Life at Uphill—Our tutor—Mr Mark Tidey’s first lesson in Horsemanship—Studies from the book of Nature—Our trips westward—A Strange Combat—A Hasty Shot—Something worth knowing about Snakes—Camping out—The Bear’s visit and its result—Wolves—Drawing lots—A Sleepless Night—Timely Assistance—Dying from Hunger—Consequences of sheltering a Runaway Slave—Our Tutor turns Nurse—Chances of Discovery—We part Company—A mid-day Halt—An Unpleasant Meeting—The Bully receives a Lesson—Our March Homewards—The Way Dan kept Watch—We reach the Farm. (continued 5)

I, of course, thanked the Indian for his warning, assuring him that my father was too wise a man not to profit by it, and that he would be glad to reward him for the important service he had rendered us.

“Kluko requires no reward. Gratitude prompts him to try and save the lives of his pale-faced friends,” answered the Indian.

I, of course, do not give the exact expressions he used; indeed I had some difficulty in understanding his language. I begged him to remain until the return of my uncle and his companion. This, after some pressing, he consented to do, and to show his confidence in me, having rolled his blanket around him, he lay down before the fire, and was soon fast asleep.

Knowing that he would be very glad of more food on awaking, I spitted a double supply of venison and bear’s flesh. Sooner than I had expected, Uncle Denis and Dan made their appearance.

As they approached the camp Kluko started to his feet, even in his sleep hearing their footsteps. They were much astonished on seeing him, but still more so on learning the object of his visit.

My uncle tried to recollect whether he had ever seen Kluko before, but the Indian asserted that they had never met. He remained with us until the following morning; then, charging us earnestly not to forget his warning, took his departure.

Early in the day the Dominie and two of the men arrived with the horses, which we at once loaded and set off as fast as possible on our return home.

Chapter Twelve.

Our homestead—My sister and Lily lost—Anxiety of the black nurse—We set off to try and find them—Following up the trail—Tracks found—Dio pushes ahead—On the shores of the lake—Appearance of a canoe—We determine to take the occupants prisoners—The capture—Rose acting as guard—The white man secured—I recognise an old acquaintance—The way we treated him—Searching along the lake shore, we come upon an encampment—Overhear the conversation—Our presence discovered—Effects of the war-whoop—Flight of the party with Dio—The midnight pursuit—An unlooked-for reinforcement—Release of the black—Our prisoners—Lynch law—A villainous plot revealed—We arrive at Smiling Valley farm.

We were approaching the farm with our packages of skins and meats; Dio and I had hurried on ahead, as I was anxious to inform my father of the intelligence we had received from the Indian. The house, perched on the side of a hill, was already in sight, and very picturesque it looked, with the stream flowing below it, and backed by ranges of mountains towering one beyond the other, the more distant capped by eternal snows. Evening was approaching, but the sun still tinged the eastern slopes and the summits of the tall trees with a ruddy glow, when we caught sight of a person running towards us.

“Why! dat is Rose?” exclaimed Dio; “what she want?”

As she got near us I saw that her countenance exhibited unusual alarm and anxiety.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

Panting from her exertions and the long run she had had, she was at first unable to reply.

“De young ladies! de young ladies! you seen dem? Dey went out long dis path, and have not yet come back. Oh, dear! oh, dear! can anything have happened to dem?”

On hearing this I became alarmed, for as we had not met the girls, it was very certain that they had taken some other path. Rose further said that they had been absent for some hours, though they had promised to return early in the afternoon. She confessed that she had not told my mother or Biddy, and she was the only person in the house who knew of their having intended to go farther than usual.

Grizzlies, wolves, panthers, and prowling Indians instantly flashed across my mind; still I hoped that even before this they might have returned home by some other way.

Dio, who was evidently far more alarmed than I felt, suddenly, without a moment’s warning of his intention, darted away through some thick brushwood to the eastward, exclaiming, “Me find ’em! me find ’em!”

As he disappeared in the wood, I fancied I saw him stoop and wave a handkerchief, but the light was uncertain, and I thought I must have been mistaken. My first impulse was to follow Dio, but on looking back, I saw Mr Tidey coming along the path in the distance, and I reflected that our object was far more likely to be attained by getting him to accompany me, as, should we discover the direction taken by Kathleen and Lily, we might follow up their trail together, and be more likely to rescue them, if they had, a was possible, been captured by Indians. Mr Tidey was naturally very much alarmed at the tidings I gave him.

“We will set off at once and send Rose back to let our friends know the way we have gone,” he observed, as we hurried towards the spot where the black woman was standing. On nearing the place, however, we found that she had gone after Dio, and we accordingly ran on in the same direction. It was some time before we overtook her, and we then in vain endeavoured to persuade her to go back.

“No!” she exclaimed. It was her fault, as she should have accompanied them, and return home without them she would not.

As valuable time would be lost in persuading her to do what we wished, we allowed her to accompany us. We soon had to regret this, as we were frequently compelled to assist her, but we had now gone so far that it would have been cruel to leave her behind. We shouted as we went on, to Dio, but his voice did not reply. That we were on his trail was certain, for we could see the twigs, which he or some one else had broken off, but whether the girls had gone in the same direction, we were doubtful. At length we came to a spot where we discovered the marks of several feet. Mr Tidey stopped, and, stooping down, examined them minutely.

“The marks are those of moccasins!” he exclaimed. “Indians must have been here, and if so, it is too probable that the dear girls may have fallen into their hands. Even the worst savages cannot intend to harm them, but may hope to obtain a ransom, or perhaps when we set off to try and recover them, they may expect to cut us off in detail, or to attack the farm when most of the defenders are away, with a better chance of success. We must be cautious, therefore, as we proceed, but still I hope we can defeat their object.”

“Though Indians may have been here, we have no proof that they have taken Kathleen and Lily prisoners,” I observed.

