THE

SILVER BUGLE:

OR,

THE INDIAN MAIDEN OF ST. CROIX.

By LIEUT.-COL. HAZLETON.

LONDON:

» GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS,
THE BROADWAY, LUDGATE.

 
 
THE SILVER BUGLE.

CHAP TE “Tr.
THE BLOCK-HOUSE.

It is a lurid summer morn.
The sun, just rising o’er the eastern hills,
Is red with anger at the fearful deeds
Done since his last eve’s setting. All the night
The bloodhound War has bay’d. His brazen mouth,
Frothed with gore, has licked a thousand dead,
And now in horrid surfeit of men’s blood,
He dozes on the field.—G. W. WYNTER.

Mrynesora! Pregnant with nature’s gems. <A State fruit-
ful in variety, combining all that is attractive to the lover of
rural beauty and wild grandeur. Thousands of limpid rills,
checkering the undulating fields, and winding through deep
vales, flanked by the towering mountains, lend their silvery
drops to swell the broader river, the glorious Minnesota, as it
dashes onward, pouring its tide into the great “ Father of
Waters ;’ while innumerable lakes reflect the loveliness by
which their shores are fringed, and the blue sky at noonday,
or the midnight stars, each vieing with the other in their
charms, to win the admiration of mankind.

The principal river, which bears the name of its own State,
rises among the mountains near the western border of the
State; and, gathering strength as it progresses, flows through
a sparsely-settled, but beautiful and fertile, portion of Minne-
sota, emptying its waters into the Upper Mississippi at the
city of St. Paul, the head of steam navigation, and but a short
distance below the Falls of St. Anthony.

Upon the other hand, rising near Lake Superior, and coursing
through Wisconsin, is another river of scarcely less note, and
quite as lovely, known as the St. Croix, which also empties
into the Mississippi, only a few miles below its junction with
the Minnesota. Both these rivers are navigable for many
miles for small craft. and an immense quantity of lumber finds

 
 

10 fe THE SILVER BUGLE.

its way through their channels to the more densely-populated
districts.

But a few years since, this portion of the country was occu-
pied by the red children of the forest only; or, if occasionally
a white settler was found, it usually proved to be one of those
adventurous spirits who delight to dwell “ far from the haunts
of men.” The fur traders, who frequented. this section for
traffic with the natives, gave such glowing accounts of the
country, that emigration set in, and for a long time continued
* uninterrupted. The Indians were friendly, and in no manner
interfered with the whites, further than occasional depredations
upon their corn-fields, or the stealing of cattle and horses.

But, as the strength of the white man increased, so the
hunting-grounds of the red-man contracted. This naturally
created a feeling of jealousy, and, finally, of hatred; but as the
aborigines were partially remunerated for their lands, and
_ feared the “Great Father at Washington,” they were cautious,
and refrained from acts of violence.

There had been an intermarriage between one of the
“praves” of the Sioux tribe and a beautiful squaw of the
Minnesotas, which cemented a friendship between the two
nations. This rather unusual event originated in the fact of
the Sioux brave having saved the life of the Minnesota
maiden’s father. The result of this marriage was an only
daughter, who was called Minneapolis. A small village near
St. Anthony Falls now bears her name.

Some five years.ago, the father of Minneapolis died, and, in
a short time, the mother followed. Their home had been on
the St. Croix river, about sixty miles above the Mississippi.
After the death of her parents, Minneapolis, who was, if pos-
sible, more beautiful than -her mother, was urged to return to
her father’s tribe, which then dwelt at the head-quarters of the
Sioux nation, on the Des Moines river, near the Iowa border.
But she had formed a strong attachment for the family of a
white settler—an honest, noble-hearted man, surrounded by a
family of more than ordinary intelligence and refinement:
With them she resolved to remain, sharing alike their protec-
tion and their affection. :

This family, which had emigrated from the State of New
York, was among the first of Northern Wisconein settlers. 7

 
  

   

Vi

  
MINNEAPOLIS. 11

consisted of the father, Henry Ashby, his wife, Jane, and two
daughters, who gloried in the title of “ young ladies,” although
their ages, at the time we write, were respectively but fourteen
and sixteen. Still, from their natural grace and dignity of
manner, together with the superior education they possessed,
their claims might justly be allowed. Another member of the
Ashby family was a young man of twenty, by the name of
Henry (his father’s name), although he was usually called
Harry. He was no less accomplished than his sisters, Grace
and Carro, in all that pertained to society’s exactions; but,
during his residence at his new forest home, he had become
an expert in a wildwood education. Besides these, the family
circle was blessed with the presence of a bright-eyed boy of
ten, and a fair-haired girl of six.

As soon as Minneapolis had been regularly installed as one
of the family, she commenced a course of study, under the
instruction of the young ladies, which was intended to fit her

‘for the society of the great and gay world. The education

of the girl was rapid, yet she clung, with much affection and ~
enthusiasm to many of her earlier associations, and passed
much of her time upon the St. Croix, in a beautiful canoe,
which she could handle with dexterity, or in wandering among
the mountains, bounding from rock to rock, and making the
forest echo with her song and merry laugh. Many attempts
had been made to capture the maiden by her relatives of the
Sioux tribe, but young Harry Ashby was almost always by
her side or near her, and but few would venture in a hostile
way within range of his rifle. Besides, the Minnesota nation
was pleased with the arrangement made between the hunters
family and Minneapolis, and any violence upon the part of the
Sioux might involve the tribes in difficulty, which it was policy
to avoid.

Soon after the breaking out of the great rebellion in 1861,
and the commencement of hostilities between the northern and
southern sections of the United States, it began to be whispered
about that the Sioux nation was preparing to make war upon
the white settlers throughout middle Minnesota, and that this
war would be extended to the State borders, upon the Missis-
sippi, if the chiefs deemed it prudent. The Indians were daily
committing depredations, and becoming bolder, but few acts

 
£3 THE SILVER BUGLE.

of actual violence were committed until the winter of 1861
and 1862.

It was the middle of June, 1862. The Indian war had
commenced in all its fury. The inhabitants were either flying
for safety to St. Paul, and other cities along the Mississippi, or
arming themselves for defense. Block-houses were built, and
scarce © village but had its night patrol and its pickets, to
guard against sudden surprise. There were no troops in the
State—the nearest point where any number were stationed
being Fort Dodge, in Iowa, upon the Des Moines river. It
was at a distance remote from this fort that the Indians deter-
mined to strike.

Information had reached the small settlement upon the St.
Croix, where the Ashby family resided, that a Sioux “ brave”
known as the “bloody tomahawk,” but by name Conanchet,
was upon that river with one hundred warriors, and that he
had sworn vengeance against the Ashbys on account of the
girl Minneapolis, whom he intended to secure, and send to the
tribe of her father, for the purpose of making her his wife.
This intelligence, of course, spread consternation throughout
the little village, and every preparation was made to receive
the malignant foe. Women and children took refuge in the
block-house, upon the river’s bank, and provisions were con-
veyed thither in large quantities, preparatory for a siege.
Water was plentifully supplied by a ditch which communicated
with the river, only a few feet from the lower room of the

‘block-house. On three sides this place of refuge was guarded
by. an outer work, formed of palisades, or large upright pieces
of timber, which had been set firmly in the ground. This
outer work was about twenty feet in hight. Near the top of
this breastwork, and upon the inside, was a platform, which
was reached with ladders. This platform was built for the
purpose of defense, should any one attempt to scale the works
from the outside. The block-house was formed of logs. The
lower, or ground room, about sixty feet square, was intended
for the women, children, aged and sick, who were not expected
to take part in the anticipated bloody fray. It was, also, well
stored with provisions and necessaries of cornfort.

The second story, which was something smaller than the
first, was about forty feet square, with a kind of balcony

 
  

=

    
 
 

MISS JERUSHA PHATT. ; 13

around the entire building, long enough to contain a file of
mountain marksmen, in case the outer work should be taken.
This room was prepared expressly for the defenders of their
homes, and was pierced in every direction for musketry.
Above this there was still another room, or kind of tower, of
much smaller dimensions. It was about five feet square, and
was more particularly a watch station. In this were stationed
four men, who were relieved by turns, who watched the sur-
tounding country with great vigilance.

The family of the Ashbys were all present on the evening of
\he 12th of June, with the exception of Minneapolis and Harry.

It was a night of horror. The wind moaned and wailed a
dismal song, while the thunder bellowed and echved over the
rugged hills, as if, in its madness, it would rend the earth.
The lightning flashes were almost incessant; and the rushing
wind and driving rain lent terror to the hour. Ashby was
seated in the lower room of the settlers’ refuge.

“Y fear for our child Minnie,” said Mr. Ashby. “She is
wayward but good. And now that danger hovers over us, I
think she is doubly devoted. She is absent for our good, no
doubt, but I fear harm will come to her.”

His tone was very grave and not without feeling.

Among those who had taken refuge in the house, was an
unmarried iid;, of about forty-eight years of age. Her char-
acter by no means differed from that of others who had
reacued her years without condescending to adopt the name
of one of the “sterner sex.” She gloried in the name of Miss
Jerusha Peatt.

“T don’t like this amalgamation of Indian and white folks,
Mr. Ashby,” said Miss Peatt. “It has brought this trouble
upon us. If you had not taken that Indian minx into your
family, the savages would never have ventured so far from
their homes. Oh, my! I can almost fancy their bloody
scalping-knives ‘at my throat, demanding, in stentorian tones,
the yielding up of my life to appease their savage natures, and
to save you all from the horrors of the fate you have justly
brought upon yourselves. Oh, why did I ever leave my rural
abode in Massachusetts, and consent to enlighten the barba-
rians of this part of the country by my presence, while dear
ones are sighing for me at home!”

 
    
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
   
 
  
    

 

J

14 Se THE SILVER BUGLE.

Ashby made no reply, but gazed upon the speaker with
something of contempt in his sad countenance.

At this instant a bolt of lightning struck a large tree near
the block-house, and shook it to its very toundation, The
maiden, Peatt, with a shriek of terror, threw herself upon the
ground, and gave vent to the most pitiful moans. As she
lay prostrate, little Charley Ashby, seizing one of the hay-
forks which had been brought into the block-house as a wea-
pon of defense, drove the prongs over the ankle of the terri-
fied female, thus fastening her to the earth. On attempting to
move, and finding herself fast, she set up a series of howlings
which made the woods ring again.

“Oh, murder! Help! help! The savages! Oh, save
me!”

Charley gave a regular Indian war-whoop, whereupon Miss
Peatt actually went into hysterics.. Mr. Ashby interfered for
the maiden’s relief, by sending Charley into another part of
the building; but it was some time before he could reassure
the lady of her bodily safety and thus secure her silence.

The midnight hour arrived. The watchers in the tower

had just been relieved, and although Minneapolis—or Minnie

as she was called—was still absent, to the great anxiety of
all, the beleaguered community laid themselves down to rest—

_the guard in the watch-tower alone being on the alert. Harry

Ashby had returned, but knew nothing of Minnie, further
than the fact that, just before darkness set in, he had seen her
at a distance, bounding forward toward a point of rocks
known as “ Ashby’s Look-out.” He had attempted to follow
her, but, finding no further trace, had returned, hoping to
meet her at the fort. Yet she came not, and the fears of the
wisest intensified with every hour of her unaccountable ab-
sence.

The storm increased. :

Suddenly there was an unusual commotion in the watch-
tower. Mr. Ashby, springing to his feet, demanded the cause.
The answer came:

“Jt is a sound never before heard in these parts to my
knowledge—-something like the blast of a bugle. “Whether it
is an hundred bugles, or one bugle and its hundred echoes, ¥
can not tell.”
A MYSTERY. 15

Mr. Ashby ascended to the tower and listened. At length
he said :

“Tt is very remarkable and mysterious. I have never heard
those sounds before. An approaching enemy certainly would
not thus announce himself. It must be a warning signal, al-
though by whom I can not divine.”

“Tt comes from the ‘ Look-out,’ Squire,” said a queer-looking
specimen of humanity—a person very much deformed both
in body and feature. There was an immense hump upon his
back ; his arms were very long, reaching nearly to the ground,
and his face was marked by a number of deep scars, bearing
the appearance of repeated blows from a red-hot iron bar.

“The Look-out stands upon the bend in the river, and any
person watching there can see a long distance below. Do
you think, Mr. Hill,” continued Ashby, “ that Conanchet will
come so near the fort in canoes, or that he will leave them
below concealed in the wood, and make his attack entirely by
land ?” ‘

“Both, Squire; that is, he will probably send one-half of
his men by water, and the other portion he will bring around
to the rear.” ;

“You are much better acquainted with their mode of fight-
ing than myself,” replied Ashby, “and I shall rely to some
extent upon your judgment.”

“Tam! Oh, yes, I am familiar with their mode,” said
Hill, with bitterness, as he pointed to the hump upon his
back, and the terrible marks across his face; “I owe them
this—this mountain on my back, and these scars. But I will
repay them yet—ay, and with interest, too! And perhaps
the time for such payment has arrived now. God grant that
it has! My very soul cries for the sacrifice of a blood-offer.
ing upon the altar of my murdered ones.” His tone was
fierce, but solemn as that of a prophet. All stood in awe of
his blazing eyes and his terrible, all-absorbing, but not violent
passion.

“Was it not Conanchet who inflicted this terrible torture
upon you?”

“ Ah, Conanchet! That was the name. And he wasa
Sioux brave. But I am informed that the Conanchet now
marching against us is a young man. If so, he must be the

 
  

18 THE SILVER BUGLE.

son. But, it’s all the same—all the same!” he crie], fiercely,
as he beat upon his breast, which heaved viclently in the
intensity of his sudden excitement.

“Would you seek yengeance upon the son for the crimeg
of his father?” asked Ashby.

“Ay, but I would. That's now my gospel doctrine.”

“But it strikes me it is not a Christian one.”

“Mr. Ashby, do I look like a Christian? Do I look like
any thing hwman, even? Don’t I look more like a foul imp
—a Caliban? You know it, and I know it, and a monster I
will be so far as the red-skins have dealings with me. They
have made me a demon, and they shall feel my rule !”

“Mr. Hill, you brood too much over your deformity. You
are among friends who appreciate your worth, and will strive
to alleviate your sorrows.”

“ And why should I not brood over my deformity ? There
was a time when I stood erect in God’s own image. Look at
menow! Iam bowed and bent down with this burden upon
my back so that I am forced to keep my eyes fixed upon the
earth, which seems to shrink when its gaze meets mine!
And the consolation I receive for this misfortune is—oh, I
understand it well—is pity! Does any living being love me?
Does any kind heart caress me, or any soft voice give utter-
ance to words of endearment? No! Eyen my child—my
little Julia—the only one saved on that terrible night, after
she became old enough to be observing, would shrink, scream-
ing, from my embrace! That nearly killed me! Oh, God!
that a father should be so repulsive in appearance that his
own child should shrink in terror from him. But, thank God,
she is dead now.”

“You thank God for that !”

“T do! If it had pleased the All-Wise to have taken me,
I should have preferred it. But, in some way I would have
her spared the pain of gazinz upon such a father.”

“Mr. Hill,” said Ashby, “that some great misfortune has
befallen you we are well aware; and that it was in connec-
tion with the Sioux Indians we also know. But the particu-
lars I have never learned. If not too painful, I should be
glad to hear from your own lips the story of your sufferings.”
“You shall have a brief sketch of them, Mr. Ashby.: nt

   
   
    
 
  
  
   
  
 
 
   
   
   
  
 
  
    
   
 
  
 
    
   
MR. HILLS STORY. 17

{ am inclined to think it will necessarily be brief, for if the
red-skins age near us, they won’t lose the advantage such a
night as this gives them. So J will proceed at once.

“Tt was in the year 1846 that I was induced to emigrate to
the wilds of Wisconsin, with my family. I settled upon the
St. Croix river, about forty miles from its mouth and intersec-
tion with the Mississippi. The cause of my emigration was
the loss of fortune, brought about by over-confidence in pre-
tended friends. I left Philadelphia, my former home, with a
heavy heart. But I had an interesting family, to whom I was
devotedly attached. It consisted of my wife, a daughter of
sixteen, a son of ten, and a child of two years.

“We arrived in due time, and I selected the spot now
known as ‘ Bloody Valley’ for our home. ‘There was a space
of some thirty acres upon which there was no timber, and I
found little trouble, after first erecting a dwelling of logs, iv
getting in my grain, and such other articles as would be re-
quired for family use during the coming winter. I began to
feel quite contented and happy. For three yeasons my har- /
vest had been abundant, while my live stock had increased
rapidly. As for fish and deer, the St. Croix and the adjoin-
ing forest gave us a plentiful supply. We had almost ceased
to regret our city home, amid the many comforts and beauties
ley which we were surrounded.

“T soon observed that our prosperity was not unnoticed,
and that it excited, at least, the envy of the Indians, who fre-
quently visited us while upon their hunting excursions. At
length they began their depredations. Numbers of our cattle,
horses and fowls were stolen; but I was powerless, and de-
termined to submit quietly. Not so with my son, who was
then thirteen years of age. Without my knowledge, he
secreted himself, and while an Indian was in the act of taking
a horse from my stable, he shot the thief through the heart.

“The Indian belonged to the Sioux tribe, and was a near
celative of Conanchet, a powerful brave. This man demanded
redress. I informed him that the deed had been committed
by my son, a thoughtless boy, and entirely without my know-
ledge. The Indians then demanded that the boy shcald be
given over for torture. This I refused. They then retired,
telling me it was their intention to consult with their chief,

 
 

18 {HE SILVER BUGLE.

but should return at daylight to inform me of his decision in
the matter. I felt that I must prepare for the worst. I ar-
ranged my dwelling in the best possible shape for defense, but
had little hope of successfully contending with my savage
foes. Assistance could not be procured for several hours, as
the nearest neighbor resided nearly fifteen miles distant.

“Morning came. Just as the sun was rising, a party of

about thirty savages emerged from the woods, and came di-
rectly across the open field to my house. They approached
the door with great caution, evidently expecting a warm re-
ception. I measured my chances for success, and my rifle,
which I had brought‘to bear upon the leader, was lowered.

“¢What are your terms by which a settlement can be ef-
fected 2” I asked. :

“That you send the chief six horses, deliver the boy up
for torture, and give the pale maiden to be the squaw of
Conanchet.’

“This reply froze my very blood. I turned my gaze upon
my wife. She had fallen upon her knees, and was praying.
I looked at my boy. He stood in an attitude of defiance,
while awaiting my answer. My little girl, then five years old,
stood by her mother in silent wonder. But my daughter—
she who was asked as the wife of the sayage—then nineteen,
and beautiful as a lily, stood near me with tearful eyes and
trembling form. One rapid glance was sufficient to impress
this picture on my heart and brain, eternally. I raised my
rifle, and, taking a deadly aim through a port-hole, I asked :

“Will you be content if I will give you my house, my barn
my horses, cattle, every thing I have ?

“«No, was the answer; ‘ we have them all now.’

“My rifle sent forth a stream of fire, and, with a yell, an
Indian leaped into the air, and fell to the earth, dead. My
son, who had been watching my movements, also fired, and
a second savage bit the dust. They left the door, and with
drew to the side of the house. I had not sufficient time to
pierce the logs for rifles, excepting at three different points
near the door. We reloaded our pieces quickly as possible,
and prepared for further action. We had not long to wuit.
The door was violently assaulted with a heavy piece of tim-
ber, but it refused to yield, and two more of the savages fell

*y
&

a

THE FINAL STRUGGLE. 13

before ous rifles. This maddened the others. With the most
unearthly yells they danced around us for a while, and then
all became silent. Soon, however, I heard the crackling of
flames. The roof was on fire, as was the house in several
other places. I began now to prepare for a most desperate
«encounter. I thought it most likely if any one of my family
was spared by the savages, it would be my eldest daughter.
I therefore took from the cradle my little infant, and gave it
into her charge. I hoped, as the flames progressed, some
opening would be formed through which I could bring my
rifle to bear upon the savages. But they carefully avoided
this. At last the room became so intensely hot that it was
impossible longer to remain in it. I took my dear wife in
my arms, and bade her a last farewell. I caressed my weep-
ing daughter, committing her to the care of heaven, and, bid-
ding each a sad good-by, I proceeded to open the door.

“The boy was the first to spring into the open air. He
was confronted by the relentless foc. But his rifle again was .
sure, and I saw another savage fall. I sprung forth, rifle in
hand. It did its work well. I drew my knife, and fought
as only a man can fight who does so for his own life, and the
lives. of those he loves. I heard their shrieks of agony—
heard the yells of triumph—TI saw the darting flames; but I
could not long stand against such odds. I felt a sharp pang.
—a giddiness—and all was dark.

“ow lone I remained in this condition I know not, but
when I recovered I found myself in an Indian village. I
judged that I could not be many miles from my former resi-
dence. A river was flowing along near the village, but it was
somewhat broader than the St. Croix at ‘Bloody Valley, and
so I concluded that I must be below that point. I sought in-
formation of the chief with regard to my family, but he was
silent and morose.

