THE FAIRY GLEN.
When Ruth Ramsey returned to the stockade she found the whole
settlement about to turn out in search of her. Her friends were
delighted at her return, for they had believed her lost, or captured by
the Indians, as her father and brother had returned some time before,
and reported that she had started home.
Ruth made known her startling adventure with Kansas King, her rescue
by a strange white girl; but the coming of the cavalry she kept to
herself, as the officer had requested her to do. The settlers were
all in a state of fermentation at the hostile position assumed by the
Sioux, and the coming into the hills of Kansas King and his band.
Buffalo Bill had made known the enmity of the Indians and advised that
the settlers should move over to the miners’ fort until after the
battle they knew must come with the Indians.
There were some who declared against the move, unwilling to leave off
their gold digging, and thus a war of words was progressing, when
suddenly Buffalo Bill again appeared in their midst, and at once his
report settled the matter.
Two hours after, the stockade was deserted by one and all, and the men
at once set off for the miners’ camp, excepting those designated to go
with the women and children into the Haunted Valley. A mile from the
stockade the party divided, with many tears, kind wishes, and tender
farewells, and Buffalo Bill led his precious charge by the nearest
route to the valley where Red Hand awaited them.
After an hour’s tramp, they entered a narrow gorge, the western inlet
to the valley. Ahead of them Buffalo Bill suddenly descried a tall,
upright form coming toward them.
It was Red Hand. He bowed pleasantly to the party, pressed lightly the
hand Ruth extended to him, and said simply:
“Come.”
Leading the way through the beautiful yet strangely wild glen, Red
Hand turned, after a walk of a third of a mile, into a thick piece of
timber, through which ran an indistinct trail. A still farther walk
through the woods of two hundred yards, and before them arose the
precipitous and lofty sides of the mountain, pierced by several narrow
gorges, that appeared like lanes through the massive hills.
Into one of these chasms, for they were hardly anything more, Red Hand
walked, and soon it widened into a perfect bowl, with towering walls
upon every side. It was a fairy spot, where one would love to dwell and
dream away a lifetime, far away from the cares of the world.
And there, sheltered against the base of the lofty hills, was a neat
little cabin home--a hermitage in the hills. It was a humble abode,
built of stout logs, and yet around it was an air of comfort, while
the interior, consisting of two rooms, certainly looked cozy and
most comfortable, for the furniture, though of rude manufacture, was
useful, and around the walls were many articles of use and enjoyment,
from rifles, knives, and pistols, cooking utensils, and a very fair
selection of books.
“This was her home,” he said simply and meaningly, speaking to Buffalo
Bill. “From here to his grave is but a short distance, and her going
there has marked a distinct trail. And, friend Cody, last night I made
strange discoveries.”
Turning to Captain Ramsey, Red Hand requested him to keep his party in
the gorge. Promising to bring the anxious mothers, wives, sisters, and
daughters good news, Buffalo Bill set out with Red Hand for the fort,
which they knew, before many hours, would be the scene of a terrible
border battle.
The scout even had his doubts as to a result in favor of the whites.
“Cody, if it comes to the worst, you can wait in the gorge until the
Indians believe you escaped before the fight, and then make for the
settlement with all haste.”
“I will try to take care of myself,” was the cheerful answer.
“Never mind me, old fellow; but, if we do go under, why, redskins’
scalps will be a drug in the market,” and a sad smile played upon Red
Hand’s face.