-

as ee). tye oY a

:

THE HUNTERS.

NEW YORK:

H. DEXTER, HAMILTON & CO., 113 NASSAU STREET:

 

 

 

 

 
 
    
   

  
    

 

 

   

 

LEE. TRA DA.

 

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New York Superior Court.
*Kiyastus I.) Beadle and °
Robert Adis, }
against \
Trwin P. Beadle and

George Munro. a

The defendants in this action, commenced the publicatio
of a Song Book entitled Irwin P. Beadle & Co.’s Ten Cent
Song Boos fo" the Million; on the cover of which was a
device representing a United States’ Postage. Stamp of ter
cents, with a head of Washington: the plaintiffs brought the
above entitled action against the defendants, and applied for
an injunction to restrain the de endants

“From publishing or causing to be published, or using
in any manner, or causite to gbe used in any manner, the
name of ‘ Beadle’s Dime Books’, or the imprint New York,

Trin P. Beadle & Co., 137 William i reet,’ or the device

of the impression of a Dime, or the device of the impres-

sion of a portion of a Ten Cent Postage Currency of the

United States) or the name of ‘Irwin P. Beadle & Co, in

connection with any device, word or words that may tend

to indic ite Ten Cents, or Dime, or a Portion of Ten Cents

ot upon cheap publications, with the name of Irwin P.

Beadle & Co.” :

A motion was made on the 2d day of October instant, be-
fore His Honor, Judge Barbour, by the cotmsel forthe plain-
tiffs for the injunction above specified, and which was nesisted
by the counsel for the defendants, and on the sth day of
October instant the judge rendered his decision, denying the
motion for the injwngtion, and permitting the defendants to
continue the publication of their Song Book, which is not and
never Was intended to represent, or interfere in, any manner
with the publications of the plaintiffs.

*. IRWIN P. DEADLE & Co.,
137 Winitas, Street, NEw Yor Get. 9, 1863. .

Postage Currency of the United States in connection with
|

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

°
:

 
 

* pQgeRTeeSG

 
 

|. ‘THE HUNTERS:

oR,

 

 

 

 

LIFE ON THE MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE.

 

BY ;
LATHAM C. CARLETON,
* | x :

ot

(14,2
7 4 ‘
ee ‘

NEW YORK :

IRWIN P. BEADLE & co.,
13% WiGLLLAM STREET.

og

tf
fag"

 
    
  
 

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, e
IRWIN P. BEADLE & CO.,

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States, for
the Southern District of New York.

a 4.
Exe¢thotyezy py Suitu & MoDoveat, 82 & 84 BexxMan St.

  
 

  

THE HUNTERS;

oR,
LIFE ON THE MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE.
2

CHAPTER I.

O’er prairie, green and fair
We're galloping, galloping on;
As free, as free as air
We're galloping, galloping on ;
Where'er we go no bounds arise,
Except the blue and boundless skies,
We're galloping, galloping on.

Five individuals were stretched before a camp-fire in the
midst of the western prairie. Three were in the garbs of
hunters, while the dress of the other two showed that they
had but recently left the regions of civilization and refinc-
ment. :

A huge, brawny, muscular man, who was engaged in
smoking a short black pipe, and gazing demurely into the fire
before him, answered to the name of Victor Vannoven, ' He
was both trapper and guide, but, for the last few years had
served only in the former capacity. _

Directly opposite, and smoking also a stump of a pipe, sat.
Jim Wandaught, also a trapper of about thirty years in age.
He was rather below the medium statue with a fine compact
frame. It was his custom to wear a cap that came down to’
his eyebrows, and fitted so closely. that, at a short distance, it
might easily be supposed that he had no covering at all upon
his head, His eyes were of a light gray, and their power

 

  
   

6 LIFE ON THE

was so wonderful and their glance so penetrating that many
of his acquaintance called him “Eagle Eyes.” His hair was
of dark grizzled color and so short that it was rarely seen
except when the cap was removed. No beard graced his
face except a long yellow tuft upon his chin, His nose was
slightly Roman and rather small; he possessed a fine set-of
teeth which were always visible, as he ever wore a sort of half
smile; for he had the peculiarity sometimes seen in persons
of rarely. using but one side of his mouth when he wished to
indulge in a silent laugh. He was good-natured, always com-
municative, and rarely taking offense at a slight or intended
insult. He had experienced an incredible number of hair-
breadth escapes and wild adventures, and his fund of anec-
dote was~exhaustless. He was frank, open-hearted, and a
man that could never be a hypocrite. He possessed a rifle of
exactly his own length, from which he was never known to be
separated, and whose qualities he could never laud too highly.
There were many points of resemblance between him and
Vanrioven. He did not possess the great strength and ma-
jestic form of the latter, but he was more fleet of foot, and
his nature lay more upon the surface; it could be seen at
once.

Just a foot or so to one side of Wandaught was lounging a
personage, whose appearance so contrasted with those sur-
rounding him, that his presence might well occasion wonder.
He was over six feet in height, very lank and cadaverous, and
with a form excessively crooked. His head and neck pro-
jected forward, and when he stood, as was his custom, with
his arms folded behind him, his knees bent backward, so that
his legs had the appearance of half strung bows, his whole
body resembled the letter 8. Tis features were rather
pleasant than otherwise, having-a mild, blue eye, and an
ingenuous, half.comical’ expression. His nose was very long,
and his prominent cheek-bones prevented every one except
himself from supposing he had a right to lay claim to any
good looks. His hair was long and yellow, his limbs long
and bony, and his whole appearance that of a wiry, nervous

and ungainly person; yet there were few men of the West.

   
   

    

   

MOUNPAIN AND PRAIRIE. 4

who could get over so much ground in so little time as could
he. Give Jared Potter rough, uneven surface, and there was
not an Indian but what he could easily overtake—provided
his wind lasted. ‘

A short distance from the hunter first mentioned, was a
form covered with a blanket which made him entirely invisi-
ble. Could that covering have been pulled aside it would
have revealed the form of Sam Redzel. He had been Wan-
daught’s companion for a year or two, and was as different in
every respect as could possibly be imagined. He was some-
what taller; he had fiery red hair, whiskers of the same hue,
that grew in patches on his scarred face ; an eye that glittered
like that of a coiled black snake underneath his shaggy eye-
brows. He was taciturn and sullen, often refusing to an-
swer a direct question. ‘ The sight of one eye had been des-
troyed, and being of a milk-white color, and always half
_ open, it rendered his appearance morg repulsive than it other-
wise would have been. He had a habit of leering with his
one eye, and of always contracting his brows, that gave one
the idea that he possessed a hidden, deceitful nature. What-
ever might be his character, it was plain that it possessed not
half the good qualities of either Vannoyen or Wandaught.

The fifth character, who is to occupy a prominent part in
this history, was George Summerfield of—, Missouri. He
was the son of wealthy parents who died in his childhood,
leaving him with no relation except a sister a few years
younger than himself. He.was naturally of a roving careless
disposition, and had only entered college to gratify a wish
that his father had expressed upon his death bed. Graduat-
ing, he returned home and spent a year in traveling over
the Atlantic States with his sister as a companion, and
returned hom> again with no definite object in view. One
morning, he i | his sister he had concluded to take a tramp
among the Indians, for the sport of the thing. Under this
impulse he hurried to Independence, gave a trapper a hun-
dred dollars to permit him to accompany him, and the next
day he was out on the prairie, half-galled to death on an old
pack-horse! He determined to brave it out like a hero, how-

 
 

 

  

LIFE ON THE

ever, and he did. He was gone somewhat less than a year
during which it may well be imagined he was given a good
taste of wild adventure on the Northern trapping ground.

After this he remained at home for five or six months,
when he determined to make one more journey—a journey
that should be his final one. And for thisthe was wise enough -
to make some preparation. He purchased his own horse and
took Jared Potter along with him, and at Independence he
selected his own trapper—Jim Wandaught—a. selection that
he never regretted. As might be’supposed, his sister disap-
proved of the enterprise entirely ; but he succeeded in gaining
her consent, and witha light heart he bid good bye to his
native State and turned his face toward the great prairies of
the Far West.

Generally at such times as these, the little band of adven-
turers engaged in conversation and chatting for an hour or
two; but, on the present occasion, a spell seemed to rest upon
each,—excepting perhaps Jared Potter, who was never known
to lose his loquacity. But his efforts to elicit a story from the
hunter though long persevered in, utterly failed. In despair,
he resorted to Summerfield; but the lips of the young man
seemed hermetically sealed. Some reverie occupied his mind,
and finally the disappointed man, sank down into. a sort of
sullen silence.

Could it be that a shadowy premonition of what was to
come had settled upon that little band? Did they dream the
solemn fact that they five were never to meet again?

”

 

Soe

CHAPTER II.

‘47 will work him
‘To an exploit now rich in my device,
Under the which he shall not choose but fall.”

Tnrovan the still, solemn hours of night, the sleepless eye
of Vannoven, the hunter, kept watch over hia comrades. The

 

  
Pg

MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE. 9

gentle Voice of the night-wind through the grove near at hand
did not escape his ear, and the faintest neigh or movement of
their picketed animals was noted, But danger kept aloof for
the time and they suffered no disturbance.

As the bright rays of the morning sun, rose above the
horizon, the trappers were astir, and making preparations for
the journey before them.. Vannoven had passed around the
trees in order to see whether there were any signs of savages;
and, finding nothing to arouse his suspicion, he returned and
reported the state of affairs to the rest.

Jared Potter was the last to arise, and when he made his
appearance he seemed half asleep and bewildered.

“Wheré’s my gun?” he demanded, suddenly stopping and
gazing about him. :

“Gone off, I guess,” answered Wandaught.

“ Where’s it gone to?”

No one paid any attention, nowever, to his questions and
remarks, and they were at last stopped by his finding the rifle
near the outer edge of the grove, where one of the hunters
had probably carried it while the owner was yet asleep. Ono
of the number had kindled a fire, and a huge piece of buffalo
‘was soon roasted. In a few minutes this was devoured, and
the hunters, placing their different loads upon their animals,
started forth.

The storm of the preceding night had wrought a wonder-
ful change in the face of nature upon the prairie. Where,
the day before, nothing but a few black blades were seen,
was now visible the velvety prairie grass, and in some places
the wild flowers had loaded the air with perfume, It was an
~immense field of verdure. :

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

 
 

  

LIFE ON THE

the rest that he should part with them in three or four days
at the most.

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

About the middle of the afternoon, Wandaught, who was
riding considerably in advance of the rest, suddenly halted
and raised his hand above his head. The sign was understood
by the rest, and, without speaking, they reined up their ani-
mals and waited for further communication. In a moment he
lowered his hand and started forward, the rest doing the same,
All, however, now proceeded more slowly and with greater
caution than before, :

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

“What's the word?” asked Vannoven.

“Sign,” returned Wandaught, without removing his eyes
from the point at which he had been gazing when they came
up.
“What?”

“ Kioways, and a big party.”

“Which way ?”

“ Fast, and comin’ this way too.”

“Close on us ?”

“Not very. They’ve bin around all arternoon.”

“Seen us ?” ;

“No, I guess not, but we'll have to show ourselves purty
soon. There’s nigh onto fifty on ’em, and they’re goin’ "bout
as fast a3 we are.”

“Do you suppose they are friendly?” asked Summer-
field.

“Friendly!” exclaimed Wandaught, with a meaning stare,
“Yas, if they can’t lick us they’te friendly. Understand ?”

 

  
 

  

MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE,

“Fully. If they number enough we must understand that
they are not friendly.”

“T s'pose we'll have to get into trouble,” exclaimed Jared,
indignantly.

“You needn't be afeard, Crooked Pegs,” sneered Redzel,
“that shootin’ iron would scare all of ’em to death, pervidin’
yer didn’t lose it.”

“T can tell you, if you were among them, dear friend, you
would find there was no danger of my losing it, nor of the
bullet losing the mark either,” retorted Potter, stung to the
quick by the contemptuous neta of Redzel.
~ “Come,” interposed Summerfield, “this is child’s play.
Wait till you grow older before you indulge in such conver-
sation.”

“And, Mr. Greeny, wait till yer axed to put in your blab,”
said Redzel, (and then to Potter), “ How'd yer manage,
gawey, to wabble *bout on them pegs?”

“Very easy, I s'pose as you manage to see.”’ :
“Come, don’t give me none yer talk,” exclaimed the trap-
per, bent on having trouble with the man by some means or

other, vo

“Yd like to know whether you think—”

Further utterance was cut short by a crashing blow directly
in the mouth of the speaker. He staggered back a pace or
two, when, as he tasted the blood, he clubbed his rifle, and
before even his assailant divined his intention, brought a mur-
derous blow upon the head of Redzel that felled him like an
ox. Summerfield sprang forward to interfere, as he saw the
bloody track of the rifle; but in spite of him, his assailant
arose and leaped toward his antagonist. The blood was
streaming down his face, adding a ghastly intensity to his pas-
sion, while Jared Potter stood quivering and perfectly white
with rage.

“Let ’em have it out,” said Wandaught, stepping back and
complacently viewing them.

“Yas, if they’re fools enough to fight and scratch, why I
says let’em doot,” added Vannoven.

“This jg a fine state of affairs,” exclaimed Summerfield,

4

 

  
    
    
   
  
 
   
   
 
 
    
  
 
 
    
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    

 

12 LIFE ON THE

bitterly. “We are even now discovered by our enemies,
and these two fools must employ their time in using their
strength upon each other. If I can prevent it I shall.”

He seemed as excited as the two combatants, and ap-
proached them with a determined air. Stepping forward, he

_ placed his foot upon the breast of Potter, who was under and

almost throttled by his adversary, and concentrated his
strength and gave a powerful jerk. The two separated, and,
yielding to an impulse, he flung Redzel a dozen feet from him.
The latter sprang to his fect, and like a demon leaped toward
him. Vannoven and Wandaught, however, seized and held
him.

“Come, Sam,” said the latter, “ you’ve done ’bout enough.
You're makin’ a fool of yourself.”

“Tet me alone; I'll have the blood of both of ’em I
swear.’’

“Come, come, that’s plenty, now.”

But the infuriated madman heeded no advice, and catching
a rifle, cocked it and raised it to his shoulder. Wandaught
just knocked the barrel upwards as it was discharged, and
the bullet passed so close to Summerficld’s head that he in-
voluntarily started. ‘He said nothing, but caught Potter, who
again started for him.

As soon as Rédzel gained enough of his senses to see. that
he was prevented from doing harm, he gave vent to an oath,
and sprang upon his horse.

“Remember, you'll hear of me agin!” said he to Summer-
field and ‘his companion, as he struck hig horse in a gallop.

“Yas, and I reckon you'll hear of me about that time!”
returned the latter, =.

The four stood and watched him as he continued galloping
away. His body continued rising and falling’ and growing
less, until it was but a trembling atom in the distance, and
finally it faded from view altogether.

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

“ That’s so,” said Wandaught. “ Sam'll remember you as
long as he lives.”
MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE. 13

“Yas, and I'll remember him,” replied Potter, warmly.

“T’m sorry it’s happened,” said Vic, “but Sam has no one
to blame but himself for it.”

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

“T allers had to yumer him, and bear a good “eal !”

“Wal, we're likely to have trouble from other one’s,”
added Vannoven, with a significant emphasis, looking at the
same time in the direction in which the signs of danger had
been seen.

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

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

“ Jared,” said Summerfield, earnestly, “I censure your im-
prudence highly. You should have had more far sightedness,
to say nothing of Christian feelings, than to engage with such
a vindictive man as Redzel.”

“T do blame myself, George; but that feller has given me
a little more’n I can bear. He took a dislike to me at Inde-
pendence; and ever since a trick he served me the other
night, I’ve felt as though I’d like to burn him, and I can tell
you that the feller that collars me must look out.”

“Yes, but you must remember that you provoked Red-
zel—” .

“ And didn’t he provoke me ?”

“That may be; but let the matter go. I am confident that

 
    
    
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
   
  
    
   
  

 

14

we shall both yet feel the revengeful spirit of Redzel_ before
we leave the prairies. I can only regret what occurred, and
caution you to be on the look-out for danger—and ‘now let us
ride forward, for other matters demand our attention.”

The company had reached a stream and commenced mak-
ing preparations for passing the night, The spot possessed
little advantage, although a great many disadvantages, It
was in a depression in the plain, which formed a sort of
breastwork around them; and yet there was not the smallest
tree to afford them a chances to conceal themselves. The
open prairie bounded them on all sides, and in case they were
attacked by the war party if can be seen that their chance
was poor indeed,

Just as they halted, the sun sunk below the horizon and
darkness commenced settling over the earth. Thé four ani-
mals of the trappers were picketed a few yards up the bed
of the stream, so as to give notice of the approach of a foe
from that direstion, while it was determined that Jim and
Vie should -act sentinel through the night. In answer to
Summerfield’s inquiries, Vie fated him that the Kioways
were not far distant, and that in all probability they would be
attacked before the morning dawned.

There was no danger to be apprehended before late in the
night, and Jim kindled a fire without hesitation for the pur-
pose of cooking their supper. This done, they partook of it
leisurely, and extinguished it, and then began to make pre- ©

LOE ON THE

_parations in earnest. Vic passed a short distance down

stream, while Jim went out on the prairie and reclined upon
the ground; and, at Summerfield’s earnest request, he ‘was
allowed to goa short distance in the opposite direction, and

_ thus Jared lay down securely guarded upon all sides,

Most unexpectedly to all; the night passed without any
disturbance, The trained ear of the hunters failed to detect
the slightest evidence of danger, and when they swept the
horizon, at the rising of the sun, not the slightest sign of the
Tndiang was discovered. Whether they had concluded not to
risk an encounter with the whites, or whether they had not
discovered them at all,—could not be determined. It was

 

  
JNA

 

 
 

\
MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE, 15

only certain that they were gone for the present, but like the
revengeful trapper, it was more than probable they would be
heard of at some future time,

This immunity from danger, inspired young Summerfield
with an undue sense of security. The taste that he had had
of hunting, years before, was roused within him, and he an-
nounced to his comrades that he should spend the morning in
a hunt. They offered no objection, Wandaught venturing
only a friendly warning against the Indians already seen,
which he asserted were still lurking in the neighborhood.

Summerfield went off alone, refusing to take Jared with
him, as’ he intended to indulge his erratic fancy and roam
whither he wished, without being clogged by the companion-
ship of any one.

Noting carefully the direction of the sun, ail the course
that his friends inténded pursuing during the day, he rode off
in a direction nearly due north. It was a elear bracing morn-
ing, and the animal he rode was a fiery spirited” one that
seemed to drink in the spirit of his master. He needed only
a free rein to bound away like an antelope.

Away over the prairie ambled the noble horse, bound-
ing forward out of pure enjoyment, his master on the alert
for any sign of game or of danger. Hour after hour passed
in this manner, and he. had left -his friends far out of sight,
when he descried a few miles ahead a small grove of timber.
Yielding to a momentary whim, ‘he resolved to make a circuit
around this grove and then return to his comrades. Turning
the head of his-horse in the proper direction, he approached
it af a rate that in a half hour would have carried him beyond
it. Had he possessed the eye of a hunter, he would not have
failed to discover in the clear air above the grove, a small
faint wreath of smoke,—-umerring evidence of the ——, ;
of human beings.