We had not gone far, perhaps ten paces, after I made this remark, when Rose, darting towards a bush, picked up from beneath it a small piece of ribbon, which she at once pronounced to be part of the tie of Lily’s large straw hat. This settled the question, though how she managed to tear off the string so as to leave it as an indication of the direction they had taken, it was difficult to say. Was it done on purpose, or had it been torn off in a struggle she might have made to escape. One thing was certain. We must continue the pursuit. We hoped every instant to overtake the black, but we were now afraid of shouting, lest the Indians should hear us, and be warned of our approach. On and on we went. The sun had set, and darkness shrouded the lower part of the forest. In a few minutes the moon, still almost at the full, rose and enabled us to see our way as well as in daylight, accustomed as we were to be out at night; at the same time it was difficult to distinguish the trail which had hitherto guided us. We had been going for some time in the direction of the lake, the western edge of which extended along the base of the mountains. It was fed by streams descending from them. Although not a broad lake, it reached a long way to the southward, and I began to fear that should Indians have carried off the girls, they might have embarked on the lake, and if so, our chances of overtaking them were small indeed. I now regretted that I had not waited to communicate with Uncle Denis before we had started. He would probably have gone on to the farm, and, having obtained horses, set off with a strong party, which by proceeding along the eastern side of the lake, might have headed the people, whoever they were, who had committed the outrage. We were satisfied, however, that there were not many of them. They would, however, should we come up with them, have a great advantage over us, for we could not venture to fire at them for fear of wounding their captives, whereas they might blaze away at us with impunity. I said something of this in effect to the Dominie.

“If they are Indians, they are not likely to have fire-arms,” he remarked, “and I cannot fancy that white men would have any object in carrying off the dear girls.”

Fast as we were going, Dio must have gone faster, for still we saw nothing of him. Whenever we slackened our pace, Rose exclaimed—

“Go on, Massa Tidey, go on Massa Mike, no stop for me, I keep up, me got wind now!”

Her eagerness enabled her indeed to exert herself in a way she could not otherwise have done. At length we caught sight of the water between the trees, and in a few minutes we were standing on the shore of the lake. The moon shed her bright light on the calm surface of the beautiful sheet of water, enabling us to see a great distance along it. At one side rose the mountains, on the other the banks were fringed with trees of magnificent growth, except here and there, where grassy glades came down to the edge of the water, or points jutted out, forming sheltered bays and nooks, which might conceal those of whom we were in search. We stood for some minutes straining our eyes, in the expectation of seeing a canoe gliding rapidly away from us, but not a speck could we distinguish on the unruffled bosom of the lake. We searched about to try and discover any signs of a canoe having touched the shore, but we could find nothing to indicate that one had been there. That we had not lost the trail, however, we felt nearly certain. We had now to decide what probable direction the fugitives had taken; it was not likely that they would have gone towards the mountains, and indeed, on further search, we found that the wood in that direction was almost impracticable. Not a single clear track or opening through it could we discover, while to the left, people could easily have made their way either close to the shore, or a short distance from it.

We accordingly advanced in that direction, moving with the greatest possible caution, so that we might have a chance of discovering the marauders before they would be aware of our approach. The Dominie went first, I followed, and Rose brought up the rear, for nothing would induce her to return.

“If you fight, I fight too, so dat we get back de young ladies!” she exclaimed in a determined tone, and possessing herself of a thick stick which lay on the shore of the lake, she trudged on after us.

We trod as carefully as we could, keeping ourselves as much as possible concealed by the trunks of the trees and brushwood. Sometimes we had to get down close to the lake when we could discover no other way through the wood. The Dominie was trying to find a path between the trees when I heard Rose exclaim—

“Hist! Massa Mike, dare come canoe ober de water!”

I called to Mr Tidey, who stopped, and, sheltering ourselves under the shadow of the trees, we looked in the direction Rose pointed. There, sure enough, was a canoe skimming lightly over the moonlit waters. She appeared to be of large size, though I could only see two paddles going. We watched eagerly to know to what part of the bank she was directing her course. Twice it was altered, as if the people in the canoe were uncertain where to land. At length they paddled on towards the very spot where we had first struck the lake.

“There are only two of them, and we shall be able to tackle the fellows, whoever they are,” whispered the Dominie to me; “they are connected with those who carried off the little girls, and have probably come to meet them; there is no time to be lost, follow me,” and he led the way back by the path we had come.

We could occasionally get a glimpse of the canoe, which came slowly on. She was of large size, and there were to a certainty but two paddlers. I could hear poor Rose behind me panting and puffing as we hurried along; still she persevered, prompted by her desire to help us.

We reached a thick clump of bushes, close by the spot towards which the canoe was directing course, and, crouching down, we remained concealed, waiting until the Dominie should give the signal for action. What he intended to do I could only guess, as it would have been imprudent to have spoken, lest our voices should be heard, though the splash of the paddles prevented the sound we made in passing along from reaching the ears of the people in the canoe. Of course we could easily have shot the two men, but as we had no proof of their being enemies, such an act would have been unjust. They shoved in carefully, for fear of knocking the bows against any logs or branches beneath the surface, and then one of them stepped out. As he stood up, with the moonlight pouring full upon him, we saw that he was a white man, with a broad-brimmed hat, a brace of pistols in his belt, and a rifle in his hand. The other person was an Indian, who, after his companion had secured the canoe by a rope to the trunk of a sapling, remained seated, as if waiting his return. The white man looked about him, but did not appear to discover the signs of our having been there. It was a wonder, however, that he did not see us, probably his eyes were dazzled by the bright moonlight. Had the Indian landed, there could be little doubt that he would have perceived us, though we all three sat as motionless as the objects around.

