CHAPTER XXIII.

The Curate becomes much attached to the Wanderers. Arrival of Mr. and

Mrs. Duncan and family. Whirlwind demands Jane in marriage. Jane

refuses, and the Indians take their departure. The curate gives an

account of the discoveries he made of a singular road, city and

pyramid. Prosperous condition of Mr. Duncan's family. The lapse of

twelve years. Change of their condition. Conclusion. 342

THE WANDERERS:

OR,

LIFE IN THE WESTERN WILDS.

Chapter First.

Mr. Duncan's Discontentment. He starts for the West.

Near the Cold Springs, in Lafayette county, Missouri, lived Mr. Duncan,

a sturdy woodsman, who emigrated thither with his father, while the

Mississippi valley was still a wilderness, inhabited by wild beasts, or

the still more savage Indians. His grandfather was an eastern man; but

had bared his brawny arm on many a battle field, and had earned the

right to as many broad acres as he chose to occupy. So, at least, he

said, on leaving his eastern home, after peace had been declared, for

the then verge of civilization--the Ohio. Here the soldier lived to see

the wilderness blossom like the rose, and here he died, grieving that

infirmity prevented his flying from the din of the sledge hammer, and

the busy hum of mechanical life. Mr. Duncan's father, in the vigor of

manhood, crossed the Mississippi, and settled at the Cold Springs, a

region then isolated from civilization, as the Ohio was many years

before the white man had planted his foot west of the Alleghanies. But

he lived to see the silent echoes resound to the shrill whistle of the

engine, and luxury with its still but mighty sway enervate the sons and

daughters of the pioneers, until the one quailed at the sight of danger

and the other dosed away the morning in kid slippers and curl-papers.

Time claimed its own, and he died; and then his son, the Mr. Duncan of

our narrative, began to turn his attention to the west, as his

grandfather and his father had done before him. He had married a

trapper's daughter, twenty years before, and his family consisted now

of four sons and two daughters, an adopted son, and his brother-in-law,

Andy Howe, who had spent his life in trapping, and trading with the

Indians.

Lewis, his eldest son, nineteen years of age, was a man in strength,

proportion and judgment, cool and prompt in emergencies, but on

ordinary occasions caring for little else than his dogs, gun and uncle,

whose superior knowledge of all that pertained to the forest, made him

an oracle among the less experienced.

Edward, a boy of seventeen, passionate and headstrong, but generous and

brave.

Jane, a girl of fifteen, the mother's supporter and helper, high

spirited, energetic and courageous.

Martin, a pleasure-seeking, fun-loving, mischief-making lad of twelve

years.

Anne, a timid child of ten years, who went by the soubriquet of the

baby, by all except Lewis, who understood her better and called her the

"fawn."

And last, but not least, the son of his adoption, Sidney Young, a noble

young fellow of eighteen, whose parents dying left him to the care of

Mr. Duncan, who had reared him with as tender care as that he bestowed

upon his own children.

"Little Benny," or Benjamin more properly, we must not forget to

introduce, a manly little fellow of eight, who could handle a bow and

arrow, or hook and line, and propel a canoe with as much dexterity as a

young Indian.

Such was the family of Mr. Duncan, when he resolved to penetrate the

almost unknown region of the west. No hypochondriac papa or aristocratic

mamma, can I introduce, but a hale, robust yeoman, who looks upon

himself as in the prime of manhood, though nearly fifty years of age,

and who boasts of never having consulted a physician or taken a drug.

Mrs. Duncan wore her own glossy hair at forty-five, without a thread of

silver among it, while her step was as elastic, and eye as bright, as

in her girlhood. Her cheek was less rounded than it was formerly; but

the matronly dignity and motherly kindness that characterized her,

amply compensated for its loss. True types of man and womanhood were

they, whom no dangers or vicissitude could daunt, no trials swerve

from the path of right or _inclination_. Mr. Duncan well knew the

undertaking he proposed was not one to be entered into thoughtlessly,

or without due preparation. His habits from earliest infancy, of daily

encountering the perils of border life, had taught him this, and with

it taught him to love the boundless forest, the dashing waterfalls, and

the deep stillness that retreated as refinement advanced.

"This is no place for me," he said, as he heard of some new innovation

on old customs, as having taken place in the vicinity. But when a

favorite haunt by a small stream was taken possession of, the trees

felled, the brooklet dammed, and a factory set in motion, he for a

moment seemed astounded, his eye wandered inquiringly from one member

of his family to another, and finally rested upon Howe, as though

expecting him to provide some remedy to stay the hand of innovation.

"It cannot be done, Duncan," said the trapper, comprehending the

unspoken inquiry. "We are completely ensnared. Don't you see we are

surrounded?"

"Had they only chosen some other spot for this last shop, or factory,

or whatever else you call it, I would have tried to borne it. But

there--no, it is too much."

"I have news that will be as unpleasant as the mill. The surveyors will

pass near here in laying out a railroad to-morrow," said Lewis.

"I will never see it," said Mr. Duncan. "The world is wide enough for

all. It may be for the best, that there should be a general revolution

in the mode of manufactures and commerce, but I cannot appreciate it; I

am willing to fall back to the forest to give place to those who can."

It must not be inferred that Mr. Duncan was an illiterate man. On the

contrary, he was well posted on all the great events that transpired,

and was conversant with many ancient and modern authors. He had

carefully instilled into the minds of his children, a love of truth and

virtue, for the contentment and nobleness it gave, and to despise vice

as a thing too contaminating to indulge in by thought or practice. This

love of forest life had become a part of his being, and he could no

more content himself among the rapidly accumulating population that

sprang up around him, than a Broadway dandy could in the wilderness.

When driven from his accustomed fishing ground by the demolition of the

forest, whose trees shaded the brooklet with their gigantic arms

stretching from either side, interlacing and forming an arch above so

compact as to render it impenetrable to the noonday sun, he wearied of

his home, and sighed for the forest that was still in the west. Here he

had been accustomed to resort to indulge in piscatory amusement; with

his trusty rifle, full many a buck and even nobler game had fallen

beneath his aim, as lured by the stillness they had come to quench

their thirst at the brook, unconscious of the danger to which they were

drawing near. He had long looked upon this haunt as peculiarly his own,

not by the right of purchase, but by the possession, which he had

actually enjoyed many years, until he considered it as an essential to

his happiness.

For Mr. Duncan to resolve was to accomplish. Seconded by his family,

his farm was sold, his affairs closed, and May 10, 1836, saw him

properly fitted out for a plunge into the western wilds. Three emigrant

wagons contained their movables, each drawn by three yoke of stout

oxen. The first contained provisions and groceries, seeds and grain for

planting, with apparatus for cooking. The second contained the

household furniture that was indispensable, beneath which lay a

quantity of boards, tent canvass, an extra set of wagon covers ready

for use, twine, ropes &c., and was also to be the apartments of Mr. and

Mrs. Duncan, and the girls. The third was loaded with agricultural and

carpenter's tools, and contained the magazine, and was appropriated to

the use of Andy Howe and the boys. Two saddle horses, five mules and

three milch cows, with six as fierce hunting dogs as ever run down an

antelope, constituted their live stock.

Thus prepared the family bade a glad adieu to their old home to find a

more congenial one. I say a glad adieu, for certainly the older members

of the family went voluntarily, and the younger ones, carried away by

the hurry of preparation, had no time to think, and perhaps knew not of

the dangers they would have to encounter. Youth is ever sanguine, and

they had learned from the older ones to look upon the forest freed from

the Indians as the Elysium of this world.

Onward to the west the tide of emigration is still rolling. Three

centuries ago, the Massachusetts and Virginia colonies were the west to

the European, three thousand miles over the Atlantic ocean. Brave was

the soul, and stout the heart, that then dared it. A century later

Pennsylvania and New York was the west; the tide was rolling on; still

a century later its waves had swept over the Alleghanies, and went

dashing down the Mississippi valley, anon dividing in thousands of

rivulets, went winding and murmuring among the rugged hills and

undulating plains. But even the burden of its murmurings was _the_

west, still on to the west. And now where is the west? Not the

Mississippi valley but the fastnesses of the Rocky Mountains. That

part we find on charts as the "_unknown_." A valley situated among

mountains, sunny and luxuriant as those of a poet's dream; but guarded

by a people driven to desperation. This is now the west.

Chapter Second.

The Journey. Encampment. Buffalo hunt. Anne and Edward lost. They

discover an old fort. Fight with a Wolf. Take refuge in a Tree. Rescued

by Howe and Lewis. Return to the Camp.

Mr. Duncan chose the trader's route to Oregon as the one most likely to

lead him to his desired haven. He was familiar with this route, having

frequently made it some years before. To Andy Howe, every rock, tree,

and river, was like the face of a friend so often had he passed them.

Mrs. Duncan had no misgivings when they entered on the forest. She had

so often heard the different scenes and places described as to

recognize the locality through which they passed, and with perfect

confidence in the forest craft of her brother and husband, she gave

herself no trouble, save that of making her family as comfortable and

pleasant as circumstances would allow.

No incident disturbed their journey, worthy of note, day after day as

they easily moved along. It was not Mr. Duncan's policy to exhaust his

teams at the outset by long weary marches; but like a skilful general,

husband his strength, in case of emergencies. The road was smooth and

level, being generally over large extended prairies.

The fifth day out they crossed the Kansas, when the country became more

broken, and they saw the first buffalo on their route, which Lewis had

the good luck to kill. With the aid of Howe it was cut up and the

choicest parts brought to camp. Never was a supper enjoyed with more

zest than that night. Delicious steaming beef stakes, wheat cakes,

butter, cheese, new milk and tea, spread out on a snow white cloth, on

their temporary table, to which they had converted two boards by

nailing sheets across the back, and resting each end on a camp stool,

made a feast worth travelling a few days into the wilderness to enjoy.

Their camp was pitched for the night on the mossy bank of a small

stream, overshadowed by large cotton-woods through which the stars

peered, and the new moon with its silvery crescent gleamed faintly as

the shadows of evening closed around them.

