
years, fightin’ and quarrelin’ as much as if we war brothers.
We hadn’t either of us any brothers or sisters, and Sol’s
parents (as they call ’em) went under as soon as he learnt to
go on his pegs. Purty soon mine did the same, and we jined
and went with a lot of trappers, and have been knocking
‘round the ’arth ever since. Kit Carson was born in the same
place, the year after us, but, in course, he was a little shaver
when we left. But, shoot me, I’m talking too much. Know
any thing "bout Jarsey and the gal he was after? Did they
git off, or what’s ’come of ’em ?”

“T saw them get on a steamboat on the Yellowstone, and
I suppose they are somewhere in the States, married, and
enjoying themselves as much as possible. That puts me in
mind of the message they both left for you. Te and Imogene
wold me, if I ever came acrogs you, to give their undying love
to you, and to ask you to go down in their parts and live
with ’em.”

“Jarsey kinder walked into my affections, and I should
like to shake the feller’s paw agin; and that little Imogene,
(bless her, if I don’t halt tnimk she’s a sperit yet.) T'd goa

 
NATHAN TODD,

long tramp to see her give me one of her purty grins. But I
never spect to see ’em agin. J can’t bear the clearins’, and ]
spect Jarsey has got me in some thar books or newspapers

down thar. I’d kinder like to see how Bill Biddon would

look in a book, and see some thar picters of ’im. Jarsey told
me he was goir’ to do it, and I s’pose the feller has. How

comes it that you're here ?”

“Well, Biddon, you remember there were two girls who

escaped that massacre at which you were present some years
ago.” ;

“ Yas.”

“ Well, you know Relmond has gone off with one of these.”
“Yas, I know it.”

“And the other has never been found.”

“No, I b’lieve not.”

“And that she may stil! be living.”

“ P’raps so.”

“ At any rate, there is as much reason to believe she is as
there was to believe Imogene was before she was seen.”
“Yas, shoot me if that ain’t so.”

“Well, Imogene told me, before going East, that she always
believed that Irene, her sister, and a lovely maiden, was cap-
tured by Indians, who went toward Oregon with her.”
“What of that ?”

“Well, Oregon Sol, who was down at Brown’s Hole when
I left there, told me that a year or two ago he saw a captive

white girl up in these mountains, Don’t you think there is
some reason to believe that that captive is Irene Merment ?”

= eeasix. (2
“That is the reason I am here. I am looking for her.”
“You said the other gal b’lieved the other one was taken

by reds as b’longed.to these parts ?”

“She often remarked that to me.”

“Wal, sir, she was right!”

“She was right! How do you know that, Biddon ?”

“ Bill Biddon hain’t tramped the prairies for thirty yeary

for nothin’. Ef he can’t tell whar a red belongs, even ef it is
night when he sees him, then you may shoot me. When

them reds came down on us that night, I knowed they war
from three different tribes, and knowed one of these tribes

 

    

ye

  
-——_

PILL ‘BrppON’s “APPINTMENT.” 65

longed to Oregon, and Tye long s'picioned the gai wa
taken by the Oregon ones. But it allers seemed to me she
war gone under long ago. She war more tender nor Jarsey’s,
and didn’t seem built right to stand the weather. You say
old Sol teld you he’d see’d such a gal in these parts once ?”

“ Yes.”

“Wal, he fold me the same thing, and that’s one reason
why I’m here. Howsumeyer, afore going further, let’s hear
the news ’boyt yourself, beginnin’ with the time when you
give us the slip on the Yellowstone.”

Nat thereupon related what the reader has probably learned
in another volume, and at its close, asked :

“Now, Biddon, let me hear the particulars of your history.”

“T hain’t got much to tell. Is’pose Jarsey told you "bout
me up to the pint whar I went off with the brigade ?”

“ Yes, he related that.”

“ Wal, I went up to the Selkirk settlement with them fellers,
and they give me a rousin’ pile of money and trinkets for the
furs I got ’em, and then very perlitely told me my name was
down on thar books, and I was appinted to go to one of thar
forts called Ilycross,* ’bout fifteen thousand miles further
north, whar I was to trap for seventy-five or eighty years,
and they’d give me another pile of money. Wagh! I told
‘em, jist as peflitely, they might go the devil, and slingin’ my
gun over my shoulder, I stepped down to Oregon and called
on Sol, who told me ‘bout that gal, and I’ve staid’ hyer lookin’
round for her ever since.” 2

“Have you learned any thing of her?” eagerly asked Nat.

“Yes, summat. Them Injins as come so near wipin’ you
out, ’'m purty sure have got her, and I shouldn’t wonder ef
that’s the reason why they’re so afeard any of the boys shouid
come round hyer. They smoked Sol out, and he advised me
not to stay here; but I’s bound to find out all ’bout that gal.
Do you know how many of the reds war chasin’ you ?”

* About a dozen, I believe,” replied Nat.

“There war jist eight, and one rifle would scattered every
one.”

Nat winced under this rebuke of the trapper, but with a
cunning shrewdness replied:

* Fort Tele a la Crosse, a post in the Northern Dev**™ ent,

°

 
  

NATHAN TODD.

“You see, the way of it was this:” (Lere tle speaker
placed tl.e forefinger of his vight hand very impressively in
the palm of his left;) “I ha‘e Indians, especially them that
hate me, which I believe include all west of the Mississippi,
and when these eight rascals started after me, I made up my
mind tc shoot every one. Accordingly I run, so as to make
them follow me, of course. I just stepped over that gorge,
hoping they’d all try to follow me and break their necks.
But they wouldn’t do it, and so I commenced picking them
off, intending not to spare a single one! You sce I entrapped
them. You came along and helped me, for which I’m much
obliged.”

A broad smile illumined the trapper’s visage, as our hero
ended his remarks.

“Shoot me, Nat, you’re a qua’r beaver. I used to think
you’s afeard of redskins, and I kinder think so yit. But when
a feller would expect you to own up squa’r and knock under,
you're sure to give some reason that nobody ever thought on.
Howsumever, I’ve taken a like for yer, Nat, and I offers you
n grip of my paw. When Bill Biddon does that he means it,
and he’s your friend as long as his top-knot is on his noddle.”

The two grasped hands, and sealed forever the friendship
they had long entertained for each other. :

“ Bill,” said Nat, “down at Fort Hall this letter was given
me. Since seeing you, I’ve thought perhaps you wrote it.”

“Let me see it.”

The trapper took the letter and fumbled it awkwardly, and
examined the writing with a curiosity similar to that with
which a scholar would scrutinize some unknown hieroglyphic.

“Ar them what you call letters?” he asked, i his
finger on them.

“ Certainly ; can’t you write, Biddon ?”

“Me write! Wagh! Them crooked things looks like
mashed bugs to me, and allers did. Me ana Oregon Sol
went to school one day down in Missouri, but the teacher
wasn't there, and we hadn’t no books, so you see our edication
was limited, as they say down in the settlements. I can’t see
how them jiggers can speak, but I s’pose they does. Jist
tread ’em.”

Nat di? so, when ihe contents instantly ahsorbed the atten-

 
  
 
  
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
  
 
 
 
     
  
 
 
   
   
   

~e-

i
|

 
 
 

 

   

A TALK IN CAMP. 67

tion of Biddon. A long consultation was held between the
two, in which the latter stated that he had been in his present
retreat but a few weeks; but from “signs,” he was well
satisfiel that the Indians had a prisoner among them, of
whom they were extremely jealous. They decided to remain
in their present quarters as long as they could hold them, or
until definite knowledge of the lost-one was obtained. The
authorship of the letter was as great a mystery as ever. ‘Bid-
don said, from what Oregon Sol had told him, he betleved
there were persons at the different forts who knew of the
strange captive, and who had conveyed their intelligence to
Nat either to mislead or to guide him—most probably the
atter. Who that person could be, or how he learnt the name
of our hero, neither could divine. 3

“But Sol stated that it was near the cafion of some river,”
temarked Nat.

“ Jist keep still a minute.”

As the two listened, a dull roaring, like the distant roll of
the sea, was heard.

“What does that mean ?” qucried Nat

“That’s your kenyon.”*

“We are then in the vicinity to which Oregon Sol directed
me. It is now rather late in the afternoon. Shall we shew
ourselves agin to day?”

“T will crawl out pretty soon and take obsetvations. That
jump of yours—which I allow was some—’pears to have
lamed you a little, and I s’pose you'll want to rest your
hones.” ,

“Yes, Ishouldn’t mind it. If you're going out, keep a sharp
eye for the infernal rascals.”

“Wagh! don’t he afeard of Bill Biddon. I was out lookin’
at the weather when I heard your rifle crack, and I knowcd
thar war whites ’bout, and like enough in difficulty with the
reds, so I crawled around and soon see’d how things stood.
Tn course I didn’t know ’twas you, but I made up my mind
to give ’em a taste of Bill Bicdon, thinkin’ as how they might
be pryin’ round after my traps, if I didn’t scare ’em a little.”

* A canon isa narrow, tunnel-like passage, through which a river forcea
its way. Compressed within these walls, so close in some places as to be
easily leaped over, the water rushes with inconceivable velocity. When

- Viewed from the top, the river often preseuts the appearance.of one mass

e¢ foam and whirlpools, from which the mist ascends as if from a vast
waterfall,
 

NATHAN TODD.

“Do you think you've given them such a fright that they
will not disturb you again ?”

“Wagh! wagh! I give ’em a powerful scare, wal, I did;
but I'm afeard it won’t last long. They thought awhile ago
they’d come across the Old Boy himself, but after they’ve
talked over the matter, in course they'll know who it war, and
I shouldn’t wonder ef they burn us or root us out.”

“What was it they did to frighten Oregon Sol away ?”

“He wasn’t exactly frightened away. Ef he had wanted
to stay, he’d done it, sure, in spite of ’em. Wal, thar! they
yiled a whole lot of brush in front of him, and smoked him
out. He stood it as long as he could, when he blazed
among ’em, and settin’ up a yell, tore right through the whole
pack, smashin’ a dozen heads, jist to leave his mark among
‘em. The rest took after, yellin’ and screechin’ like mad, and
for a time thar war some fun. But Sol knows how to use
his pegs, and it didn’t bother him at all to give ’em the slip.
Ife had trapped so long hyer that beavers were gettin’ scarce,
and some redskin, that he’d took a like to, told him of a great
place, where I s’pose he’s gone by this time.”

“But he saw this lovely maiden but once, and it was in
another place.”

“Yas, jist so; it was in another place he see’d her, but not
fur off, and it war the same imps that are round hyer. They
travel round like turkles with thar packs on thar backs. I
met Sol down toward Fort Hall, and after hearin’ of his story
{ made up my mind to come hyer.”

“But Jerusalem! ain’t you running an awful risk.”

“Yer afeard ?”

“No—oh, no! but then Is thinkin’—you know—that-
that you run the risk.”

“Don’t you see the reds see’d Sol leave, and as he war the
cnly feller as has been in these parts for a long time, ’twan’t
noways likely they’d spect another chap right off to step into
his tracks, and ’tain’t likely they’d ever found it out ef Pd kept
¢hady and let ’em wipe you out.”
Shortly ufter this, Biddon went out

   

  
wt

 

  

WINTER QUARTERS.

CHAP TR. 1x.
iN WHICH THERE IS A HOUSEWARMING, A VISION AND A FLIGHT

Ir was dark when Biddon returned, and, after severa!
yninutes’ unimportant conversation, the two lay down to rest.
In the morning Nat found himself unable to walk, owing tc
the bruises mentioned; but they were not of dangerous char-
acter, and in a few days he was restored to his usual condi-
tion. The trapper continued to engage in his vocation, more
for the purpose of supplying the two with food, and for pass-
ing away time, than for any thing else.

In the mean time the approach of winter was rapid. The
weather, in the course of a week, set in with most intense cold-
ness, and the streams freezing over seriously impeded the suc-
cess of the trapper. He had, however, laid aside enough to
supply all necessary food through the winter; and, all things
considered, their situation was by no means unenviable.

One thing was a matter of surprise to both. Not a sign of an
Tndian was seen, and Biddon more than once stated that ho
helieved the tribe had gone into winter-quarters in some other
section. Nat proposed that they should follow them, but the
trapper remarked that it might be only a stratagem to deceive
them. The Indian village was several miles away, in a sort
of valley or depression in the mountains. A winter, such 21
in our more temperate sections is rarely witnessed, was
approaching, and the advice of Biddon that they should “keep
out of sight and make themselves comfortable,” was perhaps
the wisest that could be followed under the circumstances.

The winter, as may well be supposed, was most tedious to
the two adventurers. Sometimes the snow was whirled in
blinding eddies through the gorges, and, for a month, lay sev
eral feet in depth, and the walls of their cavern-home, were
«8 if made of solid ice; but their abundance of furs, and the
fuel with which the ingenuity of the trapper supplied thom,

 

  
  

20 NATHAN TODD. ,

was suflicient for all purposes. Sometimes the burly form >of
the latter might be seen on the margin of the frozen streams,
cautiously searching for beaver-signs, or setting his traps for
the foxes that lurked around them, On several occasions,
Nat and Biddon ventured out upon these excursions during
moonlight nights, when the crusted snow sustained their weight
without leaving a trail. Their footsteps echoed with a noise
that, in the intense stillness, could be heard at a great distance ;
while, now and then, the long, dismal howl of the droves of
famished wolves pierced the night-air with a chilling power.
During the long nights, Biddon often whiled away the hours
in relating reminiscences of his wonderful career, while, in turn,
Nat gave many of his own adventures in Lubec, including his
love-affair, already familiar to the reader. Not an Indian trail,
through all the long, dreary winter, was discovered by the trap-
per, and they remained unmolested by man or animal. Nat
was often startled when he reflected upon his temerity in thus
venturing into the mountains alone. He had not the remotest
suspicion of ever encountering Biddon again, and had he been
left without a companion, he would either have had to per-
ish by starvation or cold, or thrown himself upon the hospi-
tality of the savages, where it is not to be expected he would
have fared any better.

But, at last, the winter wore away, and beautiful, radiant
spring dawned upon them. The mountains echoed with the
sound of a thousand rills and streams, the rivers burst their
icy barriers with a shock like the noise of thunder, and vege-
tation sprung forth as if by magic. So sudden was the change
that, as Nat stepped forth from the cave, one clear morning, it
seemed as if he were in a land of enchantment.