But he saw not. this, and galloped on, until he had passed a
hundred yards beyond the grove. He was on the very point
of turning, when his blood: fairly eurdled in ‘his: veins, as ‘a
perfect chorus of yells came from the wood, and fully a score
of mounted Kioways, dashed out in pursuit, 2

 

  
 

     
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
    

 

_ way toward the centre of their train. They numbered about

16 UFR ON THE

Tn that fearful moment, Summerfield did not fail to see that
his return was effectually cut off, and that his only hope lay
in a dead race directly over the prairie,—right away from the
strong hearts and arms that would gladly have defended him.

This terrible danger that so imminently threatened his life,
‘was soon at anend. The race had continued barely twenty
minutes, when the heart of the flying fugitive leaped for joy
as he descried the slow moving wagons of an emigrant train
ahead. They were seen by his pursuers sooner than by him~-
self, and they redoubled their exertions to overtake him, while
he urged on his horse to a Jast desperate effort for life, The
mettle and superior bottom of that on which he rode, enabled
him to out-distance his pursuers, and he could soon discern
the dark forms of the animals, and the moving figures in the
emigrant train.

Discharging several harmles shots at the thoroughly fright-
ened fugitive, the Kioways drew rein, and took themselves
off in an -opposite direction, while with less speed, young
Summerfield approached the strangers before him,

=

 

CHAPTER III.

“We will give the names of our fearless race
To each bright river whose course we trace ;
We will leave our memory with mounts and floods,
And the path of our daring in boundless woods ;
And our work on many a lake’s green shore,
Where the Indian’s graves lay alone before.”

As young Summerfield drew nigh his unconscious deliv-
erers, they proved, as he had suspected—an emigrant train on
their way to Oregon. As may be supposed, they evinced not
a little surprise at his sudden appearance among them. They
overwhelmed him with questions and congratulations, to all
of which he pleasantly replied, as his horse slowly made his
 

 
 

MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE. 17

a hundred, all told, and were well provided for the sufferings
and dangers before them.

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

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

“How far have you been coming ai this rate 9”

“T can hardly tell. I suppose over a dozen miles. You
can see that it was a terrible run from the appearance of my
animal here. Had you been a mile oe two further, I am
afraid I should never have reached you.”

“T'll be darned if you would?” exclaimed a long, set
fellow, all mouth and eyes, stalking and elbowing his way for-
ward. “You come like a greased streak of sheet lightning.
Jiminy! don’t I wish them heathen had only come a little
further. Wouldn’t I walked into some of their meathouses ?
Wal, I rather guess I would. Say, you, you warn’t smart,
You: oughter kindy circled round us, and brought ’em down
within reach of our shootin’ instruments.

“Come, Steph, don’t talk that way now. Why didn’t you
go out with us to meet this friend, when we discovered that
the Indians were pursuing him!”

“You git out! Didn’t I tell you my gun had just got out
of order. Seems you haint got much sense.”

“Yes, you told us so; but we all know well enough who
was out of order.” ‘

“Now, look here, Tom, that ain’t fair; its really ongener-
ous. You know, without my tellin’ you so often, and bein’
obliged to repeat it on so many occasions, that we haven't a
single feller among us so anxious to have a regular scrimmage
with the heathen imps as Iam. I won’t except none of the
women neither when I make that assertion !”

“T am glad to hear that,” remarked Summerfield, “ for our
good friend will have a chance to show his courage and
prowess before long.”

“Just what I’s thinkin’,” added another.
~ “Why, how's ddinteadthey ain’t comin’, be. they ?” asked
the fellow, gazing hurriedly out upon the prairie.

 

  
 

 

 

closer; “I was thinkin’ whether these other fellers would

     
  
 
    
  
 
    
  
   
   
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
  

18 LIK ON THE

Summerfield saw that a number of faces were turned anx-
iously and inquiringly toward them. He explained.

“You see there are very few companies that are ever al-
lowed to pass over these plains without suffering an attack
from the Indians. You have been discovered by a large body,
and although you have fortunately escaped thus far, in all
probability you will be set upon by a great force before morn-
ing. Yet I think that they are not aware of your strength,
and I have no doubt that, if we are guarded and cautious, we
can repel any attack they may be disposed to make.”

“OQ, Jerusalem!” exclaimed Steph, rolling his eyes.
“Won't there be an awful time?” and, without heeding the
remarks of his associates, turned and walked away.

This alarming piece of intelligen¢e was soon communicated
through the company, but they all proved themselves men
and women. There wasa knitting of brows and compression
of lips that showed the terrible determination upon the part
of the men; and though there was more than one blanched
cheek and quivering heart among the women, yet nothing of
fear was said, and when Summerfield cheeringly remarked
that whatever aflray there might be, it would be a short
and decided repulse of the Indians, there seemed something
like cheerfulness again to pervade the company.

Our hero felt nearly famished, and yielded to their urgent
solicitations to eat. The company having concluded to halt
for the night, he dismounted, and seating himself upon the
ground, wiited for his food. While it. was preparing, the
faindus Steph came and squatted beside nn and anxiously
asked, in a whisper :

at Says stranger, you sure them Ingins-are goin’ to come ?”

Summerfield felt disgusted at this manifestation of cowardice.
At first he determined not to.answer, but at last, not attempt-
ing to conceal his contempt, he replied:

“Of course they’re coming. Didn't you say a short time
ago that you wished you oould have an opportunity to show
your courage ?” ; i

“Yas, I know. Don’t speak so loud,” he replied, hitching-

  
  

MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE. 19

show fight or not. You see,” he commenced, lowering his
voice, and looking yery confidential, “ most of these fellers
never was in a fight, and I feel anxious about their course.”

“ Were you ever in a fight ?” asked Summerfield, glancing
sneeringly at him,

“OQ, Lord, yes!” replied Steph, his eyes dilating. . “We
chased a lot of ’em, and I killed several, and was the means .
of saving the others,”

“Well, then, friend, don’t be talking to me, but wait
patiently until the time comes, and then show your courage.”

“Well, darn it! can’t you answer a civil question?” de-
manded Steph, attempting to appear furious at the remark.

“Heigh there! what’s up?” asked one of the others, over-
hearing the words,

“Oh! nothin’, only this feller is mighty sassy,” returned —
Steph, rising and walking away.

“You musn’t mind him,’ observed the man, pleasantly.
“He isn’t overstocked with common sense, though I suppose
his great failing is his cowardice. MHeigh! here comes your
fodder.”

Summerfield turned and saw a light, os being stepping
softly toward him, with a quantity of food held in a rough
sort of platter before her. Her face was bent downward,
thus preventing a full view of her features, but he had a
glance at the tiny, elastic foot and exquisitely formed ankle
that convinced him that they certainly belonged to a person
of no ordinary beauty; and he surveyed the small but sym-
metrical form with a true artist's eye. It was a long time
since he had gazed upon a female of such charms, and he
was probably more susceptible to them in the great wilder-
ness than in his own home. At any rate, he watched with
an eagerness that surprised himself for her to look upon him.
As she reached the spot where he was sitting, she stooped
and gracefully placed the food before him. .At that instant
their eyes met, and they loved each other.

We say this advisedly and it is true, for they both admitted
it long afterward. It is a rare thing that genuine love is
awakened at first sight; and perhaps it may be said with

 

 
 

   
 
  
 
   
  
 
 
 
   
   
  
  
 
  
 
   
   
  
   
  
 
 
 
  

 

 

   

20 LIFE ON THOR

truth that it is not really that passion, but the precursor of it,
Tt may have been thus with Summerfield. He felt something
more than a thrill of admiration as the clear liquid light of her
eyes was bent upon him. She was small, but possessed a
form whose symmetry was faultless. Summerfield saw a
rich, glowing, but modest expression, a pair of deep, mellow

eyes of liquid blackness, a small Greek nose, and a rosy neck

and face, surrounded by a mass of lusturiant hair of jetty .
blackness, and ‘the spell was complete. Of course she was
uot so completely lost, and found voice to say :

“Tf you wish anything, sir, just speak to this gentleman.”

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

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

“T observed that, if you wished anything, you had only to
speak to the gentleman at hand,” she answered, with a half
coquettish expression.

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

“O, certainly, sir. I supposed you were deeply meditating
upon something,” she returned, turning and walking away.

“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed the friend referred to, who had
been curiously gazing at this interview, “I do believe now

-that you were struck. But you ain’t the first one, old boy;

and I s'pose it won’t do you no good, for she’s got enough
fellers hangin’ on her lips. But, blame me,” he added, sober-
ing down, “I believe you're good enough lookin’ to outshine
any chap you're a mind to.”

Summerfield, as he saw that he had been observed, blushed
deeply, and at the last remark he felt a throb of pain, He
hoped that the man would go away; but, on the ccna he
walked closer, and added ;

  

  
 

   

MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE, 21

“Don’t blame-you much, for she is a fine gal, no mistake.”
“Yes—don’t you think we're going to have a storm ?”
“Ta! ha! ha! why you're green.”

“T confess,” returned Summerfield, recovering himself,
“that I was struck with her appearance, and was foolish
enough, I suppose, to show it.” (However this latter fact
was far from not pleasing him.)

“Wal, as I said, I don’t blame you much, for ‘tases are a
great many fellers ‘who? ve got themselves in the same fix.
Steph, here had but two feclings—one is love for that gal,
and the other fear of the Injins.”

“May I inquire her name ?”

“T s’pose so.”

“Well; what is it then ?”

“ Miss Vennond.”

“What is her given name ?”

“T s’pose that was given to hers”

“No; I mean her other name.’

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

“Fudge! don’t you understand me ?”

“Yas, me and Ida both understands yer feelins’, and I
must say that I am sorry for you,” returned the imperturbable
fellow with a great grin.

“Then her name is Ida, is it?”

“ Who said so ?”

“You just called some one by that name, and I suppose
you were referring to her.” : ;

“Wal, I was—that is her name.”

“Thank you for telling it so readily,” said Summerfield,
little touched at his impudent coolness.

“Oh! youre welcome. Any more questions?” he asked,
deliberately seating himself by Summerfield’s side, and giving
him a pinch upon his arm. Summerfield thought it best to
preserve his good humor, and so he asked:

“Wer name is Ida, is it ?”

“Yes, sir.”

“as she any relations here, in your company ?”

  
 

 

   

22 LIP ON THE

“T rather euegs she has one tender relation.”

“No, blood relations, I mean.”

“Not now; but if we’re goin’ to have that fight you've /
been talkin’ about, I shouldn’t wonder if she had some blood
relations by mornin’.”

“Where are her parents ?”

“Her mother is dead, and her father emigrated to Oregon
some years ago, and she is on her way to jine him.”

“Oh, that’s it!” said Summerfield, half to himself, nodding
his head forward, and seeming to comprehend a great deal
more.

“T bl’eve that’s it, my old boy.”

“That's it! that’s it!” repeated Summerfield to himself.
“ Where is she from ?” ‘

“T bl’eve Louisville is the place.” 2

“Yes, yes; Isee. I understand.”

“Tt’s a wonder that you do such a startling fact. S’pose
you wouldn’t mind seein’ her agin ?”

“Well, yes; I should be glad to,” replied Summerfield,
with a poor attempt to conceal his anxiety.

“ Wal, come along, and I'll give you an introduc.”

Thus speaking, he arose and walked toward the main body,
followed by our hero, Who it must be confessed was acting
strangely indeed. A few steps brought them where the
females were, some seated and some ‘occupied. As if com-
prehending the truth, all the former except Miss Vennond
arose, and busied themselves with'something. She was about
to follow their example when Summerfield’s companion spoke,

“Hold on a minute, Ida, here’s a feller what wants to git
acquainted, I spose you know he’s fell in love with yer.
Mr. Summerfield, this lovely gal is Miss Vennond. Now, go
to work,” he added, turning and walking rapidly away.

Summerfield bowed low and blushed deeply. There was a
slight flush upon the face of Miss Vennond as she spoke.

“ Pray, take a seat, that is such an.humble one as we can
offer. You are well aware that persons in our situations
enjoy but few of the luxuries of society, and it is hardly
necessary for me to apologize,”

 
te

MOUNTAIN AND PRAVRIE. : 23

“Certainly not; it has been a long time since I have had a
seat except such as mother earth has been kind enough to~
give me.” 4

Summerfield looked up, expecting his companion to make
some further observation; but as their eyes met, ‘each
changed their direction, and they were silent: THe nervously
fumbled his cap, but could think of nothing that would be
appropriate. ‘To his relief, she asked:

“Wave you traveled much in this country ?” -

“Well, considerable,” he replied, changing his position as
though he experienced infinite relief thereby. “I passed
over this country some years ago with a compayy of trappers,
and am now going over the ground again.”

Here came aftother vexatious pause, which was suddenly
interrupted by Steph, who straddled up to them, with the
remark ;

“Gosh, Ida, have you heard how we’re goin’ to have an
awful time to-night. This chap here says we’re bound to
catch it.” 4

“Beg your pardon, dear sir; I did not,” returned Summer-
field, coldly.

““O, wal! "bout the game,” replied Steph, composedly seat-
ing himself near the young lady. She gazed coldly upon this
impudence, and seemed on the pomt of speaking, when there
was heard a voice calling him.

“Darn it! what do they want with me ?” he exclaimed,
rising and hurrying away.

“T have heard,” commenced Ida, “ that an attack from the
Indians is apprehended: and believe that you brought the in-
formation.”

“Yes; I was certainly sorry enough to impart such intel- ’
ligence, and would have gladly avoided it; but as I was well

satisfied that my suspicions were well grounded, I deemed it
an imperative duty, ‘ Forewarnéd, forearmed,’ you know.”

' “Certainly; any course except the one followed would
have been censurable. And I heard, too, that you narrowly
escaped capture. Do tell me all about it.”

Summerfield was now relieved of all restraint, and coni-

     
  
 
   
   
  
   
  
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
 

 

 

  

24 LIFE ON THE

menced and gave a modest recitation of what the reader has
seen in the previous chapter. It certainly thrilled him as he
noticed the interest manifested by his fair listener, in a event
which had occupied such a brief period of time, and perhaps -
he dwelt rather longer than was necessary upon the narration.
When he had concluded, she asked :

“And you do not know what became of your com-
panions?”

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

“T hope so, and further hope that your chances may never
again be so weak as they were when you came up tous.”

“T trust that we shall not have much trouble,” returned
‘Summerfield, hopefully. “I am confidené that your force
is able to repel them, and think it will be done in a short
time.”

At this juncture, one of the females approached, and, apolo-
gizing to Summerfield, whispered a word in his listener’s ear,
and then turned away. Immediately Ida arose, and said:

“You will have’ to excuse me, Mr. Summerfield. My pre-
sence is demanded, and I cannot refuse.” :

“ Certainly. You must pardon me for eisiniens you thus
long. But the minutes have seemed as seeonds, and [I litile
dreamt that it was so late.”

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

Summerfield arose, and added :

“ As the evening is so close at hand, I suppose that wwe
shall not see each other till morning—”

“Tf then,” said she, gazing into his face.

“Oh! I see I am more hopeful than you are. At any
rate, I will only bid you a short good-bye.” ,

She extended her hand, and as he took it he felt that 1t
‘was in a perfect quiver,

“ Good-bye, Ida, and God be with you.” He felt his pressure
returned, and heard her low reply. Ah! that pressure sealed »
the business with both, As for Ida, she wondered at her for-
wardness, and yet did not regret it, and Summerfield con-

 

  
 

  

MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE. 25

fesssed to himself that his heart was lost—lost beyond re-
covery, °

He did not fail to observe that he was watched by several,
and had it not been for that awful expectation, more than
one joke would have been passed upon him. Hach was
silent, and Steph, although he cast several baleful glances to-
ward his rival, busied himself as to the best means to protect
his body from the bullets and knives of his savage foes,

=

 

 

CHAPTER IV.

“Tight thickens; and the crow
Makes wing to the rooky wood ; =
Good things of day begin to droop and drowsé,
While night's black agents to their preys do rouse’
* At once there rose so wild a yell
Within that dark and narrow dell,
As all the fiends from Heaven that fell
Had pealed the banner cry of hell!’’ .

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

Summerfied saw the cowardly Steph stealthily crawl into a

 

  
 

   

 

26 LEE ON THE

wagon, and double himself up like a cowering animal. Fol-
lowing him up he demanded :

“ What are you doing there? Looking for the Indians, I
« suppose.”

“Q—ah! that you? I was looking for my knife, that I
have lost.”

“Tsn’t that it at your waist ?”’

« Yes—oh no—yes, I just found it.”

“Well, come out then, for your bravery is needed to stimu-
late the others.”

The man, with a great show of impatience forthe coming
fight, slid out feet foremost and followed Summerfield, who
determined to keep his eye upon him, and prevent his sneak-
ing off again. Ina short time, however, he eluded him, and
he was compelled to forbear searching for him.

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

Several times ho was upon the point of darting to the
wagon containing the females for the purpose of reassuring
them, and fully believing that be would find the tringing
Steph there; but prudence restrained him, and he remained
at his post. He did not know but that the Indians were
waiting for some such negligence upon the part of the sen-
tinels to commence the contest. They had done such things
more than once before.

Summerfield’s nearest friend was a few yards off, and of
course invisible in the darkness. Several times they ex-
changed a word or two, but it was agreed, after a while, to
- MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE. QU

remain silent, as their situations might be betrayed ‘to the
savages by the slightest inadvertency upon their part.

In about an hour the darkness seemed to lessen, so that
objects could be distinguished at a few feet distant. Sum."
merfield had remained listening mtently during this time, but
hearing no sound of danger, he was about to risk a word
with his friend, when he fancied he heard a noise as if some
one gliding upon the ground, He peered forward, and was
certain that he saw a human form flat upon the earth. He
waited a moment, and then saw it hitch forward, toward the
next wagon. Hardly knowing what to make of this, he step-
ped forward toward it, when it suddenly leaped to its feet and
sprang away. He would’have fired had he been certain that
it was a. savage, but he feared that it was, one of the emi-
grants, who had adopted this ruse to see whether a proper
watch was kept. However, as it was, he concluded to give
the signal of danger, and accordingly, placing his hand to his
mouth, he gave two short, trembling sounds, loud’ enough to
be heard by all, and his ‘surprise was great upon hearing it
returned by several, thus showing that he was not the only
one who had detected danger. He determined to speal to
his neighbor.

“Say, friend, have you heard?