After night fall the party was thrown into quite an excitement by the

approach of figures which they supposed to be Indians, but which turned

out to be a herd of deer feeding. Howe laughed heartily at the fright,

for the Indians were to him as brothers. His father had been known and

loved for many acts of kindness to them, and had been dignified as the

great _Medicine_.[1] Accompanying his father on his trapping excursions,

while still a boy, he had spent many a day and night in their wigwams,

partaking of their hospitality, contending with the young braves in

their games, and very often joining them in their hunts among the

mountains. Hostile and cruel they might be to others, but Howe was

confident that he and those with him would meet with nothing but

kindness at their hands.

[1] A name applied by the Indians to their benefactors.

Antelopes were now seen often, and sometimes numerous buffalo; but

nothing of importance had been killed for two days. The morning of the

twenty-fifth dawned clear and beautiful. Howe and Lewis brought the

horses, and with Sidney mounted on a fleet mule, the three set out on a

hunt. They had been tempted to this by a moving mass of life over the

plain against the horizon, that resembled a grove of trees waving in

the wind, to all but a practised eye; but which the hunters declared to

be a herd of buffalo. Such a sight creates a strange emotion of

grandeur, and there was not one of the party but felt his heart beat

quicker at the sight. The herds were feeding, and were every where in

constant motion. Clouds of dust rose from various parts of the bands,

each the scene of some obstinate fight. Here and there a huge bull was

rolling in the grass. There were eight or nine hundred buffaloes in the

herd. Riding carelessly the hunters came within two hundred yards of

them before their approach was discovered, when a wavering motion among

them, as they started in a gallop for the hills, warned them to close

in the pursuit. They were now gaining rapidly on them, and the interest

of the chase became absorbingly intense.

A crowd of bulls brought up the rear, turning every few moments to face

their pursuers, as if they had a mind to turn and fight, then dashed on

again after the band. When at twenty yards distant the hunters broke

with a sudden rush into the herd, the living mass giving away on all

sides in their heedless career. They separated on entering, each one

selecting his own game. The sharp crack of the rifle was heard, and

when the smoke and dust, which for a moment blinded them, had cleared

away, three fine cows were rolling in the sand. At that moment four

fierce bulls charged on Sidney, goring his mustang in a frightful

manner, and would probably have terminated his hunting career, had not

the sudden shock of the onset thrown him some distance over his

mustang's head. He was not much hurt, and before the buffaloes could

attack him again, they were put to flight by Howe and Lewis. On

examining the animal they soon saw he could not live, and shot him to

end his suffering.

This they felt was an unlucky incident, and with saddened hearts turned

their faces campward, which on reaching they found in consternation at

the prolonged absence of Edward and Anne. They had gone out a few

moments after the hunters, Edward to fish in the brook by which they

had encamped, and Anne to gather curious plants and flowers, of which

she was passionately fond. Mr. Duncan had been in search of them and

came up as the hunters were dismounting.

"Have you found them?" was asked by every one in a moment, as he came

up.

"No! but I found this, and this, about two miles down the stream," said

he, holding up a fading wreath of wild flowers, and the skeleton of a

fish that Edward had evidently cut away to bait his hook with.

"It is now nearly noon, and by the looks of that fish and those

flowers, they have laid in the sun three hours. Give us a lunch, Mary,

and now for the dogs, Lewis. No time is to be lost," said Howe.

"I fear the worst," said the father; "I saw signs of Indians."

"What were they?" quickly asked the Trapper.

"A raft on the opposite bank of the stream."

"They will bring them back, if they have taken them," said Howe, to

which the surmise was not new, for it had occurred to him the moment he

found the children were gone, but did not like to say so, lest he

should raise an unnecessary alarm, But there was no outcry, no

lamentation or dismay, though all was bustle and hurry. They knew it

was time to act, not to spend their time in useless sorrow.

"Bring up two mules," said Howe, filling his pockets with bread and

cheese, which he told Lewis to do also, "for," said he, "we may not

come in to supper, certainly not unless we find them."

"I will go with you," said the father.

"And I," said Sidney, decidedly.

"No: a sufficient force is necessary here; you will take care of the

camp, and if you hear the report of three guns in succession, bring the

horses, which must be fed immediately," said the Trapper. "But, if we

do not have to go a long distance, the mules will do."

"How will you know whether they are lost or have been carried off by

savages," asked the mother, and though no coward, she shuddered and

turned white as she asked the question.

"Easily enough known, when once on the ground. I know the red-skins as

thoroughly as I do my rifle. Here Buff, here Lion," cried the Trapper,

calling two noble bloodhounds to him--"Now, Mary," he continued, "give

me a pair of Edward's and Anne's shoes, that they have worn." They were

given him, and taking the hounds by the collar, he made them smell the

shoes until they got the scent, then leading them to the bank of the

stream pointed to them the tracks made in the morning.

"They have it! they have it!" shouted the family, as the hounds, with

their noses to the ground, led off in fine style.

"Take Prince and Carl in the leash, Lewis, and fasten it to your

saddle, then mount and away," cried the Trapper, throwing himself into

his saddle, and giving the mule the spur, he was rapidly following in

their wake.

Two hours passed, when the signals were given for the horses. Sidney

saddled them, took a basket of provisions which Mrs. Duncan had put up

with her usual thoughtfulness for others, and started in the direction

from which the firing proceeded.

Edward and Anne, in the morning, had followed the course of the stream

as far down as their father had traced them, Edward whiling away the

time in drawing the finny tribes from their element, Anne in weaving in

wreaths the gorgeous tinted wild flowers, sweet scented violets, and

glossy green of the running pine. The children heeded not time, nor the

distance they were placing between themselves and the camp, but

wandered on. The wild birds were trilling the most delicious music,

which burst on the ear enchantingly, and was the only sound that broke

the solemn stillness that reigned around, save the soft gurgling of the

water, as it glided over its pebbly bed. The forest was dense, the

foliage above them shielding them from the sun, while the bank was

smooth, mossy, and thickly studded with wild spring flowers, now in all

the luxuriance of their natural loveliness. When they came to the bank

of the stream where their father lost their track, they had their

curiosity excited by a grove of willows on the opposite side, in the

midst of which they could discern trunks of large trees piled up

systematically, with a quantity of rubbish laying around. Thoughtlessly

they resolved to cross over. The stream was about forty feet wide, but

very shallow, not over three feet deep at any point, and in many places

not more than two. But in order to get over, it was necessary to make a

raft. Edward was at no loss how to begin; he had too often seen his

father make temporary rafts to hesitate. Indeed, he looked upon it as a

thing too small to be of much importance. Collecting two as large

pieces of drift-wood as he could manage, he drew them to the bank,

collected fallen limbs and brush wood, laying them across the drift

wood, until he found, by walking upon it, that it would sustain their

weight; then seating Anne in the centre, and with a long pole in his

hand, placed himself beside her, and with the end of his pole pushing

against the bank, launched his strange looking craft into the stream,

their weight pressing against the water and its density resisting the

pressure, kept the raft together. Slowly but securely they moved along;

by pressing the pole against the bed of the river he propelled it until

they finally reached in safety the opposite bank, where, drawing their

raft a little out of water, that it might not float out of their reach

into the stream, they prepared to explore the grove of willows that had

drawn them thither. It was the sight of this raft across the stream

that caused Mr. Duncan's alarm about the Indians.

On entering they found a large space cleared of its primitive growth,

in the centre of about three acres, which was slightly overgrown with

stunted shrubs, but the willows that formed the grove were of gigantic

proportions, many of them three and a half, and some four feet in

diameter.

In the centre of the clearing, was an immense fort, evidently built of

the willows that had been felled to clear the space. The logs had been

cut, straightened, and made to fit each other, with some sharp

instrument, the corners being smoothly jointed, making the whole

structure solid and impregnable to gun-shot or arrows. What had

evidently been the door was torn away, and lay mouldering on the

ground. The whole structure was apparently very old, and had been long

deserted. The grass was growing within the enclosure, with weeds and

briers, while the logs that formed it were covered with moss, and were

crumbling to decay.

The children's curiosity was now blended with an absorbing interest,

and Anne longed to follow Edward into the enclosure, but hesitated

until he called out, "Only look! Anne! what can this be?" Then

forgetting all her timidity, she hastened to see what he was dragging

out of the rubbish, and as he held it up triumphantly for her

inspection, she looked on with wonder and amazement.

"It is a huge plate cover; here is the handle," said Anne, turning it

round with eagerness.

"Hardly that," said her brother; "this is two feet across, and is

hardly the right thing for a plate cover; it is made of some metal."

"We will take it home," said Anne; "father and uncle Howe will know

what it is, don't you think so?"

But Edward was not listening, and did not answer. He was digging down

where he had found the thing, and came to a quantity of arrow heads,

evidently made of the same material as the other, but of what it was he

could not determine. Anne, with a strong stick in her hand, commenced

searching, and soon came upon what they knew to be a stone mortar, for

they had often seen them before.

Anne now began to complain of hunger, and Edward said he would give her

a treat, Indian-fashion, to celebrate their arrival into, as he

facetiously said, an Indian palace!

"But what can you give? We brought nothing with us; besides we have

been out quite as long as we ought to, and had better return

immediately."

"Oh, no; we have not. You know the camp will not move to-day, and I

intend to make a day's work of it."

"We certainly must return; they will be alarmed about us. Come, let us

go back."

"Not until we have the feast. Now keep quiet, Anne, until that is over,

and then I will return with you."

"A funny feast it will be, composed of nothing."

"A finny feast it is to be, composed of fish. Now see how I will make a

fire." And taking a flint he had found, he struck his pocket knife

blade slant-wise against it, when it emitted sparks of fire in

profusion, which, falling on a sort of dry wood, known to woodmen as

"punk wood," set it on fire, which Edward soon blew into a blaze, and

by feeding it judiciously a fire was soon crackling and consuming the

fuel he had piled on it. In the mean time he had taken the fish he had

caught, dressed and washed them at the stream, and laying them on the

live coals until one side was done, turned them on the other by the aid

of a long stick he had sharpened for the purpose, and when done he took

them up on its point, and laid them steaming on a handful of leaves he

had collected, and presented them to his sister.