The time had now come for action. The warm, genial
climate, unsurpassed by any in the world, the exuberant foli-
age, all were favorable. Biddon returned, one evening, to the
cave, from a sort of scouting expedition with which he had
occupied himself during the day.

“What have you learned?” asked Nat, as he noicad t
peculiar expression upon the trapper’s face.

“Wal, I have learnt a little, but s’picioned a heap.”
“ What is it? Let me know .” “
“Ts out around takin’ observations, as them “sim fore ea

 
   
    
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
    
  
 
 
 
 

lorries

tl

 
 

» /ROSPECT OF TROUBLE. 71

settlements say, this afternoca, when I come onto thy Ingin
village. It's down in a valley, and it’s my apine they've jist
arrove, ‘cause why: I’ve been along there in the winter and
didn’t see a single lodge. They’ve wintered further up the
mountains and have jist come back.”

“Do you suppose they know we are here ?”

“T guess they ain’t sure, but they s’picion it.”

“Why do you think so 2?”

“I have come across a dozen trails, and b'lieve they’re
huntin’ fur signs of us. Ef they happen to find one of my
traps, ivll be all they want. They'll be down on us in a
twinklin’,

“Do they know our hiding-place ?”

“This is the same place used by Oregon Sol, you must
mind, and it ain’t noways likely they’ll miss takin’ the first
peep in hyer to see how things look.”

“Then we'll be in a hot place before we know. Suppos.
they do surround us, what will we do ?”

“Stay in till we git smoked out, and then make a run for
7

“But can we get away from them ?”

“Wagh! that’s ’cording to how fast your pegs move,
‘though I think the chances are good of gittin’ your ha’r raised.”

“My gracious, Biddon!” exclaimed Nat in consternation,
“we must arrange things differently from this.”

“ Afeard ?” asked Biddon, with a piercing look.

“ Of course not—certainly not. My great objection, Biddon,
you see, is this: if they undertake to smoke us out, it is
more than likely they will smoke us to death, and I am sure
there is no need of letting them do that. We won’t be able
to get away from them either with our eyes half blinded and
our clothes singed off of us!”

Yhe trapper indulged in a hearty laugh before replying:

“You're a trump, you is. Howsumever, it’s well ’nough
to be on the luokout. I don’t s’pose you care about goin’
under jist now, ef the wipin’ out has to be done by the reds.
As fur me, 3s don’t make no difference when the last sickness
comes, ’though J should die hard ef I thought my top-knot
was ever to hang in the lodge of a redskin. There ain’t no
yné to cry when Bill Biddon goes, He has hunted a long

 
   

 

vi) NATHAN TODD.

time ’mong the praeries, and is gettin’ so well ‘long that ths
day can’t be fur off after all, and he ain’t noways skeerish about
it. Howsumever, as I’s sayin’, ’tain’t noways likely you've a
hankerin’ to go under jist now, and so we'll take a look ’round
us.”

“Have you no means at hand te escape should an attack
be made ?”

“You heart he roar of that kenyon? Wal, in under the
rocks there I’ve a canoe, and when the time comes—ef it ever
does—when we can choose the way in which we'll step ont,
that'll answer.”

“How, Biddon? I don’t understand you.”

“ We can go down the kenyon !”

“O thunder! that would be sure death.”

“You've hit the truth there once, ef you never did afore,
though ’tain’t exactly the truth either. You'd stand a chance
of comin’ out right—bout the same chance that a painted
Crow would afore Bill Biddon’s shooter, after he’d drawed
bead on him !”

“ Narrow enough chance, in heaven’sname! But, Biddon,
what do you propose to do ?”

“We won’t undertake nothin’ to-night, but to-morrow we'll
spend the day in scoutin’. We'll find out ef that gal’s hyre-
abouts. Ef she is, we'll make a dash fur her; ef she isn’t—
why she isn’t.”

A long consultation was held that evening between the two
friends, and their course of action determined upon. It was
decided that the first point was to ascertain whether the one
for whony they were searching was in the tribe. Despite the
circumstances pointing that way, there still was good reason
to doubt this all-important fact. Were she present, however,
they could hope for no success unless they should discover
some means by which first to communicate with her, assure
her of the existence of her sister and the efforts being made
to restore her to civilization, and thus awaken a natural desire
to escape upon her own part. Could they succeed in this,
there was every reascn to hope for entire success, although, as
the trapper intimated, the suspicion and vigilance of the
Indians would be so great as to make it a work of the great
est peril to all concerned,

  

pen PE reer ¢ mes
RECONNOFTERING. B

fm the morning the twe ventured forth, taking opposite
lirections. The vegetation was so abundant toward the base
of the mountains that every facility was afforded fur conceal-
ment, and they had little fear of detection. Biddon proceeded
in a westerly direction, intending to pass around and recon-
noiter the village from the opposite side, while Nat concluded
to lie off in the woods and view matters from a distance. The
Jatter made his way cautiously down the mountain, and
entered the woods without encountering any suspicious object.
Here the glorious foliage and. the pleasant air were so tempt-
ing that he wandered through the forest almost forgetting the
object that brought him thither. THe crossed small streams of
water which came down in cascades from the mountain, and
fiowed over their pebbly beds like liquid mountain-air, in
which the fish, darting hither and thither, resembled flashes
of gold and silver. The forest-arches echoed with the songs
of thousands of birds; the sky overhead, as blue as Italy’s, was
flecked by a few drifting clouds; the air had that peculiar
clearness which renders it doubly exhilarating. Nat wan
dered onward, like a boy lost in enchantment, until noon, when
he suddenly noticed that he had passed the Indian village by
several miles. Somewhat startled by this discovery, and
Wwithal a little ashamed, he immediately turned to retrace his
way. Having now no fascination to make the mind insens-
wle to what the body was doing, the distance seemed astonish-
ingly great. But after a few hours of hurried walk, he caught

- sight of the Indian todges, nestling down in the valley like a

ot of hives, while the bees were swarming around the outside
and through the adjoining forest. Nat now and then caughi.
a sight of the warriors, glittering in their gaudy dress like so
many tropical birds, and flitting hither and thither in a man-
ner that warned him to»be cautious of his movements as he
approached the vicinity of the village. While proceeding
thus, he stumbled upou a scene. that made him recoil in aston-
ishment. Several trees, standing close together, were inter-
laced and interwoven by vines in such a manner as to make a
natural arbor. Pressing between these vines, h2 found the
semblance from within more perfect than from the outside
Jt seemed as though art must have ‘assisted at some time tn
fraing such a beautiful retreat—more especially as the interior

 
74 P NATHAN TODD,

had the appearance of being fitted up for the abode of
some one during the sultry noontide hours. But Nat had
seen such wonderful doings of Nature in the wilds of the Nortl:
west, that it would have required a most extraordinary
demonstration upon her part to have shaken his belief in her
potency. The present scene was so inviting, and the air so
cool, that he concluded to rest himself for awhile before con:
tinuing his reconnoiterings—or, more properly, commencing
them. Had he taken the precaution to examine more closely
the network of vines around him, he would have discovered
such evidences of the hand of man as to have made him care-
ful about hesitating long enough even to view the arbor, much
less to trust his body within it for.an hour or two. But no
such suspicion entered his mind; and, seating himself upon a

, curious-looking object, he gave himself up to the enjoyment
of the scene around.

As might be expected, he fell asleep! A half-hou
after entering, he rolled off his seat upon ths leaves
without waking, and continued his slumbers as pvacefully
as if in his own house at home. An hour passed thus,
when he awoke, and gazed with a bewildered look around
him. He recalled in a moment the circumstances by
which he was surrounded, and was about to rise to his feet
and pass out, when he was startled by a vision so unexpected,
su astounding, that we must digress a moment to describe it
in full.

At the opening by which he had entered, stood a person
whom it would have required no great effort of the imagina-
tion to funcy a being just dropped from the skies. Her dress
was purely Indian in character, with all the dazzling contrasts
of color and costly abundance that characterizes the costume
ofa princess. The hair was black and flowing, and was sur-
mounted by a wreath, in which elustered such a number of
eagle-feathers of the most brilliant dyes, as to give it the
appearance of the plumage of one of those wondrous birds of
the Orient. A shawl of the hue of blood, spangled by all the
curious devices that an Indian’s ingenuity could suggest, fell
from the shoulders to the feet, and was open enough in front
to reveal a dress of green and blue, figured and wrought after

the manner which a savage sorcerer sometimes evinces, The

 
  

 

 
   
  
 
 
 

    
 

 

 
  

NAT BLUSHES. 75

leggins were of the most tasteful kind, and the moccasins
small and ornamented by beads and trinkets. As she stood,
the left hand was closed over the right shoulder so as to grasp
the folds of the shawl and sustain it in its place, while the
tight arm was raised, and the fingers were extended as if in
horror. The eyes were intensely black and glowing, the
mouth partly open, and one foot slightly in advance of the
other. The apparition of a white man seemed to have trans-
fixed her with a species of a terror, and she remained as
motionless as a statue. When this being first burst upon
Nat’s vision, he started, recoiled, and then gazed at it as if fas-
cinated. He examined the gorgeous dress, the form and the
features. He noticed the dark eyes and hair, the small,
slightly Roman nose, the finely cut lips, and glowing throat,
and then, as if enthralled, he asked scarcely above a whis-

rs
me Are you. Irene Merment ?”

No pen can describe the amazement that depicted upon the
face of the fair being at hearing her name pronounced. Iook-
ing at her questioner a moment, as if her gaze would enter his
yery soul, she in turn asked

“ Who are you?”

“Nat Todd.”

“ Why are you here?”

“T have come, fair one, for you.”

Irene stepped forward and fixed that burning look of
her's upon the adventurer until he felt like sinking to the
earth.

“What, does this mean ?” she asked, speaking like one in a
reverie. “Am J dreaming? or have I heard my name pro-
nounced by one of my own race ?”

“Tt is you then?” said Nat, who had heard her words
“And I shall be rewarded for coming this great dis-
iance.”

Then seemingly gaining his usual sanguine feelings, he added
with a glowing countenance :

“And your name is Irene Merment, is it ?”

“Tt is—and how came you to know it?”

“We'll come to that by-and-by,” he replied. “ Well, Bil.
Biddon and myself (more especial ¢ myself) are here after
you.”

  
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
   
   
   
     

i

76 oe NATHAN ‘TODD.

While Nat was speaking, the fair being gazed at him as if
she doubted his sanity. Several times he noticed, too, thas
sae glanced furtively around her, as though she feared th¢
approach of some one.

“ But,” said she, “ what do you wish of me ?”

It liked to have slipped from Nat’s mouth before he
thought; but it occurred to him it was rather early in their
acquaintance to make the all-important answer.

“We want to take you from these outlandish rascals to the
land of civilization, where you may see your friends,”

“ Me—TI have no friends but these Indians.”

“Beg your pardon, the best friend you’ve got in the world
stands before you; and haven't you got a sister ?”

“T had once. If she is living, she is, like me, a hopeless
captive. I never expect to see her until I meet her in

heaven.”

“You're all wrongagain. I’ve seen your sister Imogene;
she is married to a fellow named Relmond, from down
toward New Jersey somewhere. He is rather soft-like, but
they’re happy for all that. Happy, most, as I expect to be
when—”

He finished the sentence by a burning blush and cough.
Trene turned as pale as death, but mastered her terrible emo-
tion, and asked :

“Ts this true? Do tell me all. But I fear for you. If the
Indians see you, you will be killed.”

“There are various opinions about that,” replied our hero,
confidently. “ However, the story must be given. A num-
ber of years ago, all of your family, except yourself and sister,
were murdered on the plains by the ail-fired savages. Each
of you were taken captives, and carried off by different tribes.
Your sister, Imogene, was rescued from captivity by myself,
assisted by Biddon, who was your guide at the time of the
massacre, and who is here now—assisted by him, I say, and
Relmond, who is gone East with her and married her. I heara
her speek of you, and I made a solemn vow to find out your
fate. The Lord directed me here, and I’ve found you at last.
Me and Biddon have been hunting all ~ver ti.e mountains for
you, and here instead of finding you, you have found
Will you not retyrn with us?”

   

 

 

Sy —
Sa

 

IRTNE. a T7

“ Yes, yes; [ could not live here now that I know my only

carthly relative is living. I would die—I would die.”

he covered her face and gave way to her emotion for a
time, while Nat busied himself with surveying her wonderful
dress, admiring he. faultless form, and conjuring up a hundred
wild schemes of escaping with her. Soon she looked up.

“Are you and Biddon the two white men who have
remained in the mountains this winter ?”

“Yes; how did you know we were here ?”

“The Indians have suspected it, although ‘they did not
know where it was you remained. Oh, my friend! you are
in great danger.”

“Where? what is it?”

“The savages have watched the mountains for you a long
time, and they have found, at last, where it is you stay, and
they are going to kill you. They will do it if you are not
careful. Oh! I saw them kill a white man once whom they
found here, and they tried to get another one. They seta fire
all around the cave in which he had hid himseif, and tried to
make him come out that way. He set up a yell and ran
right through the fire and got away from them after all. Oh!
I was so glad I spent the whole night in thanking the blessed
God for it. He was the same man that I once warned of
danger several years before. Do not go back to your cave
to-night, for they will kill you.”

“ But I must find Biddon.”

“Do not sleep there then.”

“There's no danger of my sleeping any where to-night {
I'll go right off and see him now—but hold on,” he exclaimed,
wheeling around and facing Irene, “ how about you're going
with us?”

“T must see you again,” she replied ina low tone, and witk
such an accent as to show that it had been years since she -
used her native tongue.

“T have it!” cried Nat, exultingly. “TI will see Biddon,
and we'll camp out in the woods somewhere to-night, and I'll
come around to this place to-morrow night, and we'll start for
home right off.”

“Have you horses ?”

“Not one. I lost mine = fall, and some of your Indians
youst have stolen Biddon’s.”

 
     
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

78 NATHAN TODD,

“JT will try and get some and bring them here, and ob ;
may Heaven help me!” |

She trembled like an aspen as she spoke, and soon added:

“Go now to your friend, and I entreat you to be careful.
Oh! this can not be reality !—it is!—it is! God grant that
I may see my long-lost sister !”

