CONCLUSION.
As Harry Northend found himself battling with the billows, he struggled
manfully and heroically; for like every young, hopeful boy, he had
everything to live for. His life preserver kept him from sinking, but it
could not prevent the crests from curling over his head, and in this
way, when he was comparatively a short distance from shore, he became
bewildered, confused and strangled, and lost consciousness at the moment
when only a few sturdy strokes were needed to carry him safely to land.
But here were a number who were watching his movements ready to give
what assistance they could, the moment they could gain the opportunity
to do so.
Little Rifle and her father succeeded in reaching land, without
difficulty, and she was little exhausted. The moment she felt the solid
land beneath her, she turned about to see what had become of her friend
Harry Northend. For one moment, she thought he was gone, but the next
instant he rose to view on the crest of a wave, and she saw that he was
struggling for life.
As he was drifting down the coast, the eight or ten persons on the beach
hurried down, so as to keep opposite, and to be ready to lend a hand the
moment it could be done.
“Oh, if we had a rope!” exclaimed Little Rifle, as she saw how vainly
her lover was struggling, “we might save him.”
“But we hain’t got a rope,” growled Captain Cole, “so what’s the use?
But we can form a line ourselves, and maybe get out to him.”
This was no sooner mentioned than it was done, all taking hold of hands,
and while those composing one end of the line stood on the shore, the
others waded out as far as was prudent, the whole line running backward
when it was deemed prudent, or those furthest out to sea did their best
to “ride” the billows, as they came rolling in.
Captain Cole intended to take the outer end or post of danger himself,
but seeing the anxiety of Little Rifle, and noticing her excellence as a
swimmer, he permitted her to go out, while he griped her small hand in
his horny palm, with a power that would have pulled the arm from the
socket before it would have permitted it to be withdrawn from his grasp.
It was well that the captain retained his hold upon the hand or wrist of
Little Rifle; for her anxiety to get out to the assistance of the
despairing Harry Northend was so great, that she would have plunged
directly among the waves, careless of her own fate, in her desire to
save him.
But the sailor would not permit any such vicarious sacrifice as that,
struggle as much as she might. Three separate times Little Rifle
attempted to catch the coat of the boy, as he went up the billow; but he
was too weak to help himself, and she just missed him each time.
Again a giant wave carried him aloft, and, as Captain Cole gave her more
room, she threw herself into it also, with the resolve to secure him
this time, no matter at what cost.
A desperate clutch, as far out as the iron grip of the sailor would
permit, and her hand grasped the sleeve of the boy. She had caught him
at last.
The captain saw it, and giving the signal, the rest of the line ran up
the beach, the half-dozen who were furthest out, tumbling pell mell over
each other, as the wave broke and carried them up the sand.
As soon as she felt that they were safe against being carried back by
the undertow, Little Rifle knelt over the form of Harry, and raising his
head upon her knee, looked longingly down on his face to see whether
life had departed or not. It was hard for her to tell, but while gazing,
the bluff Captain Cole stooped over her shoulder and put his hand upon
his forehead and then upon his chest.
“Oh! he’s all right,” he said; “considerably bruised and half-choked,
but don’t you see he’s breathing?”
“You think, then, he will not die?” she said, just raising her voice
loud enough to be heard in the tumult.
“He’s worth ten thousand dead boys; he’ll come around all right in a few
minutes; but we must get up a fire some way or other or we shall all
perish. Dobbins must have got a crack on his head, some way or other,
for he’s dead as a door-nail. Well, you watch him while I see what can
be done about starting a fire.”
By dint of great effort, sufficient fuel was gathered, and a strong fire
was kindled, around which the miserable shipwrecked sufferers gathered,
and managed to keep themselves from perishing.
No Indians were to be seen, and, as the high cliffs shut out the view
inland, they had strong hopes of escaping this danger.
It was found that two of the seamen had suffered such injuries, that, in
spite of all that could be done, they succumbed and died. Wet, cold and
hungry, the others could not have been much more miserable than they
already were.
The storm rapidly abated, the sun coming out toward noon, and, as they
caught sight of a sail in the distance, every thing was done to attract
their notice. Captain Cole and a couple of his sailors ascended the
cliffs and displayed signals of distress.
Fortunately these attempts succeeded, and about the middle of the
afternoon, the ship came in as close to shore as was prudent, and a boat
was sent in to bring the shipwrecked crew and passengers off.
The sea was still running very high, but by good seamanship, the task
was accomplished without any mishap. The two dead bodies were also
brought off, and given a burial from the ship.
* * * * * * *
On the clear, starry night that succeeded the tempestuous one, Harry
Northend and Hagar Ravenna, better known as Little Rifle, sat by
themselves, conversing over the past and speculating as to the future.