Anne was sure she had never ate fish that tasted so delicious, a

conclusion an excellent appetite helped her to arrive at. Edward was

highly elated at his success, and laughed and joked over a dinner they

enjoyed with a relish an epicure might covet. There is an old proverb

about stolen waters being sweet; certainly their stolen ramble and

impromptu dinner had a charm which completely blinded them to their

duty to their parents, and even their own safety; for Edward proposed

they should take a short ramble on the other side, where they were to

try if they could discover some other ruins like those at the fort, and

overruling the slight opposition Anne made, they gathered up the relics

they had found, and moved on from the stream towards the deep luring

shades, that were the same for many thousand miles, unbroken by the

bound of civilization, but bewildering by its still mystic loveliness.

On they went, regardless of taking any notes or landmarks until the

exhaustion of Anne warned Edward it was indeed time to return. Changing

their course for one they mistook for that they had come, they plunged

deeper and deeper at every step into the woods, without discovering

their error, until they knew by the distance they had traversed they

ought to have reached the old fort: but now it was no where to be seen,

neither were there any signs of a river. They wandered to and fro,

hoping every moment to make out the true direction to take, yet

becoming more confused and bewildered at every step. Finally, Edward

laid his ear to the ground, and listening, was sure he heard the faint

murmuring of water. They hastened on towards the direction whence it

proceeded, guided by the sound, until, oh joy! a stream burst upon

their sight. Reaching its banks, Edward took his sister in his arms,

plunged into the water, and was soon in safety on the opposite shore.

He was now in a great quandary, for though he had gained what he

supposed to be the bank he had left, without having lost time in

building a raft, yet he knew if he missed his way he would not be able

to gain the camp by sunset, for he saw by the long falling shadows that

the sun was rapidly descending.

Anne was greatly terrified, and wept bitterly. "Do not grieve," said

Edward, "they will of course miss, and come in search of us, if we do

not get home soon. I am very certain we are very near the camp

already."

"I am afraid we are lost," Anne replied, sobbing, "and if we are, we

may never get back again!"

"Fie! Anne, don't be a coward, for I am very certain we shall, and that

within the hour."

"How can you be certain? you do not even know which direction to take."

"Oh! yes I do: we came south, and of course must go north to get back

again."

"If we only knew which way was north. No stars are to be seen to

indicate it."

"Easily enough told,--come, we must not lose a moment, and as we go I

will tell you an unmistakable sign."

"Oh! I am so weary I can go no farther," and again the child sobbed

bitterly.

"Never mind, I am not tired, and can help you," and passing one arm

around her he rendered her great assistance, and again they were

hurrying on.

"You observe these trees," said he; "the bark on the side that faces

the way we are going is quite smooth and even, while the opposite side

is rough and the branches jagged. It is always so on forest trees, and

a person may rely on this as a natural sign, when he has none other to

go by, with perfect security. I have heard uncle Howe and father say

that they have repeatedly lost themselves in the woods, but by

following in one direction to a given point they could soon find

themselves again."

"It is getting so very dark. Oh! Edward, what shall we do?"

"The first of every thing we _must_ do is, to keep up our courage."

"Hist! what is that?--There it is again! Oh! Edward, let us run! There!

there it is!" screamed the terrified girl.

Edward turned to the direction indicated, and a wolf was crouching with

glaring eyes, ready to spring upon them. Edward's only weapon was a

pocket-knife, one of those long two-edged bladed weapons, so common in

the west; yet he did not despair, but placing Anne behind a large tree

stationed himself before it, and with his knife open and a huge club he

awaited the approach of the wolf.

It soon came. The wolf was lean and desperate, and with a terrific

growl he bounded forward, but was met by the brave boy, who sprang

aside as he came, and before the monster could recover his leap, Edward

had dealt him several deep and deadly blows. Following up his advantage

he sprang at the wolf with his knife, plunging it again and again in

his side. The brute feeling he was being conquered, with a mighty

effort turned on Edward with jaws extended, and would have done him

harm had not Anne sprung forward with the circular metallic relic they

had found at the fort, and placed it before her brother. This drew the

attention of the enraged wolf on her; but before he could spring,

Edward had felled him a second time to the ground, where he soon

dispatched him.

It was now too dark to make their way farther, and Edward was forced to

acknowledge the only hope of getting to camp that night, lay in their

being found by his friends and carried back. Many a boy would have been

discouraged, but Edward was not; though but seventeen he was athletic

and brave, and felt that he was answerable for his sister's safety,

whom he had led into this difficulty. "I _can_," said he to himself,

"and I will; and where there is a _will_, there is a _way_."

He immediately kindled a fire, as he had done in the morning, in order

to keep other wild beasts away, as well as to prepare some supper; then

taking his line he soon had some fine fish, (for he was on the river

bank he had last crossed,) which he broiled on the coals.

He could not shut his eyes to the terrible truth that they were in a

very dangerous place; for, although they piled on fuel to frighten the

beasts, yet they could hear the fierce growl of the wolf, the yell of

the panther, and their stealthy tread, and see their eyes flash and

glare in the surrounding gloom. The smell of the broiling fish seemed

to have collected them, and sharpening their voracious appetites, made

them desperate. To add to the difficulty of the children, the fuel was

getting scarce around the fire, and they dared not go away from it, for

it would be running into the very jaws of their terrible besiegers.

"We must get up into a tree, Anne," said Edward; "it is now our only

hope."

"Then, Edward, there is no hope for me; I cannot climb, but you can.

Save yourself while you can!"

"No, Anne, these monsters shall never have you while I live; never fear

that. I know you cannot climb of yourself, but I can get you there. We

must make a strong cord somehow. My fishing-line doubled twice will

help, and here is a tree of leather-wood;[2] this is fortunate, I can

now succeed."

[2] _Dirca palustris_, a very tough shrub, of the _Thymalaeæ_

species, growing in the deep forests.

Collecting together all the fuel he could, he piled it on the fire,

then taking his knife, stripped off the leather-wood bark, and tying it

around Anne's waist, with the other end in his hand, he climbed up to

the lowest limb, and then cautiously drew her up after him. Seating her

securely on that limb, he climbed higher up, drawing her after him,

until he reached a secure place, where he seated her, taking the

precaution to fasten the cord that was around her to the tree. It was a

large hemlock tree, and the limbs being very elastic, he proceeded to

weave her a bed, that she might take some repose, for the poor child

was wearied with fright and fatigue. Disengaging part of the cord from

her, he bent together some limbs, and fastened them securely with the

leather-wood string; he then broke some smaller branches, and

interlaced them with the larger ones, until he had made a strong and

quite comfortable bed. In this singular couch he placed Anne, where she

soon fell asleep.

Gradually the fire died away, and nearer and nearer their dreadful

enemies approached, until they came to the carcass of the dead wolf,

which they tore into pieces and devoured, amidst frightful growlings

and fightings. When nothing but the bare bones were left, they

surrounded the tree in whose friendly branches the children had taken

refuge, and kept up a continued howl through the night. Edward sat on a

limb by his sister through the night, his knife ready for use,

wondering if ever there was a night so long before. To him it seemed as

though day would never dawn; and when he espied the first faint glimmer

in the east, his heart bounded with gratitude that he had escaped the

perils of the night. But would the wolves go away with the darkness?

alas! they did not, but still prowled around, so that they did not dare

to descend from their place of security.

Howe and Lewis had discovered the place where the children had ate

their dinners at the fort, and had traced them until they came to the

place where they first found they had missed their way. Here the hounds

became perplexed in consequence of the children having doubled their

track, and were unable to make out the path. After some delay it was

again found, and followed to the river bank, which Howe hesitated to

cross, as it was now quite dark; accordingly they encamped for the

night. At dawn the next morning they crossed the river; the dogs were

turned loose, and after a few moments they set off at a rapid pace in

one direction; Howe and Lewis followed, and came in sight in time to

see the dogs give battle to the wolves that were watching the children

in the tree.

"Our rifles are needed there," said Howe, as his practised glance took

in the combat, and drawing his eye across his trusty gun, a sharp crack

was heard, and a wolf was felled to the ground. Again it was heard, and

another bit the dust. Lewis had not been idle; he too had brought down

two of them, and the remainder fled, with the hounds in pursuit.

The children's joy I will not attempt to describe, as they saw their

rescuers approach, nor yet the agony of the parents, as the night wore

away and the absent ones came not. Lewis took his sister in his arms,

holding her on the saddle before him, and bore her back to camp. She

would not relinquish the trophies found at the fort, which she had

purchased so dearly, but carried them with her.

"My children, how could you wander away so, when you well knew the

dangers of the woods?" said the father, when they were once more safely

in the camp.

"It was not Anne's fault, father: do not blame her. I persuaded her to

cross the river, and after leaving the old Indian fort, somehow we got

turned around, and instead of recrossing the river, we went on and

crossed over another stream," said Edward.

"Neither was it all Edward's fault," replied Anne; "I wanted to see

what was in the Willow Grove, and when once there the woods were so

shady and looked so cool and inviting----"

"Wolves and all, sister?" said Benny.

"The wolves were not there then; nothing but birds and squirrels, and

such bright flowers and----"

"Were you not very much frightened, when you found you had lost

yourselves?" asked Jane.

"Oh! yes; and when the wolf jumped at Edward, I thought we should never

see any of you again."

"Where is your 'plate cover' you used so effectually," said Edward,

"for I want you all to know that when the wolf was getting the better

of me, Anne, usually so timid, suddenly became very courageous, and

with this for a weapon turned the brute's attention on herself, and

thus perhaps saved my life."

"Give me Anne's 'plate cover;'" said the father, "I am curious to

examine what seems to have played so active a part in your adventure."

"A curious thing, very," said he, examining it closely. "Howe, did you

ever come across anything like it in your wanderings? It is heavy,

evidently of some kind of metal."

"Once, and once only. But its description would be a long story. Scrape

away the rust, Duncan, and see if it is made of copper."

Mr. Duncan cut away a thick scale of corroded metal, then scraping it

with a knife a pure copper plate was exposed to view.

"I thought so," said Howe. "It is a strange story, but I will tell you

all I know of it."

Chapter Third.