“JT had been in the Indian village nearlv two weeks after
my return to consciousness, and the wound, which was upon
my head, had begun to heal, and my strength had quite re-
turned. One day I saw an unusual preparation in the vil-
lage—something denoting a holiday. Warriors appeared in
their gayest costumes, with an extra coating of paint, and
maidens adorned themselves in their most picturesque styles.

 
 
 

20 THE SLLVER BUGLE.

I soon learned that a prisoner was to ‘run the gauntlet, and I
began to fear that J might have some immediate connection
in the games of that day, although I had not the slightest
knowledge as to what the terror of ‘running the gauntlet’
might signify.

“Tt was about nine o’clock in the morning that I observed
two lines forming to the right of the village. These two lines
faced inward, and were about six feet apart, leaving a street
of that width between the ranks. I observed that these lines
were made up of warriors, old men, old and young women,
and children, and that in a tine behind each rank were blazing
fires. On some of these, iron pokers or rods were heating,
and upon others were kettles with water boiling. Men were
armed with whips, knives, clubs, stones, and almost every
variety of weapon. It almost froze my blood as I gazed
upon this assemblage, but I had no idea what all this prepara-
tion meant.

“ At last I was aroused from my wonder, by the approach
of four powerful Indians, who threw aside the thongs which
bound me, and dragged me toward the line. I did not speak,
but arriving at the required point, I saw a street, between this
line, or rather two lines of savages, which appeared to me
nearly a mile in length.

“«You must run,’ said one of my guards.

“TJ had read, in our earlier Indian history, descriptions of
‘gauntlet running” but now I saw the reality before me,
although I had always thought it only as aromance. I knew
that I must run through that line, that every attempt would
be made to Kil] me by the thousands assembled, and that, if
my life was spared, it would depend entirely on my nimble-
ness of feet and my dexterity in dodging. And the universal
law which governs the Indian race, that a prisoner, if he has
courage sufficient to make the attempt, and succeeds in passing
their ‘gauntlet line, must go free, gave me hope, resolution,
strength. I determined to venture. I did not hesitate because
I lacked courage, but I was, at first, disheartened. Then
came the thought—‘ What if some of your family were still
alive? This acted like magic. Why should I live if they
were all gone? Why should I fear any thing, if they were no
more? And if even one of my children was alive it was

 
  
   
  
    
    
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
      

—~@
MAZEPPA. 1

reason for the desperate run to be made with all my
power.

““Go—go! yelled the Indian guard.

“T sprung like lightning into the path. Many blows were
ieveled at my head, but with dexterity I avoided them. I had
passed two-thirds of the line, and was already congratulating
myse:f on my escape, when I was struck in the face by a fiery
substance, which made me reel and stagger to the earth. In
an instant I was surrounded by fire, but this only served to
remind me of my own home, and of the fate awaiting me,
and, springing to my feet, I dashed onward. Many blows
were inflicted upon me with the instruments held in the hands
of the savages. Hot iron bars came in contact with my body
and face, scalding water was thrown upon me, and just as I
was about to emerge from the line, I fell to the ground, bleed-
ing at every pore, and blistered from head to foot.

“T was then taken back to my prison. Oh, what agony
filled my soul when I was informed that if I had run ten yards
further, the ‘ gauntlet’ would have been passed, and I would
have been free! But now I was to be subjected to such other
torture as the chief might decide upon, and that without even
waiting for my wounds to heal.

“From my prison I saw a council of savages assemble. As
a strong guard remained with me, I judged there would be
immediate action taken in my case. It was not long’ before
the crowd, which had partially dispersed, began to gather
again, and I was brought forth. I had given up in despair,
and gave but little heed to their preparations. Besides, I was
suffering so intensely from my wounds, that I actually longed
for death to relieve me.

“T could not walk, and was dragged forward and placed
upon the back of a horse. For the first time I opened my
eyes, and comprehended at a glance what I had now to endure.
The fate of Mazeppa, the Tartar prince and lover, was before
me! Iwas to be tied upon the back of a wild horse, which
would be driven tearing through the forest. The thongs
which bound me to the animal cut my already lacerated flesh,
as he reared and plunged in his effort to remove the burden
upon him, and free himself from the iron grasp of those who
held him. Dry pine-knots were so attached to the poor beast

 
 

Me ee WHE SILVER BUGLE.

as to be set on fire. Every thing thus prepared, the horse
was set loose.

“With shrieks of agony, almost human in their tones, the
animal dashed through the forest, while the savages followed
with exulting yells, and sent arrows after their victims, some
of which struck the frantic steed, while others pierced my
fica.

“T became cxconscious. When my reason returred, I
found myself in the dwelling of one of my neighbors. He
had found me by chance, after the horse had fallen dead.
Better if I, too, had died! In his mad course through the
forest, Thad been dashed against the overhanging branches.
This hump is the result of that ride. My back was broken.
And yet I found what I hoped would prove a comfort to me.
This neighbor had discovered and buried the body of my
wife, my daughter and my son. Jennie, the little girl of five,
was not found among the slain, and it was supposed she had
been consumed by the flames. But my little infant was saved
and was with me.

“Oh, how bright were my anticipations of future happiness
with this child, when I should recover! For two years I did
not leaye my room, and scarcely my bed. When I did
emerge, I was the hideous monster you now behold. I made
every effort during my confinement, as my little one grew
older, to accustom her to the sight of her father, but her ayer-
sion appeared rather to increase than diminish.. Sometimes I
would sing to her the songs her mother used to sing. To
these she would listen, and turn toward me with something
like affection in her gaze, but then with a shudder she would
turn away again. This almost killed me. At last she died.
This completed my earthly misery. I have lived since that
time only for revenge. And Iwill have it/ Ihave already
sent death and terror into their haunts. They have seen me,

They think meademon! They fear this horrible monster—fear
their own work! But I haye been indolent. I have spared
the red fiends from the fear that they would wreak their ven-
geance upon the innocent. But now that war with them has
commenced they shall feel my presence among them. Their
thirst for blood shall -be quite satisfied. And this Copanchei
comes! I will meet him first.”

nN A i A SITE

+ mene cecenee

oe cena a

meets
eee ie

IS" A NR a

ena emcee ae aaa

THE FIRST SHOT. 28

Again the bugle blast was heard, and Mr. Ashby, proceeding
to the room below, stepped out upon the balcony, and endeav-
ored, by the aid of the vivid lightning’s flash, to ascertain if an
enemy was visible at any point.

CHAP Dine lL:
A NIGHT’S WORK.

Tue night was intensely dark, although the glare of the
red lightning, which, for a time, had been almost incessant,
rendered any object upon the river, or in the open space,
easily distinguished for some distance from the point where
Mr. Ashby was standing. But the fury of the storm at length
abated, and the lightning flashed only at long intervals, as Mr.
Ashby emerged from the second room, and took his position
upon the platform. He gazed earnestly down the river, and
over the open fields into the forest beyond. Ere long,
something attracted his attention, and he bent forward,
listening.

“Do you see or hear any thing?” asked Hill.

“T hear a sound like the dipping of oars, although it is quite
indistinct. But I see nothing,” answered Ashby.

“Then you are short-sighted.”

“What do you see?”

“Step inside, quick !”

At the same instant Hill discharged his rifle.

Ashby was about to ask an explanation, when he felt a
sharp twinge in the shoulder. He also saw the flash and
heard the report of a rifle from the opposite bank of the river.
Again cautioned by Hill not to expose himself so recklessly,
he stepped within the fort.

Upon examination, it was found that Ashby had received a
slight flesh wound in the shoulder; not of sufficient import-
ance, however, to give him any serious inconvenience.

“That red devil came very near giving you the finishing
touch,” said Hill. “If that flash of lightning had been a trifle

 
 
 

24 THE SILVER BUGLE.

brighter, all would be over with you now. The red-skins
seldom miss their mark.”

“That shot came from the opposite shore, did it not?”
asked Ashby.

“Tt did. I just discovered the fellow as he leveled his rifle,
and so I blazed away. But I think I didn’t touch him.”

“Did you see him distinctly ?”

“T saw a red-skin darting his canoe under the overhanging
bushes on the other side. But the flash was so sudden and
dull, that I had to fire by guess.”

“Was he alone ?”

“T saw no one near him on the water, but you may make
up your mind there are plenty of them near at hand. Besides,
if you will look sharp, you will see about forty or fifty canoes,
filled with Indians, hugging the shores on both sides the
river, only about half a mile below. They are pulling very
cautiously toward us.”

This was indeed true.

“Their numbers can not be very great, or they would
advance more boldly,” said Ashby.

“You appear to know very little of the Indian character,
Mr. Ashby,” replied Hill. “ Why, sir, if their numbers were
small, they ould advance boldly—that is, until they came
within the range of our rifles. There is a large number of
them, depend upon it, and they will cover their approach as
much as possible, in order to surprise us. But hark! There
is that bugle again. Its notes are strangely wild. And sce!
There, high up on the ‘Look-out, is a flame darting up. It
must be a sighal-fire.”

“Tt is possible a bolt of lightning has stricken a dry tree,
and set it on fire.”

“But those sounds come from the same spot I tell you,
Ashby, we have friends near, and those signals are to apprisc:
us of their approach.”

“Ourse that she-devil !”

“ Did you hear that ?” whispered Hill, as he sprung forward
and grasped Ashby by the arm.

“T heard nothing very strange. What did you hear?’

“Speak low! Did you not hear a voice exclaim, ‘Curse
that she-devil ? ”

 
  
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
   
   
  
   
  
   
 

  

INDIAN STRATAGEM. x

“J heard an exclamation, it is true, but I gave it no heed,
supposing that it came from the lower room.”

“You must be more watchful. I distinctly heard the words
and voice. And the speaker is near the water, on the outside
of the fort.”

“ Shall I challenge him ?”

“By no means. Watch very closely. If I am not much
mistaken in that voice, it was Jim Archer’s, the renegade.”

“T have heard of him.”

“ And who has not? He is the blackest villain outside of
the grave, or inside either, for the matter of that. Indeed, I
really think his Satanic majesty will abdicate in Archer's
favor the moment he goes below, he is so much superior in
villainy and cunning. If that 7s Archer—hark !”

“ Quick—quick! Open the door and admit the poor crea-
ture! She -will be torn in pieces!” cried Ashby.

“Stop—stop! Let no one move!” yelled Hill. ‘“ Who-
ever touches that door dies upon the instant!” and the hump-
back raised his rifle, and sprung to the head of the stairs,
where he could command the door of the lower room.

The cause of this extraordinary scene was that, at that
instant, a terrible noise was heard just without the door. It
appeared from the sounds as if a powerful and ferocious dog
had attacked, in the most violent manner, a female, who was
screaming in her agony and fright, and begging to be ad-
mitted. :

The eyes of Ashby flashed with indignation, as he gazed
upon Hill. But the latter had already sprung into the lower
room, and placed his back firmly against the door, while he
held his rifle for immediate use. Several times he had
attempted to speak, but the maiden Peatt had set up such a
series of pitiful shrieks, that he could not be heard.

The horrible howling of the dog had now become a low
growl, while the cries of the female had gradually died away
in a gurgling sound, like one just struggling between life and
death with strangulation.

“For God’s sake, Hill, what do you mean? The Indians
are not here yet, and are you so great a coward that you will
let that poor woman die, sooner than open the door?” cried
Ashby.

 

  
 
 

 

 

THE SILVER BUGLE. 3

“Make that she-fool stop her howling, so that I can be
heard, and then I wiil explain,” replied Hill.

“Me a fool!” yelled Miss Peatt, as she sprung forward and
confronted Hill. “Me a she-fool! Oh, you horrible, ugly,
viperous, hideous monster !”

“Silence, you pestilence!” yelled Hill, “or I will make
your ugly face uglier.”

“T won't be silent!” and, by the increased howlings which
the again set up, it was evident she meant just what she said.

Charley Ashby delighted in tormenting the old maid, and
lost no opportunity in doing so. He was not absent upon the
present occasion.

“Tl silence her!” he cried.

He had approached with a bucket of water from the ditch
connecting the river and lower room. He had dipped to the
bottom of the ditch, and had taken a considerable quantity of
mud and sand with the water.

“TIL silence her!” and in an instant he dashed the contents
of the pail full in the face of the shrieking maiden.

Unfortunately for Miss Peatt, and fortunately for the
remainder of the company, she happened to haye her mouth
open just at that instant, giving utterance to one of her dulcet
notes. The natural consequence was that the cavity was filled
with mud and water, and for some moments it was a question
of doubt as to which was in the greatest danger of strangula-
tion—poor Peatt or the female outside the door. But after a
time she regained her breath, and calling down imprecations
upon those who would stand by and see a delicate female
thus abused, she seated herself in the furthest extremity of the
room, and gave vent to violent sobs.

The noise outside had nearly ceased.

“Now will you explain why you refuse to open that door ?”
asked Ashby. :

“Why should I open it?” asked Hill.

“ Because we could have saved that female from. the terrible
death she must now die.”

“You suppose she has been attacked by a dog ?”

“Suppose so! I know so.”

“ And you would have opened the door ?”

“ Certainly I would.”

 
  
     
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   

a>
ene

 

  

HILL EXPLAINS.

“Whose dog do you presume that to be?”

“Perhaps it belongs to one of the savages.”

“No. It ds one of the savages in person.”

“ How 2?

“I tell you, Ashby, there is no dog outside the door,
except that dog Archer, and the villainous red-devils with
him.”

“T do not understand.”

“Then you must not attempt to control. You would have
opened that door. Why? Because you thought a female was
in trouble, and you might save her. I would have done the
same to serve a suffering fellow-creature, even if a hundred
dogs were the enemies I should meet. But this was only a
stratagem on the part of that renegade, Jim Archer. It was
that man who made the howlings and the shriekings—the one
imitating a dog and the other a female. If you had opened
that door, there would now remain alive only one person of
all who are still safe within this fort.”

“T understand.”

“You don’t understand all, Mr. Ashby.”

“What do you mean ?”

“Do you recollect a man who came to this part of the
world some two years ago, and called himself Phil. Duval?”

“Oh, very well I remember him.”

“Ts the recollection pleasant ?”

“Oh, don’t speak of him. He made an attempt to steal my
daughter Gracie, and even carried her to the mountains. And
but for the aid of friends I should have lost her forever.”

“She was then but fourteen years of age. She is sixteen
new, and much more beautiful than then ?”

“Ah,” responded Ashby, “she ¢ beautful! Beautiful in
mind—beautiful in all those charming virtues which elevate
the female character almost to the angelic standard. I some-
times think she ought to be an angel, and almost fear she soon.
will be; she is so delicate, so fairy-like, so heavenly; I fear
she will rot remain long with us, to bless us with her
presence.”

“Tf you had opened that door she would now be in the
hands of that villain, Phil, Duval, and her father would be no
raore.”

 

  
   
 
  
 
 
   
 
 
    
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
    

THE SILVER BUGLE.

“ What do you mean ?”

“When Duval found himself foiled in the attempt to abduct
Miss Gracie, two years ago, he swore the most horrible oath,
that, before that swelling bud of innocence had burst into the
full-blossomed rose, e’d pluck it from the parent stem, and,
placing it upon his heart, would sap its fragrance till its with-
ered leaves no longer pleased, and then cast it aside for all the
world to trample on.”

Mr. Ashby bowed himself, and his breast heaved.

Grace, the eldest daughter of Mr. Ashby, had heard the
conversation. Approaching her father, and placing her soft
arms around him, she exclaimed:

“My dear father, let. not the threats of that bad man dis-
turb you. I am safe, and here are many friends who will
protect me.”

“Bless you, and may Heaven also lend its protecting aid,
my darling child!” replied Mr. Ashby, in deep emotion.

“But what has the present circumstances to do with my
sister?” asked Harry Ashby.

Hill turned his gaze upon Harry and his sister, and then
upon the father and the remaining friends.

“Ma. Harry,” said Hill, “you must pardon me, but your
father and myself were holding a war council. I must ask
you to take your sister and retire to the opposite side of the
room.” %

This was instantly done.

“And now,” said Ashby, “let me repeat the question of my
son. What has the present circumstance to do with my
daughter Grace ?”

“Why, simply this: Phil. Duval and Jim Archer, the rene-
gade, are one and the same person.”

“And it is Duval who has sought to gain entrance here by
that stratagem ?”

“No other.”

“Then he is not alone outside ?”

“No. Do you hear that? Quick! To the platform on
tne palisades. Let four men remain in the watch-tower, eight
in the second room, and all the rest follow me to the plat:
form. Don’t waste a shot.” :

These commands had been given from tho fact that the
HILL’S BOMB-SHELL. 2

firing had already commenced, and from its briskness it was
evident that those already defending the palisades must
receive instant support or be overcome by the force of num-—
bers concentrated against them.

Without awaiting further orders, about twenty men leaped
up the ladders, each armed with his faithful rifle, and an ax,
or some such weapon, for beating back the foe. But the fight
had begun with a fury little anticipated by those within.
Indian after Indian reached the top of the wall, and, by a
vigorous blow, dealt by a powerful arm, was hurled back, only
giving forth the death-yell to tell the story of his fate.

For several hours the battle raged. At length the fighting
became less terrible; still the defenders kept their posts.

“Let water be brought,” said Hill. ‘Concentrate all the
men on the front side, and be sure to let no one remain
near me.”

“Why not ?”

“Don’t ask, only do asI say. Get all the water you can
upon the front side. The miscreants are preparing now to
burn us out.”

“ And what do you intend doing?” asked Ashby.

“Blow some of them to their last home!” replied Hill.

Hill entered the fort, but soon returned with a small keg.
He ascended to the platform.

“What have you there?” asked Ashby.

“Only a small bomb-shell. I know those imps of hell are
fond of fire, and so I have provided them with a dose. This
keg is about one-half full of blasting powder, and thoroughly
mixed with it are nails, iron slugs and pebbles. I am going
to drop this little thing close to the palisades on the outside.
When the flames are once well under way, I should not be
surprised if the cut-throats heard a thundering about their ears
they little expect. Now just keep away from this side, and
Tl teach them a lesson that will cause them to hesitate before
they attempt the fire game upon us again. Take care of your-
selves, for here they come with their brands.”

Already the few rude cabins which made up the settlement
were in flames, and with the most terrific yells the savages
came bounding toward the fort. They had already lost over
thirty of their number; those remaining were thoroughly

 
 

80 THE SILVER BUGLE.

maddened with rage. So well had the besieged managed the
fight, that not one was killed, and but few were wounded.

Hill dropped the keg as closely as possible to the wall, and
then descended the ladder.

It was but a few moments before a bright light told the
story that the work had commenced. Higher and higher rose
the flames, until the curling of a thousand forked tongues could
be distinctly seen above the wall.

Upon a sudden there was a terrible explosion, a shaking of
the fort’s foundation, a series of horrible shrieks of agony, and
yells of madness, stifled moans and bitter curses, a hasty tramp-
ling of feet, and a splashing in the water. As the dense smoke
cleared away, Hill ascended to the top of the wall, and peered
over. It was a dreadful sight which met his gaze. Strewed
upon the ground were the mangled forms of many of the
assailants. Those unhurt had withdrawn to a considerable
distance, and appeared to be holding a council.

At this moment there was another sound which attracted
the attention of the defenders. It was the voice of Miss Peatt.
who had recommenced her howlings.

“Oh, help—murder! J’m caught! She's caught! The
beast is here! Oh, help, or we shall all be murdered! Oh
—oh—oh !”

“Tt is not possible any thing can be wrong within?” said
Ashby, addressing Hill.

“Oh, no; certainly not. It is only that woman, who has
been so frightened at the explosion that she found it impossible
to contain herself any longer.”

“ But her shrieks are so fearful, and others are joining with
her. Tl just step in and quiet them.”

“No, they are simply frightened. And look! ‘You will
be needed here. The red-skins are coming toward us now in
swarms.”

This was true. The party had apparently been reénforced,
and now numbered nearly a hundred.

“There! there is that bugle again; and this time it is nearer
—close to the edge of the wood. And there are shouts. It
is not the Indian yell, but that of friends. Help is near. But
see! <A party of savages have sprung into the river, and are
swimming toward the fort. The water-ditch/ They may

o . :
‘HOT WORE. $1

have found that. Let four men be ready to help me in de.
fending it if they attempt to enter. From the inside we can
keep back hundreds.” .

The cries within the fort still continued, and Mr. Ashby
exclaimed :

“Something must be wrong within. Perhaps some one has
already entered by the ditch.”

Mr. Ashby entered the fort, but the confusion was so great
that he could get no information further than the fact that a
dark form had risen from the water, seized Miss Peatt, thrown
her violently to the ground, and, again springing into the
water, had as quickly disappeared.

Hill had been watching from the wall, but he now appeared
at the door, and said, in a low tone, to Ashby:

“Get all the women and children in the room above.
Quick. We shall have sharp work here in a moment, but it
will be short. Help is close at hand.”

