Price Gen Gents. | 0) ) Published Monthly ! ~o AMERICAN NEWS COMPANY, Pusbtisner’s Acent, N.Y. J. R. WALSH & CO., Chicago, Ill. THE RESCUE: WR - oie psa ee. Joke a — SeSae © 4 > O28 ore ss =, -t oF, 7: ( 2S ss = > ee 3 ut BY EDWARD 6. ELLIS, AuTHoR or ‘‘onomoo,” ‘‘THE FOREST SPY,” ETO., ETO, NEW YORK: AMERICAN NEWS CO., PUBLISHER'S AGENT, 119 anp 121 Nassau Srert. ENTERED according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by IRWIN P. BEADLE, Tn the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New York. THE RESCUE. CHAPTER I. IN SAN FRANOISCO—MR. KENDALL——-MY RISOLVE—-MY COM- PANION AND HIS FIRST ADVENTURE, After meeting Preston Kendall in the wilds of Nebraska, and journeying ‘with him to the far off Saskatchewan, in search of his long-lost sister, after she had been freed from a wearisome captivity—after braving the perils of mountain and praitie—perils from man and beast—after crossing the grandest and most dangerous chain on the North American continent—when, in fact, we had entered the confines of a State, and were within a few miles of our destination— when on the very threshold of safety, it was my fate to see Kendall and his sister carried off captives by a wandering band of Indians ; and that, too, through a gross neglect of duty upon my part. Painful and gloomy enough were my reflections as [. stood, on that autumn morning, at the base of the Sierra Nevada, and saw far out upon the prairie—so small that they were mere moving specks in the distance—a band ol Inilians journeying to the Southeast, with Kendall and his sister, their unwilling companions. Ah! how bitter was my remorse when I remembered that a few miles behind mea fond mother and father were aiwaiting the return of their children, and that those very chiklren were moving farther and farther away from them every moment! Hoi T repented and despised myself when I coult bat feel that I was the cause of it all—that but for my impatience and carelessness, this never would have occurred. Sad and Wretched enough did I feel at these thoughts, 10 THE RESOUKX. But such reflections could accomplish no good; I might stand there, and repent and bewail until the day of my death, and no one be the better for it. There was a mani- fest duty before me. As my neglect and remissness had caused all this misery, so my exertions and determination should remedy it, so far as it could be done by human means. I was still free, and at liberty to do what I choose, I could follow these Indians, hover around their camp-fires, and, at the golden moment, assist Kendall and Baola in their escape. As I stood on that morning, engaged in this reverie, I raised my hand to Heaven, and calling on God to witness the vow, I pledged my life to the remedying of what I done. I felt more cheerful and hopeful when I had uttered this, for I firmly believed at that moment that I should be : the instrument used in restoring my friends to their free- dom. This resolve was the first step, and now came the second—the manner in which I should carry it out, The first fact that forced itself upon my mind was that, at present, it was impossible to carry out my res lution, for the reason that every one of the Indians, and the cap- tives also, were well mounted, while I neither had a horse nor the means of obtaining one—to follow them on foot would be sheer folly, as I never could overtake them until they made a permanent halt. It was an important step for me to take, and I resolved that everything should be done with deliberation. Sober second thought convinced me that it would be an equally absurd piece of business for me alone to. follow the Indians. My single arm could accomplish little or nothing, except perhans to get me in the same preuicament with my friends. The result of these deliberations was the decision 10 go on to San Francisco, search out the parents of Ken- dall, lay the case before them, and ask their advice. I lost no time in carrying this resolution into effect. Ten minutes after it was made, I was toiling through the Sierra Nevada, as cheerfully and hopefully as though there could be no doubts at all of the success of my expedition. HE RESOUE. 11 At night, weary and half chilled to death, shivering over a smoky fire, partly sheltered by a bleak rock, with the keen wind soughing through the branches overhead, a more hopeless and dispirited mortal than myself could not be imagined. ~ My whole mind was devoted to the one thought of keeping from freezing to death. I gathered piles of brush and sticks until my fingers were as numb as the sticks themselves, and then I blistered them over the fire. Then I went dancing out in the darkness, nervously jerking up the fragments of branches, and hurrying back to my fire again, as my imagination pictured some dreadful monster about to spring upon me; and then, fearful that my fuel would give out before morning, I hurried off again every few minutes, to gather more. Now and then, borne faintly on the night wind, came the long, indescribable howl of the mountain wolf. Then, as the scream of some other beast came reverberating up through those gorges and defiles, I involuntarily shrank closer to the fire, and gazed furtively out ‘in the darkness, expecting every moment to encounter his glowing eye- balls: The night wore slowly away, and the morning, crisp. and frosty, found me hurrying on through the moun- tains. vue Crossing the Sierra Nevada, even by means of its passes, is no child’s play; and, alone and unaided, I never could have accomplished it. Ou the second day, I came upon a party of a dozen miners on their return to Marysville. They had been out “ prospecting’ among the mountain streams of this region, and finding nothing to reward their search, were going to meet by appointment another party at the place “nained, they being out on a hunt for new “ diggings.” They were a rough, hardy set, fall of jest and good nature; ‘and the few days'P remained with them were pleasantly spent, indeed, considering the circam- stances which surrounded us. They understood all the passes of the mountains, and experienced no diffisulty worth mentioning in crossing them. As we reached the more elevated regions, the atmosphere proved to be in- tensely cold, and several of the ,party suffered -consider- 12 THE RESCUER. ably. But in due time we descended the western slope, and striking Feather River, followed it down toward Sicra- mento City. On the way thither I made inquiries of the miners regarding the band of Indians who, had earried of my friend:, but they had seen and knew nothing of then. 3ut at Marysville, where the Feather antl Yuba r vers unite, I gained some information. Among the motley population composing this town, I came upon a hunter who, -at the moment I saw him, was denouncing the ‘ In- jin thieves’ in the mountains, and endeavoring to raise a party to attack them. They had robbed him of horse, gun, and everything, except the clothes upon his back. He had just reached the place, and was.resolved to have revenge upon the robbers, if it had to be gained alone and unaided by any one else. When he became more qnieted I conversed with him, and from what he said, was con- vinced the same hand which had treate!