Howe's Story of a singular piece of Metal.

In compliance with Mr. Duncan's wish Howe related the story of the

singular piece of metal he had seen, similar to the one they had

discovered.

"Some twenty years ago," said he, "my father and I carried on an

extensive traffic with the Indians around Lake Superior for furs, often

being gone a year on our expeditions, during which time we lived

entirely with the Indians, when not in some inhabited region, by

ourselves, which we often were, for a trapper penetrates and brings to

light hidden resources, of which the Indian never dreams. During one of

these excursions, we had been struck with the singular appearance of an

old man, tottering with age, who belonged to the wigwam of the Indian

chief with whose people we were trading. His thin hair, falling from

the lower part of his head, was long, curling and white, leaving the

top bald, and the scalp glossy. His beard was very heavy, parting on

the upper lip, and combed smoothly and in waving masses, fell on his

breast. His must have been a powerful, athletic frame in his manhood,

for when I saw him he was over seven feet high, and though feeble and

tottering, his frame was unbent, and his eye was blue and glittering,

with a soul his waning life could not subdue. His features, as well as

complexion, were totally unlike the rest of the tribe. His forehead was

broad and high, his chin wide and prominent, his lips full, with a

peculiar cast about them I had never seen on any other human being,

giving the impression of nobleness mingled with a hopeless agony and

sorrow. Such, at least, was the impression made on my mind, which time

has never effaced. He was a strange old man, with such a form and face,

and so unlike any other human being, that his very presence inspired

the heart with feelings of reverence. The Indians have no beard. This

fact impressed us with the idea that he was a white man; but when I

compared him to the white race, he was as unlike them as the Indians.

Singular in all his ways and manners, he seemed a being isolated from

every human feeling or sympathy.

"My father said he had known this man for thirty-five years, and when

he first saw him he was old, but then there was a woman with him, whom

he tenderly cherished, and who, but a few years before, died of extreme

old age. Otherwise he knew nothing more of them, as he never sought to

learn farther than what the chief had told him. When he asked who they

were, he was answered that they were all that was left of a nation

their ancestors had conquered so many moons ago, and the chief caught a

handful of sand, to designate the moons by the grains.

"I was more deeply impressed with the sight of this old man than I can

describe; and what I heard of him only deepened the impression, until

it haunted me continually. Who was he? How came he here? And where came

he from when he came here? Who were his kindred, and of what race and

nation was he? These were questions that I asked myself day after day,

but was unable to answer them. I resolved to find out, and attempted to

make friends with him as the most tangible way of succeeding. He was

reserved and haughty, and I doubted my success; but I was agreeably

surprised when he deigned to receive and converse with me, though at

the same time he treated me with a degree of contempt by no means

agreeable; yet it came from him with such a glance of pity in his eye

as if he earnestly commiserated my inferiority, that I half forgave him

at the moment. He conversed about everything save the one subject

nearest my heart--_himself_. But on this point he was silent, and when,

day after day, I entreated him to give me a history of himself, the

thought seemed to call up such agonizing recollections as to make every

renewal of the subject difficult for me and painful to him.

"Many months went by, but as yet I was no farther advanced than at

first, on the one great subject of which I so longed to be familiar. I

fancied of late the old man had become more taciturn and reserved than

formerly, showing a disinclination to converse on any subject, and I

could not avoid seeing his steps grow slower; he took less exercise

than had been his custom, and I saw plainly he was passing away. Then I

feared he would never relent; that death would come upon him and his

history remain unknown.

"One evening, after I had in vain endeavored to gain access to the old

man through the day, I wandered out and stood on a high cliff, against

whose base the waves of the lake beat with a sullen roar; and looking

far away over the turbulent surface of this prince of inland seas, was

wondering if ever its waters would become tributary to the will of my

race, or if, as now, the canoe of the Indian was all the vessel that

should breast its rugged waves. The place where I stood was a sort of

table, or level rock, the highest peak of the cliff, rising in a

cone-like shape, some thirty feet above. Below it was irregular, and

the path to the place where I stood tortuous, difficult, and dangerous;

but when once there, one of the grandest views on the whole lake was

presented. I had not been there long, when, hearing a footstep

approach, and thinking it a dangerous place to be caught in if it

should be an unfriendly Indian, I caught hold of some shrubs growing in

the crevices of the rock, and silently let myself down a few feet below

the table, whose overhanging rock I knew would protect me from

observation, and where I could have a full view of the rock by looking

through the shrubs, by whose friendly aid I had descended to my

retreat.

"I had scarcely secreted myself when, to my astonishment, the old man

advanced slowly up the path, his labored breathing showing how painful

to him was the exertion. Fearing no harm I was soon by his side,

begging him to lean on me and to allow me to assist him. He looked down

on me with a peculiar expression, akin to that I should express should

Benny here insist on going out buffalo hunting, and which annoyed me

exceedingly, of which he, however, took no notice.

"After standing with folded arms, looking intently over the water

towards the far south, he turned to me and said:

"'It shall be even so. Come hither, son of a degenerate race, and learn

the secrets of the past. Long before your race knew this continent

existed, my people were in the vigor and glory of national prosperity.

From the extreme north, where the icebergs never yield to the sun,

through the variations of temperature to the barren rocks in the

farthest south, were ours, all, from ocean to ocean!'

"He paused for a moment, as if endeavoring to recall some

half-forgotten facts, then proceeded in a sorrowful tone.

"'But troubles came. Our kings had fostered two different races on

their soil, who were at first but a handful, and who had at two

different periods been driven by winds on our shore. The first that

were thus cast on our hospitality were partially civilized in their

ways, and though far removed above the brute, were not like us; so wide

was the difference that an intermarriage with them would have been

punished with death. They were human, and therefore protected, their

insignificance being their greatest friend; for my ancestors no more

thought of laying tribute on them, even when they came to number

themselves by thousands, than you would on an inferior race. The other

race were savages of the worst character; more savage than beasts of

prey, and so they multiplied and became strong, and even preyed upon

themselves. Thus our forests became filled with beasts in the shape of

man, and our districts with an imbecile race. Centuries rolled onward,

and the savages multiplied and grew audacious. They even penetrated our

cities and preyed upon us, while we, paralyzed by such acts of

ingratitude, were weakened by what should have made us strong. We

passively beheld a loathsome reptile, that might at first have been

crushed in an hour, thrive to become a monster to devour us.

"At length, but, alas! too late, we awoke to the danger of our

situation. We drove them from our cities to the mountains, but ere we

could take active measures to prevent a recurrence of these outrages,

the other race we had fostered started up like a swarm of locusts, and

declaring themselves our equals, demanded to be recognized as such. So

preposterous was this demand, that we were at first disposed to treat

it only as the suggestion of a disordered intellect, but, of course,

could never comply with so degrading a request, for nothing we could do

could invest them with strength, intellect, or form like ours. Soon

after our refusal they too grew audacious, and forming a league with

the savages, set up a king whom they said should make laws and govern

the land. Then commenced a terrible war of extermination. This whole

continent was drenched with blood. _We_ fought to save _our_ homes and

our country, _they_ to gain the supremacy. It was not a battle of a

year or of half a century. As many years as I have seen, the torrent

was never stayed, and when an advantage was gained, on either side,

life was never spared. By slow degrees, they possessed themselves of

fortress after fortress, and city after city: _we_, the while, growing

weaker, they stronger, until we were compelled to take refuge in the

cities of our king. These cities were built and walled with granite,

and we supposed them to be impregnable; and laying as they did in the

_centre_ of the continent, and in proximity to one another, we hoped

yet to withstand them. But, alas! we had another foe to encounter.

Gaunt hunger and famine came with their ghastly forms and bony arms,

blighting the strong and the brave. But it could not make traitors or

cowards of us, and dying we hurled defiance at our foes. The walls of

our cities unmanned, were scaled--the gates thrown open; and our

streets filled with the murderers whom we had reared to exterminate us.

A few were found alive, and these few were saved by the victors that

the arts and sciences might not die. From these I am descended; but

though we refused to transmit this knowledge to them, they treated us

with great care, hoping that after a lapse of time we would amalgamate

with them. But we were made of sterner stuff than that. We could see

our race and nation blotted from existence, but not degraded. After the

lapse of many centuries we were forgotten in the struggles of a half

civilized race and the savages for supremacy, and my people dying out

year by year, are all gone save _myself_, the last of the rightful

owners of this continent."

As the old man concluded, his head fell forward on his breast and he

remained silent and motionless so long, that I feared the recalling of

the past had been too great a task for him, and going up to him, I laid

my hand on his. Throwing it aside, he said: "Young man, I have told you

of the past, and now there is a page of the future I will unfold to

you. Your race shall possess the heritage of my ancestors. And as the

savages exterminated us, so shall you them. But, beware, you too are

fostering a serpent that at last will sting, and perhaps devour you."

"The arts and sciences of your race speak of them; were they like

ours," I said, anxious to learn more of this strange people: "Yours,"

he replied with more warmth than he had exhibited, "are not unlike

ours, though far inferior to them. Your race boasts of discoveries and

inventions! ah! boy, you are but bringing to light arts long lost, but

in perfection centuries of centuries before your people ever knew of

this land."

"Is there any proof of this? is there nothing remaining to give ocular

demonstration of these facts?" I asked.

"A few," said he. "Nothing very satisfactory, but what there is, you

shall see."

So saying, he let himself down to the same spot where I had, in hiding

from him, I following. On removing a few pieces of loose rock the door

leading to a cavern was visible, which we entered. It was a large cave

running back into a lofty arched room, as far as I could see in the

surrounding gloom. The old man took a couple of torches from a pile

that lay on a shelving rock close by the door, lighted them, and giving

one to me bade me follow. The farther we went the wider and loftier was

the cave, until I began to wonder where it would end. At this moment he

paused before a stone tablet of immense proportions, raised about three

feet from the floor, the ends resting on blocks of granite. All over

its surface was hieroglyphics engraved in characters I had never seen

before, though I have often found similar ones since.

"Here," said he, "are recorded the heroic deeds of our race while

fighting to save our firesides from a rapacious foe. Every character is

a history in itself. Yet your race know it not; but still boast of

sciences you do not possess."