Before this could be done, a dark form appeared in the
water, and sprung into the apartment. Another and another
followed. It was almost entirely dark, but Ashby and Hill
fought well, and, as fast as each Indian made his appearance,
he did so only to die. But the fact of the attack having heen
made by the ditch soon became known to those on the outer
wall, and there was a general rush made for the spot, each
anxious to render the necessary assistance. This was an un-
fortunate movement. The Indians probably had anticipated
this, and, taking advantage of the situation, they began scal-
ing the wall. Nearly fifty had gained the inclosure before it
was discovered. Hill was the first to ascertain the fact, and
he made every effort so to dispose his men as to meet the
foe, but the confusion which resulted from their being inter-
mixed with the frightened women and children, who were
running in every direction, and shrieking with terror, pre-
vented, to a great extent, the accomplishment of his purpose.

The Indians now rushed in, and an indiscriminate slaughter
vegan. Again the bugle-blast was heard, and this time it was
directly under the outer wall. Hill sprung to the door and
threw it open. In an instant the fort was filled with armed
men, and the sayages were quickly overpowered. Many of
them made their escape in the darkness; others were killed

 
   
  
 
  
   
 
 
   
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
    
    
  
    
   
   
    

THE SILVER BUGLE.

or badly wounded, while the balance were firmly secured
within the inclosure.

Then came another heart-rending task. Lights must be
procured, and an examination must be made. Who was
dead? Who was living? Each heart beat anxiously, but
each feared to call upon the name of loyed ones, lest silence
gave the answer most feared.

Ok, the suspense of such a moment! Who could fathom
each heart’s emotion ? :

CHAP THR Tis.
THE SILVER BUGLE.

Ir was a moment of anguish for all. Anguish of mind
and body. Strong men groaned as the picture of the
mangled form of the one most dear, was presented before
their mind’s eye, and strong men groaned from intense bodily
suffering where the knife and tomahawk had not quite finished
its work, and men once strong groaned no more, suffered ne
more, were strong no more. Mothers. and wives, sisters and
shildren, wept and moaned; but many there were who never
would weep more. Mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers,
husbands and wives, children and friends, all were among the
dead, dying or wounded.

It was a thankless task, but it must be done. Hill, per-
haps, more than any one present, felt the true force of the
blow which had fallen upon so many hearts, and he felt
deeply for the sorrow of the living. He soon procured ha‘f
a dozen blazing torches, and the room was brightly illumin-
ated. It was a ghastly picture. A form, pale and trembling,
would raise itself from the earth, and give utterance to a
name beloved, and when the answer came, “here,” each, with
a bound, would spring to the other’s arms, and sob, or pray
in broken tones. But when the answer came not, then the
wail of deepest anguish would well up—that unmistakable
sound which tells of broken hearts and desolated homes.
The examination was concluded. The dead were ranged
 

  

AN ABDUCTION. 88

in rows for buria., and the wounded cared for. Mr. Ashby
was among the latter. He had received a blow upon the
forehead with some sharp instrument, and for some time had
been insensible, but soon recovered. His beloved wife was
among the slain. Miss Peatt was mortally wounded, She was
conscious, but it was with great difficulty that she could speak.

Ashby raised his eyes to those of his children, and asked ;

“Am JI to live and learn that she, my faithful wife your
mother, is no more ?”

“Father,” sobbed Harry, “I have no more a mother !”

“ And my children-—are they all here?” ,

“All. Yet stop! Grace is neither among the dead. nor
wounded ! Where is she ?”

Search was at once instituted, but she was no where to be
found. At length one of the party exclaimed:

“Took here. Here is her hat caught fast to a nail in this
board. She must have attempted to escape through the ditch,
and in passing under this board from the ditch to the river
outside, her hat must have caught.”

“Then she is drowned !” groaned the father.

Miss Peatt made an effort to speak. Hill bent close to her,
and then turning to Ashby, he said:

“Mr. Ashby, when Miss Peatt commenced her shrieks, I
thought it was from fright, and gave little heed to her. She
now tells me that while we were on the outer wall, a form
suddenly appeared in that ditch, and sprung into the room.
She was, at the time, seated next to Miss Grace. She was
rudely hurled to the ground, and the person seizing Miss Grace,
dragged her into the water, and out through the opening.”

“She is, then, in the hands of that villain, Phil. Duval!”
cried Ashby. “Oh, my child, what will be thy fate? Who
will rescue her ?”

“Tf she lives, J will!”

The speaker was a young man, scarcely twenty years of
age in appearance. His form was light, as, also, were his
complexion and hair. His eyes were of the deepest blue.
His entire appearance indicated a person of any thing else
than that of a man of marked character and courage. Yet,
as he spoke, his eyes flashed with exc‘tement, and he clutched
his sword-handle with determination.

 

  
SES

84 ; THE SILVER BUGLE,

“7 will save your daughter, if she yet lives, for I—I—”
“You love her!” added Mr. Ashby, as he extended his
hand to the speaker. “But oh! you can not feel a father’s
love. But, Mr. Lindell, or, as I see by your dress, Lieutenant
Lindell, I do trust you will make every effort to bring me
, back my child. You met her one year ago, and have not”
seen her since. At that time I only requested that you both
—as you were so young-—should ascertain the true state of
your feelings. Yow return, after an absence of one year, and
tell me that you still love my daughter. She, during your
absence, has only spoken of the moment when you should
return to her. I ask you, Jacob, in mercy, bring me back
my child !”

“Mr. Ashby, if it was simply because she ¢s a captive, I
should put forth every effort to rescue her. But she is, before
heaven, my own, and I will not cease my efforts until Grace
Ashby is happy with her father. But you are mistaken with
regard to whom you are indebted for your rescue. It is to
this gentleman, my captain, and to the SiuvER Buen!”

“Who is the Silver Bugle?” asked Hill, as he sprung to his
feet.

“The Bugle is not here!” answered Lindell. “But the one
to whom you are all most indebted zs here, and it would be
well to give him some thanks.”

“ Where is he?” asked Hill.

“There.” Lindell pointed to the form of a man, who was
seated apart from the eager listeners, and who sat with his
head bowed upon his hands, silently contemplating the scene
around him.

Hill seized a torch and approached the person indicated.
He raised his head, and, with an impatient gesture, said:

“You owe me no thanks. Don’t annoy me with words.”

Hill gazed upon him in silence for a moment, and then
asked :

“ Have I not heard your voice before ?”

“Likely.”

“Where ?”

“How should I know ?”

“ Well, this much I do know. ‘You saved me from a blow
to-night, which must have proven fatal, and you are, from this

   
   
   
    
  
   
   
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
    
 
  
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
   

™
A STRANGER. : 35

time, my friend. But that I have met you before I feel satis-
fied. Will you explain to me two things which are unac-
countable ?”

“ Go on.”

“ How is it that you came in time to-night to rescue us ?”

“The Bugle called me out.”

“There is another mystery—that bugle. Will you ex:
plain ?”

“Yes, so far. I know its sounds mean danger. It echoed
through the valley where I reside before light yesterday.
Stout hearts assembled at its cali, and we were informed that
this settlement was about to be attacked. I started—arrived
—did what I could—want no thanks, and as few words as
possible.”

“ Will you give us any information about the bugle?” asied
Hill.

“To what end ?”

“Simply interest. It is the first time that sound has heen
heard i these quarters, and I confess it is somewhat
strange.”

The stranger raised his eyes, and for the first time his face

ras Clearly visible. He was a man of strange and marked
appearance. A face that could not fail to interest, while it
would awe into silence any but the most determined. His
eyes were deeply set, and of the darkest blue. The lashes
were very long and the brows dark and heavy. The hair,
which was long, was worn behind the ears, and curled in
natural ringlets, now much tangled, and bearing no evidence
of care. His form was not powerful, but there was some-
thing noble in its carriage. His face was without beard, al-
though a heavy moustache adorned the lip. But the most
singular feature was the eyes. Their glance was strange,
startling.

And such a glance he turned upon Hill, when questioned
with regard to the “Silver Bugle,” that even the hunchback
started, and a tremor shook his frame. At length he said:

“ Captain, bd look does not frighten, but it puzzles me.
No, ‘puzzles me’ is not the proper term. It recalls ten thou-
sand recollections which I fain would banish.”

“Don’t call me captain.”

 
 

86 THE SILVER BUGLE.

“What then ?”

“Why, simply, Howard Warren, or, if you like it bette:
you may call me the ‘Ranger of the Minnesota.’ ”

“What! And are you that strange man ?”

The ranger, as he had styled himself, gave an impatient
gesture, and again bent his head upon his hand, in silence.

“Mr. Hill,” said Ashby, “ don’t ask any further questions.
You see it distresses him.”

The ranger sprung to his feet, and gazing with peoulis;
earnestness into the face of Hill, he asked:

“Have you not suffered deeply ?”

“God only knows how much!”

“ Hope! hope! old man,” the ranger exclaimed, in tones
which for the first time betrayed any emotion.

“lope! for what should I hope ?”

“That—that your—your tithe for revenge has arrived |”

It had now become daylight, and preparations were being
made for a further defense of the block-house in case it should
again be attacked. It was resolved that the pursuit of the
Indians should commence at once; but, as many of the ’
wounded must be left behind, as well as the aged and the
women and children, it was deemed prudent to leave a strong
garrison in the fort. The men who were to form this garri-
son were to dispose of the dead as best they could.

Harry Ashby, who had been absent for an hour or more,
now appeared and exclaimed :

“Minnie is safe. She is crossing the field, in company
with one of the most beautiful creatures I ever saw. She is
dressed in the costume of an Indian maiden, but is fair as the
brightest lily which blooms upon the banks of St. Croix.”

Several of the party sprung to the entrance and gazed forth.
At a little distance from the block-house, Minneapolis was
seen leading forward, or rather urging onward, the fair young
creature spoken of by Harry Ashby. The task, however, waa
a difficult one, as the maiden appeared very timid, and several
times turned to depart, but was detained by the kind words of’
Minnie. Hill now made his appearance, and as he saw the
approaching maidens, he cried:

“By heavens, she has a silver bugle hanging by her side.”

Hill, either in the special interest he felt in the bugle, zw

 
TIME FOR ACTION. 8

overcome by curiosity, forgot his usual caution, and dashed
toward the maidens. The fairy stranger paused but an in-
stant, and then with a cry of fear, bounded from the spot,
and disappeared in the adjoining wood. Hill returned to the
fort, exclaiming as he did so:

“Eyer thus! Shunned—feared by all!”

Howard Warren, or the ranger, came forth, and gazed
earnestly after the retreating form of the fair maiden. He
drew a heavy sigh, and for a moment walked rapidly back
and forth, as if in great agitation. Then, turning to those
standing around him, he exclaimed:

“Come, it is time for action. Every moment is precious.
Lieutenant Lindell, you will take one hundred men and fol-
low the river down upon the western bank. If you fail to
overtake the foe, await me at the Mississippi. Harry Ashby,
had you not better remain here and command the fort ?”

“My father can do that, sir. He is not too badly hurt to
give directions, and I must follow the savages, until I find
and rescue my poor lost sister.”

“Be that my task, sir,” answered the ranger. “If, as I
gleaned from your conversation, she has fallen into the hands
of that villain, Archer, it is I who can best accomplish her
rescue. He is as wily as he is wicked, and the greatest cau-
tion will be necessary. I know bis haunts. He will not fol-
low the tribe, but take to the mountains. If you wish to go,
Mr. Ashby, you had better join the lieutenant. I will re-
join you in a few days, and bring your sister, or at least such
information as will enable us to recover her by combined ac-
tion.”

“You are right,” replied Harry. “I will go with Mr. Lin-
dell.”

“ And with whom shall I go?’ asked Minnie, as she ap-
proached Harry, and placed her hand upon his arm, while she’
gazed almost tearfully into his eyes.

“Will you not remain with our friends here, Minnie?”
asked Harry, in a gentle voice.

“Oh,no! no! Harry—wnot here, when you are gone!” And’
Minnie hid her face in the manly bosom of one in whose love
her very soul seemed centered.

“But there may be danger, Minnie!”

a

 
 

‘os i THE SILVER BUGLE.

“Then I must go!”

*Jt shall be as you wish, Minnie.”

“And you, Mr. Hill, may accompany me,” said the
ger,

The arrangements were soon complete. An affectionate
» farewcll was spoken by the friends—a God bless you—and
the parties set forth.

CHAP TIER Tv.
THE RENEGADE’S PRIZE.

Ir was during the most violent part of the thunder-storm
of the night of the attack, that a man, powerful in form and
repulsive in features, as seen by the brilliant glare of the light-
ning, guided his canoe along the river, keeping close to the
shore upon which stood the block-house. He was evidently

- experienced in the handling of his little craft, as his advance
was yery rapid, although contending against the stream. At
length he struck into a small creek which emptied into the St.
Croix. It was a secure harbor, entirely concealed by the
thick, overhanging boughs, and totally dark, except as illumi-
nated by the lightning’s flash. The stranger sprung from his
canoe, as one familiar with the place, and drawing it some
distance from the water, he concealed it beneath the heavy
growth of swamp willow. Then approaching the river’s
bank he seated himself, and gazed down the stream. At
length he cxclaimed: °

“Ah! they are coming, and by the Great Spirit I swear,
that this very night my purpose shall be accomplished, or I
will leave my lifeless body.there! I have worked two years
for her—yes, her home is now ready, and the despised, rejected,
humbled suitor will make his own terms; and with her, too,
not with her haughty father. No; him I will spurn, or kill!”

The speaker started to his fect.

“O©urses! There is that sound again. I do not know its
meaning, but I fancy it bodes me no good. Whenever I
have work on hand, that sound breaks upon my ear, anlJ
THE RENEGADE. ; 8a

find my victims prepared to receive me. Ard sometimes I
am foiled !”

“What is the matter with you, Archer?”

The person addressed as Archer simply turned, anl be
holding by whom he was addressed, replied:

“ Conanchet, did you hear that sound ?”

Now we are sorry to dispel the poetic charm which center
around the forest-brave. That is, the picture drawn by ro
mancers, of noble forms arrayed in picturesque warrior cos-
tumes, and of that noble nature which scorns treachery, and
whose code of honor is of the highest standard. This may,
in many instances, be true. And any Indian bearing a name
so high-sounding, and so historical as that of Conanchet,
might be painted as a hero warrior, even though an enemy.
But the writer of this tale once met this Conanchet face to
face, in a bloody fray, and many who fought upon the border
of Minnesota will at once recognize the picture.

Conanchet was (if we can guess the age of an Indian)
about thirty years old. He was almost a giant in size. His
head was immensely large, his cheek-bones very prominent,
upon which was almost always to be seen a quantity of red
paint, which bore the appearance of having been placed there
much in the same manner as a dirty school-boy would slap a
handful of mud between the stones of the play-house his lit-
tle sweetheart had built, for the purpose of rendering tho
wall more secure by his rude masonry. His shoulders were
yery broad, and his arms very long. Indeed, so long that
more than one person made the remark that they would not
be at all surprised to see them drop off. His face was hide-

fous. His dress was of the roughest style, and modern in
character. He carried a long rifle, while in a belt which
girded his waist was secured a large knife, He spoke per-
fect, English, which was to be accounted for from the fact that

"he had passed much of his life upon the Mississippi, and min.
gled daily with the whites, to whom he was known as “ Gur-
mandizer,” few who met him suspecting that, in the stupid
whisky-drinking, petty trafficker, they beheld the famous Sioux
brave, Conanchet, the terror of the whole country, revengefiil
and daring to an immoderate degree.

Conanchet was not chief of his trike, but in high estimation

a

 
40 ee ae : THE SILVER BUGLE.

by the whole nation, and among the “ braves,’ was looked
upon with that respect which is inspired in the Indian heart
by daring deeds. None contended with him for the laurels
he wore. ‘To the question of Archer the Indian replied:

“T heard a sound familiar to me. And I have often tried
to catch the devil who sends forth those notes of warning,
but I have failed. I am resolved upon one thing: after this
night’s job is over I shall next turn my attention to this
sound.”

Archer gazed upon the Indian for a moment and then re-
plied :

“You had better give all your thoughts to the work before
us. My opinion is, that we shall have all we can well con-
tend with.”

“Have you made observations sufficient to warrant the ad-
vance ?”

“JT will lead you. They are strong, and our fight must be
n desperate one. But we both have our own purposes to
gratify. You wish to secure the squaw Minneapolis, while
my very soul is bent upon that: beautiful girl, Grace Ashby.
She spurned me two years ago. But she was then only four-
teen, and I did not mind that so much; but her father struck
me, and called me a ruffian; and, by the eternal, I will now
haye my revenge! For two years I have plotted for that
which must be accomplished to-night.”

“Lead on then,” said Conanchet, with a peculiar smile.

The Indian darted through the thicket until he reached
the edge of the open field, and then halted for a moment. A
large party of savages already had. reached the spot, and were
lying prostrate upon the ground. Directions were given in
an undertone by Conanchet to several who appeared to be
acting as leaders, and then Archer and himself made the cir-
cuit of the field, keeping within the edge of the wood, anil
finally reached the river above the fort. Archer, without a
word, walked directly into the water, and lying flat upon his
back,.commenced floating down the stream. He was followed
by Conanchet.

It was not long before they reached the block-house. With-
out the slightest sound they approached close to the side of
the building. There they listened, and could distinctly hear

 
THE ATTACK. = = 4

’

the conversation which occurred between the parties in the
fort. It was not long before other savages followed their
leaders, and a sufficient number reached the fort unperceived,
to determine Conanchet to begin the attack. The canoes
were yet to be seen upon the river in large numbers, and, as
the attention of the garrison was drawn entirely to these, it
was thought that if by any stratagem, those within could be
induced to open the doors, they could be overcome without
much trouble. Acting upon this resolve, Archer crept close
to the outer door, and commenced the series of howlings and
shrieks already described. But in this, as the reader is al-
ready aware, he utterly failed.

The attack was now ordered. The savages reaching the
shore, sprung from their canoes, and rushed forwara to the
assistance of those already engaged. But being repulsed at
every point, they resolved to fire the fort. It was during the
explosion, and the consequent confusion, that Archer deter-
mined upon a bold movement. He saw that the fort was
supplied with water from a deep ditch connecting with the
river, and, with what he had every reason to believe, was the
lower room. ‘To this point he at once turned his attention.
He found that if he would make his entrance beneath the sur-
face of the water, it might easily be accomplished, provided
he met with no resistance within. This he did not anticipate,
. as the attention of the garrison was occupied with those with-
out.

Cautiously he crept through the ditch. Reaching the inte-
rior, he paused for a moment, and listened. He heard a con-
fusion of sounds, low whisperings, and expressions of fear,
but, in the deep darkness, he could not distinguish the object
of his search. Even his own entrance had been unobserved.
Bending close to'the earth, he changed his voice to the most
gentle tones and called :

“Grace! Gracie!”

““Who speaks my name?” answered a voice, soft and mu-
sical,

Archer crept in the direction of the sound. ‘He again re-
peated his call, and the answer came close by his side. Now
was the time. Prompt action was necessary. He could
scarcely refrain from a yell of delight, for the object of his

 
 

ventures was now within his grasp. He reached forth hig
hands and seized his supposed victim, but a series of shrieks
convinced him that he had mistaken the person.

“What is the matter?” asked a voice, which Archer at
once recognized to be that of Grace Ashby.

He instantly hurled aside the person he held, and, seiz-
ing Miss Ashby, he sprung into the water. In an instant he

dragged her through into the river. She could not give any -

alarm, as she was nearly strangled with the water, and ren-
dered almost unconscious with fright.

As soon as the villain had reached the river, he struck
down the current, and in a few moments came to the place
where he had concealed his canoe. He gazed behind him,
and was satisfied that his savage friends had been again foiled,
but he knew they would not be likely to give up the siege,
and that those within the fort could not pursue him, even if
it should be discovered that Grace had been carried away.
But that warning bugle-blast was now becoming more dis-
tinct, approaching smomently nearer: it foreboded danger to
him.

Dragging the canoe from its concealment, he sprumg into it
with the helpless maiden, and darted forward until he had
reached the middle of the stream. He then floated with the
current, and for many miles did not even utter a word.

At length the gray of morning began to be visible over the

rugged hills which flanked the eastern sky, and Archer, near-—

ing the shore, moored his little boat in a secure retreat. Tak-
ing Grace ini his arms, he sprung upon the shore. He bore
her but a short distance, when he entered a small uninhabited

_ hut, and placing her upon the floor, seated himself but a short
' distance from his victim, and gazed long, and with a triumph-
» ant smile, upon her. Miss Ashby was the first to speak.

&

 

“Why have you taken me from my friends?” she asked,
as she shuddered beneath his gaze.

“ Because I love you!” came the mocking response.

“Tt seems to me a singular manner of exhibiting your affeo-
tion for me !”

“Say rather a lack of love on your part for your husband,
thus to question his actions!”
“ What do you mean by husband ?”

 

 
 

  
 
 

       
  

*

43

PIL. DUVAL’S TRIUMPH.

 

“hat if Iam not already your husband, I soon shal be,
and it will be your duty to love me.”
“That I can never do!”
i “Oh! yes you will; when you find how kind I will be to .
yeu.”

“Tf you wish to be kind to me, return me to my father,
ani he wiil forgive you for this act of violence. Oh! it will
break his old heart when he is compelled to believe that his

+ child is forever lost to him !”
b
|

     
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
  
   
 
   
   
  
    
    
    
  
   
   
      

“Miss Grace Ashby, do you know me?” asked Archer.