-him so ill, was the identical one that had carried off Kendall anil his sis- ter. When I mentioned this to him he declared that such was the fact; but on questioning him further, I saw that he was prompted to say so from his hatred of them. My intention at first was to ask him to accompany me, but it was evident that, although a skilful hunter and fighter, he would be the very worst companion I could ‘have. Prompted solely as he was by the one passion of revenge, he would be imprudent, headstrong, and reckless, and - would defeat everything to accomplish his ends, Leaving him, therefore, I descended the river to Sacramento City. Here I took the steamer to San Francisco, where I arrived at night. The city of the Golden Gate, as my readers know, is of very recent growth,and at the time I entered it, fifteen years ago, it was peMMaps one of the most remarkable on the continent. Its population was drawn from every quarter of the globe, and included every grade of charac- ter, from the highest to the very lowest. The dignified judge, the squalid mendicant, the jolly sailor, the shagsy, unshorn miner, the flashy gambler, the blear-eyed drunk- ard, the scowling Mexican, the swarthy Spaniard, the 8 Ww ayer Ae) Sees: ee THE RESCUE. 18 almond-eyed Chinaman, the ponderous Briton, the shrewd Yankee; all these, and hundreds of others, were to be met, and formed a population as dangerous as it was varied, and among such a population as this was I to make search for the parents of Kendall. | My first proceeding was to examine the books of the principal hotel. Turning back several months, almost the first names that I encountered were those of Gustavus Ken- dall and wife, from New Orleans. There could be no doubt but what these were they for whom I was searching. - Further inquiry revealed that they had remained a few days only at the hotel, when they had taken up their resi- dence on the outskirts of the city, precisely where, I could = only learn by searching further. The forenoon was spent without learning anything more; but a few hours after, accident gave me the very information I was seeking. I was walking by a xow of buildings, of a neat exterior, on the outer edge of the town, one of which I decided must contain Mr. Kendall, and was endeavoring to deter- mine which paricular one, when a door opened, and a gentleman issued forth. One look at him satisfied me that it was the very man for whom I was searching. He was about sixty years of age, dressed in black, with his hair plentifully streaked with silver, wore golden spectacles, and carried about him the air of a gentleman of the old school. These were the peculiarities which first attracted my attention. Before I could notice anything more he came out on the street before me, “Pardon me,” said I, ‘but can you inform me where a certain Mr. Kendall lives, who eame from New Orleans some months since ?” He paused abruptly as I pronounced his name, and then, with the true air of a gentleman, replied— ‘‘My name is Kendall, and I am recently from that city.”” ‘‘The gentleman to whom I refer, had a son named a who has spent a number of yeats in the West, Sea for a sister lost a long tim? af. 14 THE RESCUE. The old gentleman scanned me narrowly, as I spoke thus, and said, with considerable agitation — “Tam the man you seck. Piease come inside.” Iaccepted his invitation, and a few minutes later was seated alone with him. I saw nothing of his wife, and had some apprehensions that she might have died since the depariure of her son; but a casual remark from Mr. Ken- dall reveated that she was in the house at that moment. After we seated ourselves, I felt some cimbarrassment for a time, and was undecided what to say. I concluded, at length, to make a clean breast of it, and I did so, com- mencing at my very first interview with Kendall, and giv- ing every particular in regard to him and Hnola, up to their re-capiure and disappearance. At this portion my heart bled to see the tears stream down the cheeks of the old gentleman. ‘Tt is very hard,’ said he, in a broken voice, ‘‘ to lose both my children when they had escaped so many dangers and were so nigh home. ButI do not despair. What means I possess shall be used for their bencfit, aud I shall never give over my efforts in their behalf, until they are restored to. my arms. You return to your home, I sup- pose ?”” Lhastened to reply, ‘*Mr. Kendall, you misunderstand me. I take upon myself the blame of this last great mis- fortune, and I have made the determination that, so far as God gives me assistance, I shall undo the mischief I have ‘done. This is my principal errand to you.” — His looks showed me that he now misunderstood me at any rate. : «7 will be frank with you, * said; “ alone and unaided I cannot do much. I need in the first place, a good horse; and in the second place, one companion at least to assist me. Ifyou are willing to loan me enough——” “Loan you money!” he exclaimed, springing to his feet; ‘‘my heavens! ask anything that you will, Ir you say the word, I will equip filty of the best hunters in San Francisco and send them on the hunt. I will arm them ail, aud furnish them with horses, and give them any wy THE RESCUE. 15 amcunt you may name, to recapture my children. Say what you will, I will do it.” He was rapidly pacing the floor, so agitated that he could scarcely restrain himself The remark that he had made, set me upoa a new train of thought. Why not or- ganize a force of twenty or thirty men, and pursue the Indians? Why not retake Kendall and Enola by physical force instead of stratagem? The idea was new to me, and I was favorable to it. But a few minutes deliberation sat- isfied me that there was little to hope- from such an expe- dition. The men, selected at random, might embrace some desperate characters, from whom Enola would have more cause for fear than from the Indians themselves. They could have no competent leader, and would be governed solely by their own whims. I resolved to adhere to my original plan. “T waut but one companion,” said I; “let me have him, and what else we shall need, asd to-morrow he and I shall be on the trail.” ‘ “T leave the matter to you,” said Mr. Kendall, seating himself. TI will only be too glad to furnish you the means and—the man too,” he added quickly, “ Have you selected your companion ?” T replied that I had not. “T will save you that trouble then,” said he, with a momentary cheerfulness, ‘The man, who accompanied me as my servant is the’ very one to satisfy you. I will call him.” : He rang the bell, and a few minutes later a man, just as different from the one I had pictured as it is possible for a human being to be, entered the room. In the first place, he was an Irishman, one whom I was sure had never sevi a prairie or a wild Todian in his life. Be was a brawny, muscular fellow, with a bushy head of red itr, and an odd, quizzical expression of countenance that told at once his humor and good nature, “Well, Pai,” said Mr. Kendall, as the Irishman pushed his head and shoulders through the door, ‘come in fora moment, for I have something to say to.you. How would 16 THE RESCUE. you like to take a hunt upon the prairies—a good long hunt that would last several months!’ “And would yer honor be wid me?” he asked, throw- mg his head one side, and rolling his fine blue eyes, with an affectionate expression. “TI cannot say that I could, but this gentlemen here would-accompany you.” Pat now turned to me as he said: ‘An’ a fine-looking gintlemen is the same. Bedad, and could we hunt the bufilys, the b’ars, the daars and the wild hosses !” “Perhaps so,’’ replied Mr. Kendall, ‘‘ but there would be the Indians, also.” Pat's eyes suddenly became circular in shape, and a sort of ‘half whistle escaped him at this unexpected announcement. But the old expression came back. “We'd fix the spalpeens, too, by the jabers. I’m riddy, sir.”” ““To speak plain, then,’” pursued Mr. Kendall, ‘the expedition upon which I wish you to go, is neither to hunt Indians nor animals, but to hunt my own children, Both are captives in the hands of the Indians, and this gentle- man has kindly volunteered to search for them. He wishes you as a companion.” ‘‘Tsit fo hunt out the little gal that the Ingins have had so Jong ?” “ Yes, my son also, for he is with her.” *“Wuwrah, wurrah, bad luck to them, but they have both, eh ?” “They have ; but you have not told me whether you are willing to make the, venture.” “ Willin’? to make the ventur?” repeated Pat, in a reproacbful tone. ‘‘Am_ I riddy fara fight, why didn’t you ax me, begging your honor’s pardon. Am I riddy. Whoop! lnrrah!” And regardless of time and place, he sprang a foot from the floor, and struck his fist in mid-air. “He is the man for you,’’ said Mr. Kendall in a low tone. ‘A braver and wore faithful fellow could not be THE RESCUR. 17 found in a year’s hunt. He knows my son is attached to him, and will stick by you both as long as he lives.” Had I felt a perfect liberty to express my wishes, I hardly need inform the reader that Pat Ryan was the last man I would have taken as my companion upon this jour- ney. Good hearted, faithful and true he might be, but these qualities alone would avail little against Indian treach- ery and cunning. He was a perfect novice on the prairie, and it was more than probable that his company would be a drawback instead of an assistance. But Mr. Kendall’s word showed that he had set his mind upon having him as my companion, and in the face of his extravagant recommendations, I had not the assurance to object to him. The most I did was to ask whether he knew anything of wilderness life. Kendall replied that he did not, but would soon learn, a remark that I felt contained more truth than he suspected. There was one strong recommendation for this Irish- man, which made me wish for his company, and without which I would never have consented to his going with me. I refer to his inveterate good nature. My associations and experience, during the last six months, had been sach that Thad hardly enjoyed a hearty laugh for weeks at a time. There was but little humor in Kendall's composition, and I was always fearful of indulging any of my propensities in that line, lest I might offend him. And should I now take a morose companion, the hunt would be gloomy and dispiriting enough to make me miserable so long as it con- tinued. With Pat's lively conversation around the camp- fire, his laughable mishaps and adventures, an:l his stories, the time could but pass pleasautly. I decided to take him. “It seems to me,” said Mr. Kendall, with a serious air, “that the time is very unpropitious. The cold, rainy sea- son is close at hand, and much as I desire the search -to commence at once, Iam not selfish enough to urge you to face dangers that can as well be avoided. Remain with me until the spring opens, and then you and Pat can go with the elements in your favor.” 18 THE RESCUE. “‘T have reflected upon what you have said,” I replied, *¢and have come to this conclusion. Time above every- thing else, is now doubly dear to me. I cannot afford to remain here until spring, and the winter is too close at hand for me to hope to finish the journey before it sets in. I learned enough in Sacramento city to satisfy me that the Indians who hold your children are a band from New Mex- ico, that have rambled as far as the upper part of Utah, from their homes. I am so well convinced of this, that I shall proceed in a direct line to Taos or Sante Fe, which we can reach before the winter sets in. - There we can re- main until the weather is favorable, when we shall have no range of mountains, I trust, to cross, in order to reach them.” c “-Your. plan seems a good one, and I like it, You speak of the Indians being from New Mexico. Have you any idea to what tribe they belong?” ‘©Of course I have no means of judging, but I have a suspicion they are from New Mexico.” ‘* What plan do you propose to use for their recovery ?” ‘¢ Ultimately, I believe, they will fall into the hands of the Apaches, who sometimes allow their prisoners to be ransomed, ‘They are a powerful and dangerous tribe, and if such measures will prevail, it will be far safer to use them, than to attempt t# rescue them by stratagem or force.” “This, of course, will be decided by you after reaching one of the towns of which you speak. You will there find mountaineers and hunters who will advise you how to act. Whatever sum you think you will need, please name, and it shall. be placed in your hands before starting.” ‘I shall do so. I expect to start immediately.” *©Not to-day ?”’ “No;” I laughed, ‘but to-morrow. To-day shall be spent in making ready. Pat, there, I suppose will need that time for preparation.” Mr. Kendall proposed that we should make the neces- sary purchases at once, Accordingly we went out in the stre: asc was coy this ball bou The nish of § tha had for bla ing by gaz hes the Wil ev ing ing thi Wi th m: in, sic Ww Ww us \ THE RESCUE. 