"No," said I, "we cannot decypher these characters, we have never

claimed to have done so; but if you can give me a key to them, tell me

how we may make an alphabet to it, we may still be able to do so."

"It would be useless for me to do so," said he, with his old manner of

superiority, "your intellect could not grasp it; you would not

understand me."

"Try me," said I, eagerly, "try me and see."

But he only beckoned me away, then advancing a few paces took from a

recess in the rock, a heavy flagon not unlike our own in shape, and

placing it in my hand, informed me that their vessels for drinking were

like that, varied in shape and size according to taste. Holding it to

the light, I was astonished to find it was made of gold, fine and pure

as any I had ever seen. There were instruments of silver, also, which

he assured me, would carry sound many miles, and others of glass and

silver to shorten objects to the sight at an equal distance. And these,

said he, handing me some curious shaped vases are like the material of

which we made many of our ornaments to our dwelling. They appeared to

be made of glass, yet they were elastic. He said the material was

imperishable. There were helmets, shields, curiously shaped weapons,

chisels, and many things I knew not the use of, all made of copper,

among the rest a shield precisely like the one you have, Anne."

"Did you bring nothing away? uncle," asked the children.

"No: when he had shown me all he desired me to see, he led me back to

the mouth of the cave, and motioning me out, followed, closing the

opening he had made and ascending to the table where we stood before.

"Then I begged the old man to tell me more of his race, to unfold the

curtain that hung like a pall between them and us. He shook his head

sadly, and standing with his face towards the south, communing with

himself awhile, turned to me, and said: 'You believe in a God, good and

evil, rewards and punishments?'"

I answered in the affirmative.

"Would you hesitate to break an oath taken in the name of the God in

which you believe?" he asked.

"I would not dare to commit such a crime," I answered.

"Then, swear," said he, "that what I have told and shown you, you will

never reveal to human being by word or sign."

"Oh, no, you cannot mean that; leave us some clue to your lost race," I

entreated.

"Yes, swear," repeated he imperiously.

"No: oh! no, I cannot. Though for your sake," I said, "I will be silent

any reasonable number of years you shall dictate to me."

He gazed sternly on me for a few moments, then said.

"Let it be so. When I have passed away you are absolved from your

oath."

"You will teach me to read the recorded past," I said inquiringly, "and

tell me of the arts now lost, at some future day!"

"It is too late, my days are spent, he said; then rousing himself, he

exclaimed, in a voice that still rings in my ears: 'Son of a

degenerate race, go over this whole continent and there trace the

history of my people. Our monuments are there, and on them are chiseled

our deeds, and though we moulder in the dust, they can never die; they

are imperishable. Go where the summer never ends, where the trees

blossom, still laden with fruit, and there we once were mighty as these

forests, and numerous as the drops in this lake; there read of our

glory--but not of our shame--that was never chiseled in our monumental

pillars; it is here, (placing his hand on his heart) and with _me_ must

die. Go, (said he, waving with his hand towards the path that ascended

the table) go, and leave the last of a mighty race, to die alone. It is

not fitting you should be here: Go? I am called.'"

I obeyed him reluctantly, but I never saw him again.

Chapter Fourth.

Their journey continued. Finding a Prairie. Encamping for the Night.

Singular incident. A Mirage on the Prairie. Alarm in the Camp. The

Prairie discovered to be on fire. Flight to the Sand Hills. Their final

escape. Search for water. Finding a stream. Encampment.

The next day the camp was struck and packed; the oxen, rested and

invigorated by roving over and cropping the rich grasses that grew in

luxuriance along the banks of the river by which they had encamped,

moved with a brisk step along their shady track, while the voices of

the drivers sounded musically, reverberating through the stillness of

the forest. Towards noon they came to one of those singularly

interesting geological features of the west, a _Prairie_. This was

something entirely new to the younger children, who had never been far

from the place where they were born, and it very naturally surprised

them to see such a boundless extent of territory, without a house,

barn, or fence of any kind--nothing but a waving mass of coarse rank

grass.

"Oh! father," cried little Benny, as the vast prairie burst on his

sight, "see what a great big farm somebody has got! But where does he

live? I don't see any house."

"And the fences, apple, peach, and pear trees?" said Anne.

"It is not a farm; it's a big pasture kept on purpose to feed buffaloes

and deer in," said Martin.

"You are all wrong," retorted Lewis, "for though buffaloes and deer do

feed on the prairie, it is not kept for them alone; it has always been

so--trees will not grow on it."

"You, too, are wrong, Lewis," said Mr. Duncan. "Though it is true trees

will not grow on the prairie now, yet it was not always so. Geologists

tell us that the vegetable growth, some thousand years ago was, in many

respects, different from what now covers the solid surface of our

earth. Changes of temperature and constituents of soil are going on

from age to age, and correspondent changes take place in the vegetable

kingdom. Over large tracks, once green with ferns, stately trees have

succeeded, followed in their turn, in the course of ages, by grosser

and other herbaceous plants."

"According to that theory, after a regular course of time has elapsed,

these rank grasses will be succeeded by some ether form of vegetable

growth," remarked Sidney.

"Certainly," replied Mr. Duncan. "When one class of trees has exhausted

the soil of appropriate pabulum, and filled it with an excrement which,

in time, it came to loathe, another of a different class sprang up in

its place, luxuriated on the excrement and decay of its predecessor,

and in time has given way to a successor destined to the same ultimate

fate. Thus, one after another, the stately tribes of the forest have

arisen, flourished, and fell, until the soil has become exhausted of

the proper food for trees, and become fitted for the growth of

herbaceous plants."

After pitching their camp that night, the children in rambling round

it, came to one of those landmarks with which the prairies are so

thickly studded along the different trails--_a grave_. Saddened at the

thought of any one dying in that lonely place, they gathered around it,

wondering if the hand of affection soothed his last, his darkest hour,

if tears bedewed his resting place, or whether he died unmourned,

unwept, hurried with unseemly haste beneath the sod, and only

remembered by a mother, wife or sister, who a thousand miles away was

wondering why the absent one, or tidings of him, came not.

The children assembled thus in a group, Howe drew thither also, to

ascertain what they had found.

"A grave," said he, "ah! poor fellow, he sleeps well in his prairie

bed."

"Here is a name cut in this bit of board at the head, uncle, but it is

done so badly I can't make it out," said Martin.

"Let me try," said Howe; "it is plain enough, sure."

"JOSHUA CRANE

"DIED

"OCT. 20, 1834, AGED 27."

"Now, children, would you like to see Mr. Joshua?" said Howe.

"Why, uncle," said they, "how can you make light of such a thing?"

"I am in earnest; for, from various indications about it, I am of

opinion that he is a curious fellow."

Anne, with a tear in her eye, cast a reproachful look towards her

uncle, while the rest were too much surprised to do anything but stare

at him in wonder.

"Bring me a crowbar and shovel, Edward. I find I must convince these

little doubters that I am really in my senses."

"Oh, uncle!" said Jane, "you could not have the heart to disturb the

dead!"

"Bless me, child, who thinks of disturbing the dead; I am only going to

show you what a funny fellow Joshua is. Now," said he, raising the

crowbar, "if Joshua is sleeping here, this iron cannot reach him; but,

if as I suspect, why, then, you see"--and down went the crowbar in the

loose earth. "Now give me the shovel," said he, and commenced removing

the dirt, the children looking on in astonishment. He soon brought to

the surface, and rolled on the grass a _barrel of brandy_. The broad

lonely prairie fairly resounded to the shouts and laughter of the

children, as they danced about the barrel; Howe standing by enjoying a

deep ha! ha! peculiarly his own.

"What a curiosity, Joshua is! Who would have thought of finding such a

thing there?"

"It is a rare thing, I own," said Howe, "yet occasionally resorted to

when oxen have given out, or died. Sometimes wagons have been

over-loaded, and then unable to make their way over the rough roads,

some heavy article is taken and buried with all the signs of a grave

about it, to prevent its being disturbed and stolen, as in the present

instance. Probably the owner will be along here for it, or sell it to

some one who will come for it in course of the summer."

"Will you leave it here, or bury it again?"

"The prize is mine; I shall carry it along with me," said Howe.

"That would not be right," rejoined Martin. "It is another man's

property."

"Which he forfeited by false pretences. No, children, whatever found

without an owner in these wilds, falls to the finder by right," said

the Trapper.

"I think the children are right," said Mrs. Duncan, who had come hither

at the sound of their mirth.

"Suppose the owner is dead and never comes for it," said Howe.

"It in no wise alters the case. It is better that it never finds an

owner than possess ourselves of what has purposely been hid from us."

"Such notions are right and proper for a settlement, but for a place

like this, it is carrying it to too nice a point."

"The rights of others should be as sacred to us in one place as

another," replied Mrs. Duncan.

"Suppose somebody had trapped beaver and foxes in some particular

locality, would that make the animals that were uncaught in that

locality his own?"

"Certainly not. The case is different; as the beaver uncaught never

were his, he had no claim on them. But if he caught a hundred beaver

and cured the skins, and secreted them in some place until he chose to

sell them, it would be decidedly dishonest for any one to take them

away as their own, because they had found the place in which they were

hidden."

"I believe you are right, Mary. Joshua shall be reinterred," said Howe,

rolling the barrel in its old bed, and proceeding to cover it.

"Mother is always right," cried the children, as they wended their way

back to camp.

Early the next morning, as they were moving over the prairie, a

beautiful vision burst on their sight. It was a mirage of the prairie.

As the sun rose in all the splendor of an unclouded sky in the east,

the objects in the west became suddenly elongated vertically, the long

rank grass stretching to an amazing altitude, while its various hues of

green were reflected with vivid accuracy. As the emigrants approached

the optical illusion, it gradually contracted laterally above and below

towards the centre, at the same time rapidly receded towards the

horizon, until it assumed its original aspect. As the sun approached

the meridian, the atmosphere become so intensely warm that Mr. Duncan

thought it prudent to rest until it began to descend, to which they all

joyfully assented, as their oxen appeared to be almost overcome with

the heat. They had been a day and a half on the prairie, and as the

water they brought with them would not last them longer than the next

morning, they were anxious to make the distance to the hills, which

were looming faintly before them in the west, where they were sure of

finding an abundant supply. Accordingly, the oxen were turned loose,

the horses and mules being picketed, and all resigned themselves to the

disagreeable necessity of an encampment in a burning noonday sun on the

prairie, with not even a shrub to shelter them from its rays. But there

was no help for it, the oxen could not proceed with the wagons, and

they were obliged to wait until the heat of the day was over.

