PENDLETON--THE REVELATION AT THE SALOON--EUPHONIOUS
NAMES--THE ENCOUNTER--OUR HEROINE APPEARS AND HIGHWAYMEN
DISAPPEAR.
A journey of a few days brought our travellers to the lively, bustling
village, which for convenience we have named Pendleton, situated on
the Upper Mississippi. After several hours of rest and refreshment at
their hotel, they sallied out to enjoy a pedestrian excursion in the
cool of the day. Not much of the place of their sojourn was visible.
Gaslight, had not wandered so far from its birthplace. The
enterprising inhabitants, however, had manufactured an article by the
same name, but it was never known to generate light. The wagging of
the machinery was all that came of it.
"Lager Beer," pronounced Edward Sherman, glancing at the gilt letters,
that stood out in bold relief on the illumined window of a fashionable
saloon, which they were at the moment passing.
"Yes, lager beer," repeated George Goodrich, musingly. "Ned, what a
nation of beer drinkers we are becoming. Not at the east only, but
these western towns seem to have a beer saloon at every corner."
"Well, Doctor, what is more harmless than beer? Come, let us turn back
and take a glass;" and suiting the action to the word, Edward had
passed behind the screen which shaded the entrance, before the
expostulations of his companion, who followed mechanically, could
reach his ear.
While Edward was leisurely sipping his lager, the loud and angry
voices of a party of young men, who were in the act of leaving an
adjoining apartment, used as a billiard saloon, attracted his
attention. As a lady proved to be the cause of the altercation, we
will do them the justice to state that they were decidedly under the
influence of stimulants, One of their number, less insane than his
companions, was endeavoring to quell the disturbance.
"Gentlemen," he said, "the name of a lady, whom we all respect should
not be used too freely."
"Just so," chimed in another, "I say, let the matter rest."
"The hatchet is buried. Peace, peace, to Dr. DeWolf and his lovely
daughter, forever," sang out the third.
The name and place, introduced in the quarrel, quite satisfied Edward
that the daughter of his father's friend was the subject of the
altercation.
"I've had a revelation to-night, George," said Edward, when they were
again in the street.
"Then your eyes were opened, and you saw the handwriting on the wall,
did you? Pity, those poor fools we left behind, could not borrow your
optics."
"Ah, Doctor, you're on the wrong track. It has been revealed to me,
that Dr. DeWolf has a lovely daughter, and--come, now, don't interrupt
me with your old-fashioned, worn-out temperance hobby--as I was about
to say, I have in my possession a letter of introtion to said DeWolf.
He was formerly a friend of father's, and, of course, it will be my
duty to cultivate his acquaintance and that of his lovely daughter, as
early as possible,--say to-morrow. What say you, friend sober-sides?
You know, my particular weakness is a lovely lady."
"Why, it's no affair of mine, Ned. Flirting is out of my line. But,
how do you know the lady is lovely?"
"Why, was it not revealed to me, through the imprudence of a whole
bevy of her admirers."
"O, but, Ned, the ravings of a set of drunken rowdies is not
conclusive evidence."
"True," said Edward more seriously, "but," smiling again, "it's a
young lady, anyhow, and I hope she is handsome."
Nothing further was said on the subject that evening, but, on the day
following, young Sherman was informed by the landlord, of whom he
inquired, that Dr. DeWolf resided at Chimney Rock, about five miles
distant, and to the question, "Has he a family?" replied, "But one
daughter, a beauty of some celebrity."
The informant observed the gratified twinkle in the eye of his guest
and was not surprised when Edward ordered a carriage to be in
readiness for him directly after dinner.
"The road is precipitous in some places, and horseback riding is
considered safer," suggested the landlord.
"Well, two saddle horses, then," replied the other.
Accordingly, at the time above specified, our adventurers, each
mounted on a dapple gray, set out for Chimney Rock. The scorching sun,
and dusty streets, and poor little withered flowers by the wayside,
prodigals from the adjoining valley, were soon exchanged for the
"Valley Road," fringed with the loveliest specimens of the floral
family, and cooled by the shade of the surrounding bluffs. Like all
other things in life, this part of their journey was of short
duration.