“Yes, you are Philip Duval!”

“TJ was once Philip Duval. Iwas once happy. But your
favher spurned me simply because I loved you. Ah! spurned,
and struck me. Do you hear? My hopes were centered in
you. Your love was more to me than all else in the world.
The treatment I there received from your father, drove me
mad, and I swore the most terrible oath that I would be re-
venged on him, and that I would possess you. I have kept
that oath. You are now in my power and your father is a
prisoner with the Indians. I have prepared for our journey.
Under the floor of this room are provisions. We shall make
occasional halts on our way, and at each place I have made
preparations the same as here. When we reach our destina-
tion, you will marry, instead of the once honest Duval, the
man now known as Jim Arche~ the renegade. Our marriage
will take place in the Indian style.”

While Archer was giving utterance to these words, Grace
sat in tearful silence. When the allusion to her father having
been made a prisoner escaped the speaker’s lips, she sprung to
her feet, and something like a flash of indignation lit up her
ro cyes. But when Archer referred to the marriage according to
Indian rites, an expression of defiance rested upon her coun-
tenance, which caused even the renegade to start in won-
der. .
“Duval, or Archer, as you call yourself,” cried Grace
Ashby, “listen to me. Two years since you asked my hand’
in marriage. I was little better than a child then, but I loved,
and one who possessed all the noble qualities of head and
heart to which you were a stranger, was the object of that
love,”

- ee ~~

 
 

 

44 THE SILVER BUGLE,

  

“Yes, Jacob Lindell was the stripling’s name. I remembea
him well!” added Archer, bitterly.

“Don’t take that name upon your foul lips. It is true I de
love Jacob Lindell, and I love to hear his name, but not spo-
ken by such as you. You tell me my father is a prisoner. I
do not believe you. Do you wish to triumph further? ‘You
shall. Two years ago my father consented that this very day,
if our loves did not change, Jacob should become my hus-
band. Had it not been for this unfortunate trouble, our
dwelling, now in ashes, would to-day have been» a scene o
gayety, and the happiest among the happy would have been
my beloved and his bride. You have brought this upon me !”

“T haye—and what is more, you never will be the bride of
Lindell.”

“Who will prevent me ?”

“Hal ha! ha! Are your prospects very fair now ?”

“Yes. Separation under such circumstances will only ren-
der our reunion more happy.”

“You will never be reunited, unless it be in the next
world, for I have already sent your lover there !”

“Oh! heavens!’ race sunk upon the floor, and for a
short time gave vent to sobs. At last she raised her head and
asked :

“ Have you murdered him ?”

“T have killed him |”
noaeo Willen: t

“Four days ago !”

“ Archer,” cried Grace, springing to her feet, “you are a
liar, as well as a villain. A messenger came to my father
last evening, direct from Mr. Lindell, and he was alive the
day befere. He is, ere this, on your track, and, just as sure
as you live, you will be overtaken and punished as you de-
serve. And until then—there—there—Jacob—Father !”
shrieked Grace, as she sprung to the door, and gazed out upon
the river.

Archer sprung to the door, but in an instant returned
With an exclamation of anger he seized Grace. In a mo-
ment he had closely bandaged her eyes, and gagged her so
completely that all was darkness, while any attempt to utter
a sound was vain. She heard a strange sound—the clatter

 

 
     
 

2

   

 
———

 

THE ADVANCE. 45

of boards—and then felt herself falling. However, snv
alighted upon some soft substance, without sustaining any in-
jwy. In an instant she was grasped, and borne along what
to her appeared an immense distance. She felt the atmos-
pkere growing denser and damper, and finally: heard the drop-
ping of water. She was soon placed upon a rock and ‘Archer
whispered in her ear:

“You think to foil me! But my triumph is the more com-
plete. I will tell you one thing. ‘Your lover is now within
the sound of your voice, and yet you can not utter one word.
He will soon leave this spot, and thus I will now and always
triumph.”

CHAP TAR, V.
THE FOREST STRUGGLE,

TuE parties, after making the proper arrangements, set off
at once in pursuit of the retreating Indians and of the cap-
tive maiden. Lieutenant Lindell, with about one hundred
determined men, commenced the descent of the river. Their
advance was very rapid. Among the most eager and tireless
was the commander, Lindell. The men were divided in equal
squads, about fifty of whom took the west bank of the river
under their lieutenant, while the balance of the party, who
had chosen Harry Ashby as their temporary commander, kept
the east bank. In company with this party was Minneapolis,
who was ever in the adyance, darting from point to point,
without appearing to exhibit the least fatigue. At times she
was so far in the advance, that considerable solicitude was
felt for her safety; but then she would come bounding back,
and for some time continue by her love1’s side.

Minnie had been absent nearly an hour, when a shriek was
heard at some distance up the mountain side, and immedi-
ately after the report of a rifle rung through the trees. Harry
Ashby sprung forward, and was rapidly followed by the re-
mainder of the party. His fears, however, were quickly re:
lieved, as he saw Minnie come bounding toward them, but

 
 
  

46 “> “THE SILVER BUGLE.

she was considerably agitated. As soon as possible, she ews
plained, that, concealed in some large rocks which overhung
the valley through which she was passing, she had seen a large
number of Indians, evidently awaiting their approach. A
powerful savage sprung into the path with the evident design
of seizing her, but with her ever-ready revolver, she had sent
a bullet with an aim so true, that the savage had fallen to the
earth with a yell, but, as she was retreating, she had distinctiy
seen him crawling for the rocks above. Her cries were made
for the purpose of hurrying forward assistance. From the
description given of the savage, Ashby had no doubt that it

_ was the notorious Conanchet. He had seen that person on

several occasions. On one of these he had visited the house
of old Mr. Ashby, and had tried to prevail upon him to part
with Minneapolis, and he well remembered the fierce frown,
and the bitter ejaculation to which he gave vent when Minnie
herself positively refused to leave her friends. They had long
expected some act of violence from him, and more especially
as it was known that the renegade, Archer, had connected
himself to his band. Both hada personal animosity to grat-
ify and an especial end to gain, in the securing of Minneapolis
and Grace Ashby. It was a fortunate occurrence for the
party that the girl had discovered the Indians, else they might
have been fired upon from ambush, and, as the Indian seldom
misses his mark, it is possible not one would have been spared

to tell the fatal tale. This, of course, would depend upon the .

numbers concealed; but it was thought they must nearly
equal the whites, and if the savages should deliver one effective
fire, it would be an easy matter for them to rush forward with
the knife and dispatch the others. Therefore great caution
was required.

- The advance was made as quickly as possible near to the
rocks, each man being careful to keep beyond range of the
rifle, or to keep themselves covered with the trees. Scouts
were sent out on all sides of the ledge for the purpose of dis-
covering some point by which an attack could be made, but
the position above appeared almost impregnable. Not a say-

-age was to be seen, neither was there the slightest sign of hu-

man animation. But this was well understood by the hunter
warriors, and no one ventured an advance.

    
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
  
 
 
   
   
 
   
   
   
  
  
 
   
   

 
a

‘=

 

DAWSON’S PLAN. Aq

At lengtb one of the men, who had been upon a reconnois-
sance to the upper side of the ledge, returned to the main
party. He evidently had some information, judging fro:n the
pleased expression of his face. He said:

“Cap'n Ashby, I’ve jist hit on a plan as I reckons will stir
up them tarnel copper-colored scoundrels.”

“Well, Mr. Dawson, what is your plan?” asked Ashby.

“Wal, its a kinder cute one for me, I reckon, ’specially as
I’'ra reckoned not to be any too cute any way.”

“Well, give us the details.”

“Wal, Pll jist propel. Cast yer peepers up to the top of
chat are hill. Do ye sce that scraggy oak ?”

“Yes, it stands close to the upper edge of the ledge, I
should judge.”

“You judge jist right. Wal, now I tell ye what my strat-
ergy is. Jist take a good look at that are oak, and you'll see
that it leans a little bit down the hill, and that, if it fell at all,
it would be mighty apt to tumble rite over them rocks. Now
the reds can’t get any chance to pepper me while I’m cuttin’,
and if about a dozen of you will go up there with me, and if
any of the reds mount the rock that protects me while I’m work-
ing, yowll jist pick ’em off, I'll take an ax and soon bring
down that oak, and I reckon when it falls, them are long
scraggy limbs wili punch into the holes in the rock, and I
shouldn’t be at all surprised if the reds got tickled terribly !”

A burst of laughter followed this singular proposition, but as

it appeared feasible, it was arranged that some dozen of the best -

marksmen should accompany Dawson to the top of the hill,
and act as his guard until he had accomplished his work.

It was not long before the ringing of the ax was heard.
There was evident commotion among the rocks, those con-
cealed there comprehending the state of affairs. Several times
tke Indians attempted to.mount the wall which stood between
them and the chopper, but the sharp fire of his guard drove
them instantly back. Besides, this movement on their part
exposed them to the fire of those below the rocks.

Just as the immense oak began to settle and crackle, a num-
ber of the frightened savages leaped from thcir hiding-places
to the more exposed positions lower down the ledge, but out
of the reach of the falling tree. They were quickly brought

 
  

48 THE SILVER BUGLE.

low by the true aim of the unerring hunters’ rifles. Others
sprung over the upper wall, and dashed with all their frantic
fury upon Dawson and his guard, but instantly met a similar
fate.

Down—down—crashing, tearing, came the mighty oak.
The crash echoed far and wide through the forest, and was
succeeded by the most horrible yells of agony, while many a
frantic savage leaped far into the gulf below, and was dashed
to pieces.

“Now is the time. Upon them, boys—charge!” cried
Ashby, and he sprung forward.

Tearing up the mountain’s rocky steep went the brave band.
Yet their advance was hotly contested. Many of the savages
were uninjured, and these sprung forward with their rifles.
Still the hunters pressed on, although a number of them
fell to rise no more. The upper ledge was reached and
mounted, Ashby leading the advance. They were met with a
deadly discharge from the rifles of their foes, and Harry
Ashby fell back, bleeding and almost senseless. In an instant
Minnie was by his side. She bent over him, tore open his
vest, and there she beheld the crimson—that blood in which
flowed her very life. She started wildly, and a half-chcked
exclamation of terror escaped her; then, trembling in very
agony of soul, she fell upon his breast.

During the desperate struggle with the Indians, a voice was
heard within their retreat, loud and commanding, urging for-
ward his fellows to the most desperate resistance, and to re-
venge the slaughter of their brothers. The voice could be
clearly recognized as that of the:“ brave” Conanchet. And
when the rolley was given which wounded so many of our
hunter band, and among them Harry Ashby, the savages sent
forth a yell of triumphant defiance which made the forest
echo and reécho with their notes. In a moment it was
echoed back by a shout even more terrific, which was
again answered, and again and again returned and_re-
answered.

“ By thunder,” cried Dawson, “here comes a tarnel lot of
reds! Quick; load and stand ready !”

Ashby opened his eyes, and, gazing upon Dawson, asked:
“ How large a force are approaching ?”

  
 
  
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 

SS

  
 

THE WOUNDED CAPTAIN. 49

“By the jumping jingo, cap’n, there’s a tarnel sight of ’ém.
I should think a clean hundred.”

“How many men, have we left who are in a condition to
fight ?”

“Not more than thirty.”

“Then quick. Start for the river. Spring in and swim
across. Our friends can not be far from us on the other
aisle.”

$s And leave you here, cap’n ?”

* Yes—quick—yes,” replied Ashby, impatiently.

“No, Pll be hanged if Ido! What, leave you here in the
honds of them are varmints? You don’t know Bill Dawson,
if ye think he’s such a coward as to run without striking one
blow in defense of his cap’n, even if the odds was ten times
as great.”

“Then, as your captain, I command you to. You are
second in command. While I live I will be obeyed. There
—there—good friend, go! I shall die. Don’t mind me.
Go, I command you, and take Minnie with you.”

“Oh no! no! dear, dying Harry; do not force your Minnie
from your side at such a moment! Oh, God! it would kil
me! Dear Harry, I can not survive you one short hour.
Let me remain and die with you!’ And the poor maiden
sobbed and clung to her wounded lover, as if her soul must
be, torn from her body when she was compelled to part with
him.

“Minnie, my own darling Minnie, it would give me the
greatest joy—ay, almost take away the agony of death, if J
could pass away gazing upon you. That is, if I could be
assured of your safety. But Conanchet is there. I saw him,
and, if I should die here, knowing that you would fall in his
power, it would, render my death-agonies doubly severe.
Minnie, my own darling angel, go, and when you have rejoined
our friends, you can return and rescue me if I am still alive,
and if Iam dead you can avenge me. Minnie, go, go!”

“J will, I will! Harry, yow called me an angel, and iike
an angel I shall hover near you, and when you are no longer.
here, I shall join you there !”

“ Quick! quick!” cried Ashby. “They are upon us!”

Minneapolis clasped her lover but an instant in her arms,

 
 

50 THE SILVER BUGLE.

and then darted from his side. The balance of the party
rushed down the hill toward the river. They were not an
instant too soon to escape the murderous fire which was poured
‘upon them by the approaching party. Our friends dashed
into the river, and all being expert swimmers, soon were upon
the opposite shore.

The pursuit was not followed up by the savages, from the
fact that some eight or ten of the wounded hunters had neces-
sarily been left behind, and to these they first turned their
attention.

The fragment of the retreating party, after reaching the
west bank of the St. Croix, gave the-signals which had been
agreed upon by each company when. they separated, taking
the opposite banks of the river. This signal was the firing of
six shots in rapid succession. Traces were found- where the
party of Lindell evidently had passed along, and for an hour
the journey was continued. The signal was frequently given,
and at length it was answered.

When Dawson and his men, now only twenty-six in num-
ber, met those of Lieutenant Lindell, and gaye, in his rough
way, an account of their fight, there was scarcely a man
who did not exhibit upon his face the most determined reso-
lution. Lindell observed this, and, clutching his sword, he
said :

“T need not ask who will return with me to that spot, for I
see every man is ready.”

“ Yes—yes !” echoed the band.

“How many do you think the Indians number, Dawson ¢”

asked Lindell.

“Wal, I should think something over a hundred, besides
the dead and wounded ones.”

“And we are seventy-seven. It is enough. But stay a
moment. I heard the shriek of a female in this direction but

a moment since, and must endeavor to ascertain from whence’

it proceeded.”

“Look out it ain’t another party of reds trying to draw us
into a trap.”

“ Where is the maiden Minneapolis ?” asked Lindell.

“Wal, now, Ill be darned! When Cap'n Ashby was
almost dead, he said to me that I should go and take the gal
-+—

 

.

BURNING AT THE STAKE. Paar 51

with me. I saw her as we came down the hill, but I don’t
remember seeing her since that time. If she’s been drowned
in the river, I’ll blow my brains out for my stupidity.”
“Minnie may have become separated from you, and the
voice I have just heard may possibly be her own. Let us
search.” *
The party now struck into the wood, and soon arrived at

‘the small hut which had been occupied by Archer and his —

ua

victim, Grace. Anxiously they searched, and loudly they
called upon the name of Minneapolis; but there was no re-
sponse. It was finally decided that the supposed female voice
was only an imaginary one, and the company at once set out
on their return to the recent bloody scene of strife.

In something over an hour they reached the river opposite
the point where the fray had taken place. There was but
one way in which to cross the stream, and that was by ford-
ing the greatest portion of the distance, and swimming the
swift channel. With the usual precaution of the frontier war-
rior, it was decided to send some half-dozen in adyance, in
order 10 ascertain what the reception would be upon reaching
the opposite shore.

The party reached the opposite bank without any opposi-
tion, and penetrated a short distance into the forest. Soon
one of them reappeared, and, dashing into the river, struck
out rapidly for the west shore, where the company were
awaiting the report of their scouts.

“ Quick !—for God’s sake, quick! They are burning our
wounded companions at the stake !” :

These words were answered by shouts fierce and wild, and
our hunters sprung into the river. As they approached the
shore a large number of Indians made their appearance, and
fired upon the advancing party. But they paused not, but,
like men determined to avenge and conquer, they leaped upon
the bank. They had held their rifles high above their heaas,
and were thus prepared for the deadly conflict. They met
the savages with a volley so deadly that they recoiled, and
before they could rally the hunters sprung upon them with
the knife and the clubbed rifle. It was but the work of a few
moments to lay low the better half of the foe, although the
ground and the river was streaked with our hunter heroes” blood.

 
  

  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
    
    
  

52 THE SILVER BUGLE.

They rushed forward, driving those of the savages who
still survived in terror before them. They soon reached the
stmmit of the hill, where the most dreadful sight met their
view. Lashed to the surrounding trees were the forms of
some dozen of our wounded, while around them were blazing
the dry fagots which had been gathered together and fired
by the brutal foe. Some were writhing and shrieking in their
agony, as the flames darted up high around them, while at
other points the blaze had only just communicated with the
fuel, and the victim was yet unscorched. The savages had
danced and yelled in brutal glee around the sufferers, but as
the first report of the rifles was heard, they ceased their
reyels, and turned their attention to their own defense. They
saw the fate of their warriors and the panic which ensued,
and they at once took to flight. Lieutenant Lindell observed
this, and at once gave the order for the majority of his hunt-
ers to start in pursuit of the flying Indians, an order most
promptly obeyed.

It was but the work of an instant to throw aside the burn-
ing brands and fagots which surrounded each victim, and to
cut the green thongs with which they were bound. Two of
the poor creatures were horribly charred, and in a few moments
death put an end to their sufferings, while the others were
more or less injured, but their cases were not deemed
hopeless.

The dead were buried, and a guard detailed to return with
the wounded to the block-house. But no one could give any
information with regard to Harry Ashby. He had been left
behind badly wounded, but his body was neither among the
dead nor the wounded.

  
NEAMATA, 53

CHAPTER VI.
NEAMATA,

Howard WARREN, in company with Hill, left the block.
house, and started in the direction taken by the strange
maiden, whom the latter had recognized as the “ Silver Bugle,”
from the fact that suck an instrument was slung across her
shoulders. For miles they continued on their journey with-
out the slightest interruption. At length Warren stopped
suddenly, and bent his ear to the ground. Hill was no less
apt in the discovery that some one was approaching. But it
was soon ascertained that the sound was only the footstep
of one person, and our friends stepped forward to mect
him.

“Well, stranger,” said Hill, “ what news may you bring ?”

“ Bad enough,” was the reply. “The reds are raising the
deuce over the Mississippi, and, in fact, all along the border.
I heard that they intended hot work in these quarters, and so
I just started to put the folks on their guard.”

“ Has there been any acts of open violence in Minnesota ?”
asked Warren.

“T should think so. More than forty families have been
murdered, and lots of ’em that once lived peaceful on the

‘river are now in St. Paul’s, where they had to run for

safety.”

“Wave the people of the border taken no action in the
matter ?”

“Oh, yes. The boys of St. Paul, God bless ’em, have
turned out nobly, and are after the red devils with a sharp
stick, I hear, too, that Uncle Sam is going to send us help,
and I hope he'll do so mighty quick. A company did come
up from Fort Dodge; but, Lord, what’s a company against so
many reds ?”

“Where are the forces of the Indians concentrated ?”

“Well, they’re considerably scattered. Some on ‘em are
‘yp here, and some more are along the Mississippi and the
Minnesota rivers, and I tell you these squads keep things

 
 

54 THE SILVER BUGLE,

moving. But the place where they are the strongest is on the
Mirror.”

“Where is that ?”

“Why, stranger, I thought everybody had heard of that
lake !” ‘

“J never heard of it?’ answered Hill. ;

“T know the place well,” replied Warren. ‘“ And have the

ndians quartered upon that lake ?” 3

“Tord, yes; I should:'think s6. There’s about fifteen hun:
dred on ’em, and they’ve got a regular fort built of logs run-
ning all around the lake, and their buts on the inside. It'll
take a power of the boys to drive ’em out.”

“Were you sent up the St. Croix to warn the settlers of
approaching danger ?” asked Warren.

“Well, now, stranger, that’s a delicete question, and in-
volves a confession on my part. But yeu must first promise
you won't laugh at me.”

“ Go on,” said Warren.

“First answer me one question. Huve you scen about
these parts one of the darndest sweetest little creatures that
ever did live ?”

“Oh, I see,” said Warren, with a sm#e; “you are in love,
and came to these parts because you supposed your lady-
loye in danger. Well, I applaud your ¢evotion.”

“Well, you're a leetle out there. is true J’m in love,
but the cuss of it is, she don’t love me 9 danged bit. She’s
always talking about some captain, and, by thunder, if the
captain is a good fellow.she shall have him, and 1 just come
along to keep the reds off till she could get to him.”

_ “ What is the name of this lady ?” asked Warren.

“ Well, she’s called Neamata; but she is usually known as
the Mountain Echo. She got this name because she roves
everywhere, and when danger is about to come upon the
white folks, she let’s them know something's up, so that they
can be on their guard.”

“Tn what manner does she warn them ?” asked Warren.