The next minute she was gone, and Nat, gazing a moment
in vain to catch a glimpse of her, turned also and departed.
Hardly five minutes had elapsed when the bushes parted
within a dozen feet of where she had been standing, and the
ercuching form of an Indian rose to view. His face was dis-
torted with passion, for he had witnessed the interview just "
recorded; and, although not a word was understood, the wily
savage read their meaning in their faces and gestures. He 7 8
bent his head as if listening, and then disappeared as stealthily
as he had come.

>

 

In the mean time Nat made his way toward the cavern, B
i his heart throbbing tumultuously with his newly-awakened
i} hope, and with the numerous schemes he conjured up to
escape the fury of the savages. It was already growing dusk,
and, while yet some distance from their rendezvous, he heard walk

a rustling in the bushes, and before he could divine its cause,
Biddon stood beside him.

“Don’t go any nearer the rocks!” he admonished in a
whisper.

“Why, what’s the trouble ?” af

“They’ve found us out at last, and it’s my private opine
there’ll be some fun to-night. Jist step back hyer a little .
further in the woods and we'll talk the thing over. Now,” a8
asked the trapper, “ what have you seen ?”’

Nat related every particular of his interview with the cap-
tive, Irene.

“ Just what I expected,” added Biddon. “ You orter knowed
more than to go asleep in that place—”

“ But you see I wanted to find out how the thing worked,
and if I hadn’t I wouldn’t have seen the lovely maiden—”

“T know,” interrupted Biddon, with a slight chuckle; “it’s
happened to come out right, but you orter knowed better. A
I’ve been peakin’ round their village, and soon found out by
the way things looked that they’s up to some deviltry, and

=~

 
 

 

 
   
   
v

 

  
   
 

 

o>

  

CAUTION. ; vd

long afore night I knewed it war our place they'd sot eves
on. As I said afore, they'll be thar to-night.” :

“ And what'll we do ?”

“We'll lay off. Folier me as still as a snake.”

The trapper led the way further up the mountain until he
reached a point several hundred yards from the cafion of
which we have before spoken, and about a furlong from the
eayern which, up to this time, had been their quarters. Here
they halted before a cluster of buffalo-berry bushes. Both
knelt down on their hands and knees, crept a dozen feet into
the densest portion, where they nestled down like a couple of
rabbits. :

“ What is this for ?” asked Nat, in a whisper.

“ You see, there’s going to be somewhat of a moon to fight,
and when they don’t find us among the rocks, they’ll make a
search around it fur us, fur they’re bound to either lift our
ha’r or skear us out of these parts.”

“But won’t they find us here ?”

“They won't look so fur as this to-night, and if we can lay
out of sight till to-morrow night, they’ll think we've left for
good, and we'll have the next night to do the business for
him.”

Nat saw the meaning of the course taken by the trapper.
The latter hoped to escape the eyes of the savages by the very
boldness of his stratagem. He had found, during the day,
that his traps had been visited, and had every good reason to
believe their retreat in the rocks was suspected. He knew
that a search would be made through the adjoining forest and
mountains ; and where the savages were acquainted with every
nook which could conceal a human body, there was little
cause to hope they would escape their vision. They might
have made a retreat of several miles in the mountains, and
thus avoided them until they could venture in the vicinity of
the village again ; but the reckless trapper chose a bolder ana
more perilous artifice. The thicket in which he and Nat had
concealed themselves afforded them a perfect screen, and there
was no danger of their being seen by any passer-by, unless he
should enter and separate the bushes. He had chosen a poin
so near the cafion to avail them in their last extremity should
a discovery take place.

 

  
   
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
    
  
     
     
    

NATHAN TODD.

They sot an hour or so conversing in whispers, when Nat
felt the hand of Biddon placed suddenly upon his shoulder,
and heard his whispered exclamation :

“ Look |"

A bright, lurid glare filledth at quarter of the heavens cver
the cavern which had so long been their home, and a pile of
blazing brush, sending its cinders high in the air, was raging
around the rock itself.

“The imps ar’ at work, but they’ve missed thar scalps this
time.”

The Indians had waited until late at night before com-
mencing their work. At that time they judged their victims
would be asleep within the cave, totally unsuspicious of dan-
ger. Their preparations were made with the utmost secresy,
so as not to alarm them. Huge piles of brush were heaped
around the cave until it was literally covered with it. The
most daring of their number could not be induced to enter the
cave in the face of the two rifles and knives they supposed to
be within it.

The torch was applied to the brush in a dozen different
places at the same moment; and, as the forked flames shot
upward, half a hundred throats rent the air with exultant yells,
From their hiding-place the two whites could see the shadowy
forms leaping and flinging their limbs, like demons in some
hellish revel. The savages expected their victims would
either remain withir .ne cave until suffocated to death, or until
they were compelled to rush out in their frenzy, when it was
intended to tomahawk them.

“Bars and beavers! wouldn’t it do me good jist to make
ene or two of them imps bounce a iittle higher ?” remarked
Biddon, pointing his rifle through the bushes and letting the
gleam of the fire fall upon the barrel.

“TY wouldn’t try it, Biddon,” pleaded Nat. “I wouldn't try
‘tat all; it migh' be dangerous—dangerous to the Indians, }
mean.”

“That's jist what Biddon was thinking.”

“Yes—I was going to say so—but I wouldn’t do it, Biddon
Let them think we're in there all the time.”

“Oh! I ain’t such a fool as to fire as the case stands now.”

The savages continued dancing and yelling until morning,

 

 
 

cetera n

Ya

BAFFLED FURY. 81

The fire was continually replenished and- kept raging; and,
when daylight dawned upon them, they were satisfied their
victims were already dead. The pile of glowing coals was
now raked away from the entrance, and three Indians bounded
within with drawn knives. Instantly after, a howl of baffled
fury was heard as they saw the whites had escaped. The
apartment was filled with smoke and the intolerable stench of
the burning peltries, and it was this which had-been mistaken
for that of the human bodies. The savages, overcome by the
sickening smell, darted out again and reported the whites
gone. Another search was hurriedly made by others, which,
of course, confirmed this fact.

A consultation was now held, and it was agreed that they
had been deceived. The two men could not have eluded
them after the cave was surrounded. They must have: dis-
covered the intentions upon them and fled. The Indian who
lad witnessed the interview between Nat and Irene had
imparted it to others, who were thus convinced that they were
still lurking in the vicinity. Just what Biddon predicted took
place. The savages determined to spend the day in scarching
the mountains and forest, and to discover and sacrifice them.

Biddon, in his concealment, read this resolve in the actions
of his enemies, and assured Nat that the critical time was
coming. If they could remain secure until dusk, he was sat-
isfied of success. They would then steal out and meet Irene
at the place appointed; but if discovered—

“We'll make a dash for the kenyon. My canoc is there,
and we'll be out of their sight in a twinklin’.. We couldn’t
make a run for it through these mountains without losin” our
ha’r.”

So that was determined. Now and then Biddon parted the
bushes with his rifle, so as to afford him a view of what was
going on. At such times he could see some of the Indians
hunting around the rock, and he rightly judged there were
others scattered through the wood. With characteristic
thoughtfulness, the trapper had brought some beaver-meat
with him, which the peril of their situation did not prevent
from being enjoyed.

The forenoon wore away without any alarming circum:
stance occurring. On three several occasions Biddon had

e

 
    

83 NATHAN TCDD.

detected the presence of their enemics by applying his ear to
the ground and hearing their footsteps; but all passed away,
and they had good reason to believe the crisis had gone by.

“T don’t believe the fools have the slightest thought of our
being here,” remarked Nat, exultingly.

Biddon instantly started, bent his head to the ground, and
whispered :

“Ts all up! we must make a run !”

“Why ? they haven’t seen us.”

“T heard a redskin’s step the minute you spoke, and 1 knew
he heard you speak. He's gone to get the others.”

“ Jerusa—”

“Foller me, and use your pegs !”

He crawled hastily to the edge of the thicket and paused
an instant.

“Yonder’s the infarnal imp, and he’s gettin’ ’em fast.
Come, Nat Todd, ef you go under, you'll have the pleasure of
knowin’ ’twan’t nobody’s fault but your own. Keep close,
don’t make no noise, and do as I do.”

As he spoke he started on a rapid run, his head bent down
almost to his knees. Nat, followed in the same crouching
manner. They had gained a dozen yards when a yell, some-
thing similar to the dreaded “ death-halloo,” rose on the air,
and a score of Indians sprung toward them. The trapper
instantly rose to an upright position and darted forward with
the speed of the wind. Fortunately, there were none of theiz
enemies in their way, and they reached the water severai
hundred yards in advance of all pursuers. The trapper
bounded over the rocks into the boiling eddy in front of the
cafion, and disappeared from view. While Nat stood a trem-
bling, agonized spectator, he came out from beneath a ledge of
rocks, holding the prow of a canoe.

“Over with you!” he shouted, making his voice heard above
the thundering din of the waters,

Nat did not hesitate, but leaped out, going far down into
the caldron. As he came, he was seized by Biddon—who had
already entered the boat—and hauled in.

“Hold fast or youll be throwed out!” screamed the
trapper, :
The next instant the boat was seiacd by the resistless

   

 

. yg
ae
v

 

  

SHOOTING A CANON.

eurrent, as if it were an eggshell, and whirled in between the
rocks. As it darted forward with the swiftness of a bullet,
Nat heard a voice as though uttered miles away:

“The imps "ll lese our ha’r after all thar trouble, for they'll
neyer see us come out this kenyon.”

Turning, he saw the trapper’s face glowing like a spirit’s,
All around was a hell of foam—of dripping rocks—of deafen-
ing thunder—of dizzying spinning—of oblivion !

When the Wndians reached the cafion, not a vestige of the
whites was seen !

CHAPTER -x..

IN WHICH IT IS SHOWN THAT IT IS NOT ALWAYS A BAD THING
To “SPLIT UPON A ROCK.”

THE cafion was over a mile in extent. It wound toward
every poiat of the compass through a mass composed of red
sandstone and siliceous limestone. Overhead the walls almost
touched in places, while in others the fleetest horse could not
have leaped them. The action of the water, for untold cen-
turies, had hollowed out such a vast amount of the solid
material as to give it the appearance of a tunnel partly burst
open at the top. The blinding spray that continually ascended
from the turmoil of water afforded only an occasional glimpse
of what was beneath. In some places the current could be
seen moving with a frightful calmness, here and there a spot
of deep emerald-green visible, while in others the froth danced
gayly forward, the particles seeming to repel each other with

-@ peculiar shuddering motion.

Upon the disappearance of the twain in this raging cafion,
the Indians rushed forward and peered downward at different
peints, hoping to cbtain a glimpse ef their bodies tossed from
rock to rock, The stern of the canoe, only, was discovered as
it shot from sight. Once, a dark body was seen to whirl with
an awful velocity, and then it was hid from view by the mist
and projecting crags,

 

  
 

8t NATHAN TODD,

At the point where the cafion issued from the mountains
and spread out into a broad, limpid stream, were stationed a
score of warriors, waiting to see the fragments of the canoe or
the mangled bodies of the whites. A couple of hours after, 2
-oud shout was raised as the canoe appeared bottom upward.
A daring savage sprung in, and, swimming until in calmer
water, pulled the boat in. A minute examination followed,
revealing the fact that i was split from stem to stern, and
thrust through again and again by the jagged points of the
rocks against which it had been cast. But no sign of the rash
adventurers was seen. The savages waited until dusk, when,
satisfied that their bodies were wedged in the walls or spin-
ning in the vortex of some whirlpool, they withdrew, if not
contented that their scalps were irrecoyerably gone, still,
relieved to know that a —— enemy was effectually
extinguished.

Night slowly settled over the mountain and wood. The
faint moon, obscured by the drifting clouds, threw a ghostly
and uncertain light over the scene. The Indian village was
quiet and motionless. Now and then a dusky form flitted into
view, and was lost again in the deep shadows. The continu-
ous, thundering roar of the cafion was the only sound that
broke the solemn stillness that otherwise held reign.

Several yards from the commencement of the cafion, a
sharp crag projected nearly across the top. It was on this
that the most venturesome of the Indian children often seated
themselves, to the consternation of the more timid ones, as it
was directly over the fiercest part, and was ever dripping with
the water dashed against it. Had a savage made it his duty
to watch this point of rock through the night, he would aate
noted something unusual and alarming.

Near midnight, a dark, circular line, like the coil of a hor p-
snake, shot upward beside this point and dropped beneath,
This was repeated four times, when, for the space of ten rin-
utes, no further movement could have been noticed: At tie
end of that time a slight agitation took place, and an instant
after, a human head rose to view and as quickly disappeared
again. Scarce a minute elapsed ere it rose once more, and
was followed by a pair of massive shoulders. Remaining a
foot above the surface, the bushy head moyed around as if on

 
  

ig ann

  
“

 

     

NAT “FLOPS OUT.” 85
8 pivot, and had it not been for the deafening roar, the fol-
towing words could have been heard:

“Thar don’t appear to be none of the imps around jist now,
end ef they don’t think we’ve gone under this time, then Bill
Hiddon never raised the ha’r of a red this side of the Missipp.
Wagh !”

The ponderous form of the trapper now heaved up from
the chasm, and was instantly extended flat upon the rocks. A
rainute after, a conical point rose to view, ascending higher
and higher, until the peaked hat, the dilated eyes, and glowing
face of Nat Todd were visible in the pale moonlight.

“ Sure they’re all gone, Biddon ?”

“ Yas—be quick and flop out.”

It required no second admonition for our hero to “ flop
out.” Hardly were the words uttered before his angular legs
beat the air and he slid dextrously backward beside Biddon.

“Now jump to t’other side and make for cover !” added the
intter, springing over and shooting across toward the wood.

Nat skurried after him, experiencing that peculiar sensativn
Urat afflicts one who is momentarily expecting the prick of
several poisoned arrows in the rear. The shadows of the
wood reached, they halted for consultation.

“I tell you what, Biddon, I come nearer to death that
time than I ever did before !”