‘The rest of the sentence was drowned in a thousand ter-
rific yells and shrieks, that sent the blood shivering: back to
his heart! Then came the deafening crash of fire-arms, the
whizzing of bullets, and shouts as though a legion of demons
were struggling for life. He saw shadowy forms springing
and leaping around him, and in a second he was in the midst
of the fiercest: fight that he ever witnessed. Some half a
hundred Indians had made a rush, expecting to carry every-
thing before them, but were received at the very muzzle of
the rifle. The savages were determined to break through the
circle and drive off the horses, and slaughter the women and
children, and the whites resolved that not one should accom-
plish this unless it was over their dead bodies. At the first
second the guns were discharged, and drawing ‘their knives,
the two parties fought like tigers. Summerfield felt fired by

-

 
  

LIE ON THE

the contest, and in a wild ecstacy of excitement he leaped
forward, and in an instant was grappling with a powerful,
swarthy savage. Together they rolled to the earth, the
‘savage desperately, endeavoring to wrench the rifle from
Summerfield, who, strangely, enough, had not yet discharged it.
It-sometimes happens that the moment of greatest danger
will calm the nerves of the most excitable person, and it was
thus with Summerfied. Although, as we have shown, he
was beside himself with excitement, yet as soon as he became
aware that he was really engaged in a hand-to-hand struggle
which must shortly terminate either his own life or his
enemy’s he felt a coolness and deliberation that surprised
himself.
Numbers rushed over the prostrate, writhing bodies, but
- noticed them not. Before they were aware. of it, they had
risen to their feet, and still continued twisting and striving
for the rifle. One hand of the savage was closed around the
barrel at about half the distance from the muzzle to the
breech, and the other was upon the stock; while Summer-
field’s right wag upon the lock and his left upon the end of
the barrel. Quick as lightning he thrust his left hand forward,
forcing the muzzle in the face of the savage, and raising the
hammer, the rifle discharged its contents through his head.
At this very instant the Indians made a break and rushed
into the circle, and now indeed commenced the struggle of life
and death! The whites well knew their situation, and as
fiercely and madly rushed they among them, thus in a mo-
ment they were driven tumultuously back with half their
number either dead or in their death agonies upon the
ground. But this was not accomplished until the second
wagon had been reached and its inmates scattered! Thinking
that all hope was gone, many rushed out, and in the confusion
several were slain and captured, and among the latter was
Ida Vennond! Summerfield suspecting she was in danger,
sprang toward. the wagon. Just as he reached it, he heard
his name called in frenzied accents, and turned to rush in the
direction from which it came, when he felt that he was shot,
and, as his brain reeled, he fell to the earth.

 

 
MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE. 29

When he recovered, the noise of the battle had entirely
ceased, and in its place he heard the moans and struggles of
the dying around him, As he arose to his feet, he found
that he had been severely wounded in the side, but in the
state of his feelings he felt but little pain. Several
fires had been kindled, and the wounded were placed
beside them and guarded and watched by their mourning
friends. He passed hurriedly round the circle, and in answer
to his anxious inquiries he was told that Ida, with several

- others, had been carried away by the Indians, It is true
that this was what he had expected, yet he felt nearly overcome
by the intelligence; but he determined to possess enough
manfulness to attend to the duties required of him. He ex-.
amined his own wound, and found fhat it was necessary to
attend to it immediately. The others were all occupied, and,
without seeking assistance, he bandaged it as well as possible
under the circumstances, and then passed among the others
to see what assistance he could render. :

The scene that met his eyes was painfully affecting and
sickened him to the heart. our or five bodies were brought
in gasping in the agonies of death, and, surrounded by their
weeping wives and children they bade adieu to earth.

It would be useless and impossible to describe the fearful
scenes that took place upon that eventf{yl night. Perhaps a
faint idea has been given, which is surely enough. The
reader sometimes sickens at the description of horrid deeds,
and would gladly pass to more pleasant and cangenial de-
scriptions. Therefore, dwelling only long enough upon this
to give a glimpse of the truth, we soon leave it.

At last the morning broke and showed the full horrors of
the night’s events, yet Summerfield was glad ‘to find it not so
bad as he had feared. It was found that but five of the emi-
grants had died, while nearly all of the rest were wounded,
yet none mortally. Two females, besides Ida, had been car-
ried away. Neauly twenty savages lay stark dead around,
showing how dreadful and fearful the contest had been. A
few of the animals had been killed, yet not enough to seri- ,
ously disable the company. A large grave was dug, into

 
 

  

LIFE ON THE

which the five bodies were placed and covered up, when pre-
parations were made to resume their mournful march.

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

Summerfield debated long whether to accompany them or
not, but at last decided to leave them. The distance to Ore-
gon was great, and there was, in fact, nothing to draw him
thither, while he experienced a desire not to leave the neigh-
borhood in which he supposed Ida to be. He believed that
the tribe which had -captured her was at no great distance
and that it was in his power to rescue her.’ Accordingly be
bade his friends adieu, and changed his direction more to the
north-west, hoping to intercept or come upon Vannoven and ~
his companions.

A lover—especially a young one—rarely possesses more
reason and foresight than he should, and it was not at all
strange that Summerfield should indulge in some wild and
improbable speculations, and form wilder and more improba-
ble determinations. As soon as he was free from the caravan,
he reined his horse into a slow walk, folded his arms. eas
commenced meditating. And, after meditating a half ae
he came to the delikgrate determination to find Vic in a bow
hours, and the next day rescue Ida, take her back to the
States or to Oregon, as she might wish, and ask her hand in
marriage! “Of course,” he argued, “this will require con
siderable cunning and courage, but there is no doubt of its
final success. Yes,” he added, after a moment's though
«jhat’s the idea. Come, Ned, hurry up, or ‘it will be +
before we reach Vie’s quarters,” and he struck his animal into
arapid gallop.” =. ® ;

Little indeed did he suppose that it would be years, i i
of hours, before he iceie see Vic Vahnovin = eo
daught, Jared Potter, or Ida Vennond herself. ¥ :

His anticipations were dampened. somewhat when he saw

ihe night closing around himsand he still upom the open prai-®
rie, without a grove or human being in sight; andyall at once»

 

 
   

    

MOUNTAIN AND. PRAIRIE.

he reflected that. neither Vie nor Wandaught had given him
very explicit directions where to find their headquarters. And
being convinced of this fact, it did not take him long to see
that “he should be obliged to spend the coming night without
the society of any one.

Casting a glance around the eee horizon, and seeing
nothing but the monotonous roll of the plain, he halted, dis.
mounted, and prepared for his comfortless rest. First he
turned his horse loose, and then spread his blanket upon the
earth, Then he looked at it a moment, and lying down upon
one edge and coiling himself up, he took hold of it with his
hand, and rolling over several times, he was so completely
wrapped up that nothing but his head was visible. His
wound so pained him that he was compelled to lie in a cer-
tain position in order to secure a comfortable sleep.

For a long time he lay, giving full scope to his airy imagi-
nation, and forming new and even wilder determinations,
until, feeling the drowsiness of slumber coming over him, he

invoked the watchfulness of heaven, and was soon oblivious
to all external things.

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

He lay quietly, endeavoring to fall asleep, when his feast
‘leaped as he heard, not far off, the sound of footsteps! At
first he thought it maight be oe horse ; but he was too well
acquainted with his step to be deceived. He was confident
that humai beings were near him! It was they who had
awaked him! f

For a moment he held his breath, listening intently. Then,

 
   

    

UWFE ON THE

as he began to entertain a faint hope that he was not discov-
ered, he felt some one pull rudely at his blanket, and, as it
came off, he looked up =e saw a number of dusky ‘forms
around him.

“Bh, how do, brudder?” said one, closing his bony fingers
upon his arm like rods of iron, and actually lifting him to his
feet. Summerfield said nothing, but suffered himself to be led

quietly away.

 

CHAPTER V.

“ Chilled by misfortune’s wintry blast,
My dawn of life is overcast ;
Love, hope, and joy, alike adieu!”

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

His captors jerked him rudely forward, giving vent at inter-
vals to fierce and malignant curses and threats in broken
English; and theiff@xpressions of hate and intended ven-

_geance were so constant that he realized too well the fate in-
tended for him. One of them had secured his horse, although
all were mounted. He was placed upon one of the Indian
beasts, and with a wary enemy upon either side, they broke
into a canter and struck toward the southwest.

The savages who had thus come upon and captured Summer-
field belonged to the Pawnee tribe, and were a portion of a
war party. They numbered but five, who had voluntarily
separated themselves from the main body during the day, and
were returning homeward, when they discovered a solitary
horseman proceeding leisurely over the prairie. At first they
were disposed to shoot him down, but as he did not appear
to know that he was observed, they concluded to capture him
MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE. 33

by stratagem, if possible. Accordingly they kept him in sight
until night, when they set rapidly forward. It happened,
singularly enough that it was at this moment that he awoke
from the peculiar reverie into which he had fallen, and struck
his horse into a full gallop. His ‘captors were consequently
obliged to traverse a greater distance than they had counted
upon, and in the end completely lost sight of him, They,
however, corftinued the pursuit and search, and, late in the
night, guided by some strange fatality, came directly upon
him, sleeping upon the earth, One or two proposed to toma-
hawk and scalp him as he lay asleep; but, after a short con-
sultation, it was determined to capture and reserve him for.
the torture or endless captivity as their whims might decide.
This was successfully accomplished, and they set out to reach
their tribe,

They had journeyed but a mile or two when the day com-
menced. breaking over the prairie, and shortly after it was
illumined by the broad blaze of morning: Summerfield bad
now a chance to obtain a full glimpse of his captors, and he
found them hideous-looking objects to look upon. They were
dressed fantastically in the glittering colors of the war-dress,

- and their faces were so horribly disfigured and daubed with a
mixtugp of stains and paint that their features could scarcely
be distinguished. He found it difficult to tell one from the
other. All had the same sharp, hooled"flose ; the long, black,
wiry hair; the protruding, ungainly cheek-bones, and the
broad, grinning mouths. They carried long, glistening rifles;
and in their belts the handles of several frightful scalping-
knives could be seen. Each possessed a flowing mantle, with
dazzling colors of crimson and yellow, which floated gaily
from their shoulders -as their horses cantered lightly forward.
Their animals were as gaily caparisoned as their ridérs, and
their spirits seemed as ambitious and restless, yet they were
guided by a small, slender rein, and appeared to anticipate

- the slightest wish or desire of their masters, They had no

saddles, but were covered only by a thin scarlet’ mantle,

which the savages bestrode with as much ease and grace ag

though they were a part of the animals they rode. Take
3

 
 

   

  

34 : LIFE ON THE

them all in all, they formed a fierce-looking company, fantas-
tically arrayed, and well calculated to create fear simply by
their appearance.

The captors journeyed forward after a time without ex-
changing words, save now and then to utter some warning
threat to Summerfield, when they thought that there was
danger of his not fully realizing what was in store for him;
yet their glances seemed to grow more baleful and demoniac
at every step, and the captive concluded that, if there were
ever devils incarnate they were now beside him. They con-
tinued in nearly a due northwest direction, sometimes, how-
ever, proceeding more to the north, until noon, when they
halted for a few minutes. This was only to give their horses
time to breathe, for they partool: of no food, and were shortly
en route again. In the afternoon they forded several streams
of pondidérabils size, and reached a country of a much wilder
and more romantic appearance than what they had passed
through heretofore. ‘Summerfield had never been so far north,
and even in his present situation he could not help admiring
the enchanting scenery around him. He believed that he
was far beyond the trapping grounds of the whites, and where
no human being’ except the savage had trod, and where but -
few of them even wandered, At first he had hoped that
they would remain in the neighborhood, wheré he believed
Vic and Potter to be, but he was now well satisfied that there
was no hope for euch good fortune; that what efforts might
be made for his escape must be made solely by himself, and
what success crowned’them must rest upon his own endea-
vors. Although his situation was indeed a fearful one, yet he
by no means despaired. There was yet hope, and he was
sanguine enough to cherish much of it, He knew well
enough that he was intended finally for the torture, and yet
there was a strong probability of his life being spared for some
time. The Indians would be in no hurry to burn him, and in
the interim he hoped something would turn up.

His wound troubled him considerably, yet he saw that it
would soon be better. His captors had noticed it in the
morning, yet they paid no attention to it, and he judged it

 
 

 

 

 

MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE. 85

best to conceal the pain it gave him. \ Late in the afternoon,
however, the motion of the horse caused his bandage to be-
come loose and fall to the ground. He checked him immedi-
ately in order to recover it, but, with an angry grunt, one of
the savages madly struck his animal, causing him to bound
forward. The hot blood mounted to Summerfield’s face, and
he came nigh striking him to the earth, but he restrained
himself ‘and quietly rode on. But the loss of the bandage
made itself felt. The wound became irritated and painful,
until, in an hour or so, it brought on a fever. Summerfield
felt the injustice of his treatment, and once besought them to
bind it up; but the glaring devilish look that he received
effectually closed his entreaties, and he resigned himself sul-
lenly to his fate. He could feel the blood burn and leap
through his frame, and believed that in a short time he would
be delirious.

Just as the sun was setting, they reached the Indian vil-
lage. It was composed of some thirty or forty rough wig-
wams or lodges, arranged so a8 to form a rough irregular
street. As soon as the savages came in sight of it they uttered
three loud yells, which, in a moment, were returned by a hun-
dred lusty throats within the village. As they rode forward
and entered it, they were surrounded by a multitude of wo-.
men and children, jabbering and screaming like wild beasts.
As soon as they saw Summerfield, they dragged him merci-
lessly from his horse, and although they could not help notic-
ing his condifion, yet he was subjected to all manner of bru-_
talities. The women jerked and pushed him, the children
belabored him with sticks, and pulled his hair from his head
by the roots. He was nearly stripped, and underwent all
indignities possible. At first he was disposed to resent these
indignities, but he saw that it was utterly useless and made
no effort. His captors had left him with the women and
- children and gone on to the extremity of the village and
joined the ‘rest of the warriors, Summerfield hoped that they
would, after a while, take pity upon his condition and let him
alone. But he wes mistaken. ‘The evidences which he gave
of his power of enduring suffering only increased their fiend- -

 
 

36 LIFE ON THE

ish delight, and they continued to torment him with still
greater indignities. He sank to the earth, but was imme~
diately overrun with children, who screamed with pleasure.
He saw that he would be killed shortly should he remain
thus, and sprang to his feet, hurling his tormentors madly
from him. He felt the fever increasing in his veins, and
already his yision was becoming strange and dizzy. It
appeared as though he were dreaming; the ground seemed
rising and turning, and he reeled like a drunken man. Sev-
eral times a true sense of his situation and condition flashed
across him, and then all was lost in one wild, wonderful illu-
sion. He was raving mad!

The young savages paused a moment as they saw the
strange unearthly light that gleamed in his eye, but in an

instant they sprang upon him again. As quick as lightning he ~

leaped forward, bearing a half-grown boy to earth, clutched
him by the feet, and swinging himself. clean around, dashed
his head against the earth, crushing the skull. Then, giving
vent to a half shriek and yell, darted away with the swiftness
of the panther.
The latter movement had been seen by several warriors,
and they instantly sprang after him, Summerficld’s unnatu-
“ral strength lasted but a few moments, and he had gone but
a short distance when he stumbled, fell, and was unable to
rise. In a moment his pursuers were upon him, and had
raised him to his feet. <
“Ugh !” muttered one brave, “ burn—burn—burn ue
Summerfield turned and stared idiotically at them. Per-
haps at that moment they understood his condition, and their
stony hearts were touched with pity. They gazed at him a
moment, and listened to his wild incoherent raving, and
seemed to understand that his senses‘were gone. They con-
sulted a second or two before returning. One proposed to
kill him on the spot; but the others determined to take him
back, doctor him until he had fully recovered, and then carry
out their favorite idea of putting him to the torture. Ac-
cordingly, laying firm hold upon him, they led him slowly
toward the village. A sudden spasm seemed to come over

   

 

 

  
 

 

 

  

MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE. 37

Summerfield, and before they were aware of it, he had again
broken away from them. He ran but a short distance, how-
ever, before he halted of his own accord, and suffered himself
to be led gently forward. In a few moments the young
savages came swarniing toward him, and several sprang at
him, determined to fully avenge the death of their compan-
ion. The men, however, kept them back, and restrained
the furious demonstrations made by the infuriated squaws.
These latter, too, when they were made acquainted with the
captive’s condition, seemed to feel a degree of pity, and
checked their cries and threats. Summerfield was led for-
ward to the extremity of the village, to an odd, strange-look-
ing lodge, where dwelt the “ Medicine Woman” of the tribe.
Here he was left in charge of the old woman, and most of the
rest, in obedience to her commands, left for their respective
homes.

The Medicfie Woman watched and attended Summerfield
with the kindness and assiduity of a mother. As she placed
him upon the soft bed of skins his reason returned and he
realized his condition; yet he judged it prudent to conceal
the fact that he had regained his senses, and still affected. deli-
rium. The old woman, mumbling some guttural jargon, laid
him softly down, straightened his limbs, and brushed the dis-
ordered hair from his feverish brow. Summerfield felt the
cold, bony, skinny fingers pass over his face like moving ici-
cles, and he gazed curiously up at her features, He saw the
black, twinkling eyes glittering from beneath the wrinkled
forehead, the hooked nose well nigh touching the protruding
chin, and the broad mouth, perfectly toothless with the excep-
tion of one yellow snag that projected like the tusk of an
animal. The lodge consisted of but a single room—large,
square, and with one opening for ingress and egress. It was
hung around with, many different kinds of skins, and with
many Indian garments. At one side, over a small, smoulder-
ing fire, was suspended a common kettle, with the contents of
which she busied herself as Summerfield was thus taking his
scrutinizing survey of the interior. He gazed with a strango
fascination upon her repugnant features for a long time, but

 

  
  

 

38 LIKE ON THE

his mind finally became drowsy and wandering and at last
he dropped off into the region of dreams.

He slept until midnight, when his fever began to increase,
and he awoke in dreadful agony. The Medicine Woman
detected the movement as he raised himself upon his elbow,
and walked quickly up to him.

“Water! water!” demanded Summerfield feverishly, “ or
T shall die !”

She muttered some words in her own Inge: then gently
forced him back upon his bed. She indersteed his wish, and
in answer poured from the kettle a steaming fluid, which she
placed to his lips in a small vessel. He swallowed the con-
tents eagerly. It was bitter, and so hot that it fairly made
him writhe with pain. It however, was an anodyne, and in
a moment so quieted his nerves that he sunk into a peaceful,
dreamless slumber.

Summerfield’s sleep lasted till late in the forenoon of the
next day, and when he awoke the full blaze of sunshine lit up
the apartment. The Medicine Woman was gone, but there
were several dirty children gazing in the door at him, and as
soon as they saw him open his eyes and make a movement
they scampered away, as though half frightened to death. In
a few moments the old woman returned, carrying a bundle
of dried sticks, with which she straddled rapidly in and de-
posited them near the ashes of the fire. She then approached
her patient, and after feeling his pulse and rubbing her hand
over his face, seemed well pleased with his progress. He
gazed at her repulsive face, and felt a sort of lové for the
being who was thus befriending him. What motive could
she have for thus doctoring and-minsing him? What benefit
would it be to her should he recover? Ah! he thought,
suddenly, what her object was! He knew too well the inten-
tion of his enemies! With this thought came a sudden revul-
sion of sentiment, and he felt like inwardly cursing her. The
old demon was anxious for him to recover in order that his
tormentors might put him to the stake. And she was thus.
. pleased at the prospect of so speedy a sacrifice. Summerfield
would have preferred not to recover, but die by his sickness.