Her hand was imprisoned in his, and she no longer attempted to conceal
the love that warmed her heart.
They first conversed of the past, and she made her story full and
complete.
On that night when the two encamped in the Oregon wilderness, she had
not the remotest intention of leaving him in the manner that she did.
But while he slept, the revelation that had been made to her during the
preceding few hours drove all slumber from her eyelids. It so wrought
upon her finally that she was obliged to rise to her feet, and pace back
and forth in the gloom, as a man will do when crushed by some
overwhelming calamity.
And then, fearful of awakening him, she wandered away in the gloom,
expecting to return when she was able to master her emotions.
She wept and cried, and was almost beside herself, until she flung
herself upon the ground, and prayed God to prevent her reason deserting
her.
While lying thus in the gloom of the forest, she felt the distinct shock
of an earthquake, and springing to her feet, was sensible of the ground
swaying beneath. This new terror caused her to fall senseless to the
ground.
When she regained her consciousness she was in a canoe, speeding swiftly
down-stream, and in the dim light of the early dawn, she recognized the
chief Maquesa, who, in answer to her questions, told her that he was
taking her to her father.
All that he said corresponded with what she had learned the previous
day, and sad as she felt at the manner that she had left her dear
friend, she could not refuse to go with him.
She gave the particulars of their journey through the woods and
mountains, saying that never until she caught sight of Harry upon the
wrecked Albatross did she know of a certainty that he was pursuing her.
It was plain now that when Robsart referred to the manner of her
departure, he was convinced that she had temporarily lost her reason—but
he forbore saying so, through fear of needlessly distressing her.
The meeting between father and daughter was singular and pathetic, and
it was a sad, strange story that he told.
Jared Ravenna was one of the early pioneers of California, and in the
year 1846 visited Astoria, where he met Maquesa, the Blackfoot chief,
one day while hunting. A curious concurrence of circumstances caused a
strong friendship to spring up between the two. He roamed the woods for
weeks and months with him, and might have remained for years; but the
discovery of gold in California, caused him, with hundreds of others, to
hurry thither.
Good fortune attended him in the mines, and leaving there he went east,
married the love of his youth, and returned again to California; but the
rugged life he was compelled to lead was too much for his wife, who died
at the birth of Hagar.
California at that time was infested with the scum of the earth, and not
knowing what to do with the infant, he thought of his old friend
Maquesa, and sailing to Astoria, placed her in charge of the chief, who
agreed to give her the best care until she should reach a suitable age
to be taken on the long journey eastward, to receive proper attention
and education.
A whim led the father to purchase the little rifle of a miner, and to
leave that with her, to provide against a contingency which he hoped
would never occur.
It was the intention of Mr. Ravenna to return and claim his child at the
end of two years, he agreeing to pay the chief a handsome sum for the
care she was to receive in the interval at the hands of his squaw,
himself and people.
Only moderate fortune attending Mr. Ravenna’s second venture in the
mines, he entered into a speculation somewhat of a different and
somewhat of the same character. Receiving what they deemed reliable
information of the existence of gold on an almost unknown portion of the
African coast, a party was formed to go thither.
When near their destination their vessel was wrecked, and those of their
company who were not lost fell into the hands of the savages. A half
dozen were kept in confinement for nearly ten years, when three of them
succeeded one dark night in swimming off to a slaver, and by a
roundabout and wearisome route the despairing father at last found his
way back to California, where to his amazement he discovered himself
wealthy from the appreciation of a large quantity of land to which he
possessed a clear title.
But he cared nothing for this. His child was his whole thought, and
without an hour’s unnecessary delay he reached Astoria, where he found
not a soul recognized him, so great had been the personal change in his
appearance during his long years of absence.
With the assistance of a couple of Indians he had little difficulty in
reaching Maquesa, who had long since given him up as dead. The chief
undoubtedly suspected the identity of Little Rifle, but cared not to
interfere between her and Old Ruff Robsart, so long as he believed her
parent would not return to claim her.
So much of the Past.
And now of the Present.
Mr. Ravenna was devotedly attached to his child, who was rapidly
learning to return his love. During his absence San Francisco had become
a great and growing city, and he proposed to settle down there and
devote himself to the education and welfare of his daughter. He received
Harry as his own child, and made him promise to make his home with him
until his own father should come to claim him.
And the future, who should penetrate that?