“Shoot me ef it wan’tas close a rub I b'lieve as I ever
had. Things looked dub’ous when we went into that kenyon.”

“ How in the name of Heaven did you think to bring that
rope with you ?”

“Wagh! I told yer it wan't sure death to go in there,
though "twas next to it. I brought that lasso with me and
laid it in the boat a month ago.”

“Ugh ! it makes me shudder to think of that awful ride,
and our stay on that rock, and the time when I was climbing
ap, when I dangled right in the midst of the dashing spray.
S’posen that thong had broke! Where would I have been ?”

“Never mind, you're right side up for the present. I've
spent many an hour along the upper part of that kenyon,
seein’ how ’twas built, and what chance a feller would have
who was sucked in it. I knowed ef he ever got twenty yards
in % he’d get his last sickness, sure. Yes, sir. Ive throwed
‘o big chunks of wood, and then watched thar cayers re

 

  
   

   

6 ee NATHAN TODD.

“ Playing, as 1 suppose.”

“It was that playm’ that saved you this time. I naticed
that on an averige, three times out of seven, each chunk of
wood was carried right over a big flat rock, where, ef it only
had turned to stone, it would have sunk and staid, being as
the water was rather mild jist there. Not bein’ a stone, how-
sumever, it was washed away. In course, I ’cluded a feller
what was drawed in there would stand three chances out of
seven of bein’ carried on that same rock, whar, ef he waslively
like, he might grab and hold on, and git breath afore goin’
any furder. Now, Nat, the foolishest notion I ever had in
my life was to take a shoot down that same kenyon, and I
made up my mind to come back here some day and ity it.
That extra expense was saved, as we've jist seen. Our boat
. was carried on that very rock, where it split in two and
spilled us out. I growed heavy all at once, and stuck to the
rock like a dog to a root, and held you on. When we got the
use of our pegs it wan’t no hard job to keep our places,
*though we had to stand in a foot’s water and hold fast with
our hands, toes, and teeth. It was a lucky accident that
cracked the boat jist in that place. It was the best rock to
split on. A lucky accident, I say.”

“Tt wasn’t an accident, Biddon, it was the providence of
God—one of those that He is forever strewing before us.”

“S’pose so—hut how ’bout Irene ?”

“ Jerusalem ! I forgot all about that lovely maiden !”

“You'd better manage to let her know you're yet kickin’,
for ’tain’t likely she has any more s’picion we're blabbin’
above ground than the reds have. Wagh! that war a ride,
down that kenyon, sure |”

The conversation recorded will give the reader an insight
into the reason, or more properly the cause, that led the trap-
per to adopt his original method of cluding the sayages It
was not, by any means, that it was the only one at his com-
mand; for the most veritable tyro could have retreated a
mile or two in the forest and concealed himself until the
search of the Indians was completed. But it was a pecu-
liarity—an infatuation—of the eccentric Biddon to attempt the
feat of entering the cafion in the very face of death. His
long familiarity with peril may have induce this extraordinary

 

 
 

 

> ++ -3  GERIOUS THOUGHTS. 8?

desire in a mind otherwise so well balanced and cautious
—there being a species of insane ecstasy in defying the King
of Terrors to his very face.

Besides, Biddon did not lose sight of the great advantage
gained in case they escaped the fate their very course invited,
The Indians had now no fears of them, and the way was
ronsequently left open for the attempts they wished to make.
There was one soft spot in the old mountaincer’s heart. He
‘oved the two orphans with a yearning, fatherly affection, and
ne had more than once intimated to Nat that, could he be
vatisfied both were restored to civilization and happiness, his
lesire for life would be ended. He had no further object to
live for—he was well advanced in years, and the last journey
vould be as well taken at once. ;

From his remarks at different times, Nat was led to suspect
ne had a presentiment of his dissolution. The religious fear
that characterized Nat’s own actions—his repeated conversa-
tions of heaven, of hell, and the reunion of friends beyond the
tomb, seemed to sensibly affect the weather-beaten hunter.
He discovered many ideas similar to those borne by the Indian
warrior-—often spoke of wandering in the great hunting-
grounds beyond the setting sun. There evidently was some
buried love, the remembrance of which often saddened his
hours. He listened intently to Nat's words; and, during the
winter spent in the cave, had often inquired, with the eager
simplicity of a child, of heavenly truths. Our hero never
failed to improve these moments, and was doubly repaid by
the effect his words produced, and the increased friendship of
his formidable ally. It would have been curious, if not some-
times amusing, to notice how the trapper leaned upon Lim in
conversation, while Nat, when it came to action, looked up to
him as a child would to a father.

On the present occasion he did not hesitate to take his
advice. It certainly struck our hero as singular that it had
not occurred to him before to do this. As stated, the hour
was near midnight, and he had little fear of encountering any
danger on the way. The distance around to the grove, where
he had agreed to meet Irene, was a half-mile, and he was
compelled to make a detour to avoid the Indian village. As
there was no reason why Biddon should remain in thia var.
ficular spot, the trvo moved forward together.

 
  

 
  
 
   
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

ve NATHAN TODD,

While within the shade of the wood, the gloom was s¢
great as to effectually conceal them from any night-walkers in

the vicinity ; but there were small belts of clearings to be .

crossed at long intervals, where there was naturally some risk
run. At such places, one or two long, noiseless bounds
carried the trapper over, while N: at slunk after him with short
and nimble steps.

The entire distance was passed without any thing occurring
to excite alarm. Biddon knew the spot well enough to reach
it from the directions Nat had given the day before; and
before the latter suspected they were anywhere near it, his
companion halted. Our hero was about to speak, when a
hand was laid upon his shoulder.

“sh ! down! there’s somebody besides. us in these parts !”

They were still a number of yards from the arbor, as it
tight properly be termed, or these words would not have
been added to what was already sufficient to make Nat as
cautious as the prowling beast.

““ Maybe,” he whispered, ‘‘ it’s her—Irene—the lovely maiden
herself.”

“Wait, and lay low fur awhile.”

Both sunk noiselessly downward until they blended with
nnd seemed a part of the ground itself. Here they remained,
silent and motionless, for the space of fifteen minutes, when
the ears of both detected a slight rustle, like the footfall of a

ird upon the leaves. Biddon drew his knife from his belt,
clutched it firmly, while he gathered himself, ready for the
fatal spring as soon as it became unavoidable. A suppressed
“ugh !” was heard, and the next minute the form of an Indian
glided by them, so close that either could have touched him
with their hands, although the trained orbs of the trapper
were barely sufficient to detect the faintest outline of the
gavage, who trod thus nigh to his own destruction.

“The way is clear now!” whispered Biddon, a moment
after,

“ Are you sure that wasn’t Irene?” asked Nat, eagerly.

“Wagh ! it was as bloody a redskin as eer clinched her
or brained a baby in its mother’s arms.”

“ What could he be doing here this time of night ?”
“Don’t you s’picion ””

 

= fe Siewetnnananep er
 

Se ————

!
h

   

 
  

A q@uosT?

“TI navo not the remotest idea.”

“He war hyer, then, to see ws /”

* How do yeu know that?”

“Ah! Nat, you’ve got a heap to larn yit. That red has
ave’d you when you had that talk with Irene, and he has been
out here watching for you.”

“But if he saw me, why didn’t he kill me then? He
might, for ’m very sure I didn’t see any thing of him. And,
hesides, I supposed the Indians believed we were dead, having
gone down that dreadfel cafion.”

“ Depend on it, Nat, the words Bill Biddon has to say jist
uow are as true as gospil, That red has see’d you, and he
has s’pected the truth. He didn’t want to send his arrer into
yer until he war sure what you were up to, and then you can
make up your mind he wouldn’t have been long ’bout it. He
hasn’t been that sure that we’d wiped ourselves out but what
he thought it wouldn’t hurt him any to keep a watch, and he

“has been hyer ever since dark. Howsumever, you can make

up your mind that he won’t watch any longer for us.”

It is perhaps proper to state, at this point, that this savage
was the one who had seen the interview between our hero
and heroine, and whose motives and actions were really the
same as remarked by the trapper. ‘The lingering suspicions
he entertained relating to the death of our two friends were
now entirely dissipated. ;

“ But maybe Irene is here also,’ ventured Nat, as the two
once more moved forward, with much less caution than had
characterized their movements up to this point.

“No, sir /” replied Biddon, with marked emphasis.

“T wish she was; it would so lielp matters along, particu
larly if she should have three splendid horses and something
good to eat.

“Keep quiet, Nat; there’s no use of gabbin’ that way.”

“T was only remarking—”

Ere yet the exclamation was out of his mouth, a cold
shadow brushed by him, so close as to make him recoil, and
fee! the wind directly in his face.

“What's the matter?” asked Biddoz, who noticed the
broken exclamation.

“Didn't you see any thing ?”
 

90 iors NATHAN TODD.

* No, sir, nor you either.”

“ My gracious! that was a ghost then, as sure as you Jive.”

“What do you mean ?” asked Biddon, in a tone of vexa-
tion.

“Something as cold as ice brushed by my face, just as I
spoke.”

“‘Wagh! some owl or bat.”

“No it wasn’t; it touched my feet, knees, and every part
of me. Wonder if it was an Indian, Biddon ?” ‘

“Ef it war you wouldn’t have had time to wonder. Some
oird, I tell you.”

“And I tell you it wasn’t. I can tell a bird; it was nearly
as tall as me, and as black as Egypt. It was nothing less
than a ghost.”

_ The trapper uttered an exclamation of displeasure ; for, to
own the truth, he was somewhat flustered himself. In fact,
the occurrences which we have recorded in relation to the
sister of our heroine were never fully explained to his mind.
His remarks, mere than once, had shown that it wore a super-
natural appearance to him; and he was now prepared for
something similar in regard to Irene. This impression was
slight at present, and he strove to convince himself that Nat’s
vision was at fault; but the positive assertions of the latter
made him doubt and waver, and he by no means felt easy.
As if to upset him more completely, Nat remarked :

“You know, Biddon, how queer Imogene made her ap-
pearance to us, and like as not this one is going to do the
same I don’t care much if she does. As long as I’m sure
the things ain’t real flesh-and-blood Indians, I know they
can’t hurt me, and I ain’t half as much afraid.” ;

And just here lay the difference between our two friends.
There was a tinge of superstition in cur hero, but probably
his greatest peculiarity was that of viewing every thing with a
strong common sense. Thus, he was taught that if, in an
Indian affray, he could get off without giving battle, even
though victory was pretty sure to crown a well-directed effort,
still, the chances of a broken head were infinitely less; and,
consequently, it was best to retreat. For the same reason, if
surrounded by invisible spirits, he could surely receive no

pnysical harm from their hands, and it was utter foolis! aess

   

onteeeiaian =

 

  
oe

 

es
>

ey

a

BIDDON IS MISSED. 91

to feel alarm. Biddon, possessed of fhe lion’s courage, shared
the lion’s weakness. Their only danger was from that whick
could not be understood.

A hurried, whispered consultation was held, which endef
In both deserting the place at once. Biddon led the way
deeper into the wood, proceeding so as to leave as slight a
trail as possible. A half-mile was passed, when they reached

deep ravine, in which they entered and halted. It was a
long time since they had slept, and, rolling up in thei
blankets, they concluded to gain what repose they could.
The trapper trusted to his acute sense of hearing to warn him
of the approach of danger.

When Nat awoke, his companion was gone. At first he
supposed him to be somewhere near him, and he lay still;
but, when several hours passed without bringing him, he
experienced some uneasiness. Noon came and went and
brought no signs of the fugitive, and he was now tormented
by the most intense fear for his companion. He was upon
the point of setting out to search for him, when a series of
yells, so wild and dreadful, were heard from the village, ss to
curdle his very blood.

 
   
   
   
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
    
 

 
 
 

 
 

    
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 

NA'THAN ‘TODD.

Gr Le Paws F: <
IN WHICH THERE IS A MOVE FORWARD,

A MomENT after, the bushes at the top of the ravine parted,
and an Indian bounded down and ran with the speed of wind
Girectly through the gorge, within a few feet of our hero.
The latter, as soon as the intruder had passed, hurried severe?
yards further back and ensconced himself among a mass of
nndergrowth, where a pair of lynx-eyes would have failed te
discover him.

The yells still contmued, gradually sounding louder and .
nearer, as though a body of savages were approaching. A
fearful suspicion that Biddon had fallen into their hands
chained Nat to the spot. Presently, the tramp of feet was
heard, and a score of Indians hurried through the ravine.
Several leaped down at the very spot the first one did, while
the others entered the ravine at the point where our two
friends did the night before. Several whoops were given in
the gorge, which echoed with an appalling effect through the
rocky sides. Ten minutes after they had passed, an occa-
sional yell was heard in the distance.

As may be supposed, these proceedings occasioned not a
little alarm and anxiety to Nat. What could be the object
that led these Indians through the ravine? What meant
their yells? It seemed the first. must have been a flying fugi-
tive from the others. Perhaps he had committed some crime
—perhaps a murder; or, he might be a member «from some
hostile tribe who had stolen into the village and been discov-
ered; or a prisoner who had broken his bonds anc fled. No
noise or confusion toward the Indian town told of any
anwonted alarm. Now and then the faint yell in the wocds
showed that the pursuit was stiil maintained.

Not until dark durst Nat venture from his hiding-place.
He clambered at once out of the ravine, and made his way

 

 
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|

 

 

   
   
  
   
  

 
 
 

  

 
  

 

 

TRENE’S ARBOR. 93

toward the arbor which has been so often referred to. The
absence of Biddon occasioned him much uneasiness, and he
could not 1id himself of the belief that he had fallen into their
enemies’ hands. Nat held a genuine friendship for the man,
but let the matter be as it might, he felt he could do him no
good. Ifit were within the range of human possibility to escape,
the trapper would do it himself.

When Nat reached the arbor it was quite dark. Admon-
ished by what he had seen the night before, he was extremely
cautious in his movements. He made his way within it, and
seated himself in order to collect his thoughts, which, as yet,
had taken uo definite form. As he mused upon his experi-
ences for the last day or two, he saw he had still a great risk
torun. If the Indians were firmly convinced that he was
dead, it was reasonable to suppose that Irene thought the same,
and before hoping to succeed it was necessary to assure her of
his existence by some means or other. Here lay the great diffl-
culty. How to succeed was more than Nat could tell, and in
all probability he would never have succeeded had not an
unforeseen event assisted him.