 

  
MOUNTAIN AND PRADRIE. 39

Tt would be far, far preferable to the fate in store for him,
These were his thoughts as he lay, tossing restlessly to and
fro, and gazing upon this Medicine Woman. But he was mis-
taken. He did not know the savage heart. She had a far
different object in thus carefully endeavoring to heal his
wounded frame. :

The recovery of Summerfield was now rapid. His wound
healed readily, and the potent herbs of the Medicine Woman
drove the consuming fever from his system. In a few days
he was able to sit and partake of nourishment, and in some-
what or a month he had entirely regained his health. As
soon as he was able, he busied himself in doing small favors
for his mistress—such as carrying water, building her fire, and
the other numerous jobs that he saw was needed. He often
anticipated her desire, and sometimes took the vessel pleasantly
from her hand and hastened away to accomplish her wish,
This, of course, had its effect. She could not help being
pleased (although she seemed to take pargicular pains to con-
ceal it) at this exhibition of good-will and obedience.

This woman, as has been stated, was the Medicine Woman
of the tribe, which position she had held for some half dozen
years. Previous to this, her husband had been the Medicine
Man for a great number of years, The couple were never
blessed with children, but were cheerfully supported and sup-
- plied with food by the warriors of the tribe. When any were
wounded in battle they were brought to this lodge, and re-
mained until they either recovered or died, and those stricken
down by sickness received the same treatment that Summer-
field did. From long association with her husband, she came,
in time, to possess as good a knowledge of medicine as ho
did, and upon his demise the tribe unanimously declared that
she should fil! | is place, This was not unexpected upon her
part, for she | ...w that none were as capable as herself. She
was self-willed, and exercised considerable influence over the
rest. None durst ever thwart her wishes, She beat the
children when: she chose, and railed at the warriors and squaws
whenever the whim took possession of her, and really was
their queen, i

 

 
   
   
 
  
 
   
    
  
   
   
  
   
  
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

LIFE ON THE

 

40

One day, some two months after Summerfield’s capture, a
couple of warriors came to the lodge, and demanded him for
the torture. The only answer she gave was a tremendous
thwack over their heads with a heavy stick, and the assurance
that he belonged to her, and she should keep him. This was
so unexpected that they ventured to demur, which so enraged
her that she turned them out, and bade them never enter her
lodge again. The savages, crestfallen, slunk away and im-
parted the discouraging fact to the others that they were
cheated of their intended prey. There was considerable mur-
muring and remonstrance, but it was useless. ThdMwish of
the Medicine Woman was law, and none durst cross her path.

Summerfield had been a witness of this interview, and had
learned enough of the Indian tongue to understand it. How
it thrilled him to the very heart when he saw that the terrible
torture had been averted! ow he loved that old, decrepit
woman! He felt like kneeling at her feet and kissing her
garments, But he checked his feelings, and endeavored to
exhibit no traces of the wild pleasure which he experienced.
From the first, it was her intention to preserve his life and
save him from torture, She was getting old, and felt the
heavy hand of time upon her, She wished some one to fill
the place of a son, and determined to adopt the pale-face. She
meant that he shoyld be a son and a slave; she would have
all claim upon him, and her rights should not be interfered
with by the others.. Perhaps, after all, she did not deserve
much credit for thus preserving the life of Summerfield. She
consulted only her own interest, and had she not really
wanted him, in all probability she would have offered no
objections to the others burning him at the stake. Summer-
field, however, thought not of this, but gave her credit for a
wonderfal amount of pity and sympathy,

Now that his life was past danger, he began to reflect s¢ seri-
ously upon some means of escape. He was so far to the
northward that he could only hope to reach some trapper that
might be located at the least distance to the south of him;
but how to reach him was the question. Many a night he lay
awake and pondered upon this, and as often the case seemed

  

  
«

 

  

MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE, 41

hopeless. He felt that but one effort could be made. Should
that fail, another opportunity would never be given him.
Consequently he was determined that, “although he might be
obliged to wait several years, he should not make an attempt
until he felt sure of succecding. Ile knew that nearly every
savage bore an implacable hate toward him, ands he avoided
appearing in the village as much as possible. He had no oc-

‘ casion to pass through it save at rare intervals, yet at each

time he had been beaten and abused, and it seemed that every
one thirsted for his life. ILe deemed it imprudent to acquaint
the Medicine Woman with. this, as it could only create a dis-
turbance which could result in no good to him.

One day, late in the autumn, a war party, which had been
absent nearly a week, returned with a prisoner, and Summer-
field learned’ that he was to be burned at the stake that after-
noon. This fact was communicated to him by his protector,
who further informed him that she should be present, and
gave him also permission to attend. Ile had no desire, how-
ever, to witness the torture of a human being, and he felt
that it would be safer to keep away from the savages at such
a time. Accordingly he feigned sickness, and remained
within the lodge during the afternoon. He could hear the
wild, frenzied shouts and shricks of the tormentors, and
thanked God fervently that he had been saved from such a fate.
Toward night the tumult ceased and his benefactor returned,

Summerfield awoke at an carly hour, and, yielding to an
impulse, arose and walked out to the opposite extremity of
the village, to the place where the wretch had been burned.
Here he saw a sight that made him shudder. The savage had
been bound to a small tree, and a huge pile of fagots placed
around him. These had been fired and had burned nearly
every particle of flesh from his body, Below the knees, the
bones were white and glistening, without a particle of flesh,
while in different parts of the body were clinging a few
crisped cinders! The ashes still contained live coals, and the
smell of burning flesh filled the air. As he stood gazing at it,
several hones dropped to the earth, ‘and, sick at heart, he
turned and sought his lodge,

 

  
 
  

LiKE ON THE

A short distance from the village, flowed a stream of con~
siderable size, which was a tributary of the Yellowstone.

- Summerfield had determined that this should be the means

of effecting his escape. Some night he would set himself
afloat upon it, and hide until his enemies had given over all
hopes of capturing him, and then reach the trapping grounds
of the whites, discover Vic, and return with him to the States.
The following spring he fixed upon as the period to make the
attempt. :

But he was compelled to see the spring and summer
months pass away without the slightest chance being given;
and, to make matters worse, in the autumn the tribe gathered
their effects together and moved further to the westward.’
This migratory life is led by most of the savages of the Far
West, who change their abode at the shortest notice. They

‘will sometimes wander for a hundred miles before deciding

upon a place to form the village; and perhaps after remaining
a few months, again take up their goodsand wander off again.
Like the Arabs of the desert, they journey from place to place,
and call no*spot their permanent home.

Another winter dragged: wearily by, and Summerfield’s
chances seemed no better than before. Sometimes the
thought would come over him that he should never escape,
but live and die among these savages ;, and then he would re-
solve to make the trial at all hazards. He would havea
chance, and the worst result could be but death, which would
be no worse than his present mode of existence. But pru-
dence whispered in his ear to wait, and the time would soon
come. : ;

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

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 

 
 

MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE. 49

And then, again, Summerfield ceased his anxious hopes,
end reflected on his gentle sister, far away in the States. Ere
this she must have known that he was either dead or a pris-
oner among the savages. His fate seemed cruel indeed.

In the spring, hope again revived, and he expected deliver-
ance from another quarter. The tribe gathered their effects
together and made a long journey to the southeast, In fact,
this was carried so far, that they located themselves directly
in the trapping ground of the whites. Summerfield believed
that the time for action had now arrived, and determined
that, in two weeks at the most, his fate should be decided,

 

 

CHAPTER VI.

** O, time most accurst!
*Mongst all foes, that a friend should be the worst.”
t

Ag has been shown, the savages, during their night attack
upon the emigrant train, succeeded in breaking through the
line of the wagons, and reaching the one that held the females,
scattering its terrified inmates, At that instant Ida Vennond
leaped to the ground, and was immediately seized in the arms
of a powerful savage and borne rapidly away. She screamed
and struggled desperately, but it was useless, and in a few
moments she was carried beyond the reach of her friends.
She expected momentarily to be tomahawked ; but as no such
demonstrations were made, she began to believe that she was
destined’to be a captive. She was placed upon a large, power-
ful horse, and the company rode rapidly forward until morn-
ing, when they halted. Ida was surprised to see that no -
other captives were with her, as she felt certain that several
had been taken. She learned shortly, however, that the com-
pany had separated, and that she was the only captive among
her own party, who numbered about thirty.
In many respects, her experience was similar to Summer-

 

  
 
   

 

 

LIL ON THE

field’s, Her captors journeyed forward most of the day, and
in the afternoon reached the Indian village, which was some-
what smaller than the one belonging to the Pawnee tribe.
She found that she was among the Crows, a great and exten-
sive tribe, now inhabiting Minnesota.

There was much commotion among the Indians when it
became known that a pale-faced captive was among them.
The squaws gathered around, and there was more than one
baleful glance of jealousy at the fair face of Ida. Her meek
beauty and loveliness excited their admiration, and at that mo-
ment she was not conscious what a wild passion she had
awakened in the heart of more than one savage. She was
taken to the lodge of the chief, and given to understand that,
for the future, she was to consider this her home.

She felt that she was beyond the reach of her friends, and
it was vain to look for succor in that direction. She reflected
that probably Summerfield, if not killed, would endeavor to
rescue her; but she knew, too, that he had little power at his
command, and in reality could accomplish nothing at all.
Hope, then,, was nigh gone, but she despaired not. She
determined to do her utmost to gain the good will of the
chief, and beseech him to return her to her friends, She
believed that she could eventually prevail upon him to do
this,
The chief of this portion of the tribe—for it was but a por-_
tion—was a middle-aged man, much beloved and respected by

his subjects, and one who wielded an all-powerful influence.

The royal lodge was situated near the centre, and was much
superior to the others, ‘It contained several rooms, and was
furnished with all the luxuries that ever graced the savage
life. The choicest apartment was given'to Ida. She thanked
the chief kindly, and accepted it with pleasure. It was com-
paratively large, and built in a firm, substantial manner, and
was the very one which, had she a choice, she would have
chosen, :

Our heroine busied herself in arranging the glittering beads,
and making small trinkets for the two children of the chief.
This pleased them greatly, and in time they evinced a genu-

 
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 

 

 

MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE. 45

ine affection and love for her. They were both boys, one a
dozen, and the other some ten years of age Their father
often sat and grimly smiled as they gathered around her with
their childish pleadings and thanks, while the mother would
sometimes pause and utter some kind word to her. Thus the
winter passed and the spring came on. Ida had fixed upon this
season as the period to supplicate the chief to return her to
the whites, when a strange circumstance occurred. There
was considerable trouble among the neighboring tribes, and
several bloody battles had been fought; and in one case a
party of Crows had attacked and nearly exterminated a small
company of emigrants. In this attack they would have been
most signally repulsed had they not been assisted and led by
a white man! He manifested great skill and fought with
fury and urged on the savages as long as there was a chance
to slaughter. Some half-a-dozen escaped only by flight, after
being pursued a great distance. This white man had signified
’ his intention to remain and live with the Indians, and had
returned with them. When they were told of his great
strength and prowess, they respected him as a superior being,
and his influence in time became nearly equal to the chief's.
The next day after his arrival, he married one of the squaws
and erected himself a lodge. Ida had been told by a child
of his arrival, and her first impulse was to seek him; but
when the chief communicated to her the circumstances, plain
sense told her to avoid such a dangerous and evil-minded
man. She endeavored to avoid meeting him, and for two
weeks succeeded. But matters could not remain always thus.
Intelligence of her presence was communicated to the white
man, and he determined at once to see her.

It was a pleasant day in spring that she was seated in the
chieftain’s lodge, with one of his children playing with her.
Both the man and woman were gone, and she was alone with
the boy, who was full of sport and glee. Suddenly the door
was darkened. She gazed up and saw the veritable white man
before her. Ie was standing in the door, gazing curiously,
with a half grin, at her. She started, and felt her heart

  

‘

  
     
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
    

 

LIFE ON THE

shrink as she observed his coarse, vulgar gaze. She nodded
shghtly, when, without heeding her, he remarked :

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

“ Yes,” returned Ida.

Without an invitation, he stepped heavily in and seated
himself upon a rude stool) near the door. Then threw one
leg over the other, whistled part of asong, then hummed it,
and concluded by ejecting a mouthful of tobaceo-juice in the
face of the boy, and making a jump toward him. Frightened
and screaming with pain, he ran out of the lodge as rapidly
as his feet could carry him.

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

The woman was justly indignant at what she had witnessed,
and felt like rising and leaving, but again something seemed
to tell her to remain and be civil to hien,

“So they’ve got you, hev they ?” he queried.

“Yes; I have been a prisoner some time,”

“Yeah, Like it much ?”

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

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

“Tda Vennond is mine.”

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

“Yes; from Louisiana.”

“Yeah. Wal, I’m from. the States, too, and hev tramped
around considerable ; but I got among a lot of ——rascals, and
cluded as how redehitia war as good as any, and so I’ve ae
up with em. You *quainted with any trappers ?”

“There was a man by the name of Summerfield, who
joined—”

“ What name is that?”

“Summerfield—George Summerfield, I believe, who was

 

-
 

 

    

MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE. 47

with us a day or two, although I did not see him after we
were attacked.” i

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

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

“Yes,” she faltered.

“Wal, that chap done it!”

“What! Summerfield ?”
“He didn’t himself; but he’s the cause of it, and done

what’s as bad, and I’ve sworn that ef that feller’s livin’ he’s
got to pay for it. Yas, sir-e-e!” and he clenched his fist and
fiercely struck his knee. He continued muttering a few mo-
ments, and then an embarrassing pause to his auditor followed.
At last, to change the subject, she asked,

“Did I understand you, Mr. Redzel, to say that you in-
tended to spend your life with this tribe?”

“J don’t know what you wnderstood, but that’s what I
said, and that’s what I intend to do too. As long as whites
live, why Sam Redzel ain’t going to live with ’em.”

“J suppose that you have great cause for provocation ?”

“That's so, gal.” -

“TJ would thank you not to address me thus,” she said,
provoked at his coarse familiarity.

“Whew! how then, my beauty ?”

“ Any way, but that.”

“ Miss Vennond do?”

Yes, sit.”

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

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

“Wal, now, Ida, you ain’t mad, are yer? T's just in fun.”
“J don't care about such fun as that.”

 

  
  

 

LIFE ON THE

“Yeah, I wouldn’t care, either.”

“ And I would prefer to be alone.’

“Wal, d— it, be alone then!” exclaimed Redzel, enraged,
as he arose and left.

At this juncture the chief entered, and Ida related all that
had occurred. He was provoked, and assured her that it
should not occur again. She seized the present opportunity
to press her suit.

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

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

“Oh! Miscanagh eannot spare the white maiden.”

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

“No, no; she is a part of his ee Mascanagh can-
not spare her.”

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

The chief seemed affected, and ‘ici his head. Ida sank |

on her knees before him. -

“QO, Mascanagh, refuse me not this!”

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

Her heart throbbed at this, and she raised her streaming
eyes to his,

“The way is long,” said he, “and who will guide thee ?”

“Can you not?”

“T cannot leave my tribe.”

“Surely there are many who would.”

“My daughter,” said the chief, in a thrilling earnest-whis-
per, “had better remain with Mascanagh. Many warriors
love her, and should she leave with any they would kill her.
The white man loves her, and would make her his squaw.
She has no friend but Maseanagh.”

    

\

   
 
  
 
 
    
  
    
  
 
 
 
   
    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
,

MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE. 49

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

“ Qannot Ida be returned?” she asked mournfully.

“T will see,” returned the chief. “Say no more about it.
Mascanagh will do what he can for the white maiden. Let
her wait.”

“Thank you! thank you!” exclaimed she fervently.

The chief arose and passed out, and shortly entered with
his wife. The boy returned soon with inflamed eyes, and the
mother, enraged, demanded that the white man should be
punished. The chief said nothing, but his anger was great.
Ida consoled the child, and succeeded in pacifying the parents.
She urged them to let the insult pass for this occasion. She
saw that, should a collision occur, it would be a terrible ono
between the chief and Redzel, At last they consented to
overlook the insult, but Mascanagh affirmed that the white

_ man’s blood should pay for the repetition of a similar act.

Meanwhile Ida V.ennond waited and hoped. She saw too
plainly that half a score of savages watched her every move-
ment, and Redzel dogged her steps whenever she left her
lodge. She felt alarmed at the state of affairs, and earnestly
hoped and prayed that she might be delivered from the fate

that seemed impending,

 
   
   
  
  
    
   
   
   
  
 
 
    
    
 
   
  
   
   
 
    

 

UUIFE ON THE

CHAPTER VII.

“Twas night—the skies were cloudless blue,
And all around was hushed and‘ still,
Save paddle of the light canoe,
And wailing of the whip-poor-will.””

Sommerriezp, by long and seemingly cheerful obedience te
the Medicine Woman's veriest whims, succeeded in convin-
cing her that he meditated no hope of escape, and was willing
to reside with her tribe for life. Several times she had hinted
that there might be opportunity offered, but he stated that,
as he had no friends among the whites, he cared nof to av ail
himself of it; and thus, as we have said, she came to believe,
in time, that he was contented with his lot.. Thus he gained
considerable liberty for himself, and was often absent for a
long time from the village without exciting any apprehensions
upon her part.

The other savages, however, were more suspicious. When
they saw Summerfield wandering away, one or two generally
managed to keep their eyes upon him until they saw him safe
back in the lodge. The long-expected and hoped-for time at
last came. Summerfield was compelled to make the attempt
sooner than he anticipated.

One morning he arose, and taking one of the rifles from the
wigwam, told his protector that he believed he should spend

. the day in hunting. She made no objection, but admonished

him to be on hand before evening, as she would then need
his help. He promised obedience, ‘and, throwing the gun over
his shoulder, stepped lightly forth. The hour was so ‘early
that, as he gazed about him, he saw that the village was not
yet astir. Tn fact, he did not see a soul save one solitary
squaw, who did not notice him.

But Summerfteld was seen. There happened, by merest
chance, to be a warrior who observed him leaving the village.
This sdvage was his greatest enemy, and had insulted and
abused him upon more than one occasion, Seizing his. toma~

 
 

nr

MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE, 51

hawk, he stealthily and silently followed the white man, who
dreamed of no pursuer. There was a demoniacal gleaming
‘ of the Indian’s eye that boded no good for the prisoner. He
seemed pleased and intensely gratified at this opportunity to
carry out some cherished plan of his, and it was with a tri-
umphant air that he hastened forward, as he saw he was trav~
eling very rapidly, Had Summerfield seen him, he might
have avoided him; but he believed that no savage was aware
of his departure, and hastened on in fangied security.