The white man whistled shrilly several times, but receiving no response to his signal, he began to make his way in the direction from whence we had first come, as if he expected to meet his associates. I was doubtful whether the Dominie would follow and attempt to seize him, or would wait until he had got out of hearing and then endeavour to capture the Indian. This would not be a very easy undertaking, unless he was less watchful than is usually the case with his people. At last the Dominie touched my arm as a signal to me to be prepared for instant action; he then began to creep cautiously forward, so as to get round the bush and close to the canoe, before making the rush which would indicate our presence. I imitated his example, and had no doubt that Rose was creeping after us. Should the Indian possess a rifle, he would probably have time to fire it and recall his companion to his assistance, even if he failed to hit either of us; and at all events he would cry out, and we must master him quickly to be in time to deal with the other man, who would not probably stand on ceremony about using his weapons. On we crept: I could hear my own heart beating, and expected every moment that the Indian would discover us. Presently we saw him stand up in the attitude of listening, as if he had heard some suspicious sounds; his eyes were directed towards the very spot where we were concealed, but the thick bushes prevented a gleam of light falling upon us. He was evidently on the alert, and the difficulty of seizing him was increased. He looked round, but appeared to have discovered nothing. It was important to master him without delay, before the return of the white man, when we should have two people to deal with instead of one.

Again the Dominie began to creep forward; careful as he was, the Indian must have heard the noise, for he again stood up with a bow in his hand ready to shoot. Seeing nothing, he drew in the painter and stepped on shore, advancing a few paces and gazing round him, peering towards where we were crouching down. Should he discover us, he would have time to shoot and afterwards bound away out of our reach. Presently we heard a sound as if some creature, if not a human being, was passing through the forest at a short distance on the farther side of where he stood; he turned his head as if satisfied that it had caused the sounds he had heard, and with his arrow on the string he advanced a pace or two, as if searching for the animal. As we could not expect a more favourable moment for our purpose, the Dominie and I simultaneously sprang forward. With one bound we were upon the Indian, before he had time to turn and defend himself. The Dominie seized him by the neck, and striking his legs we brought him to the ground, when Rose, as he opened his mouth to cry out, thrust into it the handkerchief she had torn from her head. He struggled violently to free himself, but as the black woman was also as strong as a man, we were able to hold him down until she had secured my handkerchief round his legs. The Dominie and I then fastened his arms behind him, turning him over with very little ceremony. So effectually had Rose gagged him that he was beginning to grow black in the face from suffocation, but we were unwilling to withdraw it, lest he should shout out and warn his companion of what had happened. Lest the latter should hear us, we also did not speak above a whisper.

“The sooner we place our prisoner at a distance from this the better,” said the Dominie, and with the assistance of Rose, we lifted him up and carried him almost to the point we had reached when we at first saw the canoe.

He allowed himself to be carried unresistingly along, but we were not deceived by this, as we knew perfectly well that he was but waiting an opportunity to get free. We now thought that we could with prudence take the gag out of his mouth, to try and learn from him what object he and his companion had in view, though we had little doubt about the matter. Mr Tidey made signs that if he cried out, it would be the worse for him. Rose then carefully pulled out the handkerchief. Not a word, however, could we elicit from him; he seemed to suppose that we were going to put him to death, and, stoically resigned to his fate, nothing we could say had any effect.

“Perhaps he doesn’t understand English,” observed Mr Tidey; “and as he has not his hands at liberty, he cannot make signs; our only safe course, however, is to treat him as an enemy, and keep him bound. Rose, we will leave him under your charge, while we go back and try and tackle his companion. You will not let him escape?”

“No, massa, no fear ob dat,” answered Rose, stuffing the handkerchief back into the Indian’s mouth, “if he try to move, I soon make him keep quiet.”

As the white man might be returning, we hastened back to be ready for him. I suggested that we should haul up the canoe, and knock a hole in her, to prevent the stranger, should he escape us, from getting off; but Mr Tidey thought that she might be of use to us, and advised instead that we should hide the paddles, which would answer the purpose equally well.

We listened as we drew near the spot where the canoe lay, but we could hear no one approaching. Without hesitation, therefore, drawing her to the bank, I stepped into her, and searched about to ascertain what she contained. I soon discovered several pieces of rope, a basket of provisions, and a bottle of rum. It was possible that the Indian’s apparent stupidity had arisen from his having drunk a portion of the latter. The rope confirmed us in our belief that the men in the canoe had come for the purpose of making a prisoner of some one or other. Bringing the rope and paddles, I returned on shore. Scarcely had we hidden them in the bushes than, hearing footsteps approaching, we hurriedly concealed ourselves. Presently the white man we had before seen emerged from the gloom of the trees. We saw him looking towards the canoe.

“What can have become of the rascals?” he exclaimed with an oath, speaking to himself.

He was advancing towards the canoe, expecting probably to find the Indian asleep within her, when Mr Tidey and I sprang so rapidly on him, that before he had even time to turn round, we had him stretched on the ground, the Dominie holding him tightly with one hand on his throat and the other on his right arm, while I held down his left arm and presented one of his own pistols, which I drew from his belt, at his head.

“You know best if this is loaded; and, if it is, should you make the slightest resistance, I will shoot you,” I said in a firm tone.

“Who are you, villains, who dare thus attack a free and independent citizen?” exclaimed the stranger, following the inquiry with a volley of abuse.

“Keep a civil tongue in your head and answer the questions we put, or you may have to repent it,” said the Dominie. “Why did you come here?”

“I came to look after a rascally black who escaped from his owner, and you will be sorry for having interfered with me in my lawful business.”

“We are ready to take the consequences,” answered Mr Tidey. “Before we set you free, we intend to learn whether your story is true; so submit quietly, or we shall be obliged to resort to more violence than we wish.”

While we were holding down the man, I examined his countenance, and was sure that he was one of those who had so outrageously attacked our house, I therefore felt no compunction at the way we were treating him. Had he shown any courage, he might possibly have freed himself, but we managed—not without some difficulty—to lash his arms behind him, and to bind his legs so that he could move neither hand nor foot.

“The best thing we can do with him is to place him in the canoe, and let him remain there until we have discovered the little girls, for, depend upon it, his companions have carried them off, probably with the intention of holding them as hostages until we deliver up Dio,” observed Mr Tidey.

We had also another reason for keeping him a prisoner, to which, however, Mr Tidey did not allude in his presence. Without loss of time, we partly dragged and partly lifted him up to the canoe, into which we tumbled him without much ceremony.

“If you attempt to struggle, you’ll kick a hole in the canoe and go to the bottom, my friend; so I would advise you to keep quiet,” said the Dominie.