19 streets again, Pat being with us, as joyous and expectant as a schoolboy with an extra holiday. The first proceeding Was to purchase a magnificently mounted rifle, and, a couple of revolvers for the latter. I needed nothing of this sort, and had already provided enough powder and balls for us both. Mr. Kendall, then, of his own accord, bought two huge, powerful horses, of a coal black color. They were long-linbed, swift, fiery-tempered, and far- nished with beautiful Mexican saddles, so that in the city of San Francisco there was not. a person better mounted than we were. They were purchased of two hunters who had just returned from the mines, and intended to embark for the States in the next steamer. Pat, mounted on his black charger, disappointed me agreeably enough by prov- ing a capital rider, and we attracted considerable attentior by riding through several of the streets. Many a man who gazed so admiringly upon our animals would mot have hesitated to shoot the riders had he dared, to obtain them. ‘ I declined Mr. Kendall's invitation to spend the night With him, and remained at the hotel until morning. That evening I spent in writing to my. friends at home, speak- ing cheeringly of my prospects in the future, and predict- ing a speedy return to them. I waited until a late hour the next morning before calling “upon my patron, as I Wished to give him and his servant abundant time to make their arrangements. When I nade my appearance upon my prancing charger, Pat’s animal was saddled. and wait- ing at the gate. As I entered, Mr. Kendall drew me one side. ; “‘Were is an amount, several hundred dollars above what you named,”’ said he, handing me a small package, Which I knew by its weight contained gold. ‘* Take it and use it as you deem best, and may God be with you. “I have acquainted my wife with what you told me, and our con- Stant prayers shall go with you.” ‘You may expect my return in the early part of next summer, 1 trust. At any rate, rest satisfied that you will 20 THE RESCUE. never see my face again until I bring you tidings of your cebildrep.”’ A silent but heartfelt pressure of the hand was the only reply Mr. Kendal! could make. 1 could but laugh at this as I answered— 8 “We'll try the virtue of powder and ball upon him, at any rate.’’ . All this time a low, cavernous and continuous growl was issuing from the dread animal. From its black color one could not make out the outlines of its body, but both its eyes were visible, round, and with that phosphores- cent, cat-like gleam, seen in the feline species. -I sighted for the right eye, and Pat for the left, and we fired, and the brute did not seem hurt in the least! The growl as- sumed aedfiercer cast, and we saw it was stealthily ap- proaching us. Pat caught up several brands and hurled them at it. One of these happened to fall upon its’ back, and lay there for a moment, while the brute itself made a wild leap, and hurried away, affrighted at this new enemy. But in an instant he was back again, flitting hither and thither, and keeping us in a fever of excitement. Had it not been for the fire, we would not have been safe one minute from the animal's attack. I had fired twice, but scemingly without effect, and Pat now sighted again as it paused for a moment in its demonstrations. Another threatening growl was the only evidence that the brute had felt the bullet. ‘Be the powers,”’ muttered Pat, ‘‘but I hitehim square in the eye that time, and he niver give a wink!” “There must be some mistake in our aim,’ said I; _ “no animal could receive ballet after builet, without show- ing it more than he dees.” ear THE RESOUE. 29 ‘¢But he limps,” exclaimed Pat, as the animal passed into view before the fire The ferocity of this beast was so great,-that he would have sprang upon us as it was, had we not stood on the very edge of the fire, aid repeatedly threw blazing bran Is at him. Such courage and fury I have never seen in any animal, and, save the grizzly bear, I have never kaowno such immunity from the effect of rifle balls. But like every member of the brute creation, he hala mortal terror of fire, and could not brave its power. This was seen so plainly, that Pat, at length, remarked, as if he had made a great discovery. “But I'l fix him now, if the bullets doesn’t haarm him.”’ © And how will you do that ?” “Tie a torch to his tail and set him shtreakin’ through the mountains, like one of them locomotives we have in the States.” ‘© A gool plan, and I would advise you to try it.” Absurd as was the proposition, Pat was really in ear- nest, anil would have attempted. it, had I not shown him pretty plainly what the consequences would be. We con- tinued firing at it as we gained opportunity, and it was -soon evident that our balls had effect upon it. I saw it limp painfully, and when the flash of a brand revealed its face, it showed it was badly wounded, But still the dogged animal refasel to leave us, and seemed to grow more ferocious, the more it was fired upon. Convinced that there was no need of firing hastily at it, I waited un- til I could make certain, and then, taking deliberate aim, shot it dead in its tracks. By this time it was midnight, and the excitement which our nerves had undergone drove away all desire of sleep. We did not disturb the dead body until daylight, when I made a thorough examination of it, It proved to be a carcuguve—an animal as rare as it is singular, It was ofa jet black color, with long and coarse hair, and a trim, slen- der body. Its head and neck resembled those of a wolf, while iis tail and feet were like those of a bear, and the _ i 380 THER RESCUE. body itself resembled both. In size, it was considerably larger than a cur dog, while its activity and strength could only be equalled by the panther. The carcague is sometimes met with in the Black Hills and Big Horn Mountains, but with the exception of the one mentioned, I haye never heard of one being found as far westward as the Coast Range or Sierra Nevada, By some the animal is believed to be a cross between the bear and wolf. AsIhave said, it is rarely met with, aii I believe, has been referred to by one or two travelers” only. : The whole of the next day was spent in riding through this remarkable pass, so regular and evenly cut through the mountain chain, that it seemed the hand of art-> must have assisted in its formation. Finally, we emerged in the broad valley lying between the Coast Range and- Sierra Nevada, and struck off toward the San Joaquin. CHa Pet ea Ses TNE WRITING FOUND ON THE BUFFALO SKIN. The second day after leaving the Coast Range Moun- tains, we reached the San Joaquin, and forded it at a-point a few miles below Merced’ City. This stands upon the route which Fremont followed in 1844, and is a few miles north of Merced River. The latter stream we reached, and ascended to its very source in the Sierra Nevada, where, of course, we left it, and commenced our passage of this second great chain of the Pacific coast. Our journey over these mountains was so similar to that over the Coast Range, that I shall merely refer to it. I was far more for- tunate than [dared to hope, for without taking any special pains to do it, we came upon a good pass, which Jed us. through this formidable barrier to the broad: plains of south- eastern Cilifornia and the Rio Colorado Valley. Ihave said that once through these two mountain te @ << THE RESCUE. 