While still musing, he heard a dull stamp upon the ground
within a few feet of him. Noihing else was audible, and the
manner in which it was repeated made him sure that his
own presence was-unknown. His perplexity was relieved by
hearing the faint whinny of a horse! Nat’s-heart thrilled
within him as he reflected that Irene might be within reach
of his voice. He uttered her name in a whisper, repeating it
several times in a louder key until he was convinced she was
not there. He now made his way carefully out of the arbor,
and in a few minntes discovered two horses standing side by
side and secured to the limb of the tree. An examination
showed that each was furnished with an Indian bridle and
saddle. Nat instantly vaulted into one of the latter.

“ Surely, this saddle must have been made for me! It fits
exactly.” '

It was rather a rash proceeding in him to thus venture
zpon a horse of which he knew nothing. He was really a
fine horseman, however, and it was only through his utmost
ikill that he maintained his seat. ‘Ihe animal quieted down
somewhat in a moment, though he st! “lt uyeasy at tha
strange rider upon him,

 
  

NATHAN TODD.

“Now, if Irene was only here,” mused Nat, “we wouldn’
wait, but be of in a minute, though I should like to see old
Biddon just now.”

The reverie into which he was now falling was broken by

voice, uttered in a suppressed tone of caution.

‘ Me-ento-en, Walgeando ?”*

“Yaw; Nix cum arous!” answered Nat, gravely.

An exclamation of surprise followed this, and instantly the
question came in slightly broken English :

“Ts that you, my friend ?”

“Yes, yes; it’s me, it’s me, Nat Todd. Is that you,
Irene? I’m mighty glad to see you, being it’s so dari, I can't
catch the first glimpse of you; but nevertheless I’m just as
glad.”

“Hush! you may be heard. Where is your companion,
the trapper ?” :

“Heaven save him! I haven’t the least idea.”

“He told me he would be here.”

“Told you that! Where did you see him ?”

“T saw a signal this afternoon in the woods that made me
suspect one of you, at least, was living, although no other
mortals could have survived that terrible descent into the
cafion. I made my way to it and found Biddon, the man
who would have saved the lives of my dear parents, had they
heeded his advice in time. He told me how you two had
escaped, and were only waiting for me to commence your
flight. He asked me to bring three horses to this place, where
I would find youand him. I did so, and one of the horses is
gone! What can it mean?”

“Tt does look queer, but I shouldn’t wonder if Biddon has
taken one of the horses himself. It is justlike him. We will
wait until he comes.”

“No, he told me if he was not here I must not wait a
minute for him. He seemed excited about something, and
made me promise to start as soon as you came. There is
langer in our remaining. I told him what direction we
would take, and he will follow us. We will start at once.”

* This is pronou.uced a little differently from what it is spelled. In the
Indian tongue in which it was uttered, it means, ‘Is that you, Walge-
ando?’? It must be remembered that although our hero was acquainted
with several Judian tongues, ke knew nothing of this one.

   

 
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

 

 

 
     
ms

>

 

THE FLIGHY, 95

* Go on, Ireny, and lead the way.”

The fair woman wheeled her horse’s head toward. the south,
and started him onarapid walk. The undergrowth and«iree-
branches compelled Nat to keep in the rear for the present, at
least, although he had a hundred questions he burned to ask,
and his heart beat so tumultuously with his great love. that
he felt he could not sustain it much longer. Once or twice
he ventured a remark, but the snapping limbs kept his head
bobbing incessantly, and generally ended each sentence with
an impatient ejaculation. Irene seemed to glide like a bird
through the wood, neither halting nor dodging, and yet
avoiding every branch or obstruction.

An hour's riding, and they emerged into a more open
country. Nat’s horse leaped to the side of Irene’s, and Le
commenced his questions.

“What direction do you intend to follow, Irene? Toward
the Oregon trail ?”

“Yes; that is the one your friend mentioned. God alone
knows where it will take us !”

“Why—why, you do not regret this step?” asked Nat in
astonishment.

“No, no; but oh! I am so excited to think I will perhaps
gee my dear, dear, long-lost sister again. Does she think Iam
living ?”

“No—gracious alive! She has never thought of you—that
is, I mean she hasn’t had the least idea that you are living, or
that she should ever meet you on this earth again. Won't
she be glad to see you?”

“T am so afraid we shall be followed by the Indians in the
morning. They will kill us both, if they do!”

“ Can’t these horses trot any ?”

“Yes—there are none swifter in the tribe; still, I am
afraid.”

“ T ain't /” exclaimed Nat; “ they'll have to go over my dead
body to get you, and I think when it comes to the fighting
part, you will find Bill Biddon about. But, Ireny, what was
all that noise in the village about, this afternoon ?”

“A warrior from another tribe killed two children of ours,
and was seen and was pursued.”

“Did they get him ?”

 
  

 

   

96 Bs NATH AN TOND.

“His pursuers have not returned. I am afraid they will
not, and when they finl I am gone they will be doubly
enraged.”

“Tt won’t do any good, for Nat Todd is around just now.
I just thought, Ireny, I saw a ghost last night.”

“A ghost! what do you mean?” asked his companioa in
astonishment.

“A spook—a spirit.”

“Where did you see it ?”

“Tn the arbor, from which we have started.”

“Were you there last night ?”

“Certainly ; Biddon, too. We were looking for you.”

“Tt was me you saw.”

“You ?” repeated Nat, amazed in turn. “ Why didn’t you
speak and let us know who you were? We might have
started then, and been a long ways on our journey by this
time.”

“T did not know you. I found an Indian was watching
me before you came; and when I heard your voices I thought
more had come, and glided out so as to avoid them. You
were directly in my path or I should not have passed so close
to you. I heard you speak after I passed, and I once thought
it might be you, but I was too frightened to venture back
again.”

“Why do you think you were watched ?”

“Tsaw the savage the night before. He kept his eyes upon
me during the day in a manner that excited my suspicion,
though after he had gone last night he seemed to have given
over all fear.”

Our two friends had now crossed the open space over
which Nat had been pursued by the savages, as mentioned in
a former cnapter. Striking off to the right, they reached the
margin of the river, beside which they continued their journey.
The country was open, but of a rugged, stony character. The
moon was not so full as usual, and objects could not be dis
tinguished at a greater distance than twenty yards. Irene,
who-had wandered to great distances, on several occasions,
with her tribe, knew what direction to take to reach the Ore
gon trail, and Nat certainly had sufficient cause to remem-
ber it,

 

 
   
 

 

  

A SUSPICIOUS FOLLOWER. 97

“If we could conceal our trail,” remarked Irene, “I would
not feel that fear which torments me.’

“We can not leave many signs in this flinty earth. a

“Enough to guide them as well as if they saw us.”

“When it comes to that, as I said before, we have horses
which are surely able to run as well as any of the rascally
tribe.”

“T know that, and yet I can not.”—

Trene suddenly paused with a gasp of alarm.

“What's the matter?” breathlessly asked Nat.

“Something 73 following us,” replied his companion, in a
hoarse whisper.

Nat wheeled as quick as lightning in his saddle and pesred
into the darkness behind him.

“Do you see any thing ?” asked Irene.

“Yes; there is something, but I believe it’s only a hungry
wolf; I just now saw it trot backwards out of sight.”

“Thank heaven! the rustle of every bush disturbs me. I
am glad that it is nothing more than a wild animal”

“You are frightened too easily; you should—”

“—-sh! there it is again, in front of us. Look! de you sea
it?”

A shadow crossed their path, making long, bounding Jeaps,
as if cantering in sport.

“He is probably hungry, and imagines it he cuts up some
fancy capers for us, we'll make him a present of something to
eat.” -

“He surely acts strange. I shou’? think he would make
some noise.”

They conversed still, their horses walking rapid!y and break-
ing into a canter when a level portion was reached. The
supposed wolf kept pace with them sometimes whisking so
close to their horses’ heads as to startle them and then disap-
pearing down the river-bank. Nat regarded his actions as
eccentric, and had 16 objection to them so long as he refrained
from bringing any of his companions to him. He could not
help noticing the alarm of his fair companion, When the
wolf appeared unusually close she started as much as her
animal, ani kept her gaze wandering continually as if search:
ing for the dreaded brute,

 

  
  

 

KRATHAN TODD.

“Waat time of night do you suppose it is?” asked Nat, in
hope of diverting her thoughts.

“T wish that thing would keep away,” she replied, withuut
heeding his question.

“Are you alarmed ?”

“TI do not feel at ease as long as that is wheeling around
us so strangely.”

“T will set you at ease !n a minute, then.”

Nat cocked lis rifle, and held it ready to fire the instant the
thing appeared. In a moment he saw it tumbling like a dark
bundle a few yards in adyance. He brought his. gun to his
shouliler, took as good aim as the circumstances would permit,
and fired.

The supposed wolf instantly rose on his hind-legs, gave

, vent to a blood-chilling yell, at the same second that a toma-

hawk whizzed within a few inches of Nat’s eyes. Then it

shot away like a meteor and disappeared in the darkness,
“That’s the queerest wolf I ever fired at. Who knowed

he carried concealed weapons about him,” remarked Nat, after
the first pause of astonishment.

“Tt was the Indian who watched me. He has followed
us,” whispered Irene.

“Tf I had had the slightest idea that wolf walked on two
legs instead of four, ’d have taken more pains with my aim
than I did, and done something more than just to lame hima
bit. But, Ireny, that’s a queer way for an Indian to do.
What do you make of it?”

“T know not why he did it, unless he intended to wait
until we stopped, and then hurry back to some of his compan-
ions and. attack us.”

“ My gracious! he might have shot me a dozen times, and
I never knowed it until he hit me. Only think how he has

been sneaking rvund us, and we talking all the time and not

dreaming who he was!”

“He had nothing with him, or he would have shot you
His object was only to watch us. I guess he was hurt pretty
badly.”

“ Not enough to prevent his getting back, and bringing a
lot of the imps on our trail. I tell you, Irene, we must get
over ground faster than this, 7 wasn’t scar’t much before thig

   
  
  
 
 
 
 
   
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
     
ag

 

  

A CANTER AND A AALT. 9

wolf affair. I didn’t believe the dogs had any idea that Nat
Vodd was still above the ground. The way that one throwed
his tomahawk at my head showed that he was pretty certain
I wasn’t there yet.”

Both horses struck into a canter, which gait was kept until
daylight. Only then they ceased through fear of being over:
tasked. Nat reined in close to the river-bank, just as the sun
rose over the prairie. Their animals were magnificent ones,
of wonderful speed and bottom; but the long ride had sensi’,ly
fatigued them, and it was a wise course to give them a couple
of hours’ rest. Despite the romantic situation in which Nat
found himself—with the care of the being who had visited his
dreams for over a year—the happy owner of a love so great’as
to bring a scornful laugh when the thought of Sarah Almina
m Maine happened to come to him—the victim of a torment-
ing fear of pursuit—despite all these, we repeat, the most
pressing trouble was his appetite! He had fasted a long time,
and remarked to his companion that he must secure something
pretty soon, or he should be tempted to eat her! Leaving her
with the horses, he wandered down the river-bank, and was
fortunate enough to bring down a fat duck that rose from the
water’s edge. With this he hastened back to Irene, who,
with his flint and steel, had already kindled a fire. The duck
was soon picked, dressed, skewered, roasted and caten—he
sood-naturedly, compelling his fair charge to feast to her
utmost upon-it. During the halt, the horses had- cropped
their full, and were well prepared to resume their toilsome
march. The two remounted and struck off toward the south,
noping to accomplish a long distance ere nightfall.

When about five miles further upon their journey, Nat's
horse trod upon a rolling stone, and stumbled. As he
recovered himself he limped badly, and dropped into a pain-
ful walk. Nat dismounted, and, upon examining it, saw with
unfeigned alarm that the ankle was sprained. The horse could
be of no further use to him.

“Let him rest a moment,” said Irene, “ and we wiil ride
slowly.”

Hoping he might be deceived, Nat let the horse rest a
short time; but, upon starting him, the injured leg was found
to be still worse,

 

  
  

an oi a a RS. OST

100 NATHAN TOD).

“It's no ase,” he said “the longer he stands the worse he
will get. He must be let alone to himself. He will be able
to get enough grass to keep him alive. He can’t do us any
more good. Go ahead, Irene, and I will walk beside you.”

This misfortune affected his companion greatly. She urged
Nat to take her own horse, even offering to dismount herself
if he deemed the load too great; but, of course; this offer was
declined, the excuse being that the entire strength and wind
of her animal would be needed for her own safety.

“ But if pursued ?” she asked.

“ You can get away, at least.”

_“ And what will become of you?”
“ Heaven bless your sweet soul, I wouldn’t mind dying fo.

_ you, to show you how much I love—I think of you. But

don’t be frightened, Ireny, for I tell you that trapper is about,
and will turn up somewhere at the right minute.”

“My horse surely is able to carry us both.”

“Well, my dear, when it comes to the worst, perhaps ll
mount beside you and try the bottom he seems to possess ; but,
as it is, Pl try walking awhile. I declare, I shouldn’t like any
thing better than a ten-mile tramp, just for exercise. Such a
walk ought to have been taken before.”

Thus pacified, Irene consented to Nat’s plan, keeping her
horse on a walk, in the face of his urgent request that he
should proceed faster. He left his horse where he had failed,
his trappings with him. He had some hope that, if pursued.
the chase would be given up as useless when it was discovered
how well-mounted the fugitives were. He knew, however,
that if the disabled horse was found, their enemies would press
on with renewed diligence. Another probability, upon which
he based, perhaps, his strongest hope, was, that the start
obtained would afford them time to reach Lewis river, along
whose banks there was good reason to expect emigrants at
this season of the year.