Towards evening, a light breeze began to stir the heated air, and borne

on its wings, came also a disagreeable odor caught only at long

intervals, but which served to put Howe and Mr. Duncan on their guard.

"There is a fire on the prairie, away at the north," said Howe, "and

there is not a moment to be lost, if we would save our baggage, cattle,

or even our lives!"

"It is true, there is fire, and now I see the smoke away yonder,

looking like a thin mist against the sky; should it blow this way, our

only refuge is the Sand Hills, that I know lay yonder towards the

forest," said Mr. Duncan, looking intently towards the point whence the

odor came.

"Saddle the horses and mules, boys," said Mr. Duncan, "and place Mary

and the children on them. Benny, you must ride with your mother, I am

afraid to trust you alone on a mule chased by fire. You must sit still,

my boy, and keep up your courage; the Sand Hills are yonder, not more

than three miles over the plain; you see them, Mary," he continued,

"but do not mind the trail; keep your horses headed direct for them,

and ride for your lives. I do not think there will be any danger for

any of us; but it is better to make all ready for the worst."

"But, suppose you, with the oxen, wagons, and cows, are surrounded with

fire," said Mrs. Duncan.

"We will do our best in the emergency. But I hope to gain the hills in

safety. Perhaps the wind will shift and blow the fire in another

direction. We must hope for the best, doing everything in our power for

our safety. Now go; give the horses and mules a loose rein."

And away over the plain the cavalcade went, followed by the wagon as

fast as the oxen could travel, but the progress they made was slow in

comparison to that of the fire. On it came, and on went the cattle,

goaded by the drivers at first, but at last catching sight of the

heavy, rolling wave of fire that was sweeping towards them, they

started into a gallop, frightened and seeming to comprehend the danger

that menaced them. Mr. Duncan saw his wife and children gain the Sand

Hills in safety, and then the smoke and half consumed grass filled the

air, hiding the rescued from view as the burning wave swept toward

them, maddening the oxen and making the stout hearts of the pioneers

quail, as the burning fragments eddying through the air, fell thick and

fast among them. Prairie dogs, in droves went howling past, wolves and

panthers laying their bodies close to the ground in their rapid leaps,

heeded not each other, and even an antelope joined in the flight

unmolested, from their common foe. Innumerable prairie fowls filled the

air with their cries; but, above every other sound arose the roar and

crackling of the scorching billowy mass, as on, still on it came, now

rising until its seething flame seemed to touch the sky, then falling a

moment only to rise the next still higher.

A prairie on fire is a sublime spectacle, which those who have had the

good fortune to see, in a place of safety, will not soon forget. But a

horrible ordeal it is for those who are overtaken by the raging flame;

for, if the grass is dry, with a slight breeze to fan the flame, it

travels with the speed of a whirlwind.

Mr. Duncan could not abandon his noble beasts in the extremity, for he

knew if left to themselves, unaccustomed to the ground, they would lose

themselves, and ensure their destruction; but, in keeping by their

sides, encouraging them by his presence and urging them on, he still

hoped to save them, although half blinded with smoke and the hot air

that surrounded them. Howe had charge of one of the teams, and Sidney

the other, who, following the example of Mr. Duncan, stood their ground

bravely, resolving to share the fate of their cattle.

Mrs. Duncan and the children, from their hill of refuge, saw with

terror the fearful and unequal race on the plain below, until they were

entirely enveloped in smoke, and then their suspense was harrowing till

a puff of wind lifted the smoky cloud, which it occasionally would,

giving them for an instant a glimpse of their friends, as on they came

towards them in their headlong career. But, as nearer, still nearer

came the flames, the cloud became too dense to be lifted by the wind,

and all was one circling, eddying wave, hiding every object from view.

A few moments of suspense, during which no words were spoken, and then

bursting through the cloud came their noble oxen, their tongues dry and

blackened and hanging from their mouths, their hair scorched from their

sides, and the wagon covers on fire, while the drivers feeling they

were safe sank on the sand, half way up the hill from exhaustion.

Mrs. Duncan, and the children, were soon by the wagons, tearing off the

covers, and by so doing, saved the contents from burning. Then pouring

water over and down the throats of their exhausted oxen, they were soon

able to breathe freely. In the meantime, by Mrs. Duncan's direction,

Anne had taken a basin of water and bathed the faces and hands of the

drivers, so that they were, though quite exhausted, very comfortable.

The fire rolled past them without reaching them further, and finally,

after having spent itself died away, leaving the broad prairie that was

at noon so heavily covered with verdure, a blackened plain.

"This is a pretty fix for us to get in, Duncan," said Howe, as the fire

rolling away, left them clear of smoke, and gave them a full view of

their position. "Here we are," he continued, "every drop of water

spent, without a blade of grass around us, begrimed with soot and

smoke, looking worse than any Indians I ever saw."

"We ought to be thankful," said Mr. Duncan, "that no lives are lost. We

have escaped better than we had reason to hope, placed as we were."

"To be sure we have escaped ourselves, but see what a pitiable plight

our oxen are in. They will not be able to draw another load in a week,

at least; and what are we to do in the meantime?"

"I declare, uncle, I think you have the horrors; for whoever before saw

you at a loss for an expedient under any circumstances?" said Jane,

with a merry twinkle in her eye; for this was a peculiar phase in her

uncle's character, to hold up to others the worst side of any

circumstance, while at the same time he was taking active measures to

remedy it. So in this instance: for he had already made arrangements to

reconnoitre the forest, that lay west of the Sand Hills, not over two

and a half miles distant. Accordingly, mounting one horse, with Lewis

on the other, they galloped over the plain, and striking the forest at

the nearest point, they found it dry, destitute of grass, and totally

unfit for a camping ground. Taking a circuit in a southerly direction,

where the surface seemed more broken, they found they were on higher

ground, and as they rode on, the thick undergrowth all the while

growing more dense, encouraged them to proceed; for which they were

rewarded by striking a small brooklet of pure water, whose banks were

lined with rich grasses, sheltered by tall trees that grew on either

side. Here he resolved the camp should be pitched, and lighting a fire

to mark the place, they galloped back to the Sand Hills. To remove the

heavy wagons was no easy task, as the oxen were only able to walk

without a burthen.

There were two pairs of mules and one of horses, and these being

hitched to one of the wagons, were taken to the place designated by the

stream, and then brought back for another until all the wagons were on

the ground, which the last reached about ten at night. In the meantime,

Mrs. Duncan had walked thither with the children, Mr. Duncan, with the

other boys, driving the oxen a little way at a time, and at last

reached the camp ground as the last wagon came up.

Chapter Fifth.

Preparing a Supper. Heavy Storm. The Place of their Encampment.

Straggling Indians seen. Apprehensions of an Attack. Preparations of

defense. Approach of the Crows. A Fight. The Camp Attacked. Capture of

Five in the Camp. The Pursuit. Recovery of some of the Captured. The

pursuit Continued. Tabagauches meet the Crows, and defeat them. They

are discovered. Encampment.

Tired and sleepy, our travelers provided themselves with supper, having

pitched their tents, and laid down to court sleep the great restorer

for body and mind. The sky was cloudless betokening a clear night; and

presuming on this they had not re-covered their wagons, intending to

leave it until they had slept off their fatigue. But in this, even Howe

had something to learn. People under such circumstances should presume

on nothing, but make everything sure, for at one hour they are not

certain that the next will find them secure. It did not them, for they

had slumbered scarcely three hours, when the whistling winds and

creaking of their tent poles aroused them from their slumbers.

Springing from their beds they were almost blinded by the lightnings'

glare, as flash followed flash, in quick succession, each accompanied

by a deafening peal of thunder that reverberated portentously through

the forest. Mr. Duncan hastened into the open air. The sky was overcast

with fleecy clouds, while from the northwest came slowly up a dark

heavy cloud stretching over the whole of that part of the sky. As

higher and higher it rose, louder grew the thunder, and more vivid the

lightning, the wind sweeping round in angry blasts until it seemed as

if every element in nature was in commotion.

Immediately every hand was brought in requisition to fasten the tent

poles more securely, and by the time it was accomplished, the storm,

with all its fury burst upon them, while they were straining every

nerve to fasten the tarpaulin covers on the wagons to protect the

contents from the storm, should the rain penetrate the tent. The cover

on Mrs. Duncan's wagon they had succeeded in fastening, and were

proceeding to the next, when a terrible crash was heard near them, that

shook the ground.

"There is high wind to-night," said Howe. "It must have taken more than

ordinary force to have blown down that tree--there goes another--crash!

what a fearful night it is!"

"The smoke from the burning prairie has formed itself in clouds, which,

becoming overcharged with moisture, are discharging themselves,"

remarked Mr. Duncan.

"A glorious cooling we shall get, after being nearly baked," remarked

Sidney.

"Oh! what is that!" cried Mrs. Duncan, as a heavy body fell against the

tent, crushing it as if it had been a feather.

But no one could answer, for in a twinkling their light was out, and

the rain in torrents pouring in upon their water-proof wagons. The

whole family had taken refuge in Mrs. Duncan's wagon, after having

secured the covers in their proper places; and it is well they did, or

they would have been deluged in an instant; for it seemed as if the

heavens had opened their windows, and were pouring from thence a flood

of water. They could only catch a glimmering of the mischief done to

their tent by the flashes of lightning; but they saw enough to

ascertain that a tree had fallen across it, and had crushed one of the

wagons beneath its weight. They had escaped unhurt, being buried

beneath the falling canvass by its splitting in the centre. Gradually

the storm spent itself, and by morning, but a few flitting clouds were

seen above the horizon.