"Half a mile on this road," said Edward, reining in his steed, and
repeating previous instructions, "brings us to the 'Siamese Twins' a
double bluff singularly joined towards the top by the projection of an
enormous rock. Now, we are here, and no mistake, then turn to the
right."
"And keep the road as best we may," said Dr. Goodrich, raising his
hat, and wiping the perspiration from his brow. "Well, come on."
They went on, on and on, over rocks and ledges and fallen trees;
fording streams and climbing heights (for they had lost their way)
until the lengthened twilight, attendant on the summer evenings of
Minnesota, began to darken into night.
At this junction, when it may be readily imagined that Edward
Sherman's ardor had somewhat cooled, and the emotions of his fellow
traveller were not of the most agreeable nature, alternate snatches of
song-singing and whistling were heard, not far distant. The bewildered
parties rode hastily forward, and met the musician.
"Can you tell how far we are from Chimney Rock, my friend? We have
lost our way," said Edward frankly.
"Why no, you ain't lost your way neither," replied the stranger
roughly. "You are there, now. Just ride round the 'tother side of this
bluff, and you'll see all there is of it."
"Well, can you inform me where Dr. DeWolf lives?"
"I guess I can. Keep right straight ahead, when you get the 'tother
side of the Pass, there. That road takes you down to Hog Run, and the
Run takes you to Beer Holler, and the brewery is right in the Holler,
and 'tother side of that, on the hill, is Dr. DeWolf's."
"What a huddle of euphonious names," exclaimed the Doctor, after
having proffered a "Thank you, sir," to the individual who had so
opportunely appeared. "Beer Hollow will be just suited to your mind,
Ned. In that romantic spot, inhaling the perfume of your favorite
beverage, love making will be doubly intoxicating."
"Hush, Doctor, eavesdroppers ahead," said Edward, pointing towards the
Pass.
Now, the Pass was nothing more than a narrow strip of table land,
serving as a passage way between the Mississippi River, and a towering
bluff. The view of the river was here intercepted by a thick grove of
trees and shrubbery, which our horsemen had already entered. They did
not, therefore, see the tiny green skiff, with its sprinkling of
white letters on the bow, christening it "Comet," shoot ahead, and
dart into the little cove near by, one of the most romantic and cosy
of those emerald-hung parlors opening from the grand reception hall,
of the "Father of Waters." Neither did they see the fair occupant rise
on tip-toe, and peep mischieveously, through the festooned loopholes
of the forest.
But they saw the dark objects to which the last speaker had called
attention, partially concealed by the trees. The beast on which Edward
was mounted stopped suddenly, shivering, apparently with fear.
Instantaneously, two dark figures darted from their lurking places,
and, in low gutteral tones demanded money. Unarmed, and completely in
the power of the ruffians, who each, pistol in hand, held firmly by
bit and bridle, the horse of his victim, the part of wisdom, seemed to
be to surrender.
At that instant, a slight figure glided from the thicket behind the
waylayers, and cautiously drawing forth a revolver which projected
from the belt of the nearest, placed the muzzle at his back and fired.
He fell with a deep groan. Another discharge followed quickly, and his
companion reeled several yards, seizing convulsively trees and
shrubbery, and finally, was heard sliding down the bank towards the
river.
"Now, ride for your lives, there's more of them," said their
deliverer, in a voice husky with excitement.
"What will you do?" said Edward.
"Take my skiff."
"No, mount here, quick," and he drew her up, and set off at full
speed.
"Now, turn here, now up that hill; now we are there," the lady faintly
articulated, as they flew along, and drew up before her father's door.
The house at which they had arrived, was the residence of Dr. DeWolf,
and the heroine of the adventure, was no other than the Doctor's only
daughter, quaintly named, Little Wolf. She had been, as was her wont,
on a short independent trip up the river. In the full enjoyment of the
romantic scenery and twilight hour, night had stolen upon her
unawares. Warned of her imprudence by the distant clatter of horses,
she immediately turned homeward. The swift current aided her efforts,
and she neared the Pass, just in time to overhear all that was said.
Not satisfied with the dim outline of objects, which a peep through
the leaves disclosed, she sprang to the shore, and catching by the
branch of an overhanging tree, drew herself up the steep bank. The
part which she performed in the perilous encounter is already known to
the reader, but the leading motives which prompted it, will be better
understood hereafter.