81 chains, and half the difficulties of our journey were over- come; but such was far from being the case. Before reaching Sante Fe, where we expected to winter, we were obliged to cross a vast country, over which roamed count- ss hordes of hostile Indians. Among these were the Mohahoes, Cosninas, Chemeguabas, Tejuas, and, worse than all, the bloodthirsty Apaches. Besides these, the Cal- ifornia Mexicans, cowardly and merciless, scoured these __» Tegions, and two such traders as we were could not hope 3 any immunity from danger in crossing such a country. Of ’ this we were soon convinced. The second day after reaching these plains, Pat and I were riding leisurely forward, conversing as usual, and keeping the horizon well swept for danger. The day was unusually clear and pleasant, resembling one in early spring more than any other season. ‘“* Begorrah,’’ said Pat, ‘‘ but this is the divil’s own counthry.. Two weeks ago it was winter, and now it is summer agin }” ‘* This is but a mere spell in the weather, It will not be long before the. season will be upon us in earnest. We are in @ more southern latitude than we have been as yet, and may reasonably expect less vigorous climate than we experienced among the mountains,” ‘*But where is the bufllys and baars ? and where is the Injins, too ?” “The last question, I trust, you may ask many times before it can be answered. I believe we have now entered asort of general hunting ground, where members of a dozen different, tribes are coustantly roving.” Near the middle of the afternoon a dark, murky mass of vapor was seen to the southward. It stretched over a nile across the lower portion of the sky, restiag perfectly motionless. from the extreme western limit, which settled down to the hor:zon, Beyond a doubt, a burning villaze stood at this point, and had vomited upward these vast volumes of smoke during the forenoon, We kept oa to the “north-west, but this motionless mass of smoke remained a ~ i 82 THE RESCUER. long time in the sky, to warn us of the character of the country through which we were journeying. Tais day in November I shall never forget, because it. was signalled by an event which, though trivial in itself, still was important in its results; and was, I believe, ons of those providences which has ever been a source of won- der and profound gratitale to God with ms. I have often reflected upon it; and to-day, after fifieen years have passed, I feel the same thrill of surprise and thankfulness that I'did, upon that autumn day, when the discovery burst upon me. The incident itself has nothing of tha supernatural about it, and many, at first, would. call it nothing more than a simple coincilence, rather renirkable in itself, perhaps, but nothing more than is hvppening con- tinually in everyday life. Such as plewe muy consi ler it thus, but Ido not, and am not willing to give up the plea- saint thought that it was a smile from Providence upon the work T had undertaken. : For the last three or four hours we had been following a : well-beaten track which, though leading to the northeast, was still in its inain direction from the northwest, It simply deviated from its course for the few miles we had been upon it, and before the incident occurred it resumed its southwestern course, thereby satisfying me that it was a trail leading from Central California or Utah, to some point in New Mexico, east of the Rio Colorado. Pat and I were riding side by side, when he ingnired: ‘¢ What is that shining out on the perarie thar? The dried up skin of a buffly, J should think !” The object in question resem led a roll of parchment, bleached perfectly white by the storms. which had proba- bly beaten upon it for years. Such things are often met with in the Far West, where the buffaloes themselves are so numerous that it is no object to the passing emigrant to disturb them. Iremember that Kendall told me he had seen the same more than once upon the Great Oregon Trail, and that they were often written over and over with the names of those who had passed that way. «In one instance he founda sort of diary, with entries covering <=” a THE RESCUE. 33 over two weeks, which some enterprising genius had taken the pains to record inthis manner. I was about to ride on, when a thought cross¢l me that made my heart leap with excitement. Relinguishing my reius to Pat, I dis- mountel and walked toward it As I stooped over, I saw it had been written wpon! The words were scarcely legi- ble, having been recorded with a common lead: pencil. The handwriting I recognized in an instant. I examined y it over and over again, and studied every squire inch of it, After great difficulty I deciphered a number of the words, and these are what they were: **I can scarcely hope this will ever reach the eye of a friend, but a faith in the mercy of Him who has never deserted me, leals me to.use this simple means which has been placed at my disposal, Early in the autumn of 1850, I became separated trom captured Apaches to the and should any one Gustavus Kendall New Orleans, and—perhaps also Enola, sister. Still firmly believing that ‘*Preston KEnpDAtt,” The first few words were easily made out, as the buffalo skin being crisped ant rolled up by the: sun, they were partially protected from the storms which had blurred and erased the remaining portion. It was with feelings which are indescribable that I read these words. I know not which emotion predominated, that of wonder at this occur- rence, or the gratitude and pleasure I felt in being assured I was upon the right trail, I know that after mounting my horse, my feelings were such that for atime I could pty no heed to the numerous and repeated questions of my companion. Ah! Preston Kendall, little did you dream who would peruse those words you so doubtingly put upon the buffule skin. After awhile I explained what I had discovered to Pat, and his hopefulness at once became extravagant. “Begorrah, aud the boy knowed we’s. coming this way, 84 THE RESOUR. and he wrote the same for our edification. He was always a knowing child, was he, jist like the ould man! The little gal, too, that I've never saan, she is with ’em, too! Bad luck to us if a thousand yelling Injins or carcageys kaap us from finding them !”’ ‘“‘There is still a long hunt before us, Pat. The Apache country is far to the southwest.” ‘* But don’t they come in these same parts, be the same token ?”’ ‘« We have already seen that they do; but their hunting w~] grounds, their own home, I mean, is yet a long way off.” se “And we’ll soon be there ?” “T don’t know about that. This mild weather cannot last many days longer, and it won’t do for us to be wande@r- ing among the plains and mountains during the winter. I think it would be best to make a straight line for Santa Fe, where we can obtain assistance, and in case we recover our friends, remain until the opening of spriny. Tne - Apache country lies to the south of Santa Fe, and we can : but find many at ie latter pres who have a full acquain- -= tance with them.’ t -* ‘But ivll be a long road to travel this same back agin.” } “Very true, Pat, but we will not undertake it alone, I | shall secure an escort, so that there will be no danger. of such an accident or oversight as happened before. Had [ been certain that the Apaches were their captors, I would lave advised Mr. Kendall to return to New Orleans, as we can reach that point with less difficulty than we can make our way back to Cali‘ornia.”’ “‘TIsn’t the air getting coulder?” asked Pat, with a | shrug of his shoulders, | Such I bad noticed was thecase. That peculiarly clear lustre of the atmosphere which we had noted was gone, and a darkness scemed concentrating around us, although it was much too early for any appearance of twilight. A storm was gathering, and the reign of this delightfal weather was manifestly drawing to a close. «There is a change,” I replied, ‘‘and we must be ready THE RESOUE. 35 for it. If Iam not mistaken we shall have a severe storm before morning, probably of sleet and snow,” Pat shrugged his shoulders again. “Do they have harricanes in this counthry ?” ‘Some of the fiercest ever known occur in this section, but this is not one that is gathering over us. It is too deliberate in its preparation. A hurricane comes up like a whirlwind.” “Be d dto’em !”’ said Pat, with a shake of his head ‘* I'd rather iet ’em alone. LI was cotched by a whirlwind once in the ould counthry.” ‘¢ You were ? Indeed, how was it’’”’ ‘Tt was qua’r, was the same.” Me and Judy O'Connor was dancing a raal Irish jig on the graan one afternoon, I was always great on the jigs, and when I commenced whirling round on my right fat, I always tak the lassie’s eyes. Wal, I give a whirl that set me spinning the same as atop fora few minutes. Bat, by St: Pathrick, when I took off the staam, I d¢dn’t; then I put on the brakes, but it was no use, I cowl /n’t stop / I was like the man with a cork leg. I tried to twist the other way, but I oaly kept giaing faster and faster, till I was told afterward by the boys and gals that they coull only see the prints of my tio feet, I was buzzing around so fast. Bye in-bye I commenced rising, I felt myself going, and hollered to the boys to hold me down. They cotched me by the brogans, but the things slipped off and Z went up, still spinning round andround. low high I went I don't know, far I lost my sinses about then. When I got em agin I was layin’ on my back in the road, with the boys hammering me to wake me up. Of course I was dizzy when I got up from being spun around ‘so, and they had so carry me home. But that wesn't the worse of. ‘it,’ added Pat, with a sigh. *¢ And what worse could nappen to you ?” ‘None of the lads or lassies would believe it was the whirlwind. They all said I'd been tipsy, and bothered me terribly.” - “The whirlwind was perhaps iu your head.” THE RESCUER. Leastwise I. don’t want to 86 ‘‘T don’t know about that. get in another.” ‘*TIave you noticed any greater change in the air?” **Tt looks slightly darker is all, and the chilliness is the same, that I'll put on my blanket. And where will we encamp to-night ?” “That is what troubles me. I see not the least shelter before us. Off yonder, on our right, a long distance awny, are trees, if I mistake not.” Pat gazed in the indicated direction, and agreed with me that this slight shelter at least was offered us. We turned our horses’ heads that way, and a half hour's canter, brought us up to two stunted trees standing in a slight depression in the prairie. There was no water near, and we felt considerable thirst, buf we concluded. this should be our camping spot for the night, as it was hardly possi- ble we could find one equally good. We had just dis- mounted, when an exclamation from Pat attracted my attention. “Yonder is the same beauty spot for us,” said he point- ing toward a large tree which. lay extended upon the ground, ‘Flow is that going to serve you?” **We can cuddle down alongside of it and slaap like kittens.” The idea seemed so good that we tried it on the instant. In doing so Pat struck the log with his knee, and it gave a hollow sound. Acting upon this hint, he arose, went to the base, and crawled in head foremost. I listened as he made his way along in the dark trunk until he had gone several feet, when he paused. Instantly after was heard a terrific scratching, kicking, and struggling, while Pat's muffled voice shouted 3— ~*8t. Patrick save me, but here’s the divil in here! Ba the powers, he’s aiting me up!) I’mlost! I'm lost! 0, worrah, worrah! why did I ever leave ould Ireland? Git out, you spalpeen, I tells you! Keep off, or I'll smash your head |” The next moment Pat’s legs kicked to view, and wera THERE RESCUE. 37 rapidly followed by the rest of his body, covered with rotten wood, and his clothes ‘disarranzed, wlule he was busy shouting, ‘Keep off wid ye! Bad luck to you, I'll sinash every bone in your body 1’ ° Iie was hardly free of the log, when, to my surprise, a small, lean, cadaverous bear, issued out and walked sulkily away. He was too cowardly to attack us, and afler the anusement ‘he had given me, I felt no disposition to shoot him. * TIe’s not the divil,” said I, laughing at Pat's fright. ‘Another ercagey, then.” : “Nor that cither; he is nothing but a half-starved bear, Ahat you have disturbed in his sleep.” “Bad luck to him, and didn’t he disturb me, be the same. token 2?” “Did he wound you?” —- “Paitin and I don't know. Worrah, worrah, s'pose I'd knowed a bear was in there—do you think I'd crawled in?” “Tow was it you discovered him ?” ‘“‘Aisy enough. I was jist crawling aiong like, when Trams my head right against his belly, and he knocks my hat off with his paw. Thinks I. Pat, these quarthers is disputed, and it'd be advisable to argufy the matter on the outside. So TI backs out, and instead of staying to set- tle it, he goes off, like a blackguard that he is.” “That sort of ercature is generally harmless, and if you bad behaved yourself, he might have allowed you to share his quarters with him.” ‘©One thing I knows,” said Pat, with a meaning shake of his head, ‘if there's one bear about here, there’s more, and I doesn’t stay in’these parts.” “There are no more, Lam sure. That is only a stray one that has crawled in there to.be out of the coming jor storm.” “TL? ll be back agin as soon_as it’s dark, by the porers, and he'll bring a whole pack with him, so we'd better tramp while we kin, Yonder are some txaus that are ag good as these. Liet’s examine them” % 38 THE RESOUK. Pat was resolved, and so, mounting our horses again, we rode toward the trees. mentioned, searcely hilf a mile distant. By the time