When he left the village, he had no thought of attempting
an escape, but intended to gain still more of the old woman’s
confidence by his punctual obedience. But he had wandered
but a mile or so when the thought suddenly flashed upon him
that the proper moment had arrived to make the attempt!
The wild hope thus suddenly awakened completely overcame
him, and, with a heart throbbing painfully, he seated himself
upon the earth and gave way to his emotion. In a few mo-
ments he mastered it, and began calmly reflecting upon the
chances that favored him. THe possessed & good, trusty rifle,
and was well supplied with ammunition. This was his only
weapon, yet it was sufficient to answer all purposes. And
when would another more favorable opportunity be given
him? What was to hinder him now? Could there be a bet-
ter- combination of circumstances in his favor? He would
make the attempt. He would have a day and night before
there would be danger of pursuit, and in that time he could
_ place a long distance between himself and his enemies. Yes,
he would make the trial at all hazards,

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

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

Now that Summerfield had formed the determination, he

 
     
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

 

LOK ON THOR

had also resolved that nothing should stand in the way of the
attempt. Besides, he remembered the indignities that he had
received at the hands of this savage, and he made up his mind
that they were at an end. He would suffer no more.

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

“ Th, you run away |”

6 Who said so, I say ?”

“Me say so! me say so!”

“Then suppose I tel] you, you lie.”

“ What's that ? what’s that?” demanded the Sab g9) not

’ fully comprehending him.

“ Nothing, only you lie.”

“Give me gun! give me gun!” said he, reaching for Sum-
merfield’s rifle,

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

The savage was growing furious. He saw that his de-
mands were refused, and he received in turn insult for insult.

“You run away ” he asked.

“Well, yes, old copperhead, that’s my intention. Any
objections? I find I am losing time palavering with you,
and if you have got anything to say, why out with it.”
Summerfield leaned very graciously on his gun, and grinned
in the savage’s face.

“Give me gun! give me gun!” he again demanded.

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

The savage stepped forward, but as his hand touched it it
was withdrawn, and Summerfield, to console him in his dis-
appointment, placed his thumb on his nose, shut one eye, and
twirled his fingers in a tantalizing manner. This was too
much for the infuriated savage, and, with a terrific whoop of
rage, he jerked out his knife and sprang upon him. But the
white knew that this movement would follow, and was pre-
pared for it, - Seizing his rifle by the barrel, he swung it
quickly around his head, bringing the stock down with a
stunning crash upon the skull of the savage. This done, he
again rested it upon the earth, folded his arm over the muz-
zle, and gazed complacently at his fallen enemy.
cae

MOUNTAIN AND PRAURIE. 53

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

The only answer was several twitches of the limbs.

“Tl give you a minute, and if you don’t come to time,
why you’re whipped, Do you understand ?” ;

Several struggles as before were the only answer.

“Well, old fellow, you’re whipped, and whipped about as
nicely as you ever were in your life, I think,” said Sum-
merfield. * §

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

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

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

He sprang forward, for he realized fully that his time was
incaleulably precious. The Indian must shortly recover, re-
turn, and the pursuit would be commenced, Capture would
be certain death. The Medicine Woman’s interference could
avail nothing, and should she be convined that her prisoner
was endeavoring to leave her, would not resist the demands
of the tribe.

He sprang away like a frightened animal. The ground
seemed to fly from: under him, and he hardly paused for
breath until the sun was high in the heavens. Then he found
himself upon the banks of a swift flowing stream. It was
some -twenty yards wide, and appeared very deep. The
water was exceedingly clear and limpid, and the white peb-
bles could be scen ghstening upon the ‘bottom for a long dis-
tance. He hesitated about entermg it, for it was icy cold,
and it seemed nearly impossible to stem the strong current.
At length, however, he ventured, and resolutely plunged in.
It sent a shiver through him, but he breasted 1t manfully and
succeeded in soon reaching the opposite bank. He judged it

 

 
 

  

LIFE ON THER
e

‘was now past noon, and concluded to rest awhile and dry
his garments. He examined and found that his ammuni-
tion was still dry and ready for use.

Hardly a half hour was spent in rest, when he hastened on
again. He traveled by the sun, keeping a southerly direction,
and carefully guarding against the tendency that persons in
his situation are subjected to; that is, of journeying in a cir-
cle. Several times, he found that he had unconsciously
changeé his direction, and the utmost watchfulness was ne-
cessary to guard against a mistake that might be fatal. Ia
judged that he could not be far from the Black Hills, and that
he must be very near, if not directly upon the trapping
grounds of the whites. This fact nerved him with hope, and
gave him confidence in the chances before him.

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

Ere night came upon him nature began to show itself. To
was not ‘only fatigued but intensely hungry, and felt that he
must have food of: some kind before he slept. Strangely
enough he had not come across any game, and it seemed that
the country contained none. But fortune favored him, for,
all at once, he stumbled upon a large bed of commotes, This
is a species of fruit found in the river bottoms of this section,
It so closely resembles the common radish both in form and
taste, that it is often mistaken for it, and some have gone sa
far as to assert that it is really the same fruit growing wild,
It is somewhat more healthy and nutritious than the latter,
and 1s probably a different vegetable.

Summerfield discerned several large fish sporting lazily in
the water, and, judging one to be near enough to the surface,

 

  
MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE. 55

fired at it, but the bullet only flattened itself and shot upwards
at an oblique angle without harming the fish. A piece of
commote succeeded, however, in bringing one to the surface,
and he, by a dexterous movement, secured it. This he was
compelled to eat raw, which indeed was palatable in that
state. This fully satisfied the cravings of hunger, and as dark-
ness had already commenced he judged it prudent to look
around for a resting-place. Bordering the’ stream were a
number of large cottonwoods, and, selecting one of these, he
ascended it. The branches were large and full, and passing
out upon one he secured himself in such a position that he
deemed no movement of his own could dislodge him. His
rifle rested upon the limb above him, and his position was as
really comfortable as it was possible to make it.

It was not long before the drowsiness of sleep came over
him while resting in this position, Although he heard the
clear, ringing yell of a panther in the distance, he did not let
it disturb him, but closed his eyes and was soon asleep.

He slept long and heavily, when he was awakened by the
sound of human voices! He started and listened with a thrill
of hope, as he reflected that white men might be so néar him.

But in a moment he was undeceived. They were the tones ~

of Indians, and Indians, too, who were members of the tribo
that he had left, and without doubt were pursuers. Yielding
to an almost fatal curiosity, he crept to the bank and peered
cautiously out. Within a dozen yards of him-he saw three
Indians following his trail, Te saw them leave the stream
and go toward the tree, where he heard them a long time in
conversation. Then they returned to the stream and held
another earnest consultation, when they started rapidly on
the back track! They had thus given up all hope of recap-
turing him, and he was safe from further pursuit.

With the knowledge that there was no pursuit came a
sense of conscious security, and he regarded his ultimate
escape as certain at that moment as though he were in his
native State.

He then resumed his position on the tree, and slept as
sweetly as an infant, until the hot sun, shining full in his’ face,

      
   
   
  
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
   
  
   
   
   
 
 
 
   
    
 
  
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
    
   

5G LIK ON THE

admonished him that it was late in the morning. After mak.
ing a slight breakfast upon the commotes, he started up the
stream. He had gone but a short distance when he found
that he had committed a mistake—although a fortunate ona
at the time—in crossing the stream. The ground upon the
opposite side was preferable for walking, and he determined
to cross over. He resolved to make the attempt upon a log
that he had noticed lying upon the bank.

This log was about ten feet in length, with the largest part
slightly water-soaked, while at the opposite end were several
protruding knots, the remains of limbs. About three feet .
from the butt was a large aperture. I am thus particular in
describing it, for it is necessary in order to get a perfect un.
derstanding of what followed.

He bestrode the smallest, most buoyant end, and carefully
placing the rifle before him, pushed out into the water. He
had gone but a short distance when he heard a sharp, quick
rattle, and saw the head of an enormous rattlesnake slowly
issue from the aperture within five feet of him! First the
head, then the narrow neck, and then the swelling body con-
tinued to glide out until full two feet had risen in a perpendi-
cular direction from the log. THe saw that instant action was
necessary, and instead of shoving himself into the stream, a8
any person would have done, he seized his rifle by the-barrel,
and aimed a crashing blow at the snake. Wither his aim was
not well taken or the reptile stooped in order to shun the
blow, and in turn struck fiercely at him. The distance, how- —
ever, was too great, and its hooked fangs entered thé log
within a few inches of his knee. As quick as lightning, he

. brought his rifle down cutting the reptile nearly in two. This

species is killed very easily, and the one in question, after sev-
eral gasps and struggles, died. Summerfield watched it until
he was sure that life was extinct, and then reached forward,
wound the visible part of its body around his gun, and com-
menced pulling it out. Foot after foot, until full ten feet had

- appeared, and then came fourteen rattles! He flung it out

into the stream, and let the horrid, greasy knot of a reptile
float away,
MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE. 5?

During this occurrence, although it occupied comparatively
a short time, he had floated considerably down stream, and he
now commenced paddling vigorously with his hands ‘and feet
to reach the opposite bank. He had just commenced making
progress, when, from the.same aperture in the log, came ano-
ther deathly rattle, and the head of another frightful reptile
appeared. Summerfield concluded to “ crush this one in the
bud,” and accordingly raised his rifle and brought it fiercely
down, crushing its head completely. This violent blow with
the hammer of his rifle upon the log discharged it, and the
bullet passed within an inch or two of his side! Feeling no
pain, he also coiled the head of the snake around his gun and
drew it out and threw it into the stream. It was considera-
bly smaller than the other,-and was probably its mate. He
felt sure that all danger from this source was now at an end,
and, paddling rapidly, soon touched the opposite bank. Here
he exarnined the-log. He wondered how the snakes came to
use their rattles in so crammed a space. He saw, however,
that for several feet the log was a mere shell, and that they
must have had an abundance of room. Feeling satisfied with
the acquaintance he had with this decayed trunk, he did not
linger by it, but, reloading his rifle, started forward.

As he moved thoughtfully along, he could not help reflect-

ing upon the miraculous deliverance that he had just ex-
perienced.

He now felt the need of something more nutritious than
the simple commotes and had again resort to the stream. By —
using the same artifice as before, he managed to secure a
couple of good, plump fish, upon one of which he made a
hearty breakfast. The other he carried with him.

He was considerably surprised to find large quantities of
nitre. This section seemed literally covered with it in some
places. But what alarmed him most was the large numbers
of buffalo berries. This is a small, pleasant fruit, and greatly
relished by the grizzly bear; and where you find the former
growing in abundance, you are pretty sure to meet with his
grizzly majesty. He will enter a spot containing these, and,
rising on his hind legs, draw the bushes toward him with-his

 
  

 

  
  
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
    

   

58 LIFE ON THOR

fore paws, and spend hours thus employed. In fact, this lit-
tle fruit is ofttimes his chief food,

In the afternoon, he became aware that he was really
among the mountains—the Black Hills. He had, in truth,
been among them for the. last twenty-four hours; but the
approach was so gradual that he did not realize it until there
appeared unmistakable signs around him. He was tumbling
over rocks, tearing through seemingly impenetrable brakes
of brier, and surrounded by trees of a more gigantic growth,
The stream, too, instead of flowing silently along, had become
boisterous and turbid, and some places foamed and surged
over jagged ridges of rocks with the impetuosity of a
torrent. ‘

Tt seémed as if fate had designed every imaginable terror
for him this day. As he was proceeding leisurely along, he
came to a broad, extensive rock, around which he passed,
and in so doing met a panther face to face! _ As may be sup-
posed, he stepped back rather suddenly ; but the beast was
as much frightened as himself, and, without giving him time
for a shot, hounded out of sight.

And, as if his cup of horrors was not yet full, he had gone
but’ a hundred yards further when he detected the form of a
murdered Indian upon the ground. He cautiously approached,
and found that it had been dead but a short time. The fact
of its being undisturbed was proof of this, There was. the
bloody track of the bullet through the breast, the scalp had
been torn off, and the body stripped of nearly every shred of
dress. It lay flat on the back, each limb extended, and cor-
ruption was already at its work.

Summerfield was now convinced that he had reached a
portion of the country that thronged with human beings, and
it behooved him to exercise a little more caution than had
generally characterized his movements thus far. ‘There was
no telling at what moment he might stumble upon an Indian
encampment, or come into the presence of a grizzly bear.

As he walked on he came to a sort of rent or pass in the
mountains, through which flowed a stream of considerable
size, and upon the banks of this he detected infallible signs of
MOUNTADN AND PRADRIE. 59

beavers. There were numerous tracks upon the shore, and
he was confident that a dam was not far off. Examining this
bank closely, he came upon a place where the earth was dug
out, and feeling carefully a few inches under the water, his
hand touched the trap! There were whites, then, not far off.
Thank heaven! He could hardly restrain his feelings, and
they found vent in a shout of joy.

He proceeded up stream to find them. As he walked on,
he thought he heard a whistle. He followed the direction,
and could soon distinguish a tune—yes, it was that melody of
the West, the “Arkansas Traveler!” Still cautiously mov-
ing on, he came upon the whistler. A tall, lank man, with
his side toward him, with a hat resembling a beehive, and his
arms folded over the muzzle of his rifle, was contentedly
whistling this melody. Summerfield gazed a moment. in
speechless astonishment, Jared Potter was standing before
him!

 

CHAPTER VIII.

“Tis very strange, that is the brief and the tédious of it; and he is of a
most facinorous spirit that will not acknowledge it to be tho very hand of
Heaven.”

For a time, Summerfield was at a loss how to proceed.
Joy at this fortunate turn of affairs completely upset his ideas
fora moment. At last he strode hastily forward and laid his
hand upon the arm of Jared.

“Tow are you, old friend?” said he, familiarly, his face
aglow with pleasure, The individual addressed turned quickly
toward him and stopped whistling a second, with the remark :

“Wait a minute. I just got to the turn of thjs tune,” and
proceeded deliberately to finish the “turn ” of it. Then
“turned” himself, looked a moment in the face of the person
before him; stopped whistling; dropped his gun; stepped
back a space or two, then jumped forward,

/

 
 

   

 

LIKE ON THE

“By thunder, it’s him! It’s him! It’s him! It’s him |”

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

“ For Heaven's sake, Jared, don’t kill me! You have hold
of my hand.

“Yas, sir; it's him! It’s no!”

Summerfield stood and. gazed into the dancing eyes of his
companion while he was going through these maniacal demon-
strations. At last he had finished.

“Now,” said he, “I’d.like to know where, in the name pie
all that’s sacred, you’ve come from? Why, sir, if I hadn't
just squeezed your hand, Td believe I seen a ghost.”

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

“Why, Jared, what’s the matter? Don’t lose your senses,
that is provided you have any.”

“T'll be darned if it ain't enough to set a feller crazy.
Why, man alive, Vic and me have been one winter trapping
“here, gone back to Independence, come back here agin, and
just as we’re going to tramp agin, you come along. If that
ain’t funny, Why that’s all. We told the fellers home you'd
been scalped the first thing ; and ’cause they wouldn’t believe
it, I swore I seen the Camanches do it, and they said, as I
had swore it, they know’d you was living sure enough. And
you have turned up, and my veracity will be doubted out in
them quarters. That's too bad!”

“What! my coming back ?”

“No, the defamation of my veracity in Independence. It’s
a bad thing, George, to lose your character.”

“ But where’s Vic and Jim?” asked Summerfield, gazing.

“Not far away.”

“Tet us go to them.”

“Very likely they are absent in the woods just now; so
let us make ourselves comfortable for awhile.”

“ Ain’t there savages in this neighborhood ?” asked Sum-
merfield, as they seated themselves. —

“Yas, a few; but they don’t know we're about. _ We
manage to keep our traps close. Vie had a tussle with one
down yonder yesterday. He'd found out we're about here,
 

  

MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE. 61.

and we seen his tracks where he’d been for two or three days
nosin’ around, He'd been after our hair, but lost his own,”

“T believe I came upon him a short time since.”

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

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

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

«T don't think there is much danger of my ever forgetting
him.”

“Wal, sir, he’s up among the Crow Indians. “Wand seen
him, last winter, with a lot. If he knowed we’s here, he’d
bring the whole tribe down.”

“Tsn’t he a prisoner, then?”

“No; he’s jined them—gone with ’em, and I ca’culate as
how that’s one reason why there’s been so many murders
*mong the emigrants this season.”

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

“ He’s had more than that—he has had both hands.”

“ Well, his disposition is evil enough.”

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

Surmmerfield saw the well-remembered form of the hunter
approaching, and shrinking behind his friend, veiled his face
as much as possible. In a moment Potter said, in a loud
tone:
“Come here, Vic; here’s a red-skin I catched at our traps.
I’ve been trying to get his top-knot off, but can’t manage him.
Quick, I want your help!”

“Just jump out the way, and let me put a pieve 0’ lead
through his head. “I'wont take me long to settle the job for
him.”

Potter sprang away, and the movement had nigh been

 

 
 

62 LIFE ON THE

fatal. . Vie was in the very act of raising his rifle to his
shoulder, when Summerfield threw up his hands with a clear,

~ ringing laugh. ~'To have seen the. trapper’s appearance then!
His expression of comical wonder cannot be described. He
stood a second, then dropped his rifle, took the cap from his
head, shaded his eyes, and stooping slightly, peered forward
in mute astonishment. At this point, Potter commenced
jumping and dancing, flung his hat upon the ground, and went
to stamping it, exclaiming at intervals;

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

Vie’s eyes seemed to grow lighter and larger each moment.
He still stood in his prone position, seemingly bereft of all
reason. ‘The state of affairs was becoming embarrassing to
Summerfield, and, stepping forward, he said;

“Vic, don’t you remember me ?”

“T guess so. Is’t you, Somefield?” he gasped.

“Why, certainly. How are you?” |

And the two grasped and shook hands as only friends can.
Jared approached, spread his feet far apart, placed his hands
in the pockets which he had rigged in his dress, threw his hat
on the back part of his head, and looked on.

“You appeared not to know me,” saidé Summerfield, pleas-
antly.

“OF course I knowed yer, but, bears and bufflers, who
thort yow’s him? Is sartin it’s a spirit I’s lookin’ at. Wagh!

wagh! wagh!”

And the trapper threw his head back and laughed—laughed
till the big drops tumbled down his ee cheeks, and he
reeled with weakness.

“ Somefield, this yer’s the sliaaiih time this beaver ever
seed.” °

“So I see,” returned Summerfield. “But it seems to me
that we have enjoyed this surprise long. Suppose we hunt
up your lodgings and return ?”

The three moved away. In answer to Summerfield’s in-

quiry, the trapper stated that Wandaught had been absent
since morning, but that his return was momentarily expected.

   

  
~

MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE. 63

While conversing, the hunter made his appearance. He
recognized Summerfield at once. As they came togéther, the
young man extended his hand, but it was not taken,

“ What is the meaning of that?” he asked, somewhat hurt
as well as astonished.

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

At this point the questions commenced. Summerfield gave
a short history of his principal experiences since they had
parted.

Nearly half an hour was ‘passed in chatting and laughing.
At last affairs were adjusted, and they came to a sort of
understanding. It was then determined to return to the
“Tole,” or helt lodging place. This was certainly a strange
place.

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

“Now tread soft, and don’t stir the gravel,” said Vic, lead-
ing the way. Wandaught followed next, walking as care-
fully, and then came Jared, who, after touching his fect,
seemed to think it necessary to make a downward bend of
his knee at each step, throwing up cach arm at the same time.
Going a few rods, an abrupt turn was made, when Vic halted
before a large flat stone.. Both he and Wandaught gazed
cautiously around them a moment, when the former stooped
and lifted the stone and disappeared beneath it. Wandaught
and Potter did the same, and Summerfield supposed that it
was intended for him to follow suit; 8Q, without hesitation,
he raised it and sprang down some six or eight feet. Tho
stone closed after him, and he found himself in inky black-
ness,

“ Where are we?” oe asked; groping about.