We might, with justice, say, that the time passed pleas-
antly to Nat. There was just enough exercise to give a zest
to his conversation, and he kept upa continuous stream of
talk. He went over the whole history of his adventures since
leaving Maine, not omitting a promise he gave a New York
publisher to furnish him with an account of his travels, upon

  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
ag

“ee

ae

A SPECK IN THE HORIZON 101

his return to civilization. He believed his experience was
worth giving the world, and expressed his determination to do
it as soon as he was settled down and married. As he uttered
the last word, he stole a sly glance from under the corner of
his hat at Irene to see the effect produced. She appeared
interested in what he said, but nothing beyond that. Then
he related a long story about Sarah Almina in Lubec, adding
emphatically that he never thought any thing of her, and she
was only fit for such a fellow as Bill Hankins. Had Irene
Merment been educated in civilized society, she could have
easily read the simple heart of Nat Todd, and comprehended
exactly the situation in which he must have once stood with
the lady that so excited his ire; but the guileless being little
dreamt the truth. The pointed, palpable hits of admiration—
in fact, of love—from. him, were entirely lost upon her. Her
silence was taken for acquiescence, and Nat grew bolder and
bolder, until he found Irene staring wonderingly at. him,
totally at a loss to understand his meaning. Fearful, then,
that he had gone too far, he blushed finely ? coughed loudly,
and stammered foolishly. It might have been that she had
an inkling of what lay at the bottom of his words, but she
betrayed it by no word or action.

At intervals, Irene swept the entire horizon, on the alert
for any suspicious sign, and it was not probable that her
trained eyes would fail to detect the approach of danger. The
excitement of her new situation, the thrilling hope, the ago-
nizing fear, almost unnerved her. For a long time she would
calm down and listen attentively to Nat’s words, and then
suddenly start and glance around her, alarmed at her remiss-
ness of duty.

At noon, when they halted for a short rest, she took a
searching look, as usual, behind her, and Nat noticed that she
started, and continued her gaze an extraordinary length of
time.

“Do you see any thing to alarm you?” he asked.

“There is a buffalo or horseman in the distance. Look
away yonder, where the sky seems to touch the prairie.”

The slight elevation she had, aided by her powerful vision,
gave her a better view than Nat; but the latter, after follow-
ing the direction of her finger, and straining his orbs, detected

 
 

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ema

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102 NATHAN TODD.

a small, quivering speck, in relief against the blue horizon. It
was like a star seen at noonday, difficult to find in the
field of vision, but perfectly distinct when discovered. It was
certainly approaching, as it visibly increased in size and clear-
ness.

“What do you make of it ?” she asked.

“T can’t see any thing but a spot.”

“It’s a man riding on a full run; and, I fear, the Indian
who troubled us last night.”

“My gun is loaded, pretty near to the muzzle,” remarked
Nat, shutting one eye and squinting into-the barrel, “and if
that wolf in Indian’s clothing, or that Indian in wolf's cloth-
ing, gets within hailing distance, he’ll imagine a thunderbolt

' smashed against his forehead and exploded. No danger of

any missing this time.”

“Be ready, for I can not see how it can be avoided. He
is fearless, and does not slacken the speed of his horse in the
least.”

“Don’t be frightened, Ireny, for Til fight till death for
you.”

He gave her a look of honest, devoted love, and for the
first time Nat saw a deep tinge suffuse her face to the
temples. His heart throbbed wildly, and he felt able to
vanquish a whole tribe of screaming Indians.

Meanwhile the horseman was rapidly approaching, and
the gaze of our two friends was fixed upon him with the
most intense anxiety. Nigher and nigher he came, until Nat
cocked his rifle and held it ready for instant use. Suddenly
he smiled, let the hammer down again, and remarked to Irene:

“ Bill Biddon! as sure as we're alive!”

 
 

NOBLE BILL BIDDON. a : 103

CHAPTER 2X1.
WHICH ENDS THE TALE.

Y= trapper approached on a rapid canter, and, when
witnin hailing distance, shouted:

“What you waitin’ for?”

* Why, you,” returned Nat.

* There's no time to stop! the imps are on your tracks 1”

“Where? how do you know this ?”

“fF see’d ’em gitten’ ready, and I started out ahead of ’em
last night.”

“ Will they overtake us? What will be the end of this,
Biddon ?” asked Nat, in a lower tone, as the trapper rode up.

“There'll be some ha’r-raising done, sure.”

“ Jerusalem!” yelled our hero, springing in the air, “ why
don’t you get ripping mad, Biddon? I never swore in my life,
but it seems it would be a relief to, now. What i is going to
become of that lovely maiden there? ‘»

“She needn’t be tuk—her horse can’t be cotched by any
four-pegged animal.”

During this brief conversation Irene sat silent. Her agita
tion had given way to a settled calmness. She was pale and
bloodless, but a strong resolution seemed to sustain her soul.
Biddon, as Nat uttered the last remark, glanced at her a
moment, and then, leaning over his saddle, motioned for Nat
to come nigher.

“ See ’yer, Todd, get on my hoss and put with that gal.
fll cover your trail and keep them painted imps behind till
you're out the reach—”

“ How ?

“By droppin’ a pill among ’em, and ef it comes to clus quar
ters, pitch in and go under in glorious style. Come, Tode,
you're young, and love that gal, ‘The days for sich feelin’s has
passed with Bill Biddon. Cume, hop on and be off.”

 
  

304 NATHAN TODD.

“ NeEveER !” repeated Nat, stepping back, and uttering the
jentiments of his very soul. “ You've saved my life more than
once, Bill Biddon, and if I ever take advantage of you, may
the Just One above strike me dead in my tracks !”

It may a seem a contradiction to our readers for us to
represent Nat Todd, at the commencement of his published
career, as guilty of timidity, if not sometimes cowardice, and
to picture him as possessed of the most genuine courage, as
we have above, and in other instances in these pages. But,
in doing so, we are confident we have done no violation to his
true character. It is a question with many whether he who
\acks in bravery can ever rid himself of his deficiency—many
affirming it to be a defect which, being inborn, will ever cling
to a person. While there is strong reason for this view of the
case, it must be remembered that the bravest have manifested
fear at the dawn of danger. The man who turns pale at the
commencement of battle is the most valiant soldier. It is the
newness of danger that alarms the courageous. Could a man
who is known in civilized society as a true hero be removed
to the midst of a vast wilderness, where he had the wily
Indian to encounter, his timidity would be mistaken for the
most contemptible cowardice; and yet, in all probability, the
same man would afterward distinguish himself by his deeds of
daring. At the first appearance of peril, Nat Todd was apt
to shrink, and as long as it was not criminality to retreat, he
would doso. ‘There was a spice of shrewdness in his char-
acter, and, while still a tyro in the western wilds, there is no
disguising the fact of his timidity; but his long acquaintance-
ship with Indian life, together with his love of adventure,
made him in some cases even reckless. The magnanimous
conduct of Biddon had strengthened his admiration into the
sincerest friendship, and there is no sacrifice that Nat would
not have willingly made for him. This was why he repelled
his offer most emphatically.

The trapper, after this decided refusal, dropped his head a
moment as if in meditation. :

“Are we not losing time ?” gently reminded Irene

“Yes, we ar’. Nat, I'd like to walk some. Jist get on
and ride.”

“TJ shan’t do it, Biddon; so don’t say any more about ik

    
  
 
 
    
  
 
    
    
  
 
 
    
   
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 

  
   

te nk

 

 

BIDDON’S ARSENCE SXPLAINED, 108

 

I would as lief walk or run a dozen miles more as not, I
understand what you are at, but it won’t do.”

“Ef you had a hoss—”

“ He give out, several miles back.”

“JT know; I found him and feared the imps would come
on to him. So I led him down to the river, put a bullet
between his eyes, tied a big stone round his neck, and tumbled
him into deep water, whar you'll have to hunt awhile to find
him.” ‘ ;

“Let us go on, Biddon, for every minute seems a mile lost.
What do you propose to do?”

“ Thar’s no use of cuttin’ round the stump; thar’s got to be
a fight made. ‘Bout two miles further ahead thar’s a place
whar we'll strike camp and make a stand. The gal might get
off, while we staid to fight, but it wouldn’t do to trust her.
Ef we should go under, she’d be distracted and wouldn’t know
what to do. Ef she had a rifle we'd stand a better chance.
Howsumever, it’s no use talkin’; so, let’s move.”

Our friends moved forward at a rapid walk, Biddon con-
versing, and imparting to Irene and Nat the course he intended
to pursue. He had left the latter, it will be remembered, in
the ravine. In doing so, it was his intention to convey to
Irene, by some means or other, his presence in the wood, and
return to Nat by the time he awoke. But he was compelled
to maneuver the whole forenoon around the village before he
succeeded, and it was only then by a most fortunate accident.
Near night Irene found opportunity to steal to the wood for a
moment. But this movement, guarded as it was, did not
escape the sagle-eyes of the Indians. Such a step upon the
part of Irene at any other time would have been scarcely
noticed ; but, after what had transpired, they suspected every
thing. Irene was stealthily followed, and it was only by the
most consummate ski that the trapper avoided a collision
with them. Their waicnfulness did not escape him, and it
was for this reason he remained behind. The confusion,
occasioned by the discovery and pursuit of the Indian scout,
afforded Irene an opportuaity of getting the horses mentioned
to the rendezvous. Just at dusk, Biddon visited this spot,
secured one of the horses, and withdrew into the recesses of the
forest. He lingered in the rear until nearly morning, when

  

  
   

 

106 NATHAN TODD.

he saw, unmistakably, that her flight had been discovered and
a pursuit was preparing. He started on the trail of the two fugi-
tives at once, and, by dint of hard riding, overtook them, az
mentioned.

“ Yonder,” said Biddon, pointing ahead, “is the place what
the stand must be made. Yas, sir.”

A half-hour’s ride brought them to the spot; and, as it is
necessary (in order to understand what follows) for the reader
to have an idea of the situation of our friends, we must pause
a moment to describe it.

The spot chosen was on the open prairie, a quarter of s
mile distant from the wooded bottom of the river which they
had hitherto followed. This location was selected by the trap-
per in order to avoid any concealment which might shelter
their enemies. They could only approach over an open plain,
where they would be targets for two rifles. Here our friends
commenced at once to construct a fort. Indeed, from the
appearance of things, it was not at all improbable that the
materials they used had answered that purpose before. There
were some twenty or thirty huge boulders lying in an irregu-
lar circle. The best idea of their location and size can be
given, by supposing a butte (a vast, towering rock) to have
split in over a score of pieces, with force just sufficient to lay
them twenty feet from the center.

The prodigious strength of Biddon, assisted by Nat, soon
completed the circle. The rocks were rolled together, the
chinks filled in with smaller fragments, so as to afford no
entrance for a stray bullet or arrow. When the fort was com-
pleted, it was found that a breast-work averaging about four
feet in height was afforded. Behind this they could knecl
and fire with deadly aim. The rocks whose immense weight
prevented their lifting them to the top were rolled against the
base, and, viewed from the outside, the little citadel presented
no insignificant appearance.

The trapper’s next step was to take the two horses and lead
them far out on the prairie, describing an arc of a vast circle,
and then approach the river-bottom. at a point below the fort,
that is toward the mouth of the river. Here he rode one inte
the river, leading the other, and waded them several hundre#
yards down-stream, when he came ashore, and, securing therm

a

   

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AWAITINY THE ENEMY. 107

goth, made his way back on arun. The object of this move-
ment was to preserve the use of the animals to themselves,
If their trail should be followed by the Indians, it would mis-
lead them at the point of entrance into the water, and the
presence of the whites would prevent any extended search
being made. Biddon did not forget to fill a small, peculiar
canteen, which he ever carried about him, from the river.

“Thar’s no tellin’ how long we'll be cooped-up thar,
b’ars and beavers ef there is, and the stuff can’t do no hurt,”
he remarked to himself.

As he bounded over the boulders before Irene and Nat,
who were conversing rather earnestly just then, his ey4
flashed with the fire of youth, and his heart throbbed faster
than was its wont; for he felt he was shortly to engage in
one of those struggles of life and death in which he had so
reveled in years agone.

“ Biddon,” observed Nat, rather thoughtfully, “I can not
ielp thinking we might have improved our time better in
fight. We could have made a long distance, it seems, and
reached a point where these sayages would not dare to fall
on us.”

“Todd,” replied Biddon, with a quiet half-smile, “when I first
knowed you I used to call you ‘Greeny,’ and I sometimes
thinks it’s yer best handle yit. Howsumever, it’s as plain as
that ha’r on your upper lip—which can’t be see’d very well—
that you don’t understand the ways of redskins yet. They’
have follered us fur days, and overtaken us at a place whar
we wouldn’t have had a tree, rock or lump of earth to cover
us, and they would have wiped every one of us out. Them
imps,” added the trapper, speaking in a whisper, and fixing
his eyes upon those of our hero, “them imps, sir, will be in
sight in less nor a half-hour !”

Nat recoiled at these words, und they did not escape the
ear of Irene, who only turned a shade paler, and compresse4
ner thin, bloodless lips. It was now near the middle of the
afternoon, and the glances of Biddon toward the west shewed
that he expected.the appearance of danger every moment. At
mtervals, he mounted the rocky wall of their fortress, and,
snading his eyes with his hand, looked long and searchingly
m the distance. Some twenty minutes passed thus, whea,
waile standing upon the wall, he turned toward Irene--

 
   

1068 NATHAN TODD.

“See ’yer, my little duck, them peepers of yourn can take
in a bigger stretch of perarie than Bill Biddon’s; so jist come
this way and take a squint off yender. Thar’s ‘sign,’ ef i
ain’t most powerful mistook.”

He stooped and lifted Irene in his brawny arms as if she
were an infant. He then seated her upon his shoulder, with
about as much effort as he would have raised his rifle there,
and said:

“Now take a squint, sich as you kin.”

“Tsn’t she lovely ?” remarked Nat, in an undertone. “ Just
view that white face, them black eyes, gazing way off yonder,
them magnificent plumes, and her black hair rising and fall-
ing in this soft wind—jest see her sitting there, Nat Todd,
I say, like a heavenly bird that has perched on the old
trapper’s shoulder. Is it not worth a journey to Oregon to
rescue such a being as that ?”

“Let me down,” she said to Biddon.

“ See nothin’ ?”

“They are coming!’ she replied. “ Look, you can sve
them.”