“Why, with a silver bugle, which—why, what’s the matter
with ye, strangers? You stare like mad.” ©

“Ts she—”

“Mr. Hill,” said Warren, interrupting him, “ Ict me question

 

poe

 
 

JON SCHRYER’S STORY. 55

here Sir,’ continued Warren, speaking to the stranger, “ we
have had a terrible fight here, or near this place. We were
the better prepared to meet it on account of the warning
given by a bugle-blast. It was an unusual sound to those
who resided in this vicinity, and it placed them upon their
guard. ‘To me the sound was not so strange, but I knew it
meant danger to some one, and collecting all my men, I fol-
lowed the sound, and arrived only in time to prevent a fear.
ful slaughter. Therefore you will not think strange that I
should feel an especial interest in this bugle, or this fair In-
dian, and I beg you will tell me all you know of her.”

“Oh, Pil just do that with pleasure. I like to talk about
the gal. In the first place, I'll tell ye who J be. I ain't
much account, but my name is Joe Schryer. I live on the
Minnesota, about six miles from Mirror lake. The Sioux reds
used to come up to the lake on their hunting and fishing ex-
cursions, and most always brought the gal with them. ButI
reckon you're in the fault about her being an Indian gal.
She’s a white, or I hope never to see my own color again.
Wal, I’d seen the gal considerable often, and somehow, every
time I looked into her clear blue eyes, I felt myself perfectly
conglomerated. I kinder thought I was sick, and concluded
my disease was an affection of the heart, cos I never could
look on that gal but my heart begun to jump; and, what was
still more strange, whenever I tried to speak I couldn’t get my
mouth off at all, At length I met her alone one day. I
asked her to sit down beside me, and she did so. I asked
her who her father and mother was. She didn’t know. I
told her I believed she was white, and that her parents would
die of grief if she could not be found. She burst into tears,
and exclaimed, ‘ that’s just what Howard said. ” Then I told
her I loved her, and asked her if she could love me, and she
answered, while she wept, ‘I love Howard, but he never told
me that he loved me.’ And so you see, straagers, I found
out that the gal. already loved a man named Howard. It
didn’t make me jealous . bit, for, said I, ‘I ain’t cinta geo
for that ere gal any way.’

“Well, I found out one ‘day, while the reds were fortifying
the lake, that the gal was going to leave the tribe, and that
the principal reason was, her lover had gone to the St. Croix

 
 

66 OC THE SILVER BUGLE.

country, and she determined to follow him. And so says I,
‘Joe, you just follow on and keep the gal out of danger, and
see who her lover is; and, if he don’t treat her like a white
Christian lady, then, Joe Schryer you know just what you
have got to do.”

“You are a noble fellow, Mr. Joe, and you need not be
alarmed with regard to the honor of Howard Warren.”

“You know him, then ?”

“JT am Howard Warren, and I know Neamata lovesme. I
have endeavored to change the course of her thoughts, but
haye not succeeded. Still, you may be satisfied that in mo
she has a true friend.”

“Td lash snakes out of any one who said different. What,
you Howard? . Well, let me sell you one thing: you've got
the love of an angel, and I hope you'll be just as happy with
that ere gal as puor Joe would have been if he hadn’t been

such a rough one, and the fairy could have loved him.” And
Joe brushed a big tear from his eye, as he grasped the hand
of Warren.

“Tell me one thing more,” said Warren. “ Where did you
last see the Bugle?” ;

“That's my fault. I followed the gal until last night, and
then I lost track of her. And what troubles me most is, that I
saw one of the Sioux braves, the terrible Conanchet, near this
place.”

“You saw Conanchet!” cried Hill. ‘“ Where?”

“Not two miles from here.”

“Was he alone ?”

. “Yes, entirely alone.”

“ Which way was he proceeding ?”

“Toward the river.”

“JT shall follow him,” cried Hill, in tones of bitterness,

“ Have a care, Hill,’ said Warren. “ You think too much
cf revenge. You suppose you have nothing to live for, but
you are mistaken. Don’t rashly peril your life. Conanchet
is a man of giant pri portions, and among the crafty of his
tribe he stands foremost. My advice to you is to beware of
Conanchet.”

“Do you think I lack courage to meet that man?” asked
Hill, while a smile of bitterness gathered upon his brow
&

JOE’S LOVE. 5B

“Look at my form! See what a monster I am, and then un-
derstand me. Ah,I see by your smile youdo. Let those fear
to die who have something to live for.”

“Mr. Hill,” replied Warren, in a tone of sadness, “do as
you think best. Go, follow Conanchet, but promise me one |
thing,”

“ Well.”

“That you will not jeopardize your life, and that you wil,
join us, or come to Mirror lake within ten days.

“T will.”

“Then go, Mr. Hill, but remember I shall expect you 1
the lake.”

Hill, without another word, started in the direction whicn
Joe had indicated ¢s having been taken by the Sioux brave.

“Now, Mr. Schryer—”

“Call me Joe—nothing but Joe, if it’s all the same to yon,
Mr. Howard.”

“Well, then, my friend, Joe, for so I feel I must call you,
you say that you followed Neamata simply to protect her ?”

“That's just what I did, and I’d follow her to the end of
the world, even if I’d had to walk over live coals half the
way. Why, Lord bless you, sir, if any harm should happen
to her, I should feel almost as guilty as a murderer.”

“And have you no hope that she will eventually love
you ?”

“No, sir. I don’t want her to love me only as a brother,
cause she’ll be a darn site happier with you.”

“ What makes you think so ?” ;

“Because I’m such a rough one, and no match for her,
Now, youw’re a gentleman, and, although she’s been brought
up among the Indians, she’s a real lady, and I shouldn’t won-
der a bit if she was the daughter of some great man.”

“And what do you intend doing, friend Joe ?”

“ Well, I think I shall go up to the Ashby settlement.”

“Do so, and tell Mr. Ashby to come at once, and bring his
family to the lake.”

“ Just so,” and Joe, without further words, started off.

Howard Warren gazed after the retreating form of Joe for
some time; then, seating himself upon the ground, he bent
his head upon his hands, and for many minutes remained

 
58 5 = E THE SILVER BUGLE.

silent and motionless. He was at length aroused from his
reverie by the maiden Neamata, who, suddenly appearing be-
side him, knelt upon the grass, and, gazing cagerly intc his
eyes, exclaimed :

“Oh, Howard, I see you once more and I am happy !”

Neamata, or the “Silver Bugle,” as she was termed by the
inhabitants of the Ashby settlement, was, if one could paint
an angel, the most thorough embodiment of that celestial
being that man ever met upon this sphere, since the days
when seraphs and mortals communed in common.

In stature she was sylph-like. The eyes so clear and heay-
enly that you could almost fancy the soul was shining through
them, and in that true soul’s depths the white-robed angels
might have found a home, so pure was it in thought and act.
And mortal, gazing into those full orbs, could look no further
for those roses, which blossom in the sunbeams. Although
the brow was fair, the complexion of the lily’s hue, the hair
of golden brightness, yet the embodiment of all the qualities
of beauty, truth and love was embraced in that one glance
which she gave Warren. She was a child of Nature, just as
the Creator molded her. '

Warren started as he heard her voice, and for some time
did not speak. At length, as if uttering his sentiments uncon-
sciously, he said :

“Oh, how beautiful you are, Neamata !”

“Then you will love me, won’t you, Howard?” said the
gentle girl, as she nestled closer to.his side.

“Neamata, do you wish to become my wife?” asked
Warren.

“Oh no!no! Howard, if you loved me you would not
ask this!” And the maiden bowed her head and wept.

“Why do you not wish to become my wife if you love me,
Neamata ?”

“Oh, Howard, it is because I love you so dearly that I
can not be your wife! Do not ask me this! Oh! let me re-
main with you. Yl follow you through every danger, live
always by your side, and be content that I can gaze into your
face, watch your smile, which will make my heart bound,
watch the soul of my Howard when beaming through hia
eyes, and, if it speaks of sadness, then poor Neamata will

csi

 
TEACHER AND PUPIL, 59

seek to drive that sadness from his brow, or, if she can not,
will share it with him. .But do not ask me to become your
wife, dear Howard. The one who loves as I love you could
not live and be a slave.”

“A slave, Neamata? Oh, yes,I understand you. ‘You are
thinking of the Indian wife !”

“Yes, the Indian wife. She who marries but to be beaten,
to toil and drudge, to watch the whims of him who does not
love, to be the patient,willing thing—worse than his dog——of
him she must despise. I wish to remain with you, Howard,
because I love you, and because I had hoped you Joved me.
But, I can not become your wife, unless in refusing to be so
you drive me from you in anger. Sooner than thds should be,
Tll be your slave—your wife !”

“Why did you leave your home, Neamata ? ae

“ Because I was no longer happy there. I learned that the
pale-faces were in danger all along the frontier, and more es-
pecially upon the Minnesota and St. Croix. Yow are a pale-
face, dear Howard, and though the recollection of another
home, where father and mother smiled upon me, and where
brothers and sisters shared my sport, is so indistinct as to be
like a dream almost forgotton, still you have told me that I
am no Indian, and to my own ancestors I feel that my services
are due. And so, dear Howard, I took my bugle—the one
you gave me many years ago—and followed after you. And
I have warned the pale-faces of approaching danger; I have
found you at last, and I only ask that I may always live near
you, but not become your wife.”

“ Neamata,” said Warren, in a tone of voice which betrayed
deep feelings, “I do love, deeply, but until I haye accomplished
certain purposes, you can not become my wife.”

“Oh, shall I remain with you always?”

“Neamata, you have much to learn and much to unlearn.
I will be your instructor, for I feel that our destinies are as
firmly linked together in the future as they have been in tne
past.” :

“Oh, I will be a willing pupil, dear Howard.”

“Tn the first place, Neamata, you must learn what if is to
be a wife, and then you will understand that it is becaase 1
fove you that I ask your hand as well as heart. It is true the

 
  
   
   
  
 
    
  
    
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

  

 

THE SILVER BUGLE.

Indian wife becomes a slave, and, viewing marriage from their
stand-point, it is no wonder that you shrink from it. Besides,
only the savage custom sanctions the Indian’s rites, Simply
an agreement is made, the father receives a present, and, with-
out the authority of any higher power, or the instructions of
divine inspiration, the wife becomes in reality a slave, to toil,
to cultivate the corn-field, to do all the drudgery, while the
husband follows the track of the wild deer or buffalo, or the
war-path. It is not so where people are enlightened by the
teachings of Christianity. This is not the manner in which
your father and mother were married.”

“Oh, Howard, do tell me all. I love to hear you speak,
and I love to listen to your tales of other lands and other
customs. Tell me what a Christian marriage is.”

- “The wife is looked upon as a gift from heaven. Parties
meet, and feel an attraction for each other. Sometimes an
act of mutual kindhess inspires mutual love. Well, usually,
the acquaintance thus begun ripens into a deeper love, and
each feels that the other’s presence is necessary to their happi-
ness,”

“Oh, Howard, I understand you. So we met. You told
me how you had saved me, and I loved you, dear Howard. I
felt that I could not dive without you. Is that not the manner
you haye just described to me, that Christians feel ?”

“Yes, Neamata, you have understood me correctly.”

“And don’t you feel as if you could not live without me ?”

“ Neamata, I never shall be happy without you.”

“Then I am all your own. I want no greater happiness
than to be with you. You have told me of bright palaces,
but it would not be bright to me if you were not there. You
have told: me of heaven, a place where the Great Spirit,
whom you call God, and the angels dwell. But I do not
wish to go and dwell in those bright palaces or in the hea.
vens you have painted, unless you are there, dear Howard, and
{ can nestle close to your breast, for it is only here that I am
happy.”

“Oh, Neamata, what a bright jewel in the crown of civili-
zation you could become,” said Warren, as he bent upon her
the most earnest gaze, and listened to her words.

“T do not fully understand you, Howard. But I fear I
THE CHRISTIAN WIFE. 61

have said something wrong, for your brow is sad now, and
you smiled upon me a moment since.”

“Oh, no; you do not make me sad, but happy,” replied
Warren. f

“Tam so glad. But tell me more what it is to be a Chris-
lian wife.”

“JT will, Neamata. When each thus loves the other, it is
determined between them that they will unite their Suture
destinies by holy matrimony. On most occasions the father
and mother of each are consulted. All fathers and mothers
feel that their children owe them sufficient respect and love
to consult them upon all occasions which are considered so
important. All fathers and mothers love their children, and
even though the husband or the wife might not have been of
their own selection, still, as it is the child’s happiness they
seek, and know that only love can make that child happy,
they forego any personal preference they might have, and
bless the union and their loved ones.”

“Oh, happy wife! Howard, how can a wife, so happy,
love her husband as he should be loved.”

“ Neamata, you have not asked me how it is after the mar-
riage has taken place. Do you not fear the wife is made a slave ?”

“Oh, no. Those who love thus, or those who marry thus,
never could become a slave, one to the other. But tell me of
the marriage.”

“Well, after the arrangements are made, the friends are in-
vited, and, amid a gay assemblage, who smile their joy, the
future husband and the wife appear. The minister, the man
who tells us of the Great Spirit and of all his requirements,
who is given the power to marry by law and custom—the
holy man takes the hand of each and unites them, pronoune-
ing at the same time that, as each, before their God, pledges
to the other to share all future joys and sorrows, to leave all
others, clinging only to the one then received, they are, for
wl future life, husband and wife. God has joined them,
shrough his servant, and only death must part them.”

“Oh, happy, happy wife! Dear Howard, will you make
me 2 Christian wife ?”

“You have not asked me what becomes of the wife as
years pass by.”

 
 
 

62 THE SILVER BUGLE.

“No; but tell me. Do the husband and the wife always
love each other ?”

“T told you, Neamata, that the futher and mother were
consulted when the children wish to marry. I will tell you
more. The husband and the wife always ave happy. Each
strives to make the other so. The husband toils upon the
farm, at the anvil, at the forge, is a tradesman, mechanic, an
artist, or a laborer—whatever be his occupation, he gives his
time and strength to provide subsistence, clothing, and the
comforts, ind even luxuries of their home, while the wife is
gentle, loving, waiting at her home for her loved one when
the toils of each day are over—always waiting with a smile,
and always has prepared the grateful repast and the attendant
comforts, when the tired and brain-taxed husband and father
returns from his daily task.”

“Oh! happy wife. But tell me, Howard, has the wife al-
ready become a mother?”

“ As time passes, the wife becomes a mother, and soon is
called upon to give her child in marriage, as she herself was
given.” ‘

“ And was my mother thus made a happy wife ?”

“T doubt it not!”

“Then tell me, Howard, where I can find my father and
my mother. I wish to ask them to give me their blessing,
and their consent to become the wife of Howerd Warren !”

“Neamata, I fear you will never see your motber again.
If I am not mistaken, your father still lives, and I hope soon
to restore you to his arms.”

“Does not my mother still live ?”

“T think she is in heaven, Neamata!”

“Was she happy with my father ?”

“Yes, I think she was very happy.”

“ Are husbands and wives always happy ?”

“All who love, may be happy; still, some are not. But
come, Neamata, I must go to the lake. Our friends are to
meet there. Will you go with me?”

“ Anywhere with you, dear, dear Howard.”

 
   
 
  
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
    
  
=

THE TRAP-DOOR. 63

CHAPTER VIII.
THE RACE FOR LIFE.

We must now return to Archer, and his captive, Grace
Ashby. ' ;

It was when Grace called for assistance, that Archer first,
discovered the approaching party. They were yet some dis-
tance from the cabin. The abductor evidently had made
every preparation for the successful carrying out of his plans,
for a smile of triumph gleamed upon his face, as he looked
out upon the river. It was necessary for prompt action, how-
ever, and it was but the work of a moment for Archer to
blind the eyes and mouth of Grace, as before described. He
next raised a trap in the floor, and, throwing the girl into the
cellar, sprung in himself, and closed the door after him. He
then took her in his arms as if she had been a child, and
bore her along a dark passage-way, until he reached a small
exvevation which stood close by the water's edge.

It was from this point that he had a complete view of the
approaching party, and could watch them every moment. He
saw them enter the cabin, and judged by their apparent indif-
ference, that they had not heard the voice of Grace, nor had
any intimation by signs or by information of his presence in
the cabin. All, then, was well for him, and he conceived
himself not only safe from seizure but safe in the possession
of his long-coveted and boldly-won prize.

He had heard in the distance the report of the rifle, and
when the party started on their return, he rightly judged that
they were bound for the scene of conflict, which he had rea-
son to believe was, or had taken place, upon the opposite side
of the river, only a few miles away.

As the distance widened between the pursuers and the pur-
sued, Archer removed the bandage from the eyes of Grace,
and bade her look forth. She was, even then, within hearing
distance of her friends, and could plainly see the retreating
form of Lindell. It was a moment of agony for her. She
was unable to speak on account of the bandage over her

 
 

64 THE SILVER BUGLE.

mouth. Before her sat her captor, gazing upon her with a
smile of satisfied pride.

“What think you now, my fair one? Is the 1eneyade
easily foiled? If you are wise you will make no further re-
sistance. You are in my power, and by all that is great, I
declare that you shall be mine—legaliy and honestly mine.
I have long loved you and I have won you as a lawful prize ;
therefore I shall keep you and make you a dutiful wife.’

“ Archer,” said Grace, as he removed the obstruction from
her mouth, “I have but little to say to you. I see little to
hope for now; still, hope zs strong within my heart. What-
ever future may be in store for me I shall be true to my vows
to my betrothed, and shall readily welcome death or suffering
ere I will yield to your promises or your threats.”

“Will you partake of food before we proceed?’ asked
Archer, as if not noticing her defiant manner, nor heeding
her forcibiy-uttered words.

“Yes, I will eat. I expect of you good usage and shall
compel you to respect my wants and my privacy.”

“Fa, ha! I admire your pluck, and shall take pleasure in
seeing you enjoy yourself. So come along and let us have
some grub in a quiet way.”

Archer led the way through the narrow passage, and finally
emerged into the little cabin. He raised a small trap in one
corner of the room, and produced a bottle of liquor, some
dried yenison, and other articles of food.

“You see that I am well prepared for our journey. At
intervals between here and the lake, I have food stored, and
when once we are at our destination, you shall haye the fare
of a queen.” ,

Grace Ashby exhibited so much firmness and _ self-re-
liance as to disturb her captor’s equanimity, much as he chose
to hide his discomfiture. His glance was suspicious and un-
easy. He would start at the slightest sound. He betrayed a
nervous haste in his actions which betokened a heart ill at ease.

Miss Ashby partook freely of the food, and also tasted: of
the liquor, which Archer proffered her, having first swallowed
copious draughts himself. The meal ended, Archer rose, and
taking Grace by the hand, he led her toward the river, saying,
as he did so;
 

  

ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

“We will again embark in our little canoe. It will pe the
easiest mode of reaching the Mississippi.”

The boat was drawn from its concealment, and the two
once more were floating with the stream.

“ Will you tell me where we are going; or rather where
you intend to carry me?” asked Grace, as the boat sped on its
way.

“Well, as you can not communicate the information to any
of your friends, I will tell you. I intend taking you to the
head-quarters of our tribe—”

“ Your tribe!” exclaimed Grace, with sarcasm.

“Well, then, if you prefer the term I will say the Sioux
tribe, who are sworn to a war of extermination against the
white usurpers of this part of the country. You and your
friends call me renegade, but. my friends call me ‘ brave, and
they trust me, because I am true to their interests. We are in
force upon the banks, or, I might say, all around Mirror lake,
where we are strongly fortified. Our purpose is to take all
the white dogs who infest this portion of the country, prison-
ers, and confine them within our works. The treatment they
will afterward receive, will depend entirely upon circum-
stances.”

Few more words passed between them. The Mississippi
river was reached in safety. But here a difficulty presented
itself. The whites had been aroused to the importance of
immediate and decided action, and as there were many rene-
gades who crossed that section of the country, every stranger
was watched with suspicion, or questioned closely.

Archer arrived at the Mississippi just as twilight was merg-
ing into darkness. He silently pulled his canoe under the
heavy growth of alder which grew dense upon the east bank,

and for several hours remained silent, while he peered forth
upon the broad waters of the Mississippi, which flashed in the
moonlight,

Upon the bosom of the dancing waters, all appeared to be
quiet.

Perhaps the sparkling waves—if wave of silver can have
thought, and if the legendary tales of old are true, why not?

—of the time when glorious Dx Soro spoke those immortal,
those dying words, “ deep in yon mighty river be my grave;

 

  
 

68 THE SILVER BUGLE.

its foam my shroud; its ceaseless voice my dirge; its everlast
ing wave my monument!”

De Soto, the mighty Spanish adventurer, discoverer, and
hero of the Mississippi, spake these words, and, far adown in
the “Father of Waters,” found his grave. Others as noble in
heart and mind, although less striking in character—rash in
adventure, but less heralded—had found a grave as noble be-
neath the rippling waters which now were flashing in the
moonlight, as did the favored warrior of Castile.

Archer was not a man to wayer. Action was at oncé re-
quired, and he resolved to move at once. Could he but land
upon the other side, all would be well. But the night-patrol
had, for the last month, been very vigilant, as there had been
much passing between the eastern Minnesota section and the
western portion of Wisconsin. The St. Croix had been the
main channel. The renegade well knew that it would be dif-
ficult to pass up the Mississippi into the Minnesota, without
meeting with some person who would question him. Should
this be the case, Grace Ashby would make an appeal for pro-
tection, and would most likely receive it. Besides, he was
well known to many of the hunters of that vicinity, and few
there were who had not sworn to take the life of the wretched
traitor and villain.