“ Down here,” was the enlightening reply.
~ “T should tienen it!” he exclaimed, as he pitched
over somebody at his fect. He arose, and was about to speak,

 

 
 

 

   

64 LIFE ON THE
when his: nose came violently in collision with one of his com-
panions. *

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

“How do you expect I am going to get around here? Pil
knock my brains out pretty soon,” said Summerfield, feeling
blindly around with his hands. Judging it best to remain
quiet until he understood his precise situation, he seated him-
self upon the earth, and waited for one of them to produce a
light. In a few minutes, Wandaught succeeded in getting
some smoky substance lighted, which threw its oily rays upon
the faces of the hunters. Summerfield, as his eyes became
accustomed to if, gazed about, and saw a dingy and singular
looking place. It was an apartment some eight or nine feet
wide, and about a dozen feet in length, with an average height
of eight or nine feet. Connected with this was another about
half its size. The whole was so regularly constructed as to
show that, although nature might have assisted, she never
made it.

“Well, if this doesn’t beat all,” said Summerfield, in un-.

feigned astonishment. “Did you dig this out yourself Vie?”

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

“About ten years ago, up at Fort Hall, a feller, called
Stumpy Bill, got into a muss with a red-skin what blowed a
hole through his carcass, and then lefts. There didn’t nobody
appear to care nothin’ about it, and so I nussed him; but I
see he’d have to go under. The red-skin’s lead had gone
clean through him. Bill knowed he’d have to go, and the
night afore, ‘he called me to him and told me about this place.
He said a feller had told him of it, what happened to find it
by chance once. He said the red-skins didn’t know nothing
’bout it, and as there war plenty beaver here, it was a mighty
nice place. I’d bin in this neighborhood once or twice, end
hadn’t much trouble to find it. As he called it the ‘ Hole,’ I
‘cluded to do the same. That ar war why I went alone fur
the last nine or ten year, Two or three times I thought o’
takin’ some feller, but put it off, till these fellers joined me,

   

  

 

  
 

 

MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE 65

when I brought ’em to it, I hain’t changed it any, but left it
the same as I found it,” «

“Ts there not danger of your retreat being discovered?”

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

“You see,’ said Jared, who had seated himself upon a
quantity of furs, “ they don’ t think of looking in the ground
for a house, and” ——

“Just shut up that meat trap,” said Vie.

“ Rather a narrow escape,” suggested Summerfield.

“Not so narrer as I had once, fur a red devil did get in
here once while I’s tendin’ to my traps. I come back, and
wa'nt thinkin’ o’ nothin’, when, just as I lifted the stone, slam
tang went somethin’ through my cap—see, thar’s the hole,
Wal, you'd better believe I dropped that stone as quick as if
"twar a hot tater. Thinks I, who’s down thar? Some feller’s
gone inter the wrong bed, and it’s time he’s gitten’ out. Coz
why, this feller wants to git in. I know’d as how thar wa’nt
but one, for if thar war, I’d got all their lead. So I just slips
up to the stone thar, and goes to groanin’ orful, makin’ b'leve
I's hit. Then I floundered *bout like a sick grizzly, and then
fotched a mighty long grunt, and scratched and kicked the
stones; then gets up soft, without makin’ no noise, cocks
Polly, steps back and lays low, waitin’ for sarcumstances to
dewelop themselves. Putty soon I seed the stone move a
little; then it war still fur an hour or so; then his noddle
jumped out and ducked in "fore I could draw trigger. In a
little while I seed the stone move agin, and his noddle come
out mighty slow, lookin’ just like a tappin’ snorkle. He didn’t
see me, and kept slidin’ out. Just then I blazes away, and
the gravel-stones flew. Irun up, and found him gone under.
The stone war on his back, an’ his legs hangin’ down in the
Hole. I lifted his h’ar, and pitcbed him inter the creck,
That's it hangin’ up thar.” uy

Summerfield arose, and, with curiosity, untwisted some
long black hair from the tooth of a beaver that was driven in

Be

 
66 LIFE ON THE

the flinty earth. It was covered with dust, the hair was stiff
and wiry, and, as he took it down the dried skin attached to
it rattled like coarse paper.

“That's it,” said Vic, with perfect. nonchalance.

“He paid dearly for his temerity,” remarked Summerfield.

“Yas, he ain't the fust one neither.”

As it was now late in the afternoon, Vic remarked that he
would go out and see to the traps. Accordingly he ascended
and disappeared, and Summerfield proceeded to examine mote
closely the curious apartment in which he found himself. Ho
turned to speak to Wandaught, but saw that he was stretched
out and sound asleep, while Seth was in the other apartment
with another light.

The examination showed him but little that he had not ob-
served before. The walls were hard and gravelly, and there
was little danger of their crumbling or falling in. In one cor-
ner was a large pile of beaver skins, while several others were

extended upon the ground, forming rude but warm and com- _

fortable mattresses.
Summerfield passed into the other apartment, where he saw
Jared preparing the evening meal.

“Do you cook here?” he asked, gazing at some ashes in

one corner,

“Certainly, where would ~ p

“ Where does the smoke go.” ,

“There’s a hole up there, under a stone, that let's it all
out.”

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

“We never have a fire except on dark nights, when I cook
the food.” :

Welk ae say this is the most fabulous place I ever
stumbled. upon.”

Tis rather funny. Made me open my eyes at first.”

In a short time Vic returned, when Wandaught was
awakened, and they sat down to their meal, Not one forgot
what had been the custom of Summerfield on such occasions,
and, with respectful solemnity, the three bowed their heads
while he invoked God's blessing upon the humble food before

 

   

 
 

|

 

 

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
    
MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE. 67

them. It was certainly a pleasing sight to see these bronzed
and hardened trappers thus showing their regard for the sacred
truths of which they knew so little.

The meal consisted simply of the tail ‘of the beaver, This
really, when properly cooked, is a delicious article of food,
and much superior to many dishes in vogue in civilized soci-
ety. At times it is the principal food of the trapper.

The meal was enlivened by jokes and remarks, and after its .
close a long time was spent in conversation and story-telling.
Summerfield again gave his own adventures, not omitting any
particulars, except those which referred to Ida Vennond.
Vic related several thrilling episodes of his life, with which
neither Vandaught nor Jared were familiar, and Wandaught,
in turn, recounted some thrilling adventures, which we will
not transcribe here. At a late hour they all lay down, and .

were soon sound asleep,
a

2Oe—

 

CHAPTER IX.

~

** Come, therefore, let us fly while we may."

In all probability all of our readers are fully acquainted
with the “habits and peculiarities of the beaver, Hardly a
child has received his common school education without hav-
ing read descriptions and been delighted over representations
of him. Hundreds of books and periodicals have described
his wonderful ingenuity in constructing dams and erecting
dwelling houses, which have taught man more than one les-
son in architecture; In felling trees, cutting them up, carry-
ing them to the water, in driving the stakes and arranging
hem, in the use of signals (in which they never make a mis-
take), and in the hundred other performances, they exhibit
an amount of intelligence and foresight that approaches nearer

. to reason than instinct.

 
68 LIFE ON THE

Perhaps, however, all are not familiar with the method of
taking this animal, and we give, in a few words, the plan
generally pursued by the trapper,

The first thing necessary is to find a place where there are
signs of a beaver, These are easily noticed and generally
consist of a few slight tracks upon the shore, or mayhap, a
dam in the neighborhood. As soort as the trapper is certain
of their haunts, he embarks in his canoe, and, approaching.
the shore, cuts ‘down a place in the bank ‘with his oar, until
it is perpendicular for a foot or eighteen inches, At the base
of this, and a few inches under water, his trap is placed.
This is a simple contrivance, so constr acted as to spring when
pressed upon, and hold the object firmly and securely. After
making his trap fast, he smears the bank with a very odor-
iferous, oily gubstance, obtained from the beaver itself. Now,
the beaver is an animal with a great améunt of curiosity, and
upon scenting this approaches the substance on shore. As he
reaches the bank, he feels the support beneath his feet, and
steps upon it for thé purpose of ascending. He is instantly
caught but rarely killed, and often gives vent to piteous cries
of distress, which ‘resemble those of an infant, and imme-
diately bring hig companions around him. These show their
sympathy by diving and swimming around the unfortunate,
and sometimes yetarning his cries. But the trapper soon
comes and puts an end to the proceedings. The animal is
skinned, the tail, as has been stated, is reserved for food, and
tue former, after being exposed to the sun for a day or two,
is packed away with others already secured.

The trapping season, of course, is during the winter, when
the furs are in the best order. Our friends, however, had
pieced their stay until spring. They did so because the
season itself had been late and the furs of tho animals were
still in a fine condition. As they had accumulated a sufficient
quantity, it was determined to set out for the States in a fow
days.

Before starting, however, they were doomed to several un-
pleasant adventures The morning after Summerfield’s arri-
val, one of the cold spells so eommon in that region com-

 
 

 

a nT

MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE. 69

menced. There was a constant fall of rain, and it required
their utmost endeavors to prevent it entering the “ Hole.”
The Platte—for they were upon it—was swelled toa rushing,
thundering torrent, which rose above its banks in a few mo-
ments, and carried every trap away. This, in itself, was not
much of a loss, as they had more, and could easily construct
as many as were necded. The storm showed them that tha
spring had now set in, and the trapping season was over. All
agreed that, as soon as the rain abated, they would leave their
quarters and start for the States. .

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

One cold, drizzly afternoon, Jared, with the consent of the
rest, built a fire for the purpose of cooking a meal. It was
the worst time that could have been chosen, as the smoke
ascended -very slowly through the orifice, and could be’ dis-
tinetly seen by‘any one who chanced to be in the neighbor-
hood. In fact, the smoke filled both apartments, so as to
nearly suffocate Summerfield, and he besought them to extin-
guish it; but, as it did not disturb the others, they only
laughed at him. -

In about half an hour, Summerfield became accustomed to
it, and was just beginning to breathe freer, when Jared rushed
in among them with the exclamation:

““Phere’s Ingins above.”

“ TIow do you know?” demanded Vic, in a husky whisper,
springing up and clutching his rifle with an expression that
was terrible.

“Come here a minute.”

The three stealthily followed him. He silently pointed
abové. All could distinctly hear-some one displacing the
pebbles, as though they were endeavoring to force an entrance.

 
   

   

"0 LIFE ON THE

Suddenly this ceased, and they heard the tramp of several
fect, and the next minute the stone moved !

“Be ready,” commanded Vic, “ to give the first—”

Soon the motion of the stone ceased, and then all at once
it was rolled aside, and at the opening appeared a grizzly
bear! As quick as lightning, Summerfield and Wandaught
fired, and with a howl of rage the animal disappeared.

“Tere he comes!” said Vic, raising his rifle and firing.
The animal, instead of retreating, struggled furiously to force
an entratice through the opening, His colossal body would
not admit of this, and nothing but his head and paws would
enter. With these he struggled desperately, tearing the
ground, until it was feared he would be in the midst of them.
As rapidly as they could load, they fired at him, but his
tenacity of life was incredible. Full a dozen shots were fired
into his body before there was any visible effect. His blood
streamed down upon the ground, and still he pawed and tore
the earth. At last Vic, Wandaught and Summerfield placed
the muzzles of their rifles as near to his head as they could
without getting in reach of his paws, and discharged their
contents into his head. This finished the business. With a
muttering howl of pain, he somin withdrew his nats: and
disappeared.

They waited until they were sure he would not return
before they ventured to look out—then Vic, Wandaught and
Summerfield ascended for the purpose of seeing what had be-
come of lim. They traced him some distance by the blood,
and at last found him lying dead near the edge of the stream.
With considerable difficulty, the three rolled his ponderous
body into the water, where, as it slowly floated away in the
gathering darkness, it resembled some immense log.

Summerfield was standing upon the banks gazing at it,
when he was startled by the firing of guns and the yells of
Indians !

“They’ve got Crooked Pegs!” exclaimed Vie darting
away. -

“The devil!” exclaimed Wandaught, following.
Summerfield sprang after them, and in a moment discerned

 
 

 

at amen

 

MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE. or Sey

several dusky forms leaping and firing into the opening

through which they entered. A second alter, Vannoven and

Wandaught discharged their pieces, and, with-yells of defiance

sprang in among them. There was a sudden clinching, and -
amid the writhings of several shadowy forms, a bright jet of

flame would burst, and now and then a blade would gleam

on high, as the combatants closed in their deathly struggles,

Summerfield was at first perfectly bewildered, but as soon as

he got an idea of the state of things, rushed forward. When

he reached them, he saw several forms dart away, and not an

Indian remained. Jared did not appear to be injured in the

least. It seemed the savages had calculated upon discovering

all within the “Tole,” and had commenced an indiscriminate

firing into it, Fortunately, Jared was in the other apartment,

and was untouched. In a moment the other hunters rushed

forward, and, after a short, severe hand to hand struggle, the

assailants fled. Singularly enough, not a person had been

slain. There had been some sharp blows and cuts inter-
changed, but none of a fatal character. The Indians num.

bered not over half-a-dozen, and were easily repulsed.

“TI calculate these quarters are getting rather hot,” re-
marked Potter, after they had descended and attended to
their wounds, .

“Yes; I should auitie a visit from ao grizzly and a half
dozen Indians on the same day was a gentle hint that our
retreat was disputed,” added Summerfield.

“ Quss it!” growled Vie, “ they’ve found out this place, and
they'll burn us out, ef we don’t leave a soon. Is’pose
trappin’ here’s done with.”

“Yas; we've got to move traps—that’s a pinted fact,”
added the hunter.

“Wal, boy: ‘vhat’s the word?” asked Jared. “I’m sorry
we're found v-t, but there’s no use of growling. We can’t
help ourselves, and the question is, when you’ re going to
leave. I don’t know as there is danger i in remaining here this
night. What do you say, Vic? Shall we start to-night or
wait till morning ?” > "5

“We've got to go to-night. There'll be a pack down herd

 

 
 

"2 UFE ON THE

by daylight, and we'll lose all the skins we’ve cotched in ten
minutes.”

“Shouldn’t wonder if we did lose our skins,” returned
Jared. No one heeded this witticism, and Wandaught added,

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

After a short conversation this was decided as being the
best course, and Jared departed for the animals. Vannoven
and Wandaught bound the furs into two large bundles, which
were pressed and strapped down until their size was so dimin-
ished that they seemed as solid as wood.

In about an hour Jared Potter returned, riding’ upon a

”

horse, and followed by five others. Two of these were pack- -

horses, while the other spare one had been reserved in case of
an accident or necessity. This was most fortunate for Sum-
merfield. The furs were brought up and strapped upon the
two animals of burden, and Vic carefully deposited the stone
in its former position.

They all now mounted their animals, Vic taking the lead.
The darkness upon the mountains was intense, and their pro-
gress was necessarily slow over the broken fragments of rocks
and down the wild declivities of the mountain. A fierce equi-
noctial storm commenced and raged furiously through the
night, It was a grand combination of rain, thunder, and
lightning that ushered in the spring. Peal after peal burst like
the sharp crack of a piece of ordnance, and now and then the
white-tongued lightning darted like an arrowy serpent through
the forest branches. One or twice the lurid bolts shivered the

‘trees to splinters above, and there appeared a continual play
of fire around the mountain top. The supercharged earth
would often return its fiery element to the clouds, and then
receive it back, as though ‘heaven and earth were mutually
sporting with the most subtle and terrific power they pos-
sessed, The scene was indescribably grand. Byron’s storm
among the Alps possessed no more of fearful majesty than did
this, for

“Far along,
From peak to peak the ratiling crags among,

Leaped the live thander. Not from’one tone cloud,
But every mountain now hath found a tongue.”

 
 

MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE. "3

All this time the rain was pouring down with unabated
fury. Often the strong wind would bend the tree tops nigh
the earth, and send the pelting rain square against their faces,

Vic, as was said, led the way, and even he had to rely
solely upon the instinct of his horse. Tle dropped the rein
and sat passively in his seat, while his animal tediously but
unerringly picked the way. Tis hoofs often rattled over the
abrupt stones and rocks, and Vic's burly shoulder grazed the
per enidssethe face of some gigantic wall of stone’; but he had
no fears, Porcupine had Jed him through renter’ perils than -
these and would not fail now.

As some brilliant flash of lightning illuminated the forest
with a more intense light than the full blaze of the noonday
sun, Summerfield would catch the outlines of Vic and Van-
daught, end have a momentary glimpse of the awful chasms
and rents that yawned in the sides of the mountain. The
noise of the elements was so great that’ no conversation was
held, although Jared was constantly muttering to”himself.
Although the safety of his life depended upon the horse he
rode, he seemed to think his position upon lim was to decide
the matter. When the animal descended some sharp Cecliy-
ity, he slid back upon his haunches demanding,

“Where cum ioe going to, Dick? If your tail comes out
I’m a goner.”

Then, as the animal commenced suddenly to ascend, he
would hitch forward, and throw his arms around his neck,
exclaiming,

“By the piping piper, if this ain’t orful! Don't go so fast,
Dick ?”

Dick plodded patiently forward, and Jared, to help his ner-
yousness, concluded to start a conversation with some
one.

“ello! Vie, ahead, how you gitting along!” There was
no answer.

“Hello! I say; hello! Vie,” he exclaimed, throwing his
head and shoulders back with the effort.

“Shut up! came a grow! like that of a grizzly bear.

“Wal, that’s perlite, Iswow! Hump! I guess he thinks

 

 
   

 

"4 ~ LIFE ON THE

it’s Summerfield here,” said the speaker to himself. “Guess
Vl try Jim.”

“Hello, Jim! Hello! ain’t this ere one of the storms?
- Beats—”

“Just put a clapper on that jaw, or shoot me if I don’t,”
exclaimed Wandaught.

“ Wal, if that ain’t treatin’ a gentleman fine. Say, Sum-
merfizli—”

“T would not prefer a conversation at such a time as this,”
interrupted Summerfield, in a kind but decided voice.

“ Who's goin’ to attempt a conversation. Yer mighty ob-
stroperous, ‘Fraid, I s’pose. I just wanted to know whether
you was ahead there; cause why, if you wasn’t why I just
wanted to know it. You there, George?”

“Yes; we are all safe and unhurt, and I hope you are.”

“ Yas, Ain’t this orful ?”

© Terrible.” _*

“ Did you ever see anything like it?”

“Say, George,” he continued, “ain't we too darned near
the cannon? ’Pears tome we're gittin’ closer and closer all
the time.. Whoa, Dick.”

There was no reply, and, after waiting a moment, the fel-
low muttered, loud enough to reach the ears of Summer-
field ;

“ Some folks like to talk more’n others; but I ain’t agoin’
to when there’s sich weather as this. Whew! I bet that
erack split the mountain. Hear it, George ?”

Again there was no answer.

« George,” he exclaimed, as if suddenly recollecting some-
thing of great importance, ‘did I tell you what I heard about
Redzel ?”