“Ya-s s-i-r!” slowly repeated Biddon, as he looked again.
“Them’s them, sure, and they’re ridin’ as though they didn’t
know they war hastenin’ to destruction. See ’yer,” he added,
removing his gaze to his two companions, “ it’s time we under-
stood how things is goin’ to be managed, so I'll make my
speeck. You see the upper part of that rock stickin’ out thar
my little duck? Wal, as you happens to have no shooter
about you, and will only be in the way, you may crawl in
under thar, and keep snug and clus. None of thar arrers or
bullets will be apt to touch your purty noddle.”

Irene hesitated a moment before complying; but, as it was
Viainly the best course she could adopt, she obeyed. Nat
gad Biddon had purposely arranged a corner of their fortress
so as to shelter her, and it answered it’s end admirably. They
added, as an extra caution, that she should not look out or
expose herself until told to, and of course to all this ghe
promised a willing obedience.

“Now,” added the trapper, ina husky voice, the nearest
approach he could make to a whisper, “we must ‘understand
the case’, ag they say down in the settlements. Ef there's &

   

 

 

 

nie a EON

 
 

 

eee ea

. ‘ae ——i&

  
  

BIDDON’S DIRECTIONS 109

 

be any hailin’ or talkin’, I'll do it. Ef they make-a dash for
us, we'll blaze away together and draw knives and at them..
But you must never bark with your shooter at the same time
I does, or they'll ride in afore we ken load. Ill pick out
each mark fur yer, and you mustn’t shoot any pipe-stems or
scorch my ear agin.” :

“How’d you know I shot my gun that time ?” asked Nat,
in amazement.

Biddon gave his usual quiet smile, and replied:

“T didn’t know it then, Todd, or I’m afeard I’d ’ve scorched
you. But after I got up among them Hudson-Bay fellers, I
got to thinkin’ ’bout it, and wondered how I was sich a fool
as to think any of them sperits done it. Howsumever, that
ain’t hyer nor there; we’re in fur knock-down fight this time.
As I said, you must never fire till I tell you; don’t show your
head, and keep your peepers pecled. Them redskins are
comin’ along purty well,” he added, in a matter-of-fact tone.

That they were coming along pretty well was self-evident.
They were only a mile or two away, and were riding promis+
cuously, their principal object being to get ahead as fast as
possible. Their plumes could be seen rising and falling, and
their gaudy dressy flaunting in the wind. Nat and Biddon
were crouched in under their breast-work, their rifle-muzzles
just protruding from the loop holes, and their eyes watching
every motion over the gleaming barrels.

Onward galloped the Indians, without abating their speed
in the least until within a furlong, when they suddenly reined
up at sight of the curious-looking fortress before them. Their
looks and gestures showed their suspicions to be aroused con-
cerning it. Their hands were frequently extended toward it,
and their guttural words could now and then be heard. As
they stood thus, Biddon carefully noted the appearance of
each. There were seven well mounted, two of whom were
furnished with rifles, which weapons they rendered as con-
spicuous as possible. The Indian who seemed to take the
lead was furnished with a flowing mantle which streamed
over his horse as he careered over the prairie. Each wag
daubed in war-paint; and, take them all in all, they were a
savage, villainous-looking set, whose malignity shone in theie
basilisk eyes. They surveyed the rocks a few moments, and

s

 
  

NATHAN TODD.

scattered in different directions over the prairie, carefully
avoiding to approach any closer.

“Slip to other side,” whispered Biddon, “ and keep yout
shooter ready, but don’t pull the trigger till I tell you.”

The Indians now commenced circling around the little
‘ort, separating and wheeling until they had completely sur
rounded it.

“How many do you make ?” asked the trapper.

“T haven’t counted them,” replied Nat, “ but I should sup-
pose there are about seventy-five.”

“Wagh ! jist seven ; ef we hadn’t the gal with us, I wouldn’t
like better fun than wipin’ them out. Keep docile, and Ill
draw bead on ’em soon.”

Although the fugitives had carefully concealed themselves,
the Indians were not to be deceived. Their wheelings and
turnings were like the gyrations of birds in the air, and finally
a couple of arrows were sent into the fort; but it brought no
response from those within. A couple of savages started at
full gallop, as if to ride over the breast-work, but were careful
to hold up before they reached it.

Suddenly they came together in a knot on the eastern side,
and, halting a moment, dashed away with a loud yell.

“Good !” exclaimed Nat, “they think we ain’t here, and
have gone on. We will get away yet.” a

“You're green yet, Todd. Don’t you understand thar dev-
iltry? They’ve purtended that, jist to draw us out. It riles
me considerable, I allow, fur’em to take Bill Biddon to be
sich a fool. Ill drop one of ’em for that insult ef they don’t
do nothin’ else.”

“All at once their enemies wheeled, and, giving another

yell, came at full gallop toward the fugitives.

“ Another trick,” admonished the trapper. “Keep your
fire; they'll stop in a minute.”

So it proved—the Indians reining up while still at a good
distance, and repeating their maneuvers as before. This was
continued for nearly an hour, when, losing patience, the war
was commenced by the redskins. Coming up within severai
hundred yards, they again separated anil commenced riding
backward and forward at different points, displaying, while
they did so, some of the finest horsemanship in the world

 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
   
  
 
 
 

aap

-

—seebeo —

 
     
ake

A SPECIMEN OF BILI’S SHOOTING iit

They leaned over upon the side of their animals opposite the
whites in such a manner that nothing but the point of their
feet was visible over the horse’s back, and in this disposition
discharged their arrows and the two rifles, either under the
animal’s neck or belly. As the latter turned in their circuit,
their skillful riders dropped to the cther side as quick as
thought.

‘Tis an old game, but a dangerous one,” remarked the
trapper. “Tve seen the Comanches of the south use the
same trick, and, say what they will, it's a nasty one. That's
so many of’em at it, we must stop ’em. Yas, sir.”

A perfect storm of arrows rained in upon the whites, and
their situation, at most, was a perilous one. It was by no
means impossible that they should be struck, protected as well
as they were.

“Todd !” called Biddon, in a whisper.

“Well, what do you wish ?”

“Tis an old game, as I said afore, they’re tryin’, and must,
be stopped. I war in sich a scrape as this when I was sum-
mat younger nor now. ‘T'was down in what they call Injin
Territory. Me and achap got cooped up, with the heathen
firin’ thar pizened arrers at us, and never givin’ us a chance
to see ’em, floppin’ over thar hosses like that. Howsumever,
we come up to’em. Thar’s two or three spots in a hoss whar
this rifle of mine will send a bullet through slick and clean,
and give the imp his last sickness on t/other side. ’Tain\
tvery one as can do it, ’cause they’re purty sure to stiike a
bone. But hyer goes.”

The trapper followed the motions of one of the horses for a
moment and then fired. The frenzied beast, with a wild snort,
bounded high in the air, falling backward and crushing hia
mortally-wounded rider beneath him.

“T haven’t forgot the spot,” Biddon remarked, with an
exulting sound like the click of his gun in his throat. “3
haven't forgot the spot, and I'll try the same thing again.”

His weapon was reloaded in an incredibly short space of
time and pointed through the same loop hole. But this unex
pected demonstration made the Indians more cautious. They
immediately retreated, leaving their fallen comrade and horse
Goubied up together. Before they had reached a safe distance,

8

 
 

 

 

112 NATHAN TODD.

the fatal rifle of the trapper sounded again as an incavlicus
enemy exposed his back, and the latter tumbled headlong
from his animal.

“ Five left,” he laughed, as he proceeded to load his gun.
“ Keep quiet, Todd, and you'll have a chance.”

“Its getting along toward night, Biddon; what will ycu
flo then ?”

“ Wait till sundown comes.”

The Indians, after consulting a few minutes, rode away a
half-mile, when they disappeared in the river-bottom.

“ What does that mean ?” asked Nat. :

“They’re goin’ to lay off till dark and fix on some devilish
trick. You can talk awhile to the gal, for thar’s no fear of
thar showin’ themselves in reach of this shooter for a while.
Hold on now, Biddon, you dog,” muttered the trapper to him-
self. “ Thar’s a splendid ha’r-raise for yer.”

Dropping his gun and drawing his knife, he leaped oyer the
breast-work and ran out upon the prairie to the spot where
the first savage had fallen. Here he stooped and scalped the
dead savage, and, while thus engaged, the report of a rifle was
heard in the river-bottom. The Indians witnessed this deed,
which they could not prevent, and had fired at him. The
exulting trapper gave a defiant yell, and, holding the gory
trophy aloft, made his way back to shelter on a slow walk.

“Ef they hadn’t toted off t'other varmint, ’'d had his top-
knot too,” he remarked, as he stepped into the fort again.

Night was slowly settling over the prairie, and a few clouds
were rolling up from the west. There was to be a faint
moon, which was already in the sky.

“T hope twill be dark as a wolf’s mouth,” said Biddon;
“ ef it is, we'll outwit the heathen, sure. Yas, sir.”

“Tf these clouds out yonder sail across the moon’s face,
you'll have your wish, Biddon, I think.”

“ How does thy) little gal stand it?” he asked, looking down
at Irene, who had withdrawn from her concealment, and was
veated near him.

“T am not much frightened, but I do dread falling into
their hands again. I am sure they would kill me if I did.”

* Don’t be scar’t—don’t be scar’t, my little one; they’ll have
to trample over Bill Biddon, and, I reckon, another chap, afore
they reach your purty little pictur’.”

pe pee

(pa PAIGE
  

 

INDIAN TACTICS. : 113

“The truest words you éver said,” responded Nat, warmly,

Three hows passed without any incident occurring worthy
of being mentioned. By this time it was well into the night,
The clouds spoken of were slowly floating before the moon,
rendering the darkness exceedingly variable—sometimes so
great as to prevent our friends from distinguishing each
otaers’ forms; at other times a partial view of the prairie, for
twenty or thirty yards, was obtained. Biddon had occupied
himself in passing stealthily around the interior of the fort, to
prevent the insidious approach of his enemies. A detached
conversation was continued for a time in undertones, but the
apprehensions of each finally kept all silent. Before night
set in, Biddon proposed making no attempt to escape until the
second night; but, from some cause, changed his mind. He
affirmed that they must get off that night, or their case would
be beyond hope.

Once or twice, when the light favored, a dusky horseman
was seen carefully reconnoitering their position; and, by
placing the ear to the ground, the footfalls of their animals
could be heard. They were evideniiy circling around the
fugitives, to prevent their making off in the darkness, This
was continued so steadily and so long, as to satisfy the trapper
that their enemies intended to keep them besieged until
nature would compel them to give in; and, as they would
naturally expect the whites to remain in concealment as long
as possible, their watch would be closer each succeeding
night. This was why Biddon came to the determination to
make the attempt upon the present night.

Nat, having received permission to fire at any thing that
offered, discharged his gun at a dusky object which flitted to
view in the distance; but with what effect he could not tell,
as no yell or tramp of feet succeeded it. A half-hour after,
the moon shone through a rift in the clouds, and revealed to
the astonished gaze of our friends a solitary horse, facing
them, not more than fifty yards distant. He stood like a
gtatue, and was without a rider. When the moonlight was
obscured again, his outline could be still distinguished, stand-
ing as motionless as before. Biddon was unable to fully
comprehend the meaning of this singular apparition, but it
only served ‘to render him doubly cautious While still

  

 
 

114 NATHAN TODD.

wondering, he felt a touch upon his arm, and luoking around,
distinguished the pale, terror-stricken face of Irene looking up
in his own.

“ There is some one just outside the fort !? she whispered.
“T heard him move !”

The trapper nodded, and motioned her to regain hei con-
cealment. On his hands and knees he passed around the
area of the fort, listening at every inch, until his wonderful
skill enabled him to locate his enemy. A‘ Savage, he was
satisfied, was crouching under cover of one of the boulders
on the outside. Waving his hand for the amazed Nat to
maintain a perfect silence, he laid his rifle softly upon the
ground, drew his knife and gathered his strength for a spring.
His leap was similar to that which a deer makes to pass a
high fence—a sort of sidelong bound, with an agility which
carried him over like a Gat. His calculation was incredibly
exact, for he literally came down upon the shoulders of the
unsuspecting Indian. A grip—a short struggle—a groam and
a gasp, and the trapper bounded back again into the fort
with another ghastly scalp at his girdle.

“ He’s done for,” he chuckled.

“Tsn’t that his horse still standing yonder ?” asked Nat.

Biddon looked toward the point indicated, and saw that
the animal remained in the same motionless attitude. He
paused an instant, then stepped lightly upon the prairie again,
and ran rapidly toward the horse. The animal probably
mistook him for his Indian master, for he made no resistance
or motion to flee. Biddon seized his bridle and led him
forward to the fort.

“Todd !” he hurriedly called, “step out ’yer, quick !””

“What's wanting?” asked that person, bounding beside
him.

“The time to travel ar come. That Injin I jist now rabbed
cut is the one with that big blanket flyin’ over his shoulder;
this ar his horse. Git on him, throw his blanket over yer
neck, take the gal behind yer, and cover her up with it, and
put. They'll take yer fur that chap stiffened out thar, anc
when you get clar of ’em go down the bottom whar I left
Vother hosses; you'll then have one apiece, and put like
blazes, and you'll give ’em the slip.”

  

Ae

  

 

 
  
  

 

 
  
  

 

  

 

 
 

 
    
  

ESOAPE OF NAT AND IRENE. iis

“ And you ?”

“Never mind me; [ll foller you soon, Irene, this way
guick |”

The maiden was by his side in an instant. She had heard
his plan and understood it. Nat was given to rebel, at first,
at leaving his companion in the rear, but the latter was
imperative, and threatened to shoot him if he hesitated.

“ Hug him close,” he cautioned Irene, ‘and let that blanket
swing over yer; and, Todd, make a few circles round like, so
as to blind thar eyes, and when yer git cla’r of their sight, do
what you war told to.”

A moment after, Nat Todd was cantering over the prairie
on the dead Indian’s horse, with Irene clinging to him. He
distinguished several horsemen, riding on a walk, after getting
§ out of sight of the fort, and, to deceive them, followed
Biddon’s advice—imitating their movements, and gradually
edging away from them, until, seeing the coast clear, he made
a straight line to the river-bottom. The whinny of Irene’s
liorse, as they entered, guided their search to the two animals
left there by the trapper. Irene mounted her own animal,
leaving the other for Biddon, and she and Nat once more
struck to the eastward on a rapid gallop.