The man only answered with a volley of oaths, but no further information could we draw from him. We therefore left him to his own reflections, while we hastened back to Rose, whom we found seated by her prisoner.

“He stay berry quiet,” she said, “an’ me no tinkee he run ’way.”

“That may be, but we will secure him as we have done his companion,” said Mr Tidey, producing a piece of rope which he had brought with him from the canoe; and, dragging the Indian to a tree, we lashed him so securely to it, that we believed with all his cunning he could not set himself free.

“Now let us continue our search for the little girls and Dio,” said the Dominie; “depend upon it, they cannot be far off. Probably they are somewhere near the shores of the lake, and if we approach their captors cautiously, we may master them as we have the other man.”

I suggested that we should paddle round the shores of the lake in the canoe, and as they were probably expecting her arrival with two men in her, they would not suspect who we were until we got close up to them.

The Dominie, after a little consideration, agreed to my proposal.

“What are we to do with Rose?” he asked.

“She can lie down at the bottom of the canoe, and assist in keeping our prisoner quiet, unless she will consent to remain behind,” I observed.

“No, no, me go with massa!” she exclaimed.

As she might be useful, Mr Tidey agreed to her going. We hurried back once more to the canoe, and, lifting in Rose, placed her in the bows near the head of our prisoner, in a position which would enable her speedily to tighten his gag, should he attempt to cry out. We then, taking the paddles, commenced our voyage, I sitting in the bows, Mr Tidey in the stern. We paddled in towards every opening which was likely to afford a spot for camping, but no object could we see besides the tall trees rising up above the water. We had gone some distance, and I had begun to fear that those we were in search of had moved off from the shores of the lake, and that we might have a long march to come up with them, should we discover the direction they had taken, when I perceived a more ruddy tint on the surface of the lake than that reflected by the silvery moon.

“There must be a fire somewhere near the shore,” I whispered, “people are encamped there, depend upon it; how shall we proceed?”

“We will land close in here, and then try to steal upon them unobserved, so as to reconnoitre them first. If there are too many people to master, we must wait until some of the party fall asleep, and then try to surprise them. One at least is sure to be on guard; we must knock him over and then spring on the rest. We shall be able to judge better when we ascertain how matters stand,” observed the Dominie.

As he spoke he turned the head of the canoe to the shore, which we soon reached. Rose had crammed the handkerchief tight down into the mouth of the prisoner, or he would to a certainty have betrayed us. Even now I was afraid that we might have been seen, but no hail reached us. Making as little noise as possible with our paddles, we soon reached the beach, and, making a sign for Rose not to follow us, we landed, leaving her in charge of the canoe. We both crept forward as cautiously as any Indians could have done. As we approached the fire we heard the sound of voices, and by getting a little nearer we could hear what was said.

“I wonder that fellow Jowl hasn’t found us out yet,” observed one of the speakers; “we shall have a long tramp for it if he doesn’t appear very soon, and the captain and his people will be down upon us. Now that we’ve got the black, I wish that we had let the girls alone, they’ll only cause trouble, for old Bracher won’t know what to do with them.”

“We’d better leave them, then, to shift for themselves, they’ll find their way home somehow or other; it matters little to us if they don’t,” answered another.

“But they’ll betray the whereabouts of our train to the captain, and he’ll be after us with his people and demand satisfaction. If he proves the strongest, he’ll carry off the black, about whom we have had all this trouble, into the bargain,” observed the first.

“If he comes at all, it will give old Bracher an opportunity of shooting him, that’s what they’d like to do better than anything else,” remarked a third.

The men continued talking on the same subject, but they had said enough as to the girls being carried off. From it I gathered that Mr Bracher was travelling eastward with a waggon train, probably having failed in the west, and that, finding himself in the neighbourhood of our new location, he had despatched a party to try and recapture Dio, but that meeting Kathleen and Lily, they had made prisoners of them with the intention of keeping them as hostages until the slave was delivered up. I also ascertained that Dio had fallen into their hands, and that consequently my sister and Lily were of less value in their sight than would otherwise have been the case.

Although we heard but three persons speaking, there might be many more, but this we could only determine by getting nearer to the camp. I made a sign to Mr Tidey to remain quiet while I crept forward. I stopped whenever there was a pause in the conversation, and stole on when the sound of the voices would prevent them from hearing any noise I might make. My fear was that they might have with them some Indians who would be much more likely to discover me than they were. At length a clump of bushes alone intervened between me and their camp-fire. Carefully raising my head, I looked through an opening, when I saw four men seated on the ground, with their rifles by their sides. A short distance off lay Dio, with his arms bound behind him and secured by a rope to a tree. Still farther was a rude hut formed of branches, beneath the shelter of which, I had no doubt, Kathleen and Lily were resting. So far the men had shown some humanity. To recover the “captives” it was evident that we must use stratagem rather than force. We could scarcely expect to overcome four well-armed men, even should we first succeed in setting Dio at liberty. We might, however, easily shoot two of them, and then spring upon the other two, but as I felt that we should not be justified in so doing, I was about to retire and tell Mr Tidey what I had seen when one of the men started up, exclaiming—

“I saw some one watching us through the bushes.”

I was conscious that the glare of the fire had for a moment fallen on my face. All hope of our surprising them was lost. I heard some one approaching behind me.

“Whoop!” whispered Mr Tidey; “we will try what effect terror will produce.”

Raising our voices, we imitated, with some effect, the terrific Indian war-whoop, dropping on the ground as we did so, to avoid a shower of bullets aimed at us.

“Get hold of the black, and let us be off!” cried one of the men; “we must not have had our expedition for nothing.”

Before we could regain our feet, one of the fellows cut the rope which held Dio, and, seizing him by the neck, dragged him along across the glade on the opposite side of which the whole party disappeared, passing close to the hut in which we guessed that Kathleen and Lily were confined. Had we before been inclined to fire, we were less willing to do so now, for fear of wounding either the girls or poor Dio, who was placed as a shield by the man who was dragging him along. Our first impulse was to run and rescue the dear ones who had caused us so much anxiety. They shrieked out, overcome with terror, as they heard us approaching, until my voice reassured them. By the light of the fire which streamed into their hut they saw who we were. A few words served to calm them, and make them understand what had happened, and in another minute Rose came running up, unable to restrain her anxiety, she having heard the firing, and fearing that we might be killed or wounded.