we reached them it was quite dark, anda few flakes of snow were drifiing throuzh the. air. The plains were bleak an.) desolate enough to moke this shelter acceptable to us, and we deterimined to use it at all hazards. The prairie being of the rolling kiad, and as we were again in a sort of. depression, we were partially protected from the. keen, cutling wind. The trees were _ some six or eight in number, and much stunted in their growth, As we had ample outfit, this sudden change in the weather did not find us unprepared. We threw blan- kets over our Lorses and secured them to one of the trees, while we nestled down at the base. It was impossible to kindle, a fire, the wood being too green to. use, ant we had sufficient clothing to defy the cold, so that the only inconvenience we suffered was thirst, which, after all, was not much, © It snowed nearly all night, and, in the morning, it lay several inches deep. Our course was now shaped about due southeast, to- ward that portion of the Mohahve country which was visited by Pedro Fout, in 1755. This fies between the Mohahve and Virgin Rivers, and our purpose was to strike the Rio Colorado at a point midway between the junction of the former with the latter. A little south of this route, runs the Trail from Southern California to Santa Fe. Tais Trail follows the southern bank of the Molhwhve to its mouth, when crossing the Colorado; it strikes William’s Fork upon the opposite side, along the northera bank of which it proceeds, and finally reaches the Rio Cotoralo Chiquitor, which it follows to ils sonrce in the mountains, We did not wish to reach this traveled route before we had crossed the Rio Colorado, as° I had good reason to fear it was traveled by those we cared little abual en- countering. + - . A few miles further on, we crossed a small stream of water, where our horses slaked their thirst, and upoa tie banks of which they found sufiicient grass to pluck a good THE RESCUE. 3% meal, the strong winds having blown it partially clear from snow. It looked curions enough to see the green grass amiil this evidence of winter; bat this Tatitule is * sometimes subject to as sn tien changes as a more -north- ern one, and such a sight is too often met with to occa- sion wonder with the traveler. We soon fonnd we had not been overtaken. by the fiercest portion of the storm, for, by tle middle of the af- ternoon, we reached a portion of the prairte where it was several inches deéper, ant the sky give evidence of sted- ding more... And sure enough, sever il hours before nigit- fall. it commenced filling again. Night came on prema turely, and stumbling into a huze bink, which half fille 1 a hollow,in the -plain, we made our encampment. Work- ing with our feet alone, we brushed the snow aside, until we hada eavity a. dozen feet square, the center being bare ground, and the walls of snow all around betng seve. ral feet in height. Into this we led our horses, and blan- keted them. | By this dime the fall of snow had ceased, anit was a clear starlight overhead.” A keea, cutting’. wind was blowing, and now and then sent a shower of icy, sand-like Particles down upon us, with the exception of which we eseaped its force, the protecting snow walls being sufficient to keep it from us, “By the powers,” said Pat, his teeth rattling like a dice-box, ‘we must git up a roarin’ fire here.” “Get up_a fire?” I repeated. ‘Tow will you do that, when there is nothing with which to make a fire ?” “But Vil find something. or fraze 1" With this he bounded over the wall of snow, leaving his rifle and blanket behind, and disappeared in the darkness, To my surprise, he reappeared again, with an armfull of liimbs'and shrubbery. “Now. we'll tend to.the fire,” said he, joyously, going down on his knees, and arranging them sv, that they could be easily kindled. « Where did you procure those?’ T asked, “Just folly me, and you'll soon find out.” He sprang off again on a sort of canter, I hurrying after. 40 THE RE ESCUE. Several rods atvay we came upon a species of sage bushes, quite plenty and Tuxucis We broke off armfulls again and again, and soon had enough collected to last us un : morning. Th e leaves and smaller twigs thrown upon th snow formed a bed for our blankets, secure and comfor i bie, such as the trapper of British America uses when on his travels. It required patience and. great care to start the flame, but onee kindled, it burned readily and, vigorously, and tvas soon diffusing its genial warmth around us, Strange ‘that in the full enjoyment of our situation, it never once occurred tous that other eyes than ours might see this light! “Well, Pat,” said T, cheerily, ios do you think of this country by this time ?”’ ; -. The deyil take it,’ he replied, ‘it’s haythenish. It isn’t many hundred miles we can travel in this same coun- try if they kaapes this sun to cool us off with,’ ‘¢ This . ill not last —the plains will soon be more free and open.” ‘“More open!’’ he repeated,. ‘bedad, but it’s the open part that’s the trouble, asthe man said when he went throngh the ice. It’s that jist that we can dispense with.” ‘“*T.am hopeful of milder weather, duripg which we can reach some place to winter in.’”’ ‘ joined Pat, instead of beckoning me to go to them, they wheeled around, and commenced riding on a walk toward me. Much puzzled to understand the meaning of this, I started to meet them, when I saw the Apiche raise his hand over his head, and make some sign. Instantly after four Indians appeared on the ridge, and ran lightly toward ~ them. I understood the treacherous act at once, and shouted to Pat to strike his horse intoa gallop; but he could not understand my words, and remained all unconscious of his peril. Still shouting, I struck my own horse into a ean- ter, and raised my rifle with the intention of shootin: the Apache, when a dozen more rushed down the declivity, discharged their guns at me, and closed arounl Pit. [ saw him club his gun, and lay about: him, and, an instant after, fall from his horse into the hands of his cowardly as- suilants. It was al] done in the space of a minute or two. Pat i THE«RESCUR, 61 was cither killed, or a helpless prisoner; and several of es equally anxious fo obtain me. ra out upon just near enough the sava the prairie for that purpose. They were | 4o afford mes good aim, and I took it, firing it point blank at the foremost, and stretching chim) lifeless upou the grouud, [then wheeled my horse, and in a few minutes he cartied me beyond all danger, Making a circuit to the northward, I gave the ridge a wide berth, and continued my course in a southeast diree- Aiton: No doubt the Apache's intention bud been to lead —_ us boch into an ambush, but the Irishinan’s recklessness hal saved me. When he said ‘*Injin there!” he kaew he spoke the wruth, and he had an object in doing it. He was well aware that he was sulject