A couple of months later Mr. Northend appeared in San Francisco, in
company with Old Ruff Robsart, who was almost as wild with delight to
meet his own Little Rifle again as she was to see him. He already noted
a rapid improvement in her manner and appearance, and he was sure she
was going to make the handsomest woman that ever lived. He said, in
course of their many conversations, that one reason he returned to the
wilds of Oregon was to visit the cavern, in which it will be remembered
Harry and Little Rifle had become lost, after the former had gone over
the falls. He expected to find gold there, and so he did, but in too
insignificant quantities to compensate him, and so he left in disgust.
* * * * * * *
Five years later, the prosperous merchant, Harry Northend, received his
Bride of the Wilderness, as he still fondly termed her, and wishing them
all happiness we bid them farewell.
THE END.
FOOTNOTES
[1]See previous issue of this series, “Little Rifle.”
DIME POCKET NOVELS.
PUBLISHED SEMI-MONTHLY, AT TEN CENTS EACH.
1—Hawkeye Harry. By Oll Coomes.
2—Dead Shot. By Albert W. Aiken.
3—The Boy Miners. By Edward S. Ellis.
4—Blue Dick. By Capt. Mayne Reid.
5—Nat Wolfe. By Mrs. M. V. Victor.
6—The White Tracker. Edward S. Ellis.
7—The Outlaw’s Wife. Mrs. Ann S. Stephens.
8—The Tall Trapper. By Albert W. Aiken.
9—Lightning Jo. By Capt. Adams.
10—The Island Pirate. By Capt. Mayne Reid.
11—The Boy Ranger. By Oll Coomes.
12—Bess, the Trapper. By E. S. Ellis.
13—The French Spy. By W. J. Hamilton.
14—Long Shot. By Capt. Comstock.
15—The Gunmaker. By James L. Bowen.
16—Red Hand. By A. G. Piper.
17—Ben, the Trapper. By Lewis W. Carson.
18—Wild Raven. By Oll Coomes.
19—The Specter Chief. By Seelin Robins.
20—The B’ar-Killer. By Capt. Comstock.
21—Wild Nat. By Wm. R. Eyster.
22—Indian Jo. By Lewis W. Carson.
23—Old Kent, the Ranger. Edward S. Ellis.
24—The One-Eyed Trapper. Capt. Comstock.
25—Godbold, the Spy. By N. C. Iron.
26—The Black Ship. By John S. Warner.
27—Single Eye. By Warren St. John.
28—Indian Jim. By Edward S. Ellis.
29—The Scout. By Warren St. John.
30—Eagle Eye. By W. J. Hamilton.
31—The Mystic Canoe. By Edward S. Ellis.
32—The Golden Harpoon. By R. Starbuck.
33—The Scalp King. By Lieut. Ned Hunter.
34—Old Lute. By E. W. Archer.
35—Rainbolt, Ranger. By Oll Coomes.
36—The Boy Pioneer. By Edward S. Ellis.
37—Carson, the Guide. By J. H. Randolph.
38—The Heart Eater. By Harry Hazard.
39—Wetzel, The Scout. By Boynton Belknap.
40—The Huge Hunter. By Ed. S. Ellis.
41—Wild Nat, the Trapper. Paul Prescott.
42—Lynx-cap. By Paul Bibbs.
43—The White Outlaw. By Harry Hazard.
44—The Dog Trailer. By Frederick Dewey.
45—The Elk King. By Capt. Chas. Howard.
46—Adrian, the Pilot. By Col. P. Ingraham.
47—The Man-hunter. By Maro O. Rolfe.
48—The Phantom Tracker. By F. Dewey.
49—Moccasin Bill. By Paul Bibbs.
50—The Wolf Queen. By Charles Howard.
51—Tom Hawk, the Trailer.
52—The Mad Chief. By Chas. Howard.
53—The Black Wolf. By Edwin E. Ewing.
54—Arkansas Jack. By Harry Hazard.
55—Blackbeard. By Paul Bibbs.
56—The River Rifles. By Billex Muller.
57—Hunter Ham. By J. Edgar Iliff.
58—Cloudwood. By J. M. Merrill.
59—The Texas Hawks. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
60—Merciless Mat. By Capt. Chas. Howard.
61—Mad Anthony’s Scouts. By E. Rodman.
62—The Luckless Trapper. Wm. R. Eyster.
63—The Florida Scout. Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
64—The Island Trapper. Chas. Howard.
65—Wolf-Cap. By Capt. Chas. Howard.
66—Rattling Dick. By Harry Hazard.
67—Sharp-Eye. By Major Max Martine.
68—Iron Hand. By Frederick Forest.
69—The Yellow Hunter. By Chas. Howard.
70—The Phantom Rider. By Marc O. Rolfe.
71—Delaware Tom. By Harry Hazard.
72—Silver Rifle. By Capt. Chas. Howard.
73—The Skeleton Scout. Maj. L. W. Carson.