“We must not let Dio be carried off if we can help it!” I exclaimed. “Come on, Mr Tidey; let us pursue the fellows, and perhaps they’ll grow tired of dragging him along, and set him at liberty.”

“Yes, yes, Massa Tidey, you go ’long, me take care ob de little girls. See dar’ is rifle, me fight for dem if anybody comes!” exclaimed Rose.

Sure enough one of the men in his terror had left his rifle behind him. We should thus find only three armed antagonists, unless he had also pistols. At all events, without stopping to consider the risk we ran, we rushed on, again and again uttering a war-whoop. It had only the effect, as far as we could judge, of expediting the movements of the fugitives. Unfortunately the moon became obscured by clouds, and increased the difficulties of our progress.

I began indeed to fear that, after all, we should be baffled, and I knew the sad fate which awaited Dio, should he be carried back to his former master. We had two prisoners, to be sure, but I felt very certain that Mr Bracher would not give up his slave for the sake of recovering them, indeed he would be well aware that we could not keep them in captivity. Several times I thought we were on the point of overtaking the men, but on each occasion they managed to elude us. Whether they still fancied that Indians were following them, we could not tell. Possibly they might have guessed that we were white men, though they could not tell the number of our party, and at all events did not think it worth while to hazard a conflict, now that they had obtained the object of their expedition. How far off Silas Bracher’s train was encamped we were uncertain, but we knew that the men could not possibly reach it, if it was on the usual route, until some hours after noon, indeed they could not get out of the wood bordering the lake, until daylight.

“Can you go on, Mike?” asked Mr Tidey.

“I will until I drop, and I don’t feel at all inclined to do that just yet,” I answered.

“Then let us continue the pursuit, but we’ll not whoop again, so that we may possibly come upon them when they least expect it.”

The forest was tolerably open, and had it been daylight, we should have been able to see to a considerable distance. I several times took a glance towards the east, and at length I saw the dawn breaking through an opening in the trees. Our only fear was that the fugitives might have turned aside, and that we had passed them. This, however, was not likely to be the case. The light increased, and just we got near the edge of the forest, we caught sight of the four men still dragging on poor Dio.

I don’t know what we might have been tempted to do. I saw Mr Tidey more than once raise his rifle, and I confess I was merely waiting for a fair shot at one of the fellows, in spite of the risk of wounding Dio, when my eyes fell on a party of horsemen galloping along from the northward, having apparently skirted the edge of the forest.

The Kentuckians saw them also, and knowing that if the horsemen were in pursuit of them, further flight would be useless, halted and appeared to be consulting what to do. In another minute I recognised my father and Uncle Denis leading the party. Our friends dashed forward at the fellows. My father was just in time to knock down one of them who had presented his pistol at the black’s head, and I fully expected that the four men would be killed on the spot. I saw Dio, however, holding up his hands to protect them, while he explained apparently what had happened. We now showed ourselves, and, hurrying forward, assured my father of the safety of Kathleen and Lily.

“You may go, then!” he exclaimed, turning to the Kentuckians, who now appeared thoroughly cowed, “and tell Silas Bracher, should he again venture to send any of his men to capture this honest negro, they will be more severely dealt with than you have been.”

The fellows, without a word of thanks, moved sulkily away towards the south, at a much slower pace than they had hitherto been going. Three of our men now got off their horses, to allow Mr Tidey, Dio, and me to mount, and we rode on through the forest as fast as we could go, until we reached Rose and her two charges; the little girls, having recovered from their fright, had fallen asleep in their bower, while the black nurse sat watching over them.

I had almost forgotten our prisoners, when Mr Tidey exclaimed, “We mustn’t let the Indian and that fellow in the canoe starve to death, which they certainly will unless we release them.”

“They can do no further harm if set at liberty, though they deserve a pretty severe punishment,” said my father. “Where are they?”

“Not far off, and if some of you will come with me, we will send them about their business, with a warning that, should they again attempt to play such a trick, they will not escape so easily,” observed the Dominie.

Martin Prentis, I, and two of the men, at once set off with Mr Tidey. We first made our way to the canoe, where we found our prisoner groaning with pain, for, by endeavouring to release himself, he had only tightened the cords with which his arms and legs were lashed. We took him out of the canoe, and from the expression of abject terror exhibited in his countenance, I suspected that the fellow believed he was then and there to undergo the penalty of ‘Lynch law,’ for he looked up at the bough of a tree above his head, as if he expected immediately to be triced up to it. I never saw a man so crestfallen.

“Now, my fine fellow, you know what you deserve,” said the Dominie, as Martin and the other men placed him on his feet. “You were employed by a greater rogue than yourself; but as you have failed in your undertaking, we do not want to be hard on you, and if you will tell us the intentions of your master, we will set you at liberty. But, if not—,” and Mr Tidey pointed to the bough overhead.

“I’ll give you all the information you require,” exclaimed the man, trembling. “Bracher had sworn to be revenged on you for sheltering his runaway slave, and was determined to get hold of him if he could. He had heard that you were located in this neighbourhood, and he sent a party with orders to capture the black at all costs.”

“That doesn’t excuse them for carrying off the young ladies, and frightening us well-nigh out of our wits, on their account.”

“I had no hand in that matter,” said our prisoner. “I suppose that by getting hold of them our people thought that they could force you to come to terms about the nigger.”

“Probably,” observed Mr Tidey; “but what were your orders, should you fail to recover the black? Remember, we have your Indian guide in our hands, and if you do not speak the truth, we shall be able to learn what we want from him.”