to suspicion, and took this means of removing it, He had succeeded only too well. ‘ Poor Pat Ryan! How I missed his genial humor and pleasant words; how lonely Tnow felt’ without this faith- ful companion, and how much I fegretted the shori-sight- edness of both in trasiing the Indian as we did. Bat it was useless to repine, Iwas discouraged, but not dis- heariened j and, with a resoluiion to press oaward, I cou- tinued on a brisk ride until nightfall. a L have not space to tell my days of wandering on the prairies. I sometimes journeyed over bleak and barren phous, then tarough wild mouatains and uills, half chilled by the driving suow aad sleet, scarcely sleeping at nigat, from fear of the Indians, who repeatedly got upon my trai, But my matchless horse carvied me safely beyoad all, and 1 suceceded in avcomplisaing what nothing in tue worki would induce me to afiempi even at tiis late day. I made the entire journey to Santa Fe alone, arriving there in tae dead of winter, Avier getting throagu the Zuni mountains, it is (rue, the undertaking was attended Witte Jitiie danger, but up to that point Limay be. said to have weld my lite in my aauds. THE RESCUER. CHAPTER. V. b BANTA FE—THE EXPEDITION TO TIE APACIES, Santa Fe, the capital of New Mexico, -is one of the most interesting towns in the South-West. It stan ls upon a plateau, more than seven thousand feet above level of the sea, and beside a mountain whisr rises uealy a mile farther, and whose, su nuit is ever crowned with show. The houses are built of adob:s, or san birnt biicks, each dwelling forming a square, with a court in the cenire, upon which the apartinents open. © Tiis. cusiom, which originally prevailed among the Moors, makes each house a sort of fort, as was demonstrated at thé siege of Monterey, in the Mexican war. Tae: place is sapplied with the finest water in “the world, by means of azequi cs, or little canals, leading from springs in. the mountain, and Within the limits of the town The Jatier stands upon both sides of the Rio Ovetto, or Santa Fe River, an affluent of the Rio Grande, from which it is distant about twenty miles, Tue streets of Santa Fe are very irregular, but the plaza ean be reached by several avenues... Tae populuion nu.a- bers about five thousand, and a more depraved and vicious set the world never saw. © Marders, assaults, and crimes of all Kinds, are so Common as to excite hardly surprise or remark. Ganbling » is practised by every cluss, woven included. Adonte is the favorite game, and every day ant evening, countless fortunes are lost and wou in that, New Mexican town. IT bave sven the senoritas dashing grace- fuliy through the s‘rects om horsebiek, with lis aiosi cosuy und dashi@nable dresses tie splace cur aff, which wre unsul of which would tiake a milonaireavince.. Bai tavse are generally the worst class of people, who are not asiaamed to flaunt ihcir vices in the face-of all the inhabitants, rd tal sed in any of our own eiiics, tag prices Dee —ee | the Meuus of imposing ‘a paiifal captivity upon: you and your Sister; and, if you value my friendship, you will never © « 100 THE RESCUER. hint at any such thing again. Thanking you from the botiom of my heart for your many kindnesses, I remain here to seek my fortune.” **Your mind is fwly made up, then, is it?” “¢Tt has been for a long time.’ “1 will not attempt to dissuade you, then; but this will be a sore disappointment to all of us, especially to Enola,” he added, with a slight smile. And so we separated, I accompanied them to the steamer upon the morning they sailed, and exchanged fare- ov wells, un'ting with them in the hope that it would but a- brief separation. Iam aware that I have now reached a point which is of comparatively little interest to the reader, and so 1 shall pass over it as bricfly as possible. As might be expected, I triei the gold mines of California, as offering the most specdy road to fortune. TI remained diligently at work for a year, at the end of which titme ITinade an arithmetical calculation, and found that if I kept on at a similar rate I should acquire a respectable fortune at the end of one hun- dred and fifty years. Thad saved a small sum, and with thisI embarked in mercantile business, with a trusty, honest fellow. We did quite well—and about the end of the secon ad year, J gave audience to my impatient heart, and concluded to go home. During these two years, my corr mdence with Kendall had been uninter- rupted. He informed me among other things, that he was settled over a church, where he felt his true sphere of duty Jay ; his parents remained woll. Pat was as jovial and contented as ever—while Enola inquirel about me every day asked anxiously when they might expect to see me. The two years of her residence at home, in the refined and cultivated society of New Orleans, had worn away entirely all traces of the life she had led’for so long a tims among her rud yagabond taptors, and Kendall informed me thai she was now the sister that hha: < been in his imagination for so many years. Whatmore? Llay down my pen with the simple announcement, that, what the reader, beyond all doubt, has anticipated from the beginning, took place sey- eral years since. Enola Kendall has long been my wife, and, thank God, she hag brought me all ths happiness this world can afford. Her noble brother is mar- ried, too, and we are in each other’s socie'y nearly every day. The parents have gone to their final account, and t enL like Shoir lives, was peaceful and hap; And now, to the indulgent reader who has f youl ma so paien-ly these pages—through sunshine and shados pavit ant through ominous and auspicious adventure, trans 43° my feeble way—to the reader, Ibid an ailectionate adiou. : THE END. To be Issued, March yO AMERICAN’ NOVELS, NO. Te FORT STANWIX: A Cale of the Mohawk im 1277. BY P, HAMILTON MYERS, AUTHOR ‘OF “PAUL MORTON,” “THE VAN VELDENS,” Be sat 55 OF |] PRESCOTT,” ETC., ETO. — There are few writers of the present day who can’com- } pare with this author, in eleganc@ of style, vividness of nar- |) | ration, and origimality of incident. A noted critic has pro- WV nounced him a worthy suecessor of Washington Irving. "| “Fort Stanwix” is full to _Tepletion, with exciting events, re-”|| 4] garding the Indian invasion of the Mohawk Valley, told in 8 || the author's own inimitable vein, and none ‘of our readers - will regret purchasing and reading it. For sale by all News | Dealers, ‘or sertt, post-paid, on receipt of pom c cents. ‘Photfollowing Novels of this series | have aready been I. a _ published : oor No. 1.—THE OCEAN PEARL. . ; No. 2.—THE WOOD RANGERS. | ees _ No. 3.—THE GREEN MOUNTAIN Boys oes oie: No. 1 0-LCHEE: By J. Fexrmore Cooper. [Y | No. 5—THE PRAIRIE RANGERS: By Epwarp © S. Exuis, Esq. - “fs Eb NC. ee RESCUE: By Epwarp S. Euus, Baa American News Co, PUBLISHER'S AGENT, 119 § 121 Nassau St N. Yo