The trapper listened to the receding -steps of the horse
which bore the two away from the fort, and did not change,
his position until they were beyond hearing, and, as he well
judged, had succeeded perfectly with the stratagem.

“Twas a good trick,” he muttered; “but ef it hadn’t
veen for the gal, Bill Biddon wouldn’t have allowed ’em to do
it. It would have lost too fine a chance for a ha’r-raise.
; B’ars and beavers, it would!”

— He commenced debating his own chances of escape. Now

that the others were safe, his greatest care was gone; but it
would not have been characteristic of the man had he
neglected his own. A few minutes’ thought decided his
course.

The dead Indian was lifted in his arms and carried to the
spot where his horse was first seen. Here he was stretched
fat upon his back, and his limbs straightened. Biddon, deem-
ing Nat had gone far enough to risk a discovery gave a lond

whoop and retreated within the fort.

ee

 
 
 

 

   
    
  
 
   
  
  

 

 

  
116 NATHAN TODD.

Ini a few moments two savages rode cautiously toward «&
spot from which the sound had emanated. They recos
noitered the dead body a moment, but finally approached. A
careful examination followed, revealing the alarming fact tuat
their comrade had not fallen by a bullet, but by the knife &
their enemy. To have done this, of course the struggle must
have occurred at this spot upon the prairie, and the white
man must have fled after committing the deed. They raised
no yell, but.rode in a body to the fort, and, after several feints,
entered it. The whites were gone!

Now ascended a yell, such as a score of demons might be
supposed to give, and the bafiled savages galloped away toward
the river-bottom. When fairly out of sight, one of the bould
ers on the outside of the breast-work pitched forward, and the
form of Bill Biddon rose to view.

“Reds is reds, and fools is fools, and ef ever they war
takin’ in bootiful, that ar’ time is jist about now. So Bill
Biddon thinks. Wagh !”

Dropping his head, he ran rapidly in the direction of the
river-bottom, intending to find his horse and follow our here
and heroine as he had promised. This required a longer time
than he expected; but he secured him at last, and, as he
emerged from the bottom, he struck into a full run, and set
up a shout of exultation. Hardly had the echoes died away,
when four mounted Indians burst after him, discharging twe
rifles at the same time. Biddon answered the shot, and its
effect was told by a frenzied yell and fall of one of the horse-
men.

“Come on, all of you!” he shouted; “ef you have shot
Bill Biddon, he can draw bead on you yit !”

In less time than it takes us to write it, his rifle was
reloaded, but before he could fire, his enemies were invisible.
Reduced to three, and convinced that capture was impossible,
they had withdrawn and given up the pursuit.

Away flew the trapper like a meteor bursting across the
prairie. He knew that he was not followed, and it was not
fear that led him on.

“T must cotch ’em !” he muttered, putting his horse te the
fop of his speed. ‘“ You must travel, hoss, ef it kills you.”
Not a jot of the terrific rate at which he was going was

  

   

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BIDDON’S DYING RIDE, ant

Sbated. Mite after mile flew under his feet—his hair streamed
in the night-wind—his face wore a strange, unnatural look.
His lips were tightly compressed, and at intervals he muttered
brokenly to himself, or shouted hoarsely to the horse.

Finally, the light of day appeared in the east. The trapper
looked up.

“I must be purty near up to’em. They can’t have rode

3 fast as me.”

The sides of his horse were steamy and frothy, his nostrils
dilated, and he breathed short and quick, As the prairie was
blumined by the sun’s Tays, Biddon looked carefully ahead.

“They ought to be in sight; I've rode a long ways. Bars
and beavers! yender they ar’ P

On a distant swell of the prairie he saw his two friends.
He swung his hat over his head and shouted. In a moment
a faint halloo was returned. He was seen, and they were
waiting for him. ;

Onward thundered the trapper, as if riding for life, A
half-hour, and his panting horse was beside Nat's.

“ Yer safe,” he remarked, with a deep sigh. “I dropped
another, and they give up the chase. You can take yer time
now; none of’em will foller you more.”

“But, Biddon, why have you ridden so fast? Your horse
seems jaded to death. The Oregon trail is but a few miles
uway, and you needn’t have hurried. We were waiting for
you. What makes you look so strange? You are deadly
pale. Isee blood on your breast! My God! have you been

”

snot ?

“Todd, Bill Biddon has got his last sickness at last!”
replied the trapper, in a voice whose hollow depth was awful.
“T wiped one of’em out, and they blazed away with both
thar shooters—one of the bullets went clean through me!” ~

Nat and Irene were horrified, and almost beside themselves.

“Ts it a mortal wound? Can you not bear up till we find
assistance? O, Biddon, you are not going to die now!”

“ No—no—let me dress your wound,” plead Irene, dis
mounting, and approaching him. The trapper motioned them
back, and alighted himself.

“Pye got to go under in less nor an hour,” he said, in the
same hollow tone, as Nat assisted him to a seat “J didn’t

 
{16 NATHAN TODD.

want to do it alone, that’s why I rode so hard to come ug
with you. Don’t feel bad about it,” added Biddon, languidly
opening his eyes, as he heard the suppressed sobs of both his
friends.

“Oh, Biddon! this is terrible. Ill never forgive myself
for leaving you alone to carry on the battle,” wailed Nat,
kneeling beside him.

A shade of vexation crossed the trapper’s face; his brows
compressed slightly as he replied:

“Tt saved you and the gal, and let’s hear 3 no more of it.
It won’t do no good,” he added, as he felt them examining his
wound. “It’s past doctorin’.”

Irene had unslung the small canteen which he wore i
the neck, and was bathing and dressing the wound to the
best of her ability. A glance showed her and Nat that the
man’s words were true. A bullet had passed through his
body in the neighborhood of the lungs, and life was fast ebb
ing out. His indomitable determination had sustained him
up to this point. He knew no earthly power could ward off
his dissolution, and his only wish was to die in the presence
of the two whose lives he had saved. Now that he had
reached them, his will gave way, and he sunk with fearful
rapidity. Nat and Irene saw that the most they could do
was to soothe the dying man’s moments, and no time was lost
in lamentations, His hunting-shirt was opened, so as to allow
the air to reach him, and the flow of blood partially stopped.
His head was pillowed in the lap of Irene, who had removed
his cap and brushed back the shaggy locks from his brow
In this position he lay, breathing heavily, and occasionally
zasping, sometimes opening the eyes whose electric glitter
was now deadened, and looking from Nat’s face to that of
Irene, where it seemed to love to linger. Once or twice it
was noticed that his lips appeared to move, and it was with
gratified astonishment that Nat heardthe words of payer
passing his lips.

“Todd,” at length he spoke, as if waking from a dream
“yon and I’ve hunted together a long time, put we
part. I’ve ’spected this all through the winter,
sorry for myself. You've got the gal at lastand™
enough to git her through to the States. Thar’s a belt *rqun?
my body, jist below the hurt. Will vou take it of

 
 

t

A BELT AND A-PICTURE. - 119

Nat did as requested, and found he held in his hand a
broad, thick, and exceedingly heavy belt.

“That's full of gold,” he said, speaking at intervals. “I’ve
been gatherin’ it up for thirty year. Some of it came from
the Hudson Bay Company, though it’s little they give in that
way besides trinkets. Thar’s a good lot thar; take it, use it.
It never can do me good, and I’ve no’ one else to give it to
Will you promise ?”

Nat looked at Irene, and the two answered that they would.
He then continued : ‘

“Bury me in my clothes, my shooter, knives, and every thing
with me.”

“Shall it be done here ?” asked Nat.

“Yas; you'll have some trouble to dig the grave; but it
needn’t be deep, and a few stones rolled over it will keep the
wolves aud varmint away.”

He ceased speaking for a while. During the disarrange-
ment of his dress, Nat noticed a ribbon around his neck, con-
cealed beneath his hunting-shirt. He examined it, not through
any vulgar curiosity, and found it contained a small locket,
in which was an exquisite painting of a young and beautiful
girl. He was upon the point of asking the trapper’s wil!
respecting this, when the latter spoke.

“Thar’s a pictur’ you'll see round my aeck—bury it with
me. She was buried long years ago. It was her that made
a trapper of Bill Biddon; but the story can’t be told now. I
meant to have told you, Todd, but the time has passed.”

Another lapse of silence passed, during which the trapper’s
dissolution became more and more apparent. His face was
of unearthly whiteness, and the film of death was already
visible over his halfclosed eyes. His lips continued moving,
and after one or two attempts, he spoke aloud:

“Todd, you have talked to me ’bout what you called
religiog,.@na I remember how a mother used to pray fur me
when I‘was young. Bill Biddon has led a quar life. He has
taken mahy a scalp, and wiped out many a redskin, and
whether that Being will take him after all this I can not tell.
Bat I've thought about Him a good deal, and have tried te
pray to Him far a good while to come. Would you pray ?”

Nat uttered a short, carnest prayer for the dying wa. and
he seemed much comforted.

 
12 NATHAN TODD.

“T feel better,” he added, after he had finished. “I think,
Todd, and Irene, I'll see you agin, and Relmond, and the little
angel of his wife. Don’t forget to tell them about old Bill
Biddon, and—”

The trapper paused as a cloud swept over his features. His
emotions were so singular that Nat, fearful the last moment
had come, spoke:

“ What is the matter, Biddon ?”

“ The Injins a” comin’ !” he replied, in his husky whisper.

“ No—no, you are mistaken; none but your friends are
around you,” said Nat, fearing his mind was wandering. The
trapper knit his brows, as if with pain, and added:

“No, I don’t mean you. I know what I am about. J hear
the redskins, I say. I hear the tramp of thar animals.”

Nat, thinking perhaps there might be truth in what was
said, sprung to his feet and swept the horizon. The view on
the east was obstructed by a range of hills, but there were no
signs of any human beings besides themselves. He repeated
this to Biddon.

“T hear the tramp of hosses /” reiterated the latter. “It’s
hard to let my top-knot fall into thar hands after gettin’ this
far. Todd, will you do the last favor Bill Biddon will ere:

sk you ?”

“Yes—yes—any thing you wish.”

“T would die hard, as I said, ef I thought they war to get
my har. Jist take my knife then, Todd, and lift it yerself,
and the imps will be cheated, after all !"*

“O God! don’t ask me that, Biddon,” groaned Nat. “Til
fight over you as long as I can stand, but no power on earth
could induce me to harm a hair of your head.”

“TI s’pose it isn’t your edication, Todd; but I don’t want
my top-knot hang in an Injin’s lodge. Can’t you—”

“Surely, surely, Biddon, youre mistaken. There are no
pavages lear us.”

Irene touched Nat’s arm and pointed toward the river-
bottom. Some cight or ten horsemen had just emerged from
belcw them and were approaching.

* This request of the dying trapper may seem incredible; but there are
well-authenticated instances in the history of our frontier in which
ranger er scout has scalped | his comrade, at the latter’s prayer, to save the
disgrace of his enemies’ securing it. Their romantic fear, in this respect,
seems eqaal io that of the Indian himself,

a -

 

 
 

   

DEATH OF BILL BIDDON. 121

  
 

“They are not Indians—they are not Indians, Biddon |
They are friends—white people—whose horses you heard

They are here—cheer up !”
“T spose so; I know ’twas the tramp of animals I heard.
Git up. Irene, pray fur me like an angel as you ar’.”
Nat arose to catch the attention of the horsemen, while
Trene complied with the holy request of the trapper. When
ur hero looked toward his companion again, he saw that Bill

Biddon, the hunter and trapper, was dead !

 
       
   
   
   
      
  

_ The horsemen were a party of hunters, who had diverged
from the Oregon trail tc continue their operations in this
direction. Two of them had been acquainted with the trapper
several years before, and mourned his death with sincere sor-
row. Several hours were spent in digging a grave, broad-and
deep, in which to place his body. Their knives were the only
instruments employed, and when the body of Biddon was
carefully lowered into the earth, it was high noon. He was
buried in his clothes, his faithful rifle beside him, and the
locket, which contained the picture probably of some love that
had exercised a potent influence over his life, still remained
around his neck. The grave was wet by the tears of Nat and
Irene, who mourned him as a rough but true-hearted and
brave man whose loss could never be replaced. No slab or
stone marks the lonely spot in the Far West, where all that
is mortal remains of the trapper. It is on the bank of the
Malheur River, a few miles west of the Oregon trail; but
the feet of wild animals and the lapse of time have so obliter-
ated all traces of it, that to-day even the eye of affection would
fail to recognize ‘.

A few more words and the tale is finished. Nat and Irenc
accompanied the hunters down to Fort Boise, where they found
another party upon the point of starting to California. As
the present of Biddon furnished Todd with an ample supply
of money, he concluded to take the steamer from San Fran-
cisco instead of risking another tedious and perilous journey
across the plains. This course he followed out. In ‘thia
city, he encountered the traveler with whom he had passed
several days at Brown’s Hole. It was he who had writter.
the uote which occasioned so much wonderment. His infor

 
   
     
   
 
 
 
       
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
       
“NATHAN 'LUDD.

mation was @erived from a hunter; and, believing it to be
reliable, he withheld his name, fearing that Nat might suspect
‘t to be only a piece of pleasantry, and he had quite a repu-
‘ation for his jokes upon his companions.

The particulars of the homeward voyage need not be given.
The storms and sunshine—the tempests and calms— the
glorious moonlight nights and the delightful hours spent in
communion with each other—the gradual growth of the tender
passion—the all-important question and answer—the thousands
of air-castles that arose in the enchanted future—all these
and many more, the reader can imagine.

Todd, when he arrived in New York, telegraphed to Rel
mond, who, accompanied by his wife, immediately visited kim.
For the first time since childhood, the long-lost, the long-
separated sisters and orphans met. But time had only sancti-
fied their love; and the friendship between Relmond and Todd
remains uninterrupted to this day.

Nat, in the magnanimity of his heart, forgave his old flame
Sarah Almina, now Mrs. Hankins, and she and her husband
poth helped to celebrate the wedding. At the present writing,

Nat residesin Maine, where he and his strangely-found wife
are bounteously supplied with all that goes to make life
serenely happy in this world, and that fits them for the enjoy’
meut of the world to come.