“I will tell you everything,” answered the man, as the Dominie again glanced up at the overhanging bough. “Silas Bracher has come to grief, and being compelled to sell up, is moving westward with a pretty good-sized party whom he has persuaded to accompany him. We heard on our way that Captain Loraine was located in the neighbourhood. Mr Bracher managed, somehow or other, when we got near this, to make friends with one of the chiefs of the red-skins, who, bribed by the promise of a case of whisky and some fire-arms, undertook to attack Captain Loraine’s farm as soon as a good chance of success should offer. The chief, you’ll understand, was to bide his time and to bring Silas word directly he had done the work.”

“And when is the attack to be made?” asked Mr Tidey.

The man protested that he could not tell, but concluded that it would not long be deferred, probably not more than a week or two, before the train could have got to any great distance, indeed he had an idea that some of their people were to be employed in assisting the Indians.

Mr Tidey, though he cross-questioned the man, could elicit no further information of importance. We therefore conducted him to my father, who, after charging him to keep his own counsel, and not let Silas Bracher know the information he had given, told him that he was at liberty to return to his friends.

Great indeed was his look of astonishment. He not only promised that he would say nothing to Silas Bracher on the subject, but that he would separate himself from him and his party, and join some other emigrant train on the first opportunity. We watched him until he disappeared in the forest, though, judging by the pace he went, we suspected that he was in no great hurry to join his companions.

“We have now to look after the Indian,” said Mr Tidey, “and as we shall pass not far from the spot where we left him, we will learn what he has to say for himself, and send him about his business.”

As we were anxious to get home as soon as possible, to relieve my mother’s mind of anxiety, we lost no time in setting off. My father took up Kathleen and Uncle Denis Lily before them, and, after some persuasion, Rose consented to allow herself to be lifted and placed in front of Dio’s saddle. Mr Tidey and I, with Martin, pushed on ahead, that we might without delay set at liberty the unfortunate Indian, who was less to blame than his white employers. On reaching the spot, however, we could nowhere see him. We searched about in every direction. It was evident that by some means or other, he had been set at liberty. Whether he had himself cast loose the lashings, or whether anybody else had liberated him, we could not discover, for although there were the marks of several feet on the ground, they might have been ours. As there was little probability that the Indian would have remained in the neighbourhood, we soon abandoned the search and rejoined the party.

It was late in the evening when we approached the farm, and recollecting the threatened attack by the Indians, I felt more anxiety than I can express, lest during our absence, they should have carried out their project. Great therefore, was the relief to my mind when I saw Biddy running down the hill to welcome us, followed by my mother to whose charge we soon committed Kathleen and Lily.

Chapter Thirteen.

An uncomfortable state of things—Kluko pays us a visit—Startling intelligence—The fate of Silas Bracher—Return to the farm—The Indian’s friendship for Dio—The red man’s opinion of slavery—Uncle Denis’s menagerie—Winter at the farm—We have an adventure—Fight between a sable and porcupine—We capture the combatants—Their appearance—Treatment in the cage—Taming of the sable and urson—Loss of poultry—Imprisonment for life—Something about ourselves.

The warning we had received of a projected attack on the farm by the Indians compelled us to be on our guard. We kept a strict watch at night, and two or three of us were constantly employed in scouting in the neighbourhood, so as in good time to discover any red-skins who might be approaching with hostile intent. Cunning as they may fancy themselves, they are in reality easily outwitted by the superior intelligence of white men.

We had got so accustomed to this state of things that we took them as a matter of course. Even my mother, Kathleen, and Lily, were not in the slightest degree alarmed, though they became somewhat anxious when my father and uncle, or Dan and I did not return at the hour they expected. We were annoyed chiefly by the interruption to our usual avocations, as, when we had been out all day, neither our worthy Dominie, Dan, nor I were much inclined for lessons. We, however, managed to hunt as usual, as we could at the same time act as scouts, though we ran, it must be confessed, some risk of being caught by any hostile Indians who might be in the neighbourhood. Impunity, however, made us bold, and we were inclined to think that the threatened attack would never take place. The men continued cutting down trees, putting up fences, ploughing, and sowing, as regularly as before, though, by my father’s orders, they always carried their arms with them, and piled them close at hand, so as to be ready for instant use.

Mr Tidey, Dan, and I had started on horseback one morning just before daybreak, agreeing to meet at noon at a certain spot about ten miles from the farm, by the side of a stream near a wood, where we could light our fire and cook any game we might have shot. I had had a successful morning’s sport, having shot a fawn, a couple of turkeys, and several small birds; and at the hour agreed on I arrived with my horse well loaded at our proposed camp. Finding that the Dominie and my brother had not yet reached it, I collected sticks and lighted a fire, so that I might have dinner ready for them.

While I was so employed, occasionally taking a look round in the expectation of seeing either the Dominie or Dan approaching, I was startled by discovering an Indian who had suddenly emerged from the wood about twenty paces off. My first impulse was to seize my rifle which lay on the ground near me, but a second glance showed me that although he had a bow in his hand, there was no arrow in the string.

“You are not as cautious as you should be, young pale-face,” he observed, as he came up to me. “This is the second time I have caught you off your guard; an enemy approaching as I did might have shot you before you had discovered him.”

As he spoke I recognised our friend Kluko. We shook hands, and he seated himself by the fire, when I offered him some of the food I was cooking, which would, I knew, suit his taste, though not sufficiently roasted to please our palates.

“I heard the sound of your rifle several times, and I tracked you here, as I wanted to bring you good news,” he said.

“I thank you, pray speak on,” I answered; “I know that it will give Kluko as much pleasure to tell good news as it will afford me to hear it.”

“When I saw you last, I warned you that a party of Blackfeet, instigated by a white man, had undertaken the destruction of your farm: I have now to tell you that they quarrelled with their white friend, and, following his trail as he journeyed westward, they have attacked his camp, and cut him and his people to pieces, carrying off their scalps as trophies.”

“Do you speak of Silas Bracher?” I asked.

“That was the name of the white chief; I have no doubt about the matter, although I could not remember it,” answered Kluko. “As the red-men obtained all the booty they could carry off, many times more than the amount of the reward they expected to receive, they are not likely to attack your farm, indeed they are already on their road back to their own hunting-grounds, so you may now rest in peace for some time to come. Should I again hear that they are out on the war-path, I will give you timely notice. You know Kluko is your friend, and that you can trust him.”