Morning was approaching, and he desired to pass the river
and penetrate far as possible into the interior before daylight.
He began to ply the oars with great vigor, and the little canoe
shot rapidly through the waters. He had nearly reached the
Minnesota shore, when he discovered a man standing by the
water’s side. He instantly paused. Miss Ashby at the same
moment discovered the stranger.

“Hallo! stranger, what are ye stoppin’ fur. I reckon I
ain’t a cut-throat, or tarnel red-skin that ye need to be afeard !”

“T am not afraid of you if you are alone,” replied Archer,

Archer gazed upon him a moment, as if to measure his
chances of success if an encounter should be necessary. The
stranger was a man of tremendous strength, judging from his
size and appearance. He was dressed in the costume of a
frontier hunter. He héld a long rifle in his hand, while in
his belt was visible a huge knife.

Miss Ashby, seeing that Archer’ still hesitated, determined

 
 

 

  

INTERFERING, 67

 

to make an appeal for protection. She knew not whom she
‘was about to address, but she could not be worse off than at
present; and so she said:

“Sir, whoever you are I claim your protection. This man
has stolen me from my home, and is carrying me to Mirror
take. This is Jim Archer!”

The stranger gave a long, peculiar whistle, and then burst
into a hearty laugh.

“Oh, to/ Jim Archer—who is he? P’raps he is hard up
fur a wife? Tarnal nice gal. <Ain’ta bit jealous, but wouldn’t
mind havin’ just sich a gal myself—well I wouldn’t! I say,
stranger, don’t want yer property, unless we can make a fair
swap. Now [ve got a first chop lot of furs. How’ll ye
trade ?”

“Will you not protect me—saye me from this villain’s
clutches ?” cried Grace, as the look of hope which had at first
lit up her feutures changed to one of despair.

“Beg yer pardon, Miss,” responded the stranger, “ ’tain’t
purlite to meddle with other folks’s business. Besides, I
shouldn’t wonder if the gentleman sot lots of store by ye, and
would make ye a first rate man.”

“Oh, think of my wretched condition and do not refuse
my prayer,” she added, with tearful frenzy.

“Couldn’t think of interferein’. Bring the gal ashore,
stranger, and let’s see if we can strike up a bargain.”

‘Archer looked upon the speaker with evident suspicion.
He touched the oars, but with astonishing quickness raised his
rifle and sent a bullet full at the breast of the man upon the
pank! But he mistook his game evidently. The hunter had
anticipated the moyement, and by throwing himself flat upon
the ground, escaped unhurt. As soon as Archer saw that he
had missed his mark he seized the oars, but before he had
time to move the stranger brought his ugly-looking rifle to
year upon the assassin, saying-as he did so:

“See here, J never miss my mark. 80 just bring that gal
ashore or Pll sen a pill from Long Tom rite through your nasty
pate.”

Archer was in a measure pow2tless. He had discharged
his own piece, and the rifle of the man whose life he had at-
tempted was pointed at his heart with deadly aim,

  

  
 

    

 
 

68 THE SILVER BUGLE.
“What do you intend to do?” asked Archer.
“Wal, one thing I am going to do is to take charge of
Squire Ashby’s daughter! Don’t be alarmed, Miss Gracie. I
know you, and I know your father. Why, I only said I
wouldn’t interfere just to get that pirate ashore. But he’s lost
more than half his game just hy emptying his shooter; and
£0, ye sev, Pl make it all sight. And, Lord, ain’t I glad to get
a chance to serve you and.your father! Why, bless ye, don't
you recollect how your dad gaye me a place in his house, amd
how you and all the rest of them blessed female angels took
such good care of me when I got scratched by one of them
reds about two years agone? My name’s John Billings.”

“Oh! yes, I remember you well!”

As Miss Ashby spoke these words, she sprung to her fect
in the excess of her joy. She had been seated in the extreme
end of the canoe, but had unconsciously approached quite
near to Archer in her impulsive movement. This was just
what he desired. He seized the maiden, and, drawing her
close to his side, and directly between himself and Billings,
cried :

“Ab! yowll save her, will you? ‘You hold the trump
eard do you? I doubt that. Fire, if you like.”

Billings lowered his rifle, and seemed undecided how to
act. Archer already had seized his oar again, and was pad-
dling for the other shore with his one hand. Billings well
knew that, if the villain was given an opportunity to reload
his rifle, he would then have the decided advantage, for he
could return, and hold the girl in such a manner that he
would be protected, while, at the same time, he could fire with
effect. It was not likely he would again miss his aim. Still
the hunter resolved to save the girl.

He sprung into the water, and commenced swimming to-
ward the boat. He gained upon it rapidly, and, as he did so,
shouted most lustily for help. He had the gratification of
nearing his shouts answered, and not more than forty rods
above, he saw three boats leave the shore and pull rapidly to
ward them. :

Archer was now free to act, either to reload his rifle, to
rush upon Billings and dispatch him with a knife, or to pull
with his great strength for the further shore, His mind

      
 
  
 

 

  

THE TRUMP CARD. _ 9

 

evidently was fixed upon escape, for he began to pull vigor-
ously for the opposite bark. ‘Those above saw him change
his direction, and they endeavored by a short cut to intercept
him. Billings foiowed closely.

Upon a sudden Miss Ashby sprung forward and seized the
renegade’s rifle, throwing it into the water. The villain was
now only armed with his knife.

“Good! good!” cried Billings. “ Now spring into the wa-
ter yourself.”

She attempted to do so, but Archer seized her. He could,
thence, use but one hand, and his progress was slow. The
boats were not ten lengths from him, and Billings had seized
one end of the canoe: Archer drew his knife, and placing it
at the throat of Grace, cried :

“Tf one of you raise a rifle, or attempt to enter this boat,
I will kill this girl upon the spot.”

Archer was then but a few yards from the shore. Billings
desired that. he should reach it, as he could better contend
with him upon the land. He therefore swam forward, push-
ing the boat before him. A malicious smile played around
the lips of the renegade. The bank was quite steep, and the
water deep near the shore.

The prow of the long canoe at length touched the bank,
when Archer sprung upon it with Grace in his arms.

Billings made directly for the land, crying as he did so:

“Keep up a good heart, Miss; we’ve got the villain now !”

The boats also had reached the land, and the party were
about to spring upon the bank, when a horrible yell was
heard, and, a party of nearly one hundred Indians sprung
upon the whites from a place of concealment.

“Ha! ha! ha!” yelled Archer, “a trump card this time,
Billings !”

Quick as thought the whites plunged into the river, and
struck out for the opposite shore. The Indians poured a yol-
ley after them, but only four were wounded and one killed.
Their safety was much depending upon their expertness in
swimming wnder water, until out of rifle range.

A moment more, and a large body of men appeared upon
the opposite shore. Among the foremost was easily to be
recognized Lieutenant Lindell.

  

 

  
 
 

’

THE SILVER BUGLE.

CHAPTER IX:
THE TEST OF TRUE LOVE.

' Tre reader will recollect that Harry Ashby had been left

wounded in the hands of the savages, when the remnant of
his party were compelled to fly before the approaching Indi-
ans, Also, that, upon the return of Lieutenant Lindell, and
the rescue of the sufferers from the burning elements, tle body
of Harry could not be found—that Minneapolis had disap-
peared in a mysterious manner. Let us*now follow their for-
tunes.

Minneapolis supposed she had given the savage, Conanchet,
a mortal wound, at the time he sprung into the path for the
purpose of seizing her. But she was mistaken. Her aim
had been good, but the ball had only grazed the temple,
which, for a moment, stunned the savage, but as it did not
enter the brain, or breal the skull even, it caused him no seri-
ous injury. Conanchet was in the rocky ledge, concealed.
It was his voice that was heard, urging the savages to a des-
perate resistance. He knew that assistance would soon ar-
rive, and he had reasons for not unnecessarily exposing his
life. His principal motive was to gain possession of Minnea-
polis.

After the retreat of the little band, Conanchet emerged

from his concealment, and when he saw the form of Ashby

upon the ground, and ascertained that he was only. wounded,
and that not mortally, the red fiend actually danced with de-
moniac glee. He cast around him a rapid glance, however,
and, not seeing Minnie, muttered curses at her escape. He
approached the wounded man, bent over him, and proceeded

’ to stanch his flow of blood, while at the same time he gaye

orders to prepare the fire for burning the wounded.
“You surely would not commit an act so fiendish,’ said
Harry Ashby. ;
* Would Inot?” replied Conanchet, with. bitterness. “ You
my command? Well, sir, when J command, I am in
of being obeyed. But you are not to share the fate

  
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

ee

  
a ee

—

THE LITTER, 1

of the others. I shall spare your life, ag I have use for you.
Are you able to move, sir?”

“TJ can not stand. My wound is very painful.”

“That is a good sign,” returned Conanchet. “It is not
mortal. You shall be carried as gently as possible to my des-
tination. I strongly suspect the party upon the other side of
the river will shortly return and give us battle. I do not in-
tend to meet them here.”

“Where am I to be taken, and what is your purpose with
me?” asked Harry.

“J will tell you soon.”

Conanchet called two powerful savages aside, and a litter
was quickly formed. Harry Ashby was placed upon it, and
taken from the spot. He cast a look backward at his wounded
companions, and saw that they were being lashed one by one
to the surrounding trees, and that dry fagots were being piled
around them. He groaned in his soul’s anguish—not for him-
self, his fate was uncertain, but for the unfortunate brave men
he was leaving behind.

For over a mile the party kept on their course. At length
they halted. Harry had so far recovered as to be able to sit
erect, and he gazed anxiously about him. Then turning to
Conanchet he again asked :

“ What is your purpose with me ?”

“T will tell you: you are to go with me to Mirror lake.
Your journey will not be a very tedious one, as I haye a ca-
noe on the river, close at hand. When we reach the Missis-
sippi, you will have a short distance to travel by land, striking
the Minnesota river some few miles in the interior. You willfind
little effort necessary on your part, the balance of the journey.”

“ And what do you intend upon arriving there ?”

“Jt is explained in a few words. I know the Indian mai-

_ den, Minneapolis, loves you. This makes me hate you. Why,

you would ask? In the first place she has learned to scorn
her own people by the education you and yours have given
her. In the next place, J love her, and she spurns me on
your account.”

“Tf you hate me,” responded Ashby, “why not wreak your

vengeance upon me here? Why do you wish to carry me te
the lake ?”

3

 
THE SILVER BUGLE.

“You prate of being wise, but I think the pale-faces are
fools. You can’t understand my motive? Well, it is this:
at the lake I am safe.”

“You will not be so long.”

“Ha! ha! Let the white man dare to come to the lake,
and they will find we are prepared to receive them. Now,
when you reach this place, you shall send for Minneapolis to
come and attend you.”

“ And you?”

“ Will seize her as soon as she arrives,” answered Conan-
chet. :

“You would make me the instrument of her capture?”

“ Precisely !” :

‘*And if I refuse ?”

“Then I will burn you at the stake !”

At this instant a sound was heard which caused Conanchet
to start, and gaze eagerly around him. It appeared like a
half-suppressed ejaculation of terror. But, at the same mo-
ment, the ringing of rifles told the story that the rescuing
party had arrived upon the late scene of action.

Conanchet lifted Harry in his arms, and placing him in
a canoe which he drew from concealment, sprung in himself,
and darted out upon the waters. He was followed by the two
savages who had assisted him, in a second boat.

What of Minneapolis ?

When Harry Ashby ordered the remnant of his party to
fall back before the approaching enemy, all of his comrades
supposed that he was mortally wounded, and tbat their pres-
ence would really avail him nothing. Dawson had been or-
dered to take Minnie with him, but in the hurry of their
flight, they did not observe that she accompanied them but a
short way, and then sprung to a place of effective conceal-
ment.

From her hiding-place she could observe all the movements
of the savages. She had resolyed to remain near Harry,
ready to take advantage of any chance to assist in his escape,
or to render any other service in her power. But her heart
began to sink within heras she saw the preparations for burn-
ing the wounded. She had every reason to believe that her
lover whould share the fate of the others, but she resolved if

 
MINNIE ON THE TRAIL. © 13

she could not saye him, she would at least be revonged upon
Conanchet, even if her own life paid the forfeit. ;

It was not long, however, before her fears were relieved, by
seeing Harry borne from the spot, as before described. Cau-
tiously she followed, avoiding, with great sagacity, being ob-
served by the savages. She felt that she was in some way
connected with this action of Conanchet, and when the party
paused, she crept with the stealth of a shadow close enough
io hear every word spoken, and was thus made aware of the
intentions of the Indian. It was when the allusion to the
burning of her lover was made, that an exclamation of horror
escaped her, wtich nearly proved her ruin. But, as fortune
ordered, the sound of the firing turned the attention of Co-
nanchet to what, to him, was of greater importance, his own
escape. Minnie saw her lover placed in the boat. Once her
revolver was drawn, but she quickly reflected that if she killed
Conanchet it would not save Harry, as the other Indians would
instantly dispatch him. She knew the direction they would
take, and their ultimate destination, and entertained strong
hopes of his rescue. She at once started for the place where
the firing was heard, to seek for assistance. There she found
Lieutenant Lindell and his party victorious. She related all
the particulars, and received a promise that, as soon as he
could dispose of the wounded and dead, he would start in im-
mediate pursuit. With this assurance Minnie was satisficd,
and, without a moment’s delay, started off in the direction
taken by Conanchet. All the day she sped onward without
overtaking the canoe, and at length began to fear that the sav-
age had changed his intentions. But as night approached she
saw the boats.

It was nearly midnight when Minnie beheld the boats shoot
out into the Mississippi, and make toward the Minnesota shore.
Here was an obstacle to be overcome. How was she to cross
the river? She ran rapidly along the bank—her sharp eyes
scrutinizing every “cover.” Soon a canoe was discovered
concealed among the willow undergrowth. Into this she
sprung, but to her disappointment found the oar broken in its
blade. But she did not hesitate to put out with the half oar,
and found so much difficulty managing the craft, that, by the
thme she had reached the Minnesota shore, she had been carried

 
 
     
 

“4 ee 1H SILVER BUGLE.

   

with the current nearly two miles down the stream, and had
entirely lost sight of the savages.

Immediately the tireless creature began to retrace her steps.
and soon arrived near the place where Conanchet had crossed.
But she saw nothing of the boats nor of the Indians. Know
ing nearly the direction of the Minnesota river, onward sha
went. ]

Suddenly she came into an open space from the dense wood |
through which she was passing, and found herself among a a
number of sleeping Indians. With true forest instinct she
dropped to the ground, and was unperceived. A. short dis-
tance from her, she heard voices, and saw a group of savages
in conyersation. She was satisfied that they were not aware
of her presence. She knew by the-painted faces of the sleep-
ers near her that it was a war-party, and she saw that their
numbers were large. Whether Conanchet had joined this
party or not, she could not tell, but she determined to ascer-
tain, if possible. It was too dangerous an experiment to at-
tempt to make the circuit of their camp. Minnie therefore
crawled as carefully as possible into the thick wood, which
she had scarcely reached when shouts were heard which ap-
peared to come from the river. The moon was shining
brightly, and she could distinctly see the Indians in the open- |
ing spring to their fect, although the shadows of the dense '
wood rendered her own position comparatively safe. How- :
ever, she prostrated herself closely as possible beside a large |
tog, and awaited the action of the savages. It was well that
she did so, for, in a moment, they were passing directly by
her, on their way toward the river. Eagerly she watched te
ascertain if her lover was with them, but she did not see him, |
and so felt convinced that Conanchet must have gone directly ¢
forward. Still, to be certain of this, she cautiously followed
the savages at a safe distance. She saw the Indians conceal
themsclyes near the river-bank, and, reaching the river her-
self at a point considerably above that taken by them, she be-
held the boat which contained Archer and Miss Ashby, and
witnessed the scene we have before described. She also de-
tected the boats containing the white people approaching
the spot where the Indians were concealed, and instantly
started to warn them of their danger, But the canoes were

    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
  
 
 

—

 
      
 
   

 

 

|

 
 

  

MIRROR LAKE. Pama "5

80 near the place that she could not reach them in time to
warn them back, when to discover her presence would kaye
been fatal to her own safety. It was a great relief to her
mind when she saw the soldiers under the command of Lin-
dell, appear upon the opposite bank. Knowing that she
could be of no service if she remained longer, she started at,

~ once in the direction of the Minnesota river.

For many hours the faithful girl continued her journey,

and finally was rewarded by the sight of her lover and his
‘eaptors. How she longed to do something to let Harry know

that she was near him! But prudence warned her against
any exposure.

At length they neared the shore. Conanchet gazed cau-
tiously around him, and then struck into a narrow stream
that Minnie judged to be the outlet of the lake which was
the destination of Conanchet. Once or twice Minnie had al-
most determined to send a bullet through the head of her
lover’s captor, and then to trust to her good revolver to dis-
patch the two other savages. For her beloved she could do
and dare any thing. The stream was so narrow that she
could easily spring into the boat, and she hoped that so sud-
den and unexpected an attack would succeed. But she had
three to contend with, and the odds appeared too great; be-
sides, she felt sure that Lindell and his friends would arrive in
a few hours, and that Harry would be rescued.

At length Conanchet landed. To her joy, she saw that
her lover was able to walk, and she felt satisfied that the
wound was not so severe as she had at first supposed. Ina
moment more they emerged into an open space, and Minnie
saw the lake and the rude fortifications around it.

The lake was indeed a lovely sheet of water. It was clear
as crystal, and the waters shone like polished silver in the
bright sunlight of that-lovely June morning, while not even a
ripple was to be seen upon its surface save in the wake of
many a little canoe, which was gliding over its bosom. It
was rightly named “ Mirror lake.” The lake is nearly round,
and its shores are fringed with the forest lords, many of whose
branches overhanging the sparkling waters, and are reflected
back even more beautiful than nature painted them. It ap-
peared almost like a place of enchantment. Qh, that sucha

 

  
   

 

,

 
 

THE SILVER BUGLE.

 

scene should be marred by mortal strife! Oh, that the pure
deeps shoulil reflect in the same moment the blue face of heaven
in all its purity, and the red glare of battle in all its horrors!
Oh, that such a forest, beautiful in natural grandeur, where
now were ringing forth the notes of heavenly songsters, should
echo with the din of battle, and the groans of mangled men!

Visible among the trees were to be seen a number of huts,
aud log fortifications. This had been selected as the head-
quarters for the Indians in middle Minnesota. Their rude
works, naturally strong, were rendered doubly so, as they had
to be approached through miles of dense forest. But little
activity was visible in their camp; hence Minnie judged that

_ most of the warriors were absent. There were present, how-
ever, a large number of women and children, and several old
men. Some were reclining upon the border of the lake, while
others were fishing, and still others darting about in their
light canoes, in sport, or in practice.

Conanchet led Harry Ashby along through the only open
space near the lake, until he reached a strong work of logs,
closé to the edge of the forest. Here he was seated. Minnie
crept as closely to the spot as was safe, but near enough to
hear the conversation. Considerable curiosity was exhibited
by the Indians who had gathered around.

“Tam glad to see you so far recovered,” said Conanchet,
addressing Harry Ashby.

“Why are you glad?” asked Harry.

Conanchet gave a low laugh, and turning to those arounc
him, said: ~

“Zo gang che Minneapolis billot Chowwewunk pu tol!”

“This is the pale dog who stole Minneapolis, the gift of the
Great Spirit !”

A most fiendish yell was given by those around, as they
heard this announcement. They rushed upon the wounded
man with their weapons, and would have dispatched him at
once, had not Conanchet driven them back.

“Not yet, friends,” he exclaimed. Then turning to Harry
he said:

“ Sir, you see I am no common savage. I command to be
obeyed. And more, I possess what you would little expect
to find in a place like this, facilities for writing, . They cams

 

      
    

 

 
a

 

WRITE OR DIE. i

into my possession in this manner: I burnt a white dog to
that stake. You see the black mass. Well, before he died
he gave me a book, or rather I took it from him. He had
written something in it, but, as my education don’t extend to
reading, 1 never have been able to make out its contents.”

Conanchet entered the log fort, and soon returned with a
small blank book, a small pocket ink stand, and a pen. .

“J have been inclined more than once to pitch this thing
into the lake, as it was useless to me, but now I am glad that
I did not. Here, take this book, and write.”

“What would you have me write?” asked Harry.

“That you are safe, although so badly wounded that you
can not be moved. Say that you are at the house of a friend
upon the Minnesota river, situated on the point of rocks, just
above Eagle’s Nest. Request Minneapolis to come to you im-
mediately.”

“What is your motive for having me write this?” asked
Harry.

“Fool! Of course it is to gain possession of the girl!”

“Perhaps not so much of a fool after all,’ replied Harry,
with much spirit. ‘I knew your object was to gain posses-
sion of Minneapolis. But you do not for a moment suppose
she would come alone? No; so large a force would come
with her, that if you should attempt to take her, you would
be crushed.”