He waited a long time for an-answer, but as it came not
he ceased talking and commenced to whistle “ The Arkansas
Traveller” as loud as possible. Summerfield caught a sharp
note now and then, and could not help smiling to himself at
the persistent determination of his companion to keep up
some sort of noise with himself. He turned his head once,
as a sharp flash illuminated the scene, and saw him back upon

 

   

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE. "5

the haunches of his horse, his long bee-hive hat tied under
his chin, and his mouth puckered up so that it resembled the

“letter O. His eyes resembled the same letter, and it was

plain that his heart was not in the tune. :

Summerfield now understood the character of Jared Potter,
He had often wondered how a person who, in the time of
danger, possessed such coolness and courage as he did, could
exhibit such palpable signs of fear when circumstances did
not warrant it. He was as are many other men. As long ag
there was a chance for escape, he would grasp it before fight-
ing; but compelled to defend himself, when he became con-
vinced that his life depended upon his own efforts, then he
became a dangerous foe. Like a stag, he would flee as long
as there was hope in fleeing, but when at bay he was an
enemy that feared.no man, Still his nervous fright at every
little occasion was often disgusting.

“Stoop for a limb!” warned Vic.

Wandaught bowed, and gave the warning to Summerfield.

“Took out. Lie down; there’s a limb!” shouted he, as it
grazed his back,

“Hey? what did you say?” asked Jared, whose whistling
had prevented his hearing. ~As Summerfield was about to
repeat his caution, he heard him exclaim,

“My head is sawed off! Indians! hold on!”

The limb had caught the unfortunate man directly beneath
the chin, and as he was, as usual, seated on the haunches of
his horse, the animal walked from beneath him, lettihg him
drop upon a sharp ledge of a rock. :

“‘O, thunder! if I ain’t gone sure this time. Say, boys,
hold on! hold on! nowp on!”

The three had come to a halt at this mishap, andeit seemed
they would kill themselves laughing. Instead of replying,
they joked with each other, and laughed until they could
hardly remain upon their animals. Jared, not hearing their
voices, judged that they had not heard his, and renewed his
shouts,

“ Hello, George! Hero, Jit! Hexro, V-1-c!”

As Vic’s was the last name called, he strained terribly over

 
"6 LIFE ON THE

it, prolonging it until his voice suddenly broke into a squeak,
He listened 2 moment, and then concentrated his whole
strength upon the utterance of the single word:

« He-LP!?

It would be impossible to represent all the noises made by
the terrified Jared on this occasion. The others enjoyed it
too well to end it by letting him know their proximity ; bug

abroad glare of lightning Beteayed them. The three saw
him seated on the ground, his hat on the back ef his head,
and each hand clutching the earth.

“ Vyhat’s the matter,” asked Wandaught, gravely.

© O, nothin’! O, pothin’ !’ -and he went to whistling.

a What yer blu sabied ebout %”

“Who's blubberin’? I'd like to know if a feller can’t sing
alittle without you saying he’s crying? Shows what you
know about music! Smart, ain’t you ¢” :

Above the crash of the thunder could be heard the tumult-
uous laugh of the three others at this remark,

“Sing a little more!” said Vie.

“Wal, if I’s you, I'd make fools of myselves. ‘Pears to
me you don’t know nothin’,” he exclaimed, angrily, as he felt
his way forward. :

re Wagh! -wagh! wvagh! ef that wa’nt tall sing, then
skin me,” roared Vie.

S Same tune as you's, whistlin’ I s'pose ?” hae Wan-
daught, while Summerfield contented himself with merely

holding his sides.

“ Darned if this ain’t a mighty storm, boys, ain’t it?” said
Jared, very earnesily, as he crept up on his animal,

“Yas; mighty ’nough to make a feller blubber,” retorted
Wandaught.

“T wonder if ’tain’t near mornin’ ?” he persisted, pretend-
ing not to hear this remark,

“Yas; but I wouldn't bludber "bout it.”

You’ re a fool, ain’t you? I swow I wouldn't pretend to
have sense. Vic, we much furder you going!”

“Come, we've got to be off! It can’t be fur of till day-
light,” said Vic, in an altered tone, starting forward. Tho

 

   

 

 

   
   
te

 

MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE. "4

animals all followed of their own accord, and in a short time
the whole party were again under way as though nothing had
transpired.

The storm now began to slowly abate its fury. Tho
flashes of lightning were growing fainter and less numerous,
yet one of them showed a wild and picturesque sight. They
had gone a considerable distance, when there came a vivid
streak that again illuminated the whole mountain. At that
instant, upon a rock that towered lundreds of feet above
them, they saw the form of an Indian, standing out in clear
and bold relief against the sky. The light was so perfect that
his features could be distinguished. A mantle lay at his feet,
and the stock of the rifle rested on the rock beside him, while-
he grasped the barrel in his hand. He seemed contemplating
in silent wonder and admiration the terrific fury of the ele-
ments before. him. His eagle eye darted downward as he
discerned the moving objects beneath him, but he did not
move his body or rifle. Vic, with.a characteristic impulse,
raised his to his shoulder, but a feeling that he never felt
before restrained him. It was the same with Wandaught,
and perhaps with the Indian himself The majestie display
of the mighty Power around made each forget his usual hate.
Summerfield saw the savage also,“but not one of the party
ever referred to him. Suddenly, Vic, came to a stop, and
ordered the rest to do the same.

“ What's the matter ?” asked Summerfield.

“We're goin’ to spend the night here.”

“ Goin’ to epend. the night here!” repeated Jared, “T’d like
to know where we've spent the last twelve hours of it.”

“Come, Crooked Legs, T wouldn’t say nothin’. Yor might
hev to blubber.” —*

This silenced him, and he waited in patient wonder for the
development of his comrade’s intentions They all dis-
mounted, and Vie, whistling to the other horses, led his own
away. Ina short time he returned.

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

And kneeling on the earth, he commencea crawling care-
fally forward, followed by the others. Jared clung so tightly

 
 

3 LIFE ON THE

to Summerfield’s feet, that it was with difficulty he managed
to keep up with Wandaughi; but, by continual scolding at
his tormentor he managed to get along, and soon learned from
the inky blackness and dry hard reck over which ‘they were
passing, that he was in some sort of a cave. After going

' twenty or thirty feet Vic halted and struck a light, and ia ten
minutes more had a cheerful fire burning.

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

After a short conversation the whole party stretched out
upon the rocky bed of the eavern, and, overcome by fatigue,
were soon asleep. Summerfield was awakened by the cold,
for his clothes were damp and wet. But by this time all the
others were up and busy. Jared was preparing the meal, and
Vic had gone out to see the animals and bring in the furs,
This was soon done, and the meal eaten. Vie told how he
had discovered this cave while hunting one day, and knew of
several others equally good and convenient, to which he could
resort in case his retreat was discovered by savages,

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

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

-—

 

CHAPTER X.

“Ohl ask me not to speak thy fate—
Oh! tempt me not-+to tell,
The doom shall make thee desolate,
The wrong thou may'st not quell.
Away! away! for death would ba
Even as mercy unto thee.”

Ina Vewrond waited long and hopefully, until it seemed
waiting and hoping against hope. The old chief promised

   

   

 

 
 

MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIZ, 79

that, when it was possible, he would send her with a suitable
escort to Fort Leavenworth, where she should be given up to
the whites without ransom. This is the oldest fort in Mis-
souri, having been established over thirty years ago, and being
but about. four hundred miles above the mouth of the river, it
yas at that time within the territory 6 the whites. It is at
this point that the four great roads of the territories centre ;
one running south to the Texas forts, one sonthwest to Santa
Fe, another due west to Fort Riley, and a fourth in a north-
west direction to Nebraska and California. It is annually
visited by hundreds of Indians, and more than one white cap-
live has been here restored to freedom.

Tt was trying to the old chief to give up the white maiden.

He felt a genuine affection for her, and she had grown to ba |

as a child of his own, yet he was not selfish and resolved to
fulfil his promise. The power of his white rival had become
nearly as great as his own, and it was 4 matter of difficulty for
him to choose from his warriors two in whom he could place
implicit faith. The charms and loveliness of Ida disturbed the
bosoms of others besides Redzel. Many savages determined
that, before another of their number should obtain possession
of her, she should be tomahawked, Yet this was a seerct
feeling and never evinced itselfopenly, Redzel did not dream
that eyes other than his own regarded her with passion, and
believed that his only obstacle was with the object itself, and

he had fully made up his mind that, could he not gain posseg-.

sion of her by gentle means, he would by threats and force,
Tda shunned him as she would have shunned a loathsome
serpent. Tor days, and even weeks, she scarcely ventured

outside the lodge for fear of meeting him. Maddened by this,.
Redzel often entered and spent hours, but the chief made it a

point to be present, and his determined and decided manner
effectually prevented any rudeness upon his part. This galled
Redzel sorely, but he could not help it. He durst not array
himself against the chief, for instant death would be the
result, and it appeared as if all things conspired against him,
At last he concluded to use argument with the chief. He
urged that, as he and the girl were the only whites in the

 
   

   

80 LIFE ON THE

tribe, they should mate together ; that it would be a sin for a
savage to wed her, and that, although she might now oppose
his wishes, yet in the end, he doubted not she would admit
that it was the best course. This, however, had no effect upon
the chief. He knew that she would prefer death to a union
with either Redzel or one of the tribe, and the true-hearted
savage resolved that she should be foreed into nothing against
her will. Baffled at this point, Redzel was again leit. to con-
jure up some other plan. After he had been assured of the
chief's determination, his visits to the lodge eeased altogether,
and Ida began to indulge the hope that she would be tor-
mented no further with his importunities.

But, swiftly and almost unconsciously, the summer fled
away, and before the girl was aware of it, the winter was
round again. In answer to her inquiry, the chief assured her
that it would be impossible for her to attempt to reach Fort
Leavenworth before the spring opened. The truth of this she
was compelled to admit, although it seemed inviting misery
and death to remain. She determined to spend the winter
almost entirely within the lodge, and, as soon as the spring
commenced, urge Mascanagh to fulfill his promise. The win-
ter was rather mild, and passed by without causing the suffer-
ing the tribe had experienced several times before. The buf-
falo were numerous, and, consequently, food was abundant.
Some wished to change their abode for one further north, but
the chiefsaw no necessity of taking such a step, and declared
that the winter should be passed in their present qnarters.

At last the tedious winter wore away and spring was at
hand, Ida hailed its advent with joy, and longed ag only a
youthful spirit can for its mild and gentle breezes. Nature,
however, imposed delays, for fierce storms set in and rendered
the climate far more disagreeable and inclement than it had
been any time during the winter.

The rain had already been falling for nearly a week, and
now rattled against. the lodge with mournful monotony. The
fierce gusts of wind swept madly against it, shaking it to the
very foundation, The evening was drawing near, and Mas-
canagh was busy in constructing and trying a bow, while his
a

MOUNTAIN AND. PRAIRIE, 81

squaw was preparing the evening meal. The two children
were playing around their father, while Ida was seated in
a corner gazing listlessly at them. She followed their motions
mechanically, but her mind was on objects far away. She
was indulging in a sort of reverie, and such thoughts as these
were passing through her mind. What had become of Sum-
merfield 2? Was he living? Was he a prisoner or free? Was
he in the States, and if so, did his thoughts ever wander out
upon the prairie ?

What had become of her father? Was he in Oregon, or
had he returned home? the dear old home of her infancy ‘and
carly girlhood. Or was he, like herself, a captive among
savages? Or more horrible still, was his scalp hung up in
some wigwam ?

She was recalled from her reverie by the voice of Masca-
nagh inviting her to the meal. She took her accustomed
seat, and the food was eaten in silence. At an early hour she
retired to her apartment, and devoutly sinking upon her
knees, spent a long time in fervent, silent supplication. Then
rising, she reclined upon her bed of furs, and again permitted
her mind to wander off into the regions of fancy. As before,

jt commenced with Summerfield and ended with her parent,
and while thinking of him she unconsciously fell asleep.

She awoke suddenly—so suddenly that she was startled.
She had not been dreaming, and gould not divine the cause.
Tt seemed as though some soft but icy hand had glided over
her face and recalled her to consciousness. The room was.
dark, At first she had determined to rise and secure a light,
but she then concluded that there were no grounds for fear,
and again tried to full asleep.

When nearly asleep, and exceedingly nervous, her car
caught the noise of a footstep! A fearful suspicion flashed
upon her, She felt certain that Redzel was in her room!
The very thought sickened her and brought the cold drops to
her brow. It seemed as if the feverish. beating of her heart
would betray her suspicion, and, pressing her hand ‘to her
bosom, she invoked the aid of Heaven in this extremity.

Her mind became more composed, and she thought of the

 
 

   

  

82 LIFE ON THE

fatal consequences that might result from an attempt to ery
for help, and, as the door was within her reach, she thought
she could open it and get out unnoticed. The door opened
outward and was never fastened. She raised herself gently
and stretched her hand to the door, but it did not yield. She
tried again and with the same result. Finally, placing both
hands upon it, she exerted her full strength and found it had
been secured! It required her utmost powers to keep her-
self from swooning, but she sank back again and listened.
Tn a moment, she knew the footsteps were approaching! She
did not move or speak, but waited. She could hear his hur-
tied, husky breath as he was approaching. There-was then
an awful pause. She tried to move, but it seemed as if some
horrible nightmare palsied her. Suddenly she felt -a rough
hand placed upon her face. Then it was withdrawn, and
there was another terrible pause. She heard another move-
ment, and her strength returned. There was now, but one
course left, and that was to alarm Mascanagh.

he was aware that as soon as Redzel suspected his presence
was known, he would attempt to kill her. She. therefore
resolved to give the alarm, and at the same time glide gently
from the bed on the floor, and thus clude him until Mascanagh
could come to her relief There was not a moment to spare,
and, consequently, she shrieked :

“Help! help! murder! murder!” and instantly darted
from her couch. :

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

“What's the matter? What's the matter ?”

Ida endeavored to answer, but the strain upon her nerves
eaused her to sink into aswoon. When she recovered, tho
chief and his squaw were bending anxiously over het. In
answer to their inquiries, she pointed silently to the door. In
truth, they had suspected the whole truth, and only asked if
she had beca harmed, Their swarthy features brightened up

 

   
MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE. 83

with genuine pleasure as she assured them she was uninjured ;
but the mark of the murderer’s knife in the soft fur showed
how narrowly she had escaped. No one doubted who the
assassin was. Ida heard his voice and was certain.

“QO, Mascanagh !” exclamed she, clasping his knees, “ you
want to kill Ida. You promised to send her to her home,
and you keep her to be murdered! She will soon die.”

_The old chief cried aloud. He unclasped her hands gently,
and replied :

“Mascanagh does what he says he-will. The white maiden
ghall be sent to her pale-faced friends.” si

“But when, when?” demanded Ida, gazing up at him,

«© When she wishes to go,”

«“ Will you, Mascanagh? Will you?”

The chief bowed his head.

“Let me go this night, then. Yes, this very hour!”

“But the storm rages, and the maiden will be lost in the
dark forest.”

“God who brought me to the lodge of kind Maseanagh will
protect me.”

“But,” continued Mascanagh, impressively, “should the
pale-faced maiden depart this night, the white man will fol-
low her in the dark forest.”

This was a terrible truth. She saw the danger that the
kind chief had warned her of, and became more subdued and
reasonable. Mascanagh seated himself beside her, and while
his squaw soothed, he conversed with her. When the effects
of her terror had partially subsided, she listened to their
plans. A long time was spent in discussion, and finally it
was determined that, upon the next night, she should start
with a couple of Indians, on horseback, for Fort Riley. The
chief cast upon two powerful warriors to whom he thought
he could intrust her and gave the names. IIe decided to com-
municate his wishes to them during the day, and at about
midnight they should stealthily leave the village end make ail
haste for their destination. Their horses should be swift and
powerful, the warriors were brave and cunning, and it was
not feared but that she would finally be restored to her friends,

‘

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84 LIFE ON THE

There was no sleep in the chief's lodge that night save with
the children, and when daylight appeared, their spirits were
drooping, but every one began to make preparation for the
white maiden’s departure. More effectually to conceal their
plan it was decided to hide Ida during the day, and give out
the impression that her situation was so dangerous and criti-
cal as to confine her to her room,

This had the desired effect, and when the night finally settled
upon the village, save those implicated, but one suspected the
true state of things. That one was Redzel! He had plied
one of the children during the day, and by his artful manage-
ment succeeded in drawing the whole particulars from him.
He learned that Ida was uninjured, and even discovered that
she intended leaving the village that night for some distant
trading post. Being thus aroused, he watched the proceed-
ings of Mascanagh with a jealous cye, and, as if aided by the
demon himself, he was at last successful in finding out who
the two savages were that intended to accompany her.

Late that night, two Indians led three horses to the out-
skirts of the village, and having secured them, - departed.
They had been gone but a few minutes, when a third figure
emerged from the dark shadows of a tree, and led a horse to
the spot where the others stood. Unldoseting one, he placed
his own in its place, and led the other back to the spot where
he had concealed himself,

At last the chief said the hour of midnight had come.
Two middle-aged Indians arose at these words and waited
for the girl, She was sccurcly clad in a rough riding- dress,
and as.she became aware that the moment of trial was at
hand she arose. Jt was indeed a trial to her. She had been
nerving herself for this moment for the last hour or two. As
she stood up, she quivered so fearfully that Mascanagh sprang
forward and caught her,

“Ts Ida sick?’ he asked, in a broken voice.

“No! dear Mascanagh, no; but—” she paused a moment
and gazed in the chieftain’s face. Whatever might have been his
emotions, he was an Indian, and resolutely choked them back,
He returned her gaze with an affectionate but tearless eye.

 
ao

 

MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE, 85

“God bless you, Mascanagh; good-by,” sobbed the girl,
pressing lis hand and averting her tace.

“ Good-bye to the pule-faced maiden. Mas seanagh will see
her again inthe great Hunting Ground. The Great Spirit
will let Aer enter there. No other pale-face shall see it,
Good-bye.”

And yet Mascanagh wasa man. Within that savage bosom
of his beat and throbbed a heart of humanity.. He who had
never quailed in the hour of battle; he who had seen the
mangled remains of more than one brother without sh iedding
a tear; he who had closed the eyes of a dying child and
vept not; bowed his head and wept. Yet it was Lut for a
moment. Asif ashame: of his weakness, he raised |.ig head
and spoke to the two warriors, Ida bad turned and was bid-
ding fareweil to her mistress, They faltered a few wor ds,
and embracing each other, sobbed like children. The fare
boys, had been sent to bed and were now asleep. Ida, taking

a light, entered their room. They lay with their arms ‘alkigpess
al oun! éach other's neck, locked in dreamless slumber, The
tender-hearted girl stooped and kissed each dusky cheek, and
cropping 4 silent tear in their faces, departed.