I assured the Indian that I put full confidence in the information he had brought, and invited him to accompany us to the farm, as I was sure my father would be glad to see him and thank him for the service he had rendered us. He was evidently pleased, and said he would come and see his pale-faced brothers. In a short time Dan and Mr Tidey arrived, and after they had saluted our Indian friend in the usual fashion, I told them of the news he had brought.

“I was very sure that that wretched man would come to a violent end,” observed Mr Tidey; “although he intended evil against us, we are bound not to rejoice over his fate; we have been protected by a higher power.”

“The great Spirit takes care of those who trust him,” observed Kluko reverently.

Having as much game as our horses could carry, we set off to return home. The Indian, although on foot, easily kept up with us, and I could not but admire his firm step and graceful carriage as he moved over the ground, whether rough or smooth. The information he brought, relieved my mother’s mind of a constant source of care, but though my father believed it to be true, he still considered it possible that the farm might some day or other be attacked, and insisted that we should continue the precautions we had hitherto adopted to escape being surprised.

Kluko remained with us nearly a month, and won our regard by his quiet, intelligent, and unobtrusive manners. Although dressed in skins, he was perfectly the gentleman, moreover an enlightened and sincere Christian, for he had thrown aside all heathen customs and superstitions. His great object appeared to be to benefit his fellow-creatures. He became strongly attached to Dio, whose history he had heard, and expressed himself highly indignant that any people should reduce another race to slavery.

“They speak with contempt of the red-men, but no red-men, cruel and blood-thirsty as they are, ever do that,” he observed. “When they take prisoners they torture them, it is true, for a short time, but they then put them to death; they would not subject them to a long life of torture of soul and body.”

Kluko accompanied us on several hunting expeditions, but he was much less expert than we were in the use of the rifle. He could shoot very well when he got his weapon on a rest, but could never manage to bring down game on the wing. The first time he saw me kill a bird flying, he expressed his astonishment. He had been accustomed to the bow from his boyhood, he said, and, that his people never attempted to shoot at any creature except on the bough of a tree, or running along the ground.

At length he took his departure, promising to pay us another visit ere long, should his life be spared. Month after month went by without any alarms from Indians, while we heard nothing more of the threatened attack on the farm by the Blackfeet.

Uncle Denis was successful in trapping several animals to add to his menagerie. One day he arrived with two wolf cubs, which, although ill-tempered at first, soon became as tame as puppies, though less playful. We obtained also three young fawns, of different species of deer; charming little creatures they were, great pets with Kathleen and Lily, and would follow them round the farm and into the house. They were of course not allowed to go to a distance, lest they might be carried off by any wild animal prowling about. The young wolves at first showed an inclination to bite at them when they came near, but were soon taught better manners, and afterwards never attempted to molest them.

Bruin soon became on the most friendly terms with them, and would roll on the ground, while they leapt over and over his body, and frolicked round and round him. One of the last animals added to the menagerie, was the most difficult to tame, and great doubt was entertained whether it would be prudent to allow it to associate with the other members of the happy family. Uncle Denis arrived with it on horseback in a big bag hung to the saddle-bow, late one evening.

“What have you got there?” we all asked eagerly, as we saw that there was a living creature kicking about in the bag.

“Something which, although at present somewhat inclined to be unruly, will, I hope, before long become as gentle as Lily’s pet lamb. I must send it to school, however, at first, to receive instruction, before I allow it to mix in the world. Here, Mike, take it to the cage; don’t let it out until I come and help you.”

I took the bag from him, and by the weight I supposed that it contained an animal the size of a large cat. The cage, I should say, was about six feet high and eight square, composed of strong hickory, or oak bars, placed so close together, that no animal could force its way out, while only such as had teeth as strong as those of the beaver, could have bitten through the wood. The door was made to slide from side to side, in order that only as much of it as was necessary need be opened at a time. Uncle Denis, having untied the string of the bag, put the mouth inside, when out bounded a beautiful little animal of a tawny hue, with a long tail and a remarkably small head, somewhat more elongated than that of a cat. On its back and sides were several rows of dark streaks, and on its shoulders some spots of similar colour, resembling those of the leopard. It made towards the opposite bars, but finding it could not get out, began circling round and round the cage, looking very much astonished on finding that, although out of the bag, it could not escape.

“Why, that’s a young panther,” exclaimed Dan. “Do you hope ever to tame it, Uncle Denis?”

“A ‘painter’ it is, or rather a puma, to give it its proper name: I have no doubt that in a short time, it will be as gentle as a domestic cat,” answered our uncle; “but we must take care not to irritate it, as its temper is none of the sweetest.”

The little creature continued running round and round, sometimes leaping up, and trying to scramble to the top of the cage, expecting, probably, to find an outlet in that direction. When at length it found all its efforts of no avail, it seemed to resign itself to its fate. Uncle Denis having brought it some small pieces of meat, it devoured them greedily, and looked towards his hands, expecting more. He gave it a very small portion at a time, refusing to give it any food, until it came humbly crawling up to receive the morsel. He then put in a number of leafy boughs, under which it crawled and went to sleep. The next day it was evidently tamer, and more accustomed to the sight of human beings, and after this, the moment he appeared, it came towards him in a suppliant manner to receive its food. In less than a week, it was perfectly tame, and before a month was over, followed him about like a dog, while it became on perfectly friendly terms with the rest of the animals. At first it evidently stood in awe of Bruin, conscious that the bear had the power of giving it an unpleasant gripe, but finding itself unharmed, began to play with its shaggy coated companion, and the two in a short time became fast friends.

Once more wintry blasts blew up the valley, the ground was covered with snow, and lakes and streams were frozen over. We had plenty of occupation, both indoors and out, and although the days were short, the moon for nearly half the month afforded us light sufficient to move about with as great ease as in summer. Habited in dresses of fur, we hunted often at considerable distances from home, either bison or deer, or smaller animals.