“ And do you imagine I will not guard. against that? I
have not told you ali that you must write.”

“Well, go on,” replied Ashby.

“You must write that you are at the house of a man called
Perkins. That the Indians are friendly toward him, and will
not molest himself or family so long as he takes no part with
the whites. But if they ascertain that he has befriended you,
it will bring trouble upon him. Should a large party come
for you, he will be suspected at once. ‘Therefore, for the
safely of your friend Perkins, Minneapolis must come alone, or,
at least, only bring one or two with her!”

“Is there any such person as Perkins?” asked Jarry.

Noi

“ T will not write !”

“Tie him to that stake, and roast the white dog alive!’

 
 

wy
8 THE SILVER BUGLE.
yelled Conanchet, as he stamped and fosmed with wild pas
sion.

A yell of savage delight went up from those around, in an-
ticipation of what, to them, was an amusement. Harry Ashby
was instantly seized and bound to a pest set firmly in the
ground, and which already bore the marks of fire. It was
but a few moments before pine knots ard dry timber were
piled around the victim. ‘When the arrangements were com-
plete, Conanchet himself stepped forward wih a flaming torch.

“ Will you write?” he again asked.

“Twill /” responded Harry. _“ Release ry hands.”

Conanchet released the hands of the prisoner, but left him
otherwise, still bound to the stake. He then handed the book
to Harry, together with the pen and ink. Marry took the
book and opened it. He gazed upon the writing with appar-
ent interest, and then raised his eyes to those of Conanchet.

“Well, why are you looking so earnestly upon re?” asked
the Indian.

“Because this writing concerns you.”

“What is it 2”

“Tt is written here that you will be filled while in ‘he act
of burning some prisoner at the stake !”

Conanchet started and looked eagerly around him. Then
recovering himself, he said:

“You need not think to work upon my fears. I am not
as superstitious as you may suppose. Besides, I do not be
lieve that there are any such words in that book.”

“Read for yourself,” said Harry, extending him the book..

“T can not read,” replied the Indian.

“Then let some one who will believe read it for you.”

“ No one here can read.”

“Well, dictate and I will write,’ said Harry, as he pre
tended to do so.

Conanchet went on to repeat the instructions he had before
given, and Harry wrote, apparently, as instructed. Perhaps
it is not necessary to say that the words which he did pen
‘were not those dictated by the chief. On the contrary, having
by his ruse ascertained that none of the savages could read,
he fully informed his friends of his own situation, as of
Conanchet’s designs upon Minnie, ,

~~.
. oa
 

; THE RESCUE. "9

But the savage, having once obtained the message, evi-
dently was not satisfied, for, having conferred with some of
the old men, he advanced to the stake, and deliberately put
the torch to the brushwood around. Then he stood with
folded arms, gazing upon Harry, with a fiendish gleam lighting
up his hideous face, until he looked the very impersonation
of a human tiger.

His moment of triumph was brief. A sharp report from
the thicket near at hand told Conanchet’s fate. A crimson
stream spirted from his bare bosom. He dashed his hand
suddenly over his breast, closed his eyes and fell forward, his.
face striking in the little mass of flame which his hand had
lit. Then a figure glided, like a spirit, out of the wood, up
to the post, and, with a glittering knife, sundered the thongs

‘of the captive. In a moment, ere the affrighted and aston-

isned throng around were aware, the prisoner was free, and,
without a word, went bounding off through the forest, pre-
ceded by the female spirit who had cut the cruel thongs which
bound him to the death-pyre.

CHAP TUR. x
THE LOVERS—AN ENEMY—STRATAGEM—RECAPTURE.

Tere are old legends extant in the Indian and frontier
countries, of fairies—the departed spirits of loved friends—
who watch over us, guarding, toa great extent, dear ones from
danger. This is the religion of the savage, and there are
many woodmen and hunters who fully believe in its truth.

So when the form of Minneapolis, so fair, so sudden and so
unaccountable, glided from among the trees to the rescue of
the prisoner, it is not strange that the rude children of the
‘orest looked upon it as a supernatural interposition of the
protecting angel which was ever hovering around the person
of young Ashby. At all eyents, there was no attempt upon
the part of the savages to interfere with the movements of
the mysterious visitor.

 
  
  
 
   
   
 
   
    
    
  
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Se

80 THE SILVER BUGLE.

Harry Ashby did not enter into this belief, and yet he
could but feel a kind of superstitious awe. He was far from
friends, and that any protecting friends, either visionary or
substantial, could possibly be hovering near, was a thing in-
eredible. The smoke which was curling around him had
bedimmed his vision so far, that only a form, resembling a
female, flitted before him, while the features were not distin-
guishable. But he believed he had been preserved by human
agency. It is not an unusual occurrence for the dark maiden
of the forest to become, even at first sight, smitten with the
pale-face. When such was the fact, they never failed to ren-
der valuable aid, in moments of danger, as our border history
will attest. Harry had but a moment for thought, but that
moment was sufficient for him to arrive at the conclusion that
some female, feeling pity for his situation, had adopted this
bold method for his rescue. But an Indian maid would
hardly have went so far as to kill the great chief. Indeed,
the young man was puzzled. Still he lost no time, and a
moment more saw him dashing like a deer through the forest,
after the retreating form. She glided like a fairy before him,
now dashing among the heavy timber, and becoming entirely
lost to view, and then appearing in the distance, varying her
course with wonderful acuteness, but bearing steadily toward
the river. In vain he attempted to overtake her. She flitted
like a shadow before him.

As he pressed forward he heard a voice, which came from
out a thick undergrowth near at hand.

“Harry! Harry! Quick! There’s danger ahead !”

Ashby recognized the voice, and with a cry he sprung into
the thicket and clasped Minnie to his bosom.

“Dear Minnie,” he exclaimed, as he pressed thy weeping
maiden close'to his heart, “‘ why are you here ?”

Minneapolis had encountered much, and while her lover
remained a prisoner her heart was firm. She thought not of
herself, but watched and hoped for some chance of rescue, fail-
ing in which, she had determiued to die with him. But now
that Harry was free—that the most imminent danger had
passed—her pent-up emotions found vent in tears and sobs,
which her lover vainly sought to check. At length she ex-

claimed :

 

 
 
    

   

DANGER AHPAD. a

“Oh, Harry, I have for a moment forgotten myself The
joy I felt in holding you once more in my arms, in hearing
your kind voice, drove from iy mind all thought but the
present heaven of bliss. But there is danger yet.”

“True. We are not yet out of the Indians’ reach, but with
proper caution I think we shall be able to find the river,
where we shall certainly meet friends. My greatest solicitude
is for yourself, Minnie. Why did you follow me?”

Minnie went on to relate all that had occurred since he sup-
posed she had left him to accompany the defeated and flying
band. 5

“And do you think we may expe+t assistance soon ?” asked
Harry.

“T do. Lieutenant Lindell is mformed of the direction
Conanchet intended taking. Cap‘sin Warren is also at work.
I should not be surprised if the savage stronghold is taken
before this day is passed.”

“ Minnie, is your rifle loaded ?”

“Tt shall be in a moment.”

The piece was charged with great skill, showing how well
trained the girl was in the use of the deadly weapon. - Her
gun was one of exquisite workmanship, and though very
light in its structure was of great power of range. It was
eyer at her hand when in the woods, being carried at her bacx ,
by a strap passing over the shoulder. The beautiful revolver
which, in the times of peril; was carried, as well as her
sheathed knife, in her girdle belt, was her chief reliance, how-
ever, and she v. 2¢ it with astonishing skill.

“Oise If to me, Minnie.”

“Harry !’ and the maiden clung close to her lover. “ {9
there danger here, Harry? Are we discovered ?”

“You spoke of danger a moment since.”

“T fancied I saw a dark form gliding among the trecs
But it might have been but a shadow.” .

“No, Minnie; it was not a shadow, but substance of an ugly
character.”

“What have you seen, Harry ?”

“The form of a powerful savage.”

«'W here't”

“ A moment since it emerged from nehind that ange oab
 

1
i

82 , THE SILVER BUGLE.

yonder, and crept cautiously along the ground. He is now
concealed behind that fallen tree. We are, you perceive, at
his mercy in remaining here.”

“Tf he is an enemy would he not fire upon us?”

“No; the thick bushes around give us partial shelter from
immediate aim. Besides, you have been sitting directly be-
tween me and him. Here, Minnie, move cautiously back
behind that big bowlder, which offers us a real front protec-
tion.”

This was done. The young girl crouched low, and moved
backward with the stillness of light.

“Ts there more than one of the savages, Harry ?”

“T believe I am right in thinking there is only one. Had
there been more, that savage would have discharged his piece
at me, thinking to draw my fire under the impression that I
had only to face an enemy with an empty gun. There! You
see he is attempting to draw my fire. “Do you not see the
top of his head just above that log?”

“Ah, yes. Give me the rifle. I can reach him.”

“Do you fear my aim, Minnie ?”

“No, but your wound, Harry ?”

“Will not interfere with the accuracy of my aim. Besides,
Minnie, you are a much better huntress than warrior. That
is simply a ruse of the savage to draw my fire.”

“TJ do not understand you, Harry.”

“There is no head visible. It is only the head-dress of the
savage which you see. If JI should fire he would come
bounding forward and make the attack before I could reload.”

“What will we do ?”

“There is but one thing that can be done with certainty of
success, That is to outwit the tiger.”

“ How can you do this?”

“J shall try various methods, You see there is a small
ravine running around in a circle to the right. I think I can
creep cautiously through this ravine until I reach a spot
which, from here, appears to run directly under the fallen
tree by which he is secreted. If I can do this without being
discovered, success is certain. But I shall first try other ex-
periments.”

“What else can you try with any prospect of success?

freer ny

ia

eee

>
x

A RUSE. 83

That Indian is, doubtless, as artful as the best, and you need
be very sharp to outwit him.”

“Never fear. If the fellow can speak English, I shall
have him.”

Harry then called to the savage, saying that he was a friend,
and bade him come forward. ‘This elicited no reply.

“Tndian want whisky ”’ asked Ashby.

“ Ugh.”

“ Good whisky.”

“Good. Ugh.”

“Tndian may have whisky if he is a friend.”

“Me friend. Give Indian whisky.”

“Indian come and get it,” said Harry.

“Ugh. Menocome. Show Indian bottle.”

“This plan will not do, Minnie,” whispered Tiarry. “We
have no bottle, or any thing by which we might deceive him.
He will not trust us, and it is evident we can not trust him.

“What do you intend doing now ?”

“T shall endeavor to get in a position where I can bring
my rifle to bear upon him, by crawling through the ravine.”

“Tt is a dangerous experiment, for I do not think it is deep
enough to thoroughly conceal you.”

“ With your assistance, I think I can accomplish it.”

“ What can I do, Harry ?”

“You will take my hat. Show it above the rock every
few moments. Be careful not to raise it so high that the say-
age will see your hand. He will think this a trick to draw
his fire, but it will show signs of our still being behind the
rock, and divert his attention from me.”

“Well, go, Harry, but be careful.”

Minnie took the hat as directed, and raised it in such a man-
jner that the Indian could distinctly see one-half the crown.
But this had no other effect than that intended, as the savage
well understood the ruse. This was repeated at intervals, ac-
cording to instructions,

Young Ashby crept cautiously along the ravine. It was
with the greatest difficulty that he prevented the waving of

the thick undergrowth or the crackling of the twigs, which
would have revealed to the savage his approach. Ilis pas-
sage was, in consequence, very slow.

 
 
 

Hit

84 THE SiLVER’ BUGLE.

He had reached a point where a jutting rock and a short
bend in the ravine hid from view the passage-way beyond.
But, he had every reason to suppose that the fallen tree could
not be more than fifteen or twenty feet further. Every thing
‘was as quiet as the grave. He moved forward, but, as he
turned this point, he met the savage face to face. He, also,
had discovered the ravine, and had hit upon the same plan
for reaching his enemy as that adopted by Harry.

As they met, each attempted to raise his rifle, but the dis-
tance between, them was too short for either to use their piece.
Harry saw the savage reach for his knife. He had left his
own with Minnie, in case the savage should advance upon
her. Not a moment could be lost. He caught his enemy by
the throat, and clung to him with all his might. But he was
no match for his foe in physical strength, even had he not
been suffering from the effects of his wound.

The savage set up a series of whoops as he discovered the
fact that his enemy had not even so much as a knife. With
an effort he raised Harry high in the air, and hurled him, as
if he had been a child, several feet from the spot. The say-
age then raised his gun and brought it directly to bear upon
the young man. ‘The latter bent his head, and -as all further
resistance seemed useless, resigned himself to his fate. There
‘was a moment of silence, and then the savage said :

“Give Indian whisky!’ There was no reply, and he ad
ded, in a louder and harsher tone:

“ Give Indian whisky !”

“JT have none,” replied Harry.

“Pale-face lying dog!” added the savage. “Want kik
Indian. What pale-face expect.”

At this moment there was a succession of sharp reports, and
the savage sprung. to his feet with a yell, placing his hand
upon the side of his face.

Minnie, discovering the sudden retreat of the savage to the
ravine, divined his purpose and Harry’s danger. She there-
fore followed quickly and arrived at the critical moment.
Her revolver was drawn and the ball sped on its way; but in
her intense excitement and haste, her aim had been far from
sure ; the entire contents of the weapon was discharged at the
stalwart savage, but not a ball took effect! Only one grazed

    

 
  
    
  
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
    
 
  
   
  
 
 
 
   
  

“?
7S

THE SAVAGH’S DEMAND. &5

the bronze face, cutting a furrow from which the blood
spirted, but doing no serious injury. The Indian glared upon
her with fury, while he kept his rifle ready for instant use.

“ Squaw hurt Indian !” he said, at length, ina peculiar tone.
Minnie did not answer. There was something in the quiet
manner of the savage, which sent a shudder through her
frame.. She would have preferred to see rage in its place.

“Squaw throw down knife!’ Minnie did not do as com-
manded, and the savage turned the muzzle of his gun upon
Harry, and said:

“Throw down knife or Indian kill pale-face.” Minnie did
as directed.

“Squaw sit down. There.”’ The maiden seated herself
upon the ground a short distance from Harry. The Indian
also seated himself, and gazed alternately upon one and then
the other. A malicious smile rested upon his face, and once
or twice he raised his rifle, as if about to dispatch his enemy ;
but then he would lower it again. At length he said:

“Ugh! Pale-face liar! cheat! thief!”

“No! Pale-face has been good to poor squaw.”

“Ugh! Make her wife ?”

“ Yes.”

“Pale-face taust die. Pale-face steal squaw, murder old
man, kill warrior, and now must die. Burn!”

At this moment the captives observed the approach of a
party of Indians from the direction of the stronghold. They
were cautious in their movements, evidently being afraid of
the maiden, for, not noticing the others, they cast suspicious
glances at her, keeping under the cover of the neighboring
trees. An idea appeared to strike Minnie, for she sprung to
her feet, and exclaimed in the Indian dialect:

“You need not fear to approach. The Great Spirit will
not harm you if you are friends!’ This appeared to encour:
age them, for they advanced slowly. Minnie continued :

“The medicine-man will forgive you and cure your sick, if
you are his friends!” She pointed to Harry.

It is a well-known fact that the Indians have thé highest
respect for skillful physicians or surgeons, and when cures are
performed by such, even although the knowledge required in
accomplishing it be vastly inferior t their own, they are

 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 

86 THE SILVER BUGLE.

almost worshiped. So, at the mention of the word “ medicine
man,” the savages came around and gazed curiously upon
Harry. The manner of his release, the secret shot which had
killed Conanchet, and the glimpse of the female that had
glided to his release when it was supposed that none were
near, went to confirm the belief that he must have received
the assistance of some spirit. A conversation of a few mo-
ments was carried on between the savages and the one with
whom Harry had just been contending, and the black frowns
of the latter, and his rather violent gestures, were proof to
him that he did not so readily enter into the opinions of those
just arrived. At length he turned to Minnie, and indicating
that he referred to Harry, he asked:

“He medicine-man ?”

“Yes,” answered Minnie.

“Want medicine-man to cure wound you made.” The
savage pointed to his cheek.

Here was an embarrassing situation. Harry had not even
so much as a pocket-knife with him, or any thing to use as a
surgical instrument. But he quickly resolved upon a plan.
Picking up the knife which Minnie had thrown aside, and
drawing from his pocket a handkerchief, he scraped from it
some lint, and then cut it into strips. He thought if he could
get close to the savage, he might use the knife upon him, and,
once rid of him, he was confident the others could be awed
into submission.

But here, too, he was mistaken. For, at that moment
another savage joined the party, who knew both Harry and
Minnie personally. The fact that Minnie resided upon the
St. Croix with the Ashbys, and that her lover was one of the
party wounded and taken prisoner, was soon made known,
The loyers, therefore, soon found themselves back in the In-
dian stronghold, and were doomed to witness the prepara-
tions which were at once commenced for burning them both
at the stake, which sentence had been pronounced upon them
by the old men of the tribe in less than an hour after thei
return. ©

 
 

—_

OO

Pca

 

—

    
AB Pca OE

 

ee

EVER THUS. ae 87

GGA]? SUR Xe;
THE NEW-FOUND JOY

Arrer the conversation between Captuin Warren and Nea.
mata, they started for the general rendezvous, Mirror lake.
They had nearly reached the Mississippi river, when Warren
was met by one whom he instantly recognized.

“Ah! Willard,” he said, “you appear agitated. What is
the matter ?”

“ Why the very deuce is to pay generally. The reds are out
in strong force, and raisin’ Cain. There’s over a hundred
just across the river, and as many more on this side, not two
miles from here. Lieutenant Lindell is on this side, with over
a hundred of: the boys, and you may look for fun before the
sun goes down.”

“Tet us hasten at once to the support of Lindell. If he
has only half the number of men the Indians have, his posi-
tion is a dangerous one.”

“Oh! don’t be alarmed, Captain Warren. Billings is
around, and his men are collecting at the rate of twenty every
hour. He'll have a hundred good ’ens in the course of the
day. And you've got something todo. The boys at the
bridge got together last night. There’s a hundred and thirty
on ’em, and they want Captain Warren to come and take com-
mand. Just at that moment a ugly lookin’ chap, but whose
heart is in the right place, came along, and he told us that
you had started for the lake, but that; he was ahead, and if
some one would go out on the pigeon-trail and wait a little,
they’d probably find you. So the boys concluded to wait for
you two hours, and then if we didn’t find you to start.”

“Who is this person you speak of ?”

“YT believe his name ‘g Hill.”

“Did he give you any instructions ?”

“Well, not exactly instructions, but he told us if we didn’t
find you, that Joe Britton better take command, that we should
cross the river three or four miles below, and come up behind
the reds which are on the other side, while Lindell and Bill-
ings attacked them in front.”

 
 

88 THE SILVER BUGLE.

“Well, I will go at once.”

At this moment, Hill approached. Neamata started in
fright when she saw him, and a look of agony crossed the
features of Hill, as he exclaimed :

“iver thus. Every living being shuns me.”

“ Neamata,” said Warren, stepping forward and taking her
hand, “do not fear this gentleman. He is good. He once
had children whom he loved, and who loved him. He was
living happily, as Christians live, when the Indians came
upon him, killed his wife and children, and, by thei: cruelty
to him, caused this deformity. He was once erect and perfect
as any man. He is my friend, Neamata, and I hope you will
consider his misfortune, and love him for my sake.”

“Oh! yes, I will, dear Howard,” said Neamaia. Then
turning to Hill, she said:

“Did you have a Christian wife ?”

“TJ have been instructing Neamata with regard to the modes
of civilized life, and teaching her the difference between the
savage wife, and the wife of the white man. She calls all
white wives Christians,” said Warren.

“ Yes, poor child,” said Hill, tenderly, “ mine was indeed a
Christian wife. But she is with the angels now.”

“Ts she up there?” asked Neamata, pointing to the skies.

“She is.” _

“ You loved her, did you not ?”

Hill bowed his head and wept. When Neamata saw this,
she gently took his hand and said:

“Don’t weep. It makes Neamata unhappy to see you weep.”

“ Yes,” said Hill, “ I did truly love my wift.”

“ And did she love you?”

“Yes, very, very much.”

“ As much as I love Howard ?”

“T think as much.”

“Don’t you want to go to heaven and join your wife? It
must be bright and beautiful there.”

“Yes, Neamata, I do wish to go there, but not until my
mission upon the earth is accomplished.”

“ Perhaps you have children here whom you love.

“No, Neamata; wife, children, all that were dear are lost
to me in this world, and while I live it must be in sorrow.”
ADOPTED DAUGHTER. 89

Oh, no; you must not sorrow. You will see your wife
and children when you get up there. And while I am with
you J will love you, and will be happy to be your daughter.”

“Could you love me, Neamata ?” asked Hill, tears starting
to his eyes.

“ Oh, yes,” answered the gentle girl, “I do love you now;
you speak so kind, so like my Howard, and I feel so sorry
for you. But if I become your daughter you will consent
that I become the Christian wife of Howard, won’t you ?”

“He is worthy,” replied Hill, solemnly, “ worthy of all your
love and trust.”