Less stouter hearts than those of our pioneers would have been dismayed

at the destruction which had been going on in the night, and which the

light revealed. Their tent, rent in a dozen pieces, one of the wagons

badly broken, and everything out of the wagons saturated with water.

Right manfully, however, they went to work. The tent was spread where

the sun would fall upon it, and everything that had been wet during the

night, together with the blackened suits that went through the fiery

ordeal the day before, were taken to the brook-side by Mrs. Duncan and

Jane, and very soon were waving in spotless purity from the bushes

where they had been hung to dry, giving the scenery around the

encampment a home-like appearance.

The place of their encampment was a lovely spot; but truly refreshing

after their tiresome journey over the prairie; and though their first

night was exceedingly uncomfortable, it was owing to the warring

elements, and not to any fault of the place. Before the night again set

in, busy hands had been at the tent, and once more it reared its

conical shaped head among the forest trees, but bearing marks in its

numerous patches, of the tempest that had raged so fiercely through the

past night.

Day after day wore away, and still the cattle exhibited a great deal of

lassitude, so much so, as to preclude the possibility of moving on.

This was no great annoyance to the travelers, as it was early in the

summer, and their only object was to find a place that would suit them

for a permanent settlement, before cold weather set in, which they were

sure of not effecting, should they be detained a month in their present

encampment. Besides, their camp being in a lovely valley, on the

borders of a clear stream, surrounded by everything that could make the

lordly groves enchanting, game of almost every kind abounded, to which

they paid particular attention, as their stock of dried meat and

roasted ribs, broiled steaks, and savory soups, could testify.

Howe's time was spent, when not following game, in giving the boys

lessons in distinguishing one kind of game from another by signs before

they were near enough to see it; and then the best mode of bringing it

down and disposing of it. They practised shooting at a target, with

both gun and bow, hurling a knife or tomahawk, and handling the

Indian's war club daily. Mrs. Duncan's tent bore more the semblance of

a large room in a thriving farmer's house, than a temporary camp in the

wilderness, so homelike was its appearance. A cupboard made by standing

two boards perpendicular, with cleats nailed across, in which were laid

the shelves, held her crockery and tinware; a temporary table, made in

equally as primitive a style, but now covered with a table cloth, stood

at one side, while at the left, was a barrel covered also by a white

cloth, on which was set a dressing glass, the top wreathed with

mountain laurel, and wild flowers, and placed in that post of honor by

little Anne, who was sure to renew it every day. Camp stools stood

around the tent, while the whole surface of the ground in the tent was

matted with dried buffalo skins, making it free from dampness, and not

altogether uncomely in appearance.

Mrs. Duncan, had ever been noted for a love of orderly household

arrangements, and now, as ever, they developed themselves in a thousand

little comforts that she had thoughtfully stowed away; and now that

they were needed, added essentially to their comfort and pleasure.

Hardly an article was desired that she did not produce from some

corner, its whereabouts unknown to the rest of the family, until

wanted; and when she one day brought out an old familiar boot-jack, one

being wished for, Mr. Duncan said he believed she was in possession of

Aladin's lamp.

They often saw around their camp a straggling Indian of the friendly

tribes, to whom some of them were known. But this was not always to

continue, for a few had been spies, that had carried to their tribes an

account of the emigrants, their heavily loaded wagons containing a

coveted prize, and the owners too few to protect it from any great

force against them. Some of these were "Crows," a tribe noted for

treachery, and others "Arapahoes," in whose professions of friendship

Howe and Mr. Duncan had great confidence. They were under no

apprehension of being molested, and retired every night as usual, with

the precaution of a single guard. Everything went on as usual for a

week, when they were aroused with caution, and armed by Howe, who was

sentinel that night, who said he saw things in the forest that, at the

least, looked very suspicious. Nothing transpired, however, to confirm

his suspicions until daylight, when Howe cautiously reconnoitered the

ground around. He discovered traces where they had been, but so

artfully had they covered their trail, that, without the tact of

detecting it, possessed by the trapper, it would have passed

unobserved, for the rest of the travelers declared they could see

nothing.

"Their designs are against us; their approaching and then returning

without coming into camp, proves it a certainty," remarked Howe, after

satisfying himself that they had not only been there and gone away, but

were anxious to obliterate all traces of their presence.

"We must not be taken by surprise," replied Mr. Duncan. "Courage has

more effect in subduing an Indian than even a ball. However, I do not

apprehend that they really intend to make an assault on us."

"Perhaps not," said Howe, "but they act very suspiciously, prowling

about like beasts. Why don't they show themselves, if friendly? But,"

he continued, "if they want to skulk about, and pounce upon us, let

them take the consequences, our rifles do not miss fire."

"We had better use great precaution about wandering from camp, for a

few days, or they will carry all off while we are away. Perhaps it is

only a straggling war party returning home, and in a few days we will

be rid of them."

That night they retired, but Howe was too suspicious of treachery to

allow any one else to be sentinel but himself, and as he had slept a

while during the day, he was equal to the self-imposed task. As the

shades deepened, his practised ear detected sounds that others would

have thought little of, but which he considered, unmistakably to be

produced by the stealthy tread of Indians. As hour after hour went by,

shadows were flitting from tree to tree, and then Howe knew for a

certainty that the camp was surrounded by hostile foes.

Stealthily every one in the camp was awakened, and armed with rifles,

with the exception of Benny and Anne, who were placed in a secure

position. Mrs. Duncan and Jane could handle a rifle with as much

precision as was necessary to protect themselves in an emergency. Mr.

Duncan and Howe, disposed their little band so as to bring their arms

to bear on three different points from which they were certain, in case

of an attack, the foe would come, by the moving figures in the shadows

but dimly seen, but which could be traced by keeping the eye intently

fixed upon them.

"Make no movement or noise," was the order, "but at the first sound

from the savages, every one be ready to fire; probably when they find

their fire anticipated, they will retreat, if not, give them another

volley on the moment." They had stood in this position for half an

hour, when a single savage stept from behind a tree, advanced a yard or

two into the open glade that lay for a few rods around, and divesting

himself of his tomahawk, scalping knife, bow and arrows, laid them on

the ground, and after pointing at them, as if to draw attention to

them, advanced with finger on his lip towards the camp.

Howe had observed his movements, but when he saw him lay down his arms

and come towards them, he felt certain the Indian desired a conference.

Duncan thought it a ruse to draw some of them from the camp where the

ambushed Indians could make a sure target of them.

"I agree with you that it is not safe to go out of the camp, but there

can be no harm in letting the savage in. He is unarmed, and at the

first appearance of hostility, he must be dispatched," replied Howe.

"If he enters the camp to-night, he must not return until daylight,"

said Mr. Duncan.

"Certainly not! Hark! he is close to us; see, he pauses: what can he

mean?"

"Arapahoe! white man's friend," distinctly they heard him pronounce.

"What are you doing here, then?" said Howe, "don't you see I could

shoot you like a dog, that comes stealing around, as if afraid of

daylight?"

"The son of the 'Great Medicine' would not hurt Whirlwind," replied the

Indian.

"Ha! Whirlwind, what are you doing here, you are indeed, safe," said

Howe, lowering the barrel of his rifle.

"Whirlwind, returning to his village with his braves, found a snake

encircling his white brother's wigwam, and has crept within the circle

to save them," returned the Indian.

"What is that you say? are there other Indians beside your own, about?"

"The hills are dark with 'Crows,' who stand ready at the sound of the

war-whoop, to sweep down on my brothers, drink their blood, and steal

their goods."

"Perhaps it is not so easily accomplished," said Howe, "you know we are

no cowards, to give our lives and property without striking a blow to

save them."

"My brothers are a handful, the Crows cover the hills; but my warriors,

though but few, are brave and will fight for their white brothers."

"If things are as bad as you represent, this is very kind of you; but,

how are we to know that the 'Crows' are around in large numbers to

attack us?"

"The tongue of Whirlwind is not forked; he cannot lie;" returned the

Indian proudly.

"I know it, Whirlwind, I know you are true, as well as brave. The

danger forced the thought, though I really did not doubt your truth for

a moment. I will take your advice, Whirlwind. What is the most

effectual mode of protecting ourselves?"

"My white brothers will guard their camp, and should the Crows press us

too hard, help to repel them," said the Indian, and by his tone, he

evidently had not forgotten the suspicion cast upon his veracity.

"You do not intend to stand the brunt of the fight, do you?" said Howe.

"No, Whirlwind, I can't allow that."

"The braves of the Arapahoes have, for many moons longed to meet the

'Crows' in battle; now, surely, my white brother will not go between

them."

"I certainly shall not consent to any blood being shed," interposed Mr.

Duncan, "without provocation. We wish to be on friendly terms with all

the tribes, and will not do anything that will have a tendency to

irritate them."

"Yonder, the Crows, in numbers, await the signal of their chief, to

drink the blood of my brothers, and carry their wives and children

prisoners to their wigwams; when this is done, it will be too late to

strike a blow. But it shall not be; see, yonder in the thicket, a

hundred Arapahoe warriors are panting for the onset. The children of

the 'Great Medicine' shall be saved. They are in Whirlwind's hunting

grounds, and he will protect them." So saying, the irritated Chieftain

turned on his heel, and strode away, pausing to collect his arms, when

he disappeared in the thicket.

A council was immediately held in camp; but before any decision was

determined upon, a deafening war-whoop was heard from the hills, at the

same moment the battle-cry of the Arapahoes broke from the thickets

around the camp. Then a charge was heard and the combatants' yells,

shrieks and groans were mingled with the fierce war-whoop, as the

Indians rushed on each other. The Crows astounded to find they were

confronted by their deadly foes, at first broke and retreated; but the

taunting jibes of the Arapahoes as they pressed on them aroused the

demon in their natures, and turning, they charged on their pursuers,

driving them back before them, towards the camp, at the same moment

making the forest re-echo their cry of victory. Howe heard the hoarse

note, as it swelled fiercely on the air, and springing from the camp,

cried, "Come! now is our time: follow me!" and dashing into the forest,

followed by Mr. Duncan, Sidney and Lewis, he met the retreating

Arapahoes who, encouraged by this timely assistance, faced about, and

the rifles of the pioneers telling with fearful effect, caused the

Crows to fly with terror; and as their pursuers loaded running, the

constant volleys prevented the Crows rallying, and in a few minutes the

whole band was either killed, wounded or dispersed through the forest.