74—Little Rifle. By Capt. “Bruin” Adams.
75—The Wood Witch. By Edwin Emerson.
76—Old Ruff, the Trapper. “Bruin” Adams.
77—The Scarlet Shoulders. Harry Hazard.
78—The Border Rifleman. L. W. Carson.
79—Outlaw Jack. By Harry Hazard.
80—Tiger-Tail, the Seminole. R. Ringwood.
81—Death-Dealer. By Arthur L. Meserve.
82—Kenton, the Ranger. By Chas. Howard.
83—The Specter Horseman. Frank Dewey.
84—The Three Trappers. Seelin Robbins.
85—Kaleolah. By T. Benton Shields, U. S. N.
86—The Hunter Hercules. Harry St. George.
87—Phil Hunter. By Capt. Chas. Howard.
88—The Indian Scout. By Harry Hazard.
89—The Girl Avenger. By Chas. Howard.
90—The Red Hermitess. By Paul Bibbs.
91—Star-Face, the Slayer.
92—The Antelope Boy. By Geo. L. Aiken.
93—The Phantom Hunter. By E. Emerson.
94—Tom Pintle, the Pilot. By M. Klapp.
95—The Red Wizard. By Ned Hunter.
96—The Rival Trappers. By L. W. Carson.
97—The Squaw Spy. By Capt. Chas. Howard.
98—Dusky Dick. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
99—Colonel Crockett. By Chas. E. Lasalle.
100—Old Bear Paw. By Major Max Martine.
101—Redlaw. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
102—Wild Rube. By W. J. Hamilton.
103—The Indian Hunters. By J. L. Bowen.
104—Scarred Eagle. By Andrew Dearborn.
105—Nick Doyle. By P. Hamilton Myers.
106—The Indian Spy. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
107—Job Dean. By Ingoldsby North.
108—The Wood King. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
109—The Scalped Hunter. By Harry Hazard.
110—Nick, the Scout. By W. J. Hamilton.
111—The Texan Tiger. By Edward Willett.
112—The Crossed Knives. By Hamilton.
113—Tiger-Heart, the Tracker. By Howard.
114—The Masked Avenger. By Ingraham.
115—The Pearl Pirates. By Starbuck.
116—Black Panther. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
117—Abdiel, the Avenger. By Ed. Willett.
118—Cato, the Creeper. By Fred. Dewey.
119—Two-Handed Mat. By Jos. E. Badger.
120—Mad Trail Hunter. By Harry Hazard.
121—Black Nick. By Frederick Whittaker.
122—Kit Bird. By W. J. Hamilton.
123—The Specter Riders. By Geo. Gleason.
124—Giant Pete. By W. J. Hamilton.
125—The Girl Captain. By Jos. E. Badger.
126—Yankee Eph. By J. R. Worcester.
127—Silverspur. By Edward Willett.
128—Squatter Dick. By Jos. E. Badger.
129—The Child Spy. By George Gleason.
130—Mink Coat. By Jos. E. Badger.
131—Red Plume. By J. Stanley Henderson.
132—Clyde, the Trailer. By Maro O. Rolfe.
133—The Lost Cache. J. Stanley Henderson.
134—The Cannibal Chief. Paul J. Prescott.
135—Karaibo. By J. Stanley Henderson.
136—Scarlet Moccasin. By Paul Bibbs.
137—Kidnapped. By J. Stanley Henderson.
138—Maid of the Mountain. By Hamilton.
139—The Scioto Scouts. By Ed. Willett.
140—The Border Renegade. By Badger.
141—The Mute Chief. By C. D. Clark.
142—Boone, the Hunter. By Whittaker.
143—Mountain Kate. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
144—The Red Scalper. By W. J. Hamilton.
145—The Lone Chief. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
146—The Silver Bugle. Lieut. Col. Hazleton.
147—Chinga, the Cheyenne. By Edward S. Ellis. Ready Feb. 10th.
148—The Tangled Trail. By Major Max Martine. Ready Feb. 24th.
149—The Unseen Hand. By J. Stanley Henderson. Ready March 9th.
150—The Lone Indian. By Capt. Chas. Howard. Ready March 23d.
151—The Branded Brave. By Paul Bibbs. Ready April 6th.
152—Billy Bowlegs, the Seminole Chief. Ready April 20th.
153—The Valley Scout. By Seelin Robins. Ready May 4.
154—Red Jacket, the Huron. By Paul Bibbs. Ready May 18th.
BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.
Transcriber’s Notes
—Silently corrected a few typos.
—Retained publication information from the printed edition: this eBook
is public-domain in the country of publication.
—In the text versions only, text in italics is delimited by
_underscores_.
—Created a Table of Contents based on the chapter headings.