“ Good-bye again!” said she-smiling faintly, as she entered

the apartment where her guides were waiting. ‘These were
te last words she ever uttered to them. She shook cach
hand ence more in silence, and Mascanagh conducted her to the
outside, where he wrapped the shawl with which he had
presented her that day around her frail form, ant quickly re-
entered his lodge.
_ The rain was still fulling, and the darkness was thick and
impenetrable. She clung to the arm of one of her guides,
die conducted her safely forward, and in a few moments she
heard tho faint whinny and stamp of 1 horse. She was as-
sisted upon the back of this and handed the rein. Tho
savages then mounted theirs and started forward, Ida’s ani-
mal needed no guidance, a3 he followed the others as closely
as possible,

As the savages moved forward, they heard the answering
neigh of a horse near them; and spoke to cach other of it,

w . as zs " ai

 
    

  

86 LIFE ON THE

But as the darkness was so intense that they could barely
distinguish the heads of their own animals, of course they
detected notliing. Several times after, they heard it, and
ounce or twice there were other steps than those of Ida’s ani-
mal behind them. This awakened their suspicions, and finally
Ied_to the belief that some one was following them: They
could not divine how their intentions had been discovered,
but were convinced that it must be the white man

 

 

CHAPTER XI.

‘Thou shalt stretch forth thine hand against the wrath of mine enemies,
and thy right hand shall save me.”

Tne course was in nearly an eastern direction, inclining
slightly to the south, and would necessarily lead them through
the wild regions of that spur of the Rocky Mountains called
the Black Hills. “ The village was at no great distance west,
and early in the day Ida saw the blue heads of the cliffs in
the sky, and in some places the white snow-covered caps far
up in the heavens.

It was nearly evening when they reached the base, where it
was concluded to camp for the night. During the preparation
of the evening meal one of the Indians remained at a short dis-
tance as sentinel, and, with characteristic caution, one kept
guard during the night. The two arranged a pleasant couch
with their blankets, and upon it Ida slept sweetly and peaceful-
ly till morning. When she awoke it was broad daylight, and
their morning meal was waiting.

They had just commenced eating when some noise was
heard, and the savages sprang to their feet and seized their
rifles. One started out to discover the cause, when the burly ~
form of Redzel appeared directly upon them. Neither party
spoke for a moment, while Ida was speechless with amaze-

/

 
MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE, . pez

ment and terror. Redzel seemed to enjoy the consternation
his appearance had caused, and, after surveying them all o
moment, exclaimed, with a Jaugh and oath:

“Wal, I guess ye didn't expect to see this chap in these
parts, did yer?” :

“J did not,” replied Ida, white and trembling with indignation.

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

“Why does the white man follow the maiden?” asked one
of the Indians.”

““J9 catch-and get her, ole copperskin.”

“Get who?” demanded Ida.

“Why, you,” said he, with a horrid grin that disfigured his
repulsive face. é

“Don’t touch me, foul monster!” she exclaimed.

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

“Set down, Ida. Set down! I won’t hurt yer!”

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

“Why don’t you kill that villain ?” demanded Ida of them.
“TTe ig not fit to live.”

Ter words seemed to arouse them .somewhat, but they
made no answer, and only gazed upon her with stoical indif-
ference.

“Killhim, I say! Kill him!” she added frantically. :

“Say, gal,” interposed Redzel, “ yer mought as well shet up
for them ole coppersifns daren’t do nothin’, and you've got to
talk with me.”

“Talk with you,” repeated she scornfully, and gazing con-
temptuously at him, “ Talk with you. May Heaven forgive
me for ever being guilty of it.”

“P'raps it would be best fur yer to think "fore you talk to
me,” replied Redzel, with a meaning shake of his head.
“Won't you let me set thar too ?” asked he, rising and

 

 
od

   

88 LIFE ON THE

approaching. As quick as lightning she darted away, and he
fell back again.

“ Wal,” said he confidently, “yer can be as cantankerous as
yer please now, but you've got to come to it sooner nor yer
think. Jest remember that.”

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

“Yer needn't call on God. He don’t care nothin’ ’bout yer,

and ef he did, I reckon he wouldn’t undertake to hinder me.’*’

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

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

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

“You mought as well give up them capers. “T'aint no use.
Yer in my hands, and I'll do what I please with yer, and the
dociler yer ar about it, the better it'll be fur ye.”

“Iam not in-your hands, and I warn you not to imagine
so, You have attempted” She was about to refer to his
attempted murder, but something checked her, and she
deemed it best to conceal her knowledge of that occurrence,
so far as it related to him. :

“ What's that ve attempted ?” he asked quickly.

“Tsay you have attempted to gain me before, and I trusted
that you had learned by this time that it was useless.”

Ile gazed searchingly at her a moment and then answered,

“No; Dhain't learned there wa’nt no use yit.”

“Tt is time, then, that you should learn it.”

Redzel’s thick lip curled with a contemptuous grin, and he

 

contented himself for a few moments,in glaring like a wild .

beast at her. Then, suddenly rising, he exclaimed, in a com-
manding tone, accompanied by a furious gesticulation :

“Say, copperskins, you just make tracks fur hum. Yer
ain't wanted here. ~ Tell yer boss that Sam Redzei tuk care
of this gal.”

Ida heard this command with indignant scorn. She did
not dream that the savages would heed it, and they did not
move in fact.

‘

   
MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE. 89

“T would tell them again,” said she sarcastically.

“Say, chaps, if yer ain’t gone in two seconds I'll shoot you
both,” repeated he, growing ghastly with rage. The two In-
dians arose without a word, mounted and rode away !

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

“ What will you have with me now ?” she asked.

“Wagh! why don’t you flare up as you done just now?

1 Why don’t you call me all kinds ofnames? Wagh! wagh!”
“Owhy am I thus persecuted ?” she exclaimed, burying ¢
her face and sobbing aloud. “ What have I done that I
should be followed like a beast of prey ?”
“No use, gal; you can’t come that game> Yer oughter
done it afore.”
“ Have I ever harmed you?” asked she, looking up.
“ Not as I knows on.”
E “ Why do you seek to harm me then?”
a... “T don’t.”

“My life was sought,” she continued, “and I have tried to
escape the danger that threatened me, and would you take me
back there again ?” ~

“No; I ain’t particular whar I takes yer. Yer can go
home fur all'I cares, but, yer see, I’m going with yer.”

“Will you then permit me to go on?”

“Didn’t I say so?”

“© thank you! thank you! Let us start then ?”

- “Wagh! changed your tune a little! . Thought you would

after a while.” ;

Ida pretended not to hear this insult, and approached her
horse to mount. Redzel stepped forward, but she was too

I quick, and leaped on her animal's back in an instant.

“Now we'll soon reach Fort Leavenworth,” said she plea-
santly, with a forced smile. The hunter muttered something
unintelligible to her as he mounted his beast and set forward.
She noticed the direction-taken, and saw that he was really
proceeding on his way toward her destination. As she gazed
back and saw in the distance the two savages galloping

 
   

90 LIFE ON THE

leisurely along, she felt an almost irresistible impulse to turn.
and urge her horse toward them. But she saw that such a
thing would be madness, as her animal was much inferior to
Redzel’s, and she could not hope to escape him. Suddenly a
strange ‘en struck her.

“T think you might exchange horses with me,” said she,
pleasantly. “TI am heartily tired of riding this miserable
beast.”

“No use, gal,” replied Redzel, shaking his head; “I see
yer idee. You'd like to git mine and git a start of me, and
the devil might catch yer then?

“Tt seems to me that you are too suspicious of me. How
can I hope to escape from you unlesseyou/are willing? And
why should E wish to? I am sure there is more safety with
you than in being alone upon this mountain, liable to be cap-
tured at any moment by some wandering band of savages.”

“ Wouldn’t you ’bout as lief be with them as with me?”

_ asked Redzel, leering horribly at her.

Ida wouldn’ t deny her feelings, but simply exclaimed :

“ What a question !”

“Ts yer hoss ’bout tuckered out?” he asked.

“Just look and sce whether he isn’t,” was her meaning
answer.

“Wal, mine isn’t,” said Redzel, riding up beside her, “ and
50 I'll just take yer on mine, and we'll go faster.”

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

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

“Please don’t,” pleaded Ida, as she read his —s
in his eyes.

“OQ, yas!” he replied, not heeding her supplication

“ Don’ t! don’t! don’t! I pray of you.”

But he reached out and placed his rough arm mound her
and endeavored to lift her from her seat. His touch seemed
to fill the girl with fire, and in her struggles she struck him
full in the face. Her screams frightened the horses and

separated them for a moment, causing Redzel to loose his

   

y
* MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE. 91

hold. But, giving vent to a horrid oath, he jerked his horse’s
head around, and mad with the pain the blow had given him
he reached out and struck her! The blow was not severe,

“ JJello, there! drop that gal mighty quick.” 4

Redzel did drop her as though a bullet had struck him, and
gazing quickly around, he saw, not twenty fect distant, Vic
Vannoven and Jared Potter gazing at him. A bolt from
heaven could not have amazed him more. The latter stood
with one foot advanced, his rifle cocked, and a rigid determi-
nation stamped upon his countenance. His conical hat was
thrown back upon his head, and his closed teeth showed that
he was in no trifling mood. Vic stood in as threatening an
attitude, with the muzzle of his rifle pointed towards Redzel,
and his finger upon the trigger. Jared had repeated the com-
mand, and Vie added:

“ Come here, little one, he shan’t hurt yer.”

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

“Save me! O, save me!” she exclaimed, in her agony
of spirit, seemingly unable to comprehend that she was
already safe from the power cfsher tormentor.

“ You shan’t be hurt, little ’un,” said he, gently pushing her
behind him, and still keeping his -eye steadily fixed upon
Redzel. 2

“Sam Redzel, you're cotched,” said he. “ The minute you
touch that creetur, that minute yer goes under.”

“Ts she yourn ?” demanded he, red with fury.

“Ts she yourn ?”

“ See here, Vic,” said the baffled hunter, lowering his voice
to those terrible monotones of passion; “ You'n I never had
any trouble, and ét ain't best that we should get in any now /”

“Do you think I fears you Ee -

“T don't say. that; but w# ain't safe!”

“T know what you mean. You've jined the red-skins, and
want us to know they'll back you.”

“ *Zactly.”

 
   

92 LOE ON THE

“ And do you s’pose you can come any such dodge as that
over us? *Ef you git that creetur, it will be over the dead
bodies of me and Crooked Pegs, She goes back with us. I
don’t care about putting a piece of lead through you, but if
you get too ne in the front of my gun, that same thing
might happen.”

“Tt wouldn’t go hard for me to do it,” said Jared, handling
his rifle as though it burned his hands,

“Vic, are you in earnest ?”

He Speriment a little and see whether I isn’t.”

“Vic, if you don’t let me have that gal, I'll have the scalps
of you and that chap in less than a week.” —

“And if you axes me for her again, I'll shoot you in less
than a minute. I tell you what, Sam Redzel, we’ve talked
long enough. <A little more from you, and you'll come off
that horse quicker nor you ever mounted him.”

Redzel knew the hunter’s nature well enough to compre-
hend that this was no idle threat.

“T jis wanted you to know what Il do that’s all.
Yer won't be the fust whites I’ve led the copperskins
against.”

“Vic,” said Potter, ee raising his rifle, “just say the
word, and it’s done !”

« No, let him go. Sam, I give you just. one minute to
make tracks.”

“Tl go, but——” a meaning shake of the head supplied
the rest.

The steady hunter, kept his eye on him as he moved away.
He had gone but a ow yards, when he called out.

“Tiold on a minute.”

Redzel checked hig horse and wheeled him around. He
more than half-suspected that Vic had changed his mind, and
intended to give up Ida. But he was somewhat startled to
see both him and Jared Potter standing with their rifles
pointed toward him.

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

\

 

|
|
|
}
|
   

  

MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIC. 93

Redzel comprehended this command, and, without endan-
gering his life by testing its earnestness, he slid off and walked
silently away.

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

Redzel walked slowly a short distance, then suddenly
tarned, bringing his rifle to his shoulder, expecting to find
them unprepared; but this motion of his had been antiepated,
‘and he knew better than to fire. He reluctantly lowered his
piece and hastened hig step. Vic and Jared watched him
until he was barely visible upon the prairie. The latter then
approached his animal, which had hardly stirred since he had
been left. As Jared took his bridle, he gazed again toward
Redzel. He saw that he was standing and watching his mo-
tions, He saw his arms move, then a red tongue of fire
flashed apparently from his face, a blue jet of smoke curled
slowly upward, and in an instant the faint report of his rifle
was heard. It was a foolish venture, however, for the dis-
tance was great, and the bullet sped wide of its mark.

“ Blaze away,” said Potter, “but keep out of our reach,”

Vic approached Ida, who had not yet raised her head.

“Yer safe now, my little one. “Don't be afeard.”

“©, how shall I thank you for thus saving—”

“Hold on! hold on] Beavers! don’t talk that way. I
can’t stand it.”

“You are too kind.”

Jared, at this point, led the animal to her. The one which
She had ridden was allowed to wander off, as he was not
needed, The young man was impressed by the beauty before
his eyes, and seemed extremely anxious to make an impres-
sion in turn. Lifting his hat, antl making a very humble bow,
lie said,

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

“Beavers! who'd a thort yer could tall Dutch?” ex-
claimed Vic, opening his eyes with wonder.

 
 

 

  

94 LUFE ON THE

“Mr, Vannoven, that ere’s the language of cultivated so-

ciety,” returned Jared, scornfully, and with an air of extreme
condescension, 5

““He’s a little green—kinder soft,” said Vic to Ida, who
had mounted and' was waiting their movements with a plea-
sant smile. Jared turned and seeing her, said:

“So, yo’ve ascended. I guess we'll go on then toward
our far distant destination,”

“ May I ask where that is?” queried she. ;

“Not fur,” returned Vic. ‘“ We've a couple more chaps a
ways off.”

“But I mean, are you on your way to the States ?”-

“Yas; we're on our way thar.”

“Thank Heaven again! Then I shall see home after all.”

“ That is, if yer hum’s thar,”

“ And it is there.”

Vic now started forward, followed by Ida’s animal, while
Jared walked by its side. - It wag necessary to proceed with
great caution, as the way was difficult and dangerous, and, as
has been remarked, the mountains contain enemies, both ani-
mal and human, Jared, conceiving that a capital opportunity
was now given to make an impression, availed himself of it,
and grew exceedingly loquatious, expatiating upon every-
thing that came into his head. Several times he asked Ida
for her history, but did not give her a chance to speak a
dozen words before he interrupted and rattled away again.

“You see, Miss I-don’t-know-your-name, this is a wonder.
ful country in these particular, necessitous parts. There isn’t
an inch but what I’ve trodden and examined. Mr. Vanno-
ven thar, ahead, I brought out here when he’s a boy, and
teached him how to overcome, subdue and conquer the abor-
iginals of this country. We are on our journey to reach and
converse. with two other personages, whom both of each I
teached also, likewise. One fellow—Wandaught—are a fine
one, and you will admire and appreciate; but the other are
foolish, exceedingly indeed. [He was becoming jealous.] He
thinks and esteems, and estimates himself admirably hand-
some, and—and—and so forth; but be ain’t I would not

  

 

  

 
U)

 

MOUNTAIN AND PRAERIEL 95

notice him, not at all, if I was not you. You will see at
once, immediately, when y.ou first’see him, that he is the one
what thinks he’s something more than-the rest of these. He
ain’t smart neither, by no means, not at all, nor—” :

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

« Oh! Iam very much amused with this gentleman’s con-
versation,” returned Ida, She was indeed amused, and lis-
tened with becoming gravity to the incoherent sentences of
her loquacious companion. Jared curled his lip with proud
scorn, as he remarked: : ”

“You must excuse his manners. He ain’t never been
among no cultivated persons, and inasmuch as he cannot
appreciate the good breeding evinced forth impothers, I find
it sometimes occasionally at times quite difficult and—and—
quite difficult to listen in silence, without not approving him
for his conduct at times upon such occasions, Low did you
say you escaped from the Ingines ?”

“Tt was through the kindness of a chief, whose good
will—” :

“Vic, Mr. Vannoven, I should have observed, is rather
peeuliar, and funny, at times, upon certain seasons, in his
general comportment and behavior also.. But, however, not-
withstanding, in spite of this, you ‘will perhaps without doubt
not find no trouble with him. That young chap willbe the
only one that you will not like at all.”

The little party soon- reached the “Hole,” or trapper's
retreat. Here the first person encountered was young Sum-
merfield. It would be useless to attempt to picture his emo-
tions, as the being that had most occupied his mind for a year
or two past, rode up before him. Arrayed in her half Indian

‘dress, her cheeks all aglow with excitement and health, a

more picturesque and prepossessing being could not be ima-
gined,

On the other hand, Ida Vennond herself was agitated by
strong feelings. It cannot be denied that in the lonely hours
of her captivity she had dwelt on the memory of the gallant
young hunter whom she had encountered on the most memo-

 
ae

96 LIFE ON THE MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE.

rable night of her life, and that the feeling with which she
regarded him was far different from that which she held
toward Vannoven and Jared Potter, although the strongest
friendship and most heartfelt gratitude entered into that.

Friends were now united, the two captives had escaped, _

and there were strong arms and brave hearts to defend them,
Everything united to draw them home, and it was agreed
that they should delay only long enough to complete their
preparations. Besides, Vannoven had not forgotten the
threat of Redzel. He fnew the man had the abjlity to carry
it into execution, and he knew further, that not a member of
that party would be spared, could he once get them into his
power. Redzel was not a man to slumber when his bad pas-
sions were aroyged, and no one was safe from his vengeance,
so long as they remained in this country.

One night, Summerfield, Wandaught, and Vannoven had a
close consultation. The first had proposed (and perhaps it
was a desire for the sweet companionship of Ida Vennond
that prompted him) that they should remain concealed for a
few months, until the search by Redzel was given over under
the impression that his intended prey had escaped. While
this plan had its recommendations, it was rejected after a
careful consideration.

An immediate attempt to reach the States was decided
upon as the course which offered the greatest safety. Had
one of that number known the peril and mishaps they were
to encounter—had they known that al of their number
would never leave the prairies, it may be doubted whether
they. would have entered upon that journey without great
hesitation. But a merciful Father veils the future from us,
and we step upon the threshold of danger with the same light
heart and buoyant spirit that we enter the arms of safety and
security.

-

 
Settee ee

in Seeman

Vee.

er reac mone tel

ee

— er scasoaf

 

 

TEN CENT SONG BOOK, No. 1.

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This neat little Treatise gives a description of all the Diseases of pasty
with the best mode of preventing and curing them. No Farmer in the

 

 

 

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Price of all these books Ten. Cents, sent postpaid on receipt of price.

| | IRWIN P. BEADLE & Co, |
137 WILLIAM STREET, WN, Y.

 

 

TRN. CENT HORSE DOCTOR,

  
 

IRWIN. P. BEADLE'S
TEN CENT NOVEL, No. 2.

To, be Issued November 18th.

THE TRAPPERS’. RETREAT:

A SOU EL To —

“me HUNTERS. 9

NIN IR IRR IR IRIN RENIN IRR ER IRIN

Those who read “THE HUNTERS, or LIFE-ON TIE MOUN-

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TAIN AND PRAIRIE,” will, of course, wish to read its Sequel, by the |
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|