"Back to your camp, there is trouble there," cried Whirlwind, "my

braves will pursue the Crows," and calling a dozen warriors to his

side, he bade them follow on with him after the pioneers.

When the Crows gave the cry of victory, about a dozen of them rushed

through to secure the whites prisoners, and having been unobserved by

the Arapahoes, or our pioneers, when they heard their own tribe a

second time driven back, they determined to carry them off as first

intended, hoping to secrete themselves before the victors returned.

With varying sensations of hope and dismay, Mrs. Duncan heard the

combatants advance, retreat, advance again, and at last retreat,

followed by their rescuers, and at the moment when she supposed they

were freed from danger, the swarthy robbers burst into her camp, and

were in the act of seizing her when the sharp crack of a rifle was

heard, and the foremost savage leaped in the air with a hoarse yell,

and fell dead at her feet. Martin had saved his mother, for stepping

back on the instant, she raised her rifle and another fell beneath her

aim; at the same moment Jane's rifle disabled another; but the savages

closed so fast around them that they were disarmed and overpowered,

their hands bound and they were hurried away over the stream towards

the South. Not ten minutes had elapsed before they were pursued by

their friends; but in that short time their captors had effected their

escape, and morning dawned on the agonized pioneers still scouring the

forest in search of the lost ones. They were ably seconded by the

Arapahoes, a few of them having been left in charge of Anne and Benny

who, having been concealed in one of the wagons, had been saved. Those

stolen were Mrs. Duncan, Jane, Edward and Martin.

At daylight the dogs were let loose, and mounting the horses and mules

they renewed the pursuit with hearts determined to perish or bring back

the fugitives. After two hours' hard riding they over-hauled two of the

savages who had Mrs. Duncan in charge, and she was borne back

triumphantly to camp. She could give no account of her children, not

having seen them since their capture, but thought they had gone in a

more westerly direction. Every art was used to persuade the Crows taken

to give some intelligence of them, but they were obstinate, and were

finally placed, bound, into the hands of the Arapahoes, who had charge

of the camp, for safe keeping.

About noon they came up with two more Indians having Martin in charge;

but he knew nothing further; the two that carried him off having

separated from the rest, the more easily to escape detection; and the

Crows, like those that had charge of his mother, refused to give any

intelligence, and were placed with the others in custody. The pursuers

were again bewildered and were obliged to find a new trail, before they

could proceed further, which they succeeded in doing as the evening

shades were setting in; but as it was impossible to follow it in the

dark they reluctantly returned to camp to spend the night. At the first

dawn of light they were again in the saddle, provisioned for a number

of days, as they anticipated a long chase, from the fact that the

fugitives had a long start of them, and they could scarcely hope to

overtake them the first day. But the other pursuers were more sanguine;

they knew not the stratagems of the Indians so well as the trapper.

After five hours' hard riding they came to a spring of water in a deep

glen where the Indians had evidently breakfasted the day before. And

from the quantity of bones around, and the trampled grass, it was

apparent that there was a number of them.

"Some six or eight persons, certainly. I think this time we shall

secure both the missing ones," said Howe.

"We will do as they did, take a lunch, and let our horses feed on this

grass by the spring. Perhaps we shall overtake them very soon if we

rest and then ride hard," replied Mr. Duncan.

"We shall not see them before to-morrow, depend upon it. They travel,

when pursued, like bloodhounds."

Refreshed, and again in the saddle, they went over hill and valley,

forded streams, and crept through narrow defiles, still keeping the

trail, by the aid of the dogs, without much difficulty. About three in

the afternoon, they came to the place where the Indians had encamped

for the night. The pursuers were evidently gaining on the pursued.

Again they rested themselves and horses for awhile and then continued

the pursuit. After two hours rapid riding, while going through a

defile, they came to a spot which gave indications of a struggle having

taken place. Dismounting and examining closely, they found places where

evidently some heavy body had laid and bled profusely. The blade of a

broken scalping knife lay among the leaves, with a broken bow and a

war-club. These the Arapahoes identified as belonging to the Crows.

Searching a thicket of laurel, a little farther on, they found three of

the Crows dead. They had probably been mortally wounded, and crawled

there to die. They had been scalped, perhaps, while still alive, as the

scalp on the crown of the head was gone.

"Tabagauches! Tabagauches!" yelled the Arapahoes, as they discovered a

fragment of a blanket, on which was embroidered, in gay colours, the

crest of that tribe. "There, away where the sun sets, over the Medicine

Bow Mountains, they are. They have conquered the Crows and taken them

alive, with the pale faces, prisoners, to their village."

"We must follow them. We may overtake them, for evidently, the fight

occurred this morning," said Mr. Duncan.

"Is my brother mad, that he thinks to compel a great nation to give up

its prisoners, with a handful of warriors?" interposed Whirlwind.

"Can you think I would desert my children?" said Mr. Duncan, in a

severe tone. "No! we white men are made of sterner stuff than that. I

will save them, or die with them."

"If my white brother is brave Whirlwind is braver," returned the

Chieftain. "What you would attempt and fail to accomplish by force, I

will accomplish by stratagem. Let my white brother return, and leave

the recovery of the children to me."

"Never!" replied Mr. Duncan, decidedly. "My children are prisoners, in

the power of merciless foes, and until I recover them, I will never

again turn my back on their path."

"My brother has spoken, but has not spoken well," said the chief.

"We will lose no time in delay--an hour may be of the utmost

importance," was all the answer of Mr. Duncan.

At nightfall, as they were casting their eyes around for a good and

secure position to encamp in, they discovered smoke arising from a deep

ravine that lay below them.

"The camp-fire of the Tabagauches," said Whirlwind.

"Ha! we have overtaken them, at last," exclaimed the trapper. "We must

fall back to a secure covert, and send out scouts to see if they have

the children, and ascertain their numbers."

Selecting a pine grove, they secured their horses, and sat down to take

a lunch of cold bread and meat they had brought with them, not daring

to light a fire, knowing it would be a beacon to guide their foes to

their retreat. After resting a moment, a guard was posted, and Howe and

Whirlwind set out to ascertain the desired information respecting their

foes, while the rest of the party threw themselves on the ground to

take an hour's repose.

Chapter Sixth.

Strength of the Tabagauches. Attack of their camp. Flight of the

Whites. A Council. Pursuing the Indians. Desperate Engagement. Taken

Prisoners. Carried off Captives. Submission to their fate. A Curious

Dream. Singular Springs of Water. Kind treatment by the Indians.

Discovery of Gold. Displeasure of Whirlwind. His story of the early

white men. A herd of deer, &c.

Cautiously Howe and Whirlwind crept onward, and coming within pistol

shot of the blazing camp fires of the Tabagauches, discovered that they

were full two hundred strong, probably, a war party, in search of

adventure, intending to fall unawares on some neighbouring tribes. By

the middle fire, in the centre of a group of some twenty savages, were

Jane and Edward, looking pale and wearied. A little behind them, on the

ground, with stoic-like indifference, sat five Crows, the remainder of

their captors; but now like themselves prisoners. Evidently, their fate

was being decided upon. As cautiously as they went the scouts returned

to the pine grove, and decided to make an immediate attack for the

recovery of the captives. There were eleven Arapahoe warriors with

their chief, and these, together with Mr. Duncan, Howe, Sidney, and

Lewis, made fifteen, all well armed and mounted.

Led by Howe and Whirlwind, they noiselessly gained a place where they

could obtain a fair view of the enemy, who were in high altercation on

some point on which they seemed to be divided.

"Now is our time," said Howe. "Let every gun be discharged when I give

the signal, and every one mark his man. Fall into a line, and bring

your rifles to bear on the right hand savage of the centre group, and

you the next, so on down the line that no two shots be aimed at one

Indian, for we have none to lose. Now, are you all ready?" said Howe,

running his eye from his little band to the foes, who stood revealed by

their blazing fires perfectly distinct, but entirely unconscious of the

danger that menaced them. Not a word was spoken, but Howe knew all was

right; then, in a low distinct tone, he gave the word "_fire_." There

was but one crack of rifles heard, so simultaneously every gun was

discharged, and as they were discharged, fifteen Tabagauches fell dead,

with scarcely a sound uttered. "Quick! fire again!" said Howe, "mark

your men, the savages are stupefied." Aiming their rifles on the

instant, fifteen more fell dead.

Their second fire revealed to the Tabagauches the direction whence the

attack proceeded, and with maddening yells of rage they sprang after

them.

"Save yourselves;" cried Howe, but he had no need to give the order,

for every one had placed a tree between himself and his foes, according

to the custom of warfare with Indians, and as they came on, every

moment, one or more fell by their unerring aim. They had the advantage,

for the Tabagauches were between them and the light, and could be

picked off as fast as the guns could be loaded, while they rushed

headlong into the darkness, their only guide the flash from the rifles

that were thinning their ranks at every fire. But, as the savages

gathered closer and closer around them, they were obliged to fall back

towards the pine grove, and as time after time they retreated into the

darkness, they could distinguish their foes with less certainty, and

finally they were obliged to make a scattered flight to save themselves

from being surrounded. Strange to tell not one of them had been

wounded, which could be only accounted for by the gloom, in which they

were enveloped, hiding them from an accurate aim. They were sure fifty

of their foes had been slain.

The Tabagauches retreated to their camp, putting out the fires and

keeping silent, so as not to guide their foes a second time to them.

On gaining the pine grove, a council was held to devise what was the

most prudent step to take.

"I," said Whirlwind, "think it best to hover around them and find out

their next movement and guide ours by it."

"That is impossible," said Mr. Duncan. "They will be so on their guard

that no one can approach without detection, which would be instant

death."

"Whirlwind has said and will do it. Here await his return." So saying,

with noiseless strides the chief vanished in the gloom.

"A strange compound of generosity, bravery, and recklessness!" said Mr.

Duncan.

"Depend upon it, he knows what is for the best," replied Howe.