“Come, come,” said Warren, who had been listening atten-
tively to the conversation, “we lose time. JI must at once to
the bridge, and shall cross below. Mr. Hill, I shall place
Neamata in your charge. Join Lieutenant Lindell, but keep
her from danger as you value life and my happiness. ‘The
savages will fall back, and the battle which will rid us of
these troubles will take place at Mirror lake. I shall scour
the country and get more help. We will have five hundred
men to oppose Conanchet at the lake, and, with that number,
victory will be an easy matter.”

“ And must I leaye you, Howard ?” asked Neamata.

“Yes, you have a duty to perform as well as myself. I
will rouse the men below. You must go above. Mr. Hill
will go with you. But on your route sound your bugle in
every valley and upon every hill. I have sent messengers to
instruct our friends as to the meaning of the signal, and when-
ever it is heard you will see the farmer leave his plow, seize
his rifle, and start for ‘Eagle Rock, not far from the lake.
Here we will all meet, form, and then attack the savages.”

Without another word Warren started off, followed by Wil-
lard, leaving Hill and Neamata alone.

“ Well, my daughter,” said Hill, after gazing upon her for a
few moments, “ we must set about our task now. This is the
direction we must take.”

“Oh, how happy it makes me to hear you call me ‘ daughter,”
said Neamata, as she gazed tenderly upon the poor hunchback.
“Jt makes me doubly happy! Just to think—a Christian
wife and a Christian daughter! Oh, it is blessed! Ara ycu
sappy, my father, in haying found a daughter ?”

 
 

90 ; THE SILVER BUGLE,

It is an affecting sight to see a brave man weep. We all
know that tears often deaden the fires which are burning the
heart and searing the brain. There are different qualities of
tears. Some are those wrung from excessive physical suffer-
ing; some from mental anguish; some from excess of joyful
surprise, and some the surroundings of the present, or present
words or acts which remind one of a sorrowful past. I have
seen a sympathetic woman take a little picture from a child,
or open an infant’s colored toy-book, and, gazing upon it,
burst into tears. Is it surprising that she should do so?
Well, to some it is unaccountable. To them the little picture
is only a child, and its little “ black-and-tan” gamboling play-
fellow over the grassy lawn in front of its own sweet cottage,
is but a symbol of what was. And as for the picture-book,
why, it is only “Mother Hubbard and her dog!” Ah, they
only see the child, its little dog, and the surrounding beauty,
while the sorrowing heart sees her own child there! She sees
before her the picture, the reality of which has so often de-
lighted her, but which she will see no more, as her child has
gone to Him who said “ suffer little children to come unto me,
for of such is the kingdom of heaven.” But the recollection
of the past is renewed by that simple picture, the wound of
the heart opened afresh, the soul wells up, and the tears flow.
God bless the mother or the father who is not ashamed to
weep !

Hill wept when he listened to the words of Neamata. The
past was. so vividly brought back, by her childlike language,
that, he could almost fancy one of his own darling ones really
standing by his side. It was sweet to dream thus, but still it
was only a dream.

Hill now began to look for some means to cross the St.
Croix; as it was to this point they had been instructed to pro-
ceed. A boat was ere long secured, and the crossing effected.
Hill had also another motive in doing this. He knew that
between him and the party of Lieutenant Lindell there was a
large number of Indians, unless they had crossed the Missis-
sippi some distance below, after ascertaining that the whites
were too strong for them.

While pursuing their journey, Hill related to Neamata the
story of that dreadful night, and how he lost all in the world
TOE BUCLE-BLAST. 91

that he held dear. Neamata listened with painful interest,
and seemed to cling the closer to the poor hunchback.

They had proceeded some miles from the river, and had
arrived in a small settlement known as Wright’s Inlet. The
bugle-blast rung out, but was only answered by the appearance
of women and children.

“ Where are your men?” asked Hill.

“Why, don’t you know?” answered one of tne women,
“There’s been a dreadful fight about an hour ago down at the
junction of the St. Croix and Mississippi. ‘The boys heard
the rattle of the rifles, and so they seized their guns and
started.”

“Have you heard the result of the battle?” asked Hill.

“ Licked, sartin.”

“Who is licked ?”

“Why, the reds, of course. I tell you, bloods up. You
can’t find a well man in these parts. They've just all left,
swearing vengeance on the reds, If they don’t catch ’em all
here, they are to all meet at ‘Esele Rock, and then march on
to the lake and exterminate the whole tribe.”

“You are giving important information. How do you
know we are friends ?”

“How do Iknow? Lord bless you; the very fact of your
being with that angel is proof that you are all right.”

“You know her, then ?” asked Hill.

“ Guess we do know her, though we never clapped eyes on
her afore. Why, it really does one good to look at her.
Didn't she go up the valley only about a week ago, blowing
that silver thing that she carries by her side? At first folks
didn’t know exactly what it meant. But they soon found out
that it meant the reds were coming, and that we must be on
guard and ready to meet ’em. And, last night, a man came
here and said if we heard the same sound again, drop every
thing but the knife and rifle, and rush at once to Eagle Rock.
But you needn’t blow it any more around these parts, for the
boys are all off, and likely will be to the rock before you
are.”

Without waiting further information, Hill staxted for the
Mississippi, which he soon reached, in company with Neam-
ata. He found that the battle was oycr, and that the Indiang

 
   
  
 
   
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    

THE SILVER BUGLE.

had been badly beaten, and were in full retreat for their strong-
hold. As parties were constantly crossing the river, he found
no difficulty in reaching the Minnesott shore, and, in company
with others, started for Eagle Rock.

CPA en, By, jexediet
THE STRATAGEM AND THE SURPRISE.

Artrr Archer found himself safe among his Indian friends,
he seated himself upon the bank, and forced Miss Ashby to
sit beside him. When he saw how little effect the shots of
the savages had upon those who were endeavoring to escape,
he growled his disapprobation ; but, when he saw the strong
body of whites appear upon the opposite shore, he gave vent
to a scornful laugh, and, pointing to them, he said :

“Miss Grace, do you see your lover, Lieutenant Lindell,
upon the other side ?”

“TJ do,” she replied, “and I think he will soon be on this
side.”

“Little good will that do you.”

“ And why not ?”

“Because I shall leave at once for the stronghold on the
lake. With so precious a charge as yourself I shall not re-
main to participate in a fight. And if your lover and his
crew dare attempt to follow us up, not a man of them will
ever reach the lake alive, unless he goes there a pris-
oner.”

The distance across the Mississippi, at this point, was
scarcely within long rifle-range. Yet, those upon the opposite
shore had tried their rifles, and a few bullets fell harmless
near the spot where Archer was sitting. As if further to tor-
ture Lindell, the villain rose to his feet, and, holding Grace
before him, he shouted :

“Lindeil, fire away. Here’s your mark!”

There was a sudden movement among Lindell’s men, and
then a reply came: ,
A RIVER TO CROSS. $8
'
© on we will be with you soon.”
ha voice she at once re as that of her lover.
Avohar responded :

“Yes, Lindell, we will meet soon if you dare attempt a
crossing, But remember that J shall be in the thickest of the
fight, and that where I am she will also be, and before you
shall again get possession of her, I will stab her to the heart.
I shall keep her as long as she is alive. You shall only haye
her dead.”

These words were spoken to deceive Lindell, or to give lin
pain, for Archer at once set out for the lake, leaving the In
dians still upon the river-bank. Fearing the white scouts if
he took the Minnesota river route or trail, he wound his way
through the dense forest in a direct line.

The Indians sat quietly upon the bank, watching the move-
ments of the whites. Another squad soon joined them, which
addition gave the savages about one hundred and fifty.
These knew, also, that another band of one hundred had re-
cently gone up the St. Croix, and were confident that these
would soon join them. ‘This would swell their number to a
strength which would render their victory over their assailants
certain. They knew not how the ranks of that hundred,
which had proceeded up the St. Croix only about one week
before, had been thinned in the different engagements. They
took care, however, not to show their whole force, but kept a
large portion of it concealed. They could plainly see the
number of the whites, and it was their intention to induce
their foes to.attempt a crossing.

The faces of the savages darkened, however, as they saw
squad after squad arrive and join their enemies, until their
number could be little less than two hundred. :

At length the St. Croix band arrived, having crossed some
distance below. They had left with over an hundred hardy
warriors, and had now returned with less than half that num-
ber, and without a captive or a scalp! A few words of ex-
planation was spoken between the leaders, and then a terrific
yell of age rung across the water. Still their number was
now about two hundred, and, holding the advantage of ground,
the Indians determined to fight.

Lindell now began to move his command down the river,

 
  

THE SILVER BUGLE.

keeping close to the water’s edge. The Indians followed upon
the other side, keeping directly opposite the whites. At
length he came upon a huge raft of logs, made ready by some
hardy pioneer to float down-stream “for a market.” It was
just the transport needed, and upon it Lindell at once em-
barked his men. ‘The float was carried slowly down with the
current, but gradually approached the other shore. The In
dians kept directly opposite, but did not fire. It evidently
was their intention to reserve thoir fire until the last moment,
in order tc make every shot tell.

The raft had now nearly reached the shore, and the savages
were standing close by a mass of rocks, when, upon a sudden,
a murderous fire was poured upon them, and Captain Warren,
springing from concealment. cried:

“ Fire, lieutenant, and then charge.”

Those on the float now poured a deadly volley upon the
panic-stricken savages, and then springing into the water,
dashed for the shore. The men under Warren had crossed
below, and had awaited the approach of the red “ braves” in
concealment. They sprung from their hiding-places, and
charged upon their foe. Nearly a hundred Indians had fallen, «
either killed or wounded, and the remainder, finding them-
selves confronted by such fearful odds, took to instant and
rapid flight.

“ Quick, follow them,” cried Warren. , .

An exciting chase now began. The Indians were more
fleet of foot than the white men, and gradually gained on
their pursuers. Occasionally a practiced hunter would man-
age to load his rifle while running, and, simultaneous with its
report, an Indian would leap into the air with a wild yell, and
fall to the ground.

For many miles the exciting chase was continued. The
red-men were scarcely half a mile ahead, when they arrived
at a place called “Point of Rocks,” or “Eagle Rock.” The
name, “Point of Rocks,” indicated the nature of the place.
It is a sharp, rocky ledge, extending from a ridge of hills
almost into the Minnesota river.

As the fugitives turned this point they were received by an-
other deadly volley, as unexpected as the first. Those who
had started singly, or in small squads, for Eagle Rock, had

   
  
  
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
EAGLE ROCE. 95

arrived, and now numbered nearly fifty. They had seen the
approach of the Indians, and had given them a warm recep-
tion. Nearly twenty more bit the dust, and the balance of
the party, now only about twenty-five, darted into the thick
woods and ran toward the lake.

The entire number of the pursuing bands soon arrived at
the rock, and, formed nearly three hundred strong. It was
letermined to charge their enemy’s stronghold at once, as it
was supposed that Harry Ashby, Grace Ashby, and most
likely Minneapolis, were prisoners there, since the latter had
not been seen since she reported to Lieutenant Lindell that
Ashby was a prisoner, while Miss Ashby had been seen that

morning upon the river-bank with Archer. The party at once

started for the lake.

We may now return to the recaptured Harry and Minne-
apolis.

When they reached the camp at the lake, preparations
were at once made to burn them both at the stake. The in-
furiated savages, male and female, could scarcely be restrained
from killing the offending girl on the spot, for the murder of
their chief. The lovers resigned themselves to a fate which,
scemingly, no human agency could now avert. The fagots
were rapidly gathered and arranged around the captives, who
were bound at one stake. All the village was alive with ex-
citement. Only the condemned were silent and composed.
Their only uttered words were of encouragement and endear;
ment. Not long had they to wait. The torch was applied,
and the light wood on the outer rim of the pyre began to
redden with flame, when a noise was heard of heavy footsteps
approaching, and soon Archer came out of the forest, leading
Miss Ashby. In a moment he comprehended the whole pro-'!
ceeding. _ ; i

“Devils, what would you do?” he yelled. “Burn a wo
man?” and in an instant he scattered the dry material, anc
the fire was extinguished. Minnie was released, but Harry
still remained bound.

“Oh! my brother, my brother,” cried Gracie, as she sprung
to his arms. “I did not dream that you were here! This is
dreadful.”

“Yes, and Minnie, too,” replied Harry. Miss Ashby turned,

 
THE SILVER BUGLE.

and those two pure hearts were beating close together, while
the arms were twined, each around the.other’s neck,

“Yes,” said Archer, “I should judge Minnie had been
here.” He pointed to the body of Conanchet. “But I do
not regret his death, and Iam glad Miss Ashby has found a
brother here. He will persuade her to become my wife snd
then we will all be friends.”

“What!” cried Harry, indignation flashing in his eyes, “ my -

sister become your wife !”

“And why not?” said Archer, coolly.

“TJ would sooner see her burnt beside me at this stake.”

“Miss Ashby, do you indorse your brother’s sentiments ?”
asked Archer.

“Most heartily, thou vilest of the human race!” answered
Gracie.

“Oh! it’s all the same to me,” returned Archer. “I don’t
intend to burn you at thestake. Oh! no. My wife you shall
be, and all the power of man combined can not prevent it.”
Then turning to the Indians, Archer said:

“Do as you like. Go on with the burning if you wish.
But let it be the man, and no woman.”

The savages, ever ready to torture their victim, began to
replace the fagots around the doomed man.

“Oh! my God, Harry,” cried Grace, “tell me what to (do
—how to act to avoid this dreadful fate !”

. “Act as my sister—as my father’s daughter—as Grace Ash-
by should act! Heaven will not desert you, even if it does me!”

“ And Heaven does not desert you, dear Harry,” cried Min-
nie. “Hear that! Hear that! Oh! God be praised—it zs
the silver bugle / Friends are near !”

True. Echoing through the forest and across the lake
came the welcome bugle-blast which sent such joy through
the hearts of our captives as they had never felt before. It
also struck terror to the soul of Archer. He started back
and gazed wildly around him. :

In a moment more the panic-stricken Indians came dashing
within their circle, and only after gaining one of their works
turned to act on the defensive. But allin vain. The soldiers
followed in an instant, and, springing into the defenses, the
conflict was a short but bloody one.

   
  
 
   
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
    
    
  
   
  
 
   

y~—
THE BATTLE OVER. or

Minneapolis had taken advantage of the confusion, to re-
lease her lover from the thongs which bound him.

Among the first to enter the circle was Lieutenant Lindell.
He sprung to the side of Miss Ashby, and they met as only
those who love and haye been thus parted can meet.

Archer saw this, and the fires of hate roused him. He
sprung like a tiger upon Lindell. But Hill, who had just
staggered from the fort, badly wounded, anticipated the
action of Archer. He summoned his remaining strength,
and, springing upon the villain, he drove his dagger into his
oreast, and Archer, the renegade, rolled to the earth a corpse.

CHAPTHR XiLiz
CONCLUSION.

Waen quiet was restored our friends began to collect to-
gether. Oh, what a happy group, as they reclined upon the
bank of that beautiful lake. ot perfectly happy—such hap-
piness is not for mortals—still happy, being thus united.

Upon the grassy lawn sat Minnie and Harry, the sweet
girl gazing into his face, and smiling through her tears. Near
them was Lieutenant Lindell and Grace Ashby, none the less
happy. Dawson was lying upon the ground, a short distance
off, and near him were Billings and Joe Schryer.

A little aside from these sat Neamata, with the head of
Hill reclining upon her lap. She was, or appeared to be, en-
tirely absorbed in him, bathing his brow with cooling water,
and trying to stop the blood which gushed from the wound
in his breast. At length she started up, and cried :

“Where is Howard? Why is he not here?”

“He zs here, Neamata,” replied Captain Warren, as he came
up at that moment.

+ When Neamata heard the voice of Warren, she sprung
toward him, but a wild scream escaped her as she exclaimed:

“Oh, Howard, you are wounded too. The blood is stream
ing down your face. Tell me that you are not badly hurt!”

 
 
  

98 THE SILVER BUGLE.

“T am not hurt at all, Neamata,” replied Warren. “It ig
simply a scratch, and not a wound. But Mr. Hill is hurt; is
it dangerous ?”

“TJ fear so. Hush! don’t tell him he is dying, but I think
he is.”

“Friends,” said Captain Howard Warren, as he stepped
within their circle, “I must claim your attention for a short
time. You may think it strange that I should speak upon such
a subject, at such a time, while men are dying around me.
But you will learn my motive.” Then turning to Neamata,
he asked: .

“Neamata, do you still love me and wish to become my
wife ?”

“Oh, yes, Howard, yes—your Christian wife.”

“So you shall be, dear Neamata. Were I a king I would
wed you. But had you uot better ask your father?” War-
ren pointed to the heavens, as-if he meant her father there.

“T have asked him often,” replied the child of nature.

“ Ask him now,” said Warren.

Neamata knelt upon the ground, and, folding her hands
over her breast, she raised her eyes upward. Oh, what a pic-
ture! Nature, wearing the human form, communing with its
God. There was a deathly silence. At length she turned her
eyes upon Warren, and said:

“ He is willing. My heart tells me so.”

“Mr. Hill,” said Warren, as he approached the dying man,
“have you strength to listen to me?”

“ ede:

“T will be brief,’ continued Warren. “TI formerly resided
in Philadelphia. You knew my father, Joseph Warren.”

“Yes, well.”

“Do not speak, but listen. Shortly after your removal to

the West, having lost all you possessed in the world, a villain
by the name of Sandford ruined my father, robbing him of
every peiny he owned. It broke his heart, and in six months
he died. My mother soon followed, and I was left alone in
the world—alone and penniless. I resolved to try my fortune
in the West. E connected myself with a party of traders, and
came to the wilds of Wisconsin. One evening, while seeking
shelter, we were attacked by a party of Indians, Plunder

   
    
   
 
  
 
 
   
  
 
  
   
  
 
    
  
 
 
 
     
       
       
     
     
     
    

      
  
  

  

  
 
  
    
 
  

  

99

 

THE DENOUEMENT.

was their object. I know not the fate of my friends, but I
escaped. I was so young, being only ten years of age at the
time, that I escaped their notice. ‘Well, I started for the
nearest point where I supposed assistance couid be gained.
But oh, what a sight met my gaze upon arriving at the piace
I sought. The dwelling of a poor settler was in flames, and
a party of Indians were butchering his family. A little child,
in her fright, had crawled to a considerable distance from the
house. I saw the child; I seized it in my arms and ran. A
savage struck atme as I passed him, but only slightly wounded
the child upon the hand.”

“Oh, I remember it now,” cried Neamata; “I am that
child. Here is the scar.”

“Let no one speak until I have finished,’ said Warren.
“J had not gone far before I was seized. I expected death,
but we were both spared. We were conveyed to an Indian
village near the head of the Des Moines river. Here we were
kept for two years. I became a drudge, while the child was
taught the Indian mode of life. At length I was taken from
her. Idid not know who her parents were, but I knew where.
they had resided. During my stay with her I sought, by
every means, to counteract the influence of the savages.
While in Philadelphia I was presented with an elegant silver
bugle. It was my delight, and I retained it even in my cap-
tivity. This the Indians permitted me to do, because they
liked the music I gave them. But the little girl also con-
ceived a passion for the instrument, ind when I was parted
from her I gave her the bugle. Jor several more years I was
held a captive, but at last escaped. I sought for my child,
but could get no tidings of her, and gave her up as dead.

“About two months since I learned that the man who
robbed my father was a prisoner at Mirror lake. The Indians
in that section did not know, or had forgotten me, and I de-
termined to go there, and see if I could not compel Sandford
to disgorge some of his ill-gotten gains. I found, upon my
arrival, that for some offense he had been burned at the stake.
But my journey was not a fruitless one, for on my way I met
Neamata, the child I had saved.

“My story is nearly finished,” continued Howard. “I
knew that her father still lived. Isought him. Through

 

    
 

   
100 THE SILVER BUGLE.

trouble I have brought him here! Hill, would you learn
more ?”

“Oh, God, yes; tell me—tell me !”

“ Neamata,” cried Warren, pointing to Hill, “ ask your father
of you can become my wife !”

“What!” “Father!” “My child!” shrieked both Hill and
and Neamata in a breath.

“The burning building, the massacre, was in the ‘ Bloody
Valley, and the child I saved is your own daughter, the one
who was five years of age at that time, whom you supposed
lost in the flames.”

With a wild cry Neamata, as we have called her, sprung to
her father’s arms. Hill raised himself with much difficulty,
and laid his hand upon the head of his long-lost child. Then
calling to Warren, he said:

“ Warren, come near me—bend low. I die content ; be to
her a true husband, as you have been friend. Kiss me, child.
I—I—” and the poor hunchback had departed to that bright
land where death never comes.

A few more words will finish our story. The arrival of
General Pope at St. Paul, and the soldiers sent to protect the
frontier, soon restored quiet. Our friends returned to their
respective homes.

The Ashby family, at the earnest solicitation of Warren,
accompanied him to Philadelphia. Grace Ashby has become
Mrs. Lindell, and for the loss of that name, another has taken
it: Minneapolis is now called Mrs. Ashby.

The Srrvur Buewe is as happy as can be, and her love for
doward Warren has grown in strength and purity. She is
his Christian wife.