On such occasions we built a shanty in some sheltered wood, of birch bark, when it was to be procured, or boughs stuck into the ground close together, with a thick mass of snow piled up against them, while a cheerful fire blazed in front.

Very frequently, however, we dispensed with any shelter beyond such as the wood afforded, and, wrapt in our blankets, lay down to sleep on the snow, canopied by the starry vault of heaven.

Uncle Denis and I were out on one of these hunting expeditions, when, as we were following the tracks of a deer through a wood, accompanied by Boxer and Toby, my uncle, who was ahead, made a sign to me to advance cautiously, while he, stopping, concealed himself behind a tree. I crept forward as he desired, not knowing whether he had sighted a deer or a party of Indians on the war-path. On getting up to him, I found that he was observing the movements of two animals, very different in appearance to each other. On the trunk of a fallen tree, stood a porcupine, or urson, with quills erect, looking down on a smaller animal, which I at once recognised as a marten, or rather, a sable, which was gazing up in a defiant way, apparently meditating an attack on the other.

“I should like to catch and tame both those animals,” whispered Uncle Denis. “Keep back the dogs or the sable will escape and the urson will treat them in a way they are not likely to forget.” The sable was evidently bent on having some porcupine meat for breakfast, and kept moving backwards and forwards, meditating a spring at the nose of its formidable antagonist; but, aware of the power of the latter’s tail, was waiting for a favourable opportunity to seize it. The porcupine, though so much larger, and naturally moving only at a slow pace, seemed aware of the superior agility of the sable, which would enable it to spring from side to side, or dash forward and attack it in front, when its armed tail would have been of no avail. Presently the sable retired to a distance, and I thought would have discovered us, but at that moment it made a dash at the nose of the porcupine, who, whisking round its tail in an extraordinary fashion, sent a shower of darts into the body of its opponent. This did not, however, prevent the latter from seizing it with its sharp teeth and dragging it to the ground.

“Now is our time,” whispered Uncle Denis, putting down his rifle and unstrapping his blanket, and I imitating his example, we rushed forward and threw them over the two combatants. The sable, however, managed to spring out, when the dogs gave chase, but we were too much occupied to see with what result. The porcupine in its struggles whisked about its tail, sending several of its quills through the blanket, but the rest of its body being unarmed, we managed to press it down until we had tied the blanket tightly round it. Having secured the urson in a way which made its escape impossible, we turned our attention to the sable, which the dogs had brought to bay, but the brave little creature was becoming faint, from the wounds inflicted on it from the porcupine’s tail, the quills from which were sticking out all over one side of its body. Seeing that there was no other way of capturing it, I picked up a stick and dealt it a blow on the head, sufficient to stun it, but not to deprive it of life. While I kept back the dogs, Uncle Denis, kneeling down, pulled out the quills, and then throwing my blanket over the animal, he secured it as we had done the urson. It seemed very doubtful, however, whether it would revive, but my uncle said that he would take it home, and should it recover, would try, with gentle treatment, to tame its fierce spirit. To carry our unusual prizes, we formed a long pole from a sapling, to which we secured the creatures side by side. Placing the pole on our shoulders, we began our homeward march. We had the best part of the day before us, and hoped to reach the farm before dark. The urson, weighed heavily, and sometimes it made a convulsive struggle and very nearly worked itself out of the blanket. The sable for some time lay perfectly quiet, but at last we observed a movement in the blanket, which gave us hopes that it was reviving, and we had to put on additional fastenings lest it should escape. To make a long story short, we at length arrived, pretty well tired with our heavy burden. Our friends were somewhat disappointed on finding that we had brought a couple of living animals instead of the fat venison or buffalo they had expected. We, however, relieved their minds by telling them that we had left the meat of a couple of wapiti and a big-horn sheep en cache, and Martin and another man were sent off with the horses to bring it in. We had now to dispose of our captives. The urson was tumbled into the cage, which had before served as a prison to the young puma, while one of smaller dimensions, with iron bars, served as the present habitation of the sable. I cannot stop to describe the process by which both creatures were tamed. The next morning Kathleen and Lily came eagerly to look at them, as they had never seen anything of the kind before. They were greatly surprised at the size of the urson, which was nearly four feet long; the body measured upwards of three feet, and the tail rather less than nine inches. At first they thought it was a young bear, which, from the long blackish brown hair which covered it, concealing the quills, it somewhat resembled, it having also lost a considerable number of the longer quills in its fight with the sable. It had, however, others on the head and hind-quarters, which were more visible than the short ones on the rest of its body. The urson plays a not unimportant part in the destruction of the forests of North America, as it feeds entirely on the bark of trees. This it separates from the branches with its sharp teeth, commencing at the highest and working its way downwards. Having destroyed one tree, it climbs up to the top of another, and carries on the same process, always proceeding in a straight line, and I have often, when passing through a forest, been able to trace its progress by the line of barked trees, which are sure ultimately to die. It is asserted by some hunters, that a single urson will consume the bark of a hundred trees in the course of a year. Our urson, though it became attached to Uncle Denis and would feed out of his hand, was always an object of awe to the rest of the animals, who seemed well aware of its power of inflicting punishment on any of them who might offend it. Even Bruin held it in respect, and none of them ever attempted to be on too familiar terms.

The sable took even longer to tame than the urson. We used to feed it partly on vegetable and partly on animal diet. In winter it preferred the latter. After it had had its meals, it had the habit of going to sleep so soundly that it was difficult to awaken it. It was about eighteen inches long, exclusive of its bushy tail, and much resembled the ordinary marten in shape. The fur was of a rich brown, with white about the neck, and on the head there was a grey tinge. It was of unusual length for so small an animal, and its most remarkable peculiarity was, that in whatever way the hair was pressed down, it lay smoothly on the animal’s back. It extended down the legs to the end of the claws. So tame did it at last become, that it was allowed to roam about at large. Shortly afterwards Kathleen and Lily lost a favourite hen and several young chickens, and as there could be no doubt as to who was the criminal, the sable was doomed to imprisonment for life. Its health suffered in consequence, and in a couple of years it died, but Uncle Denis got 10 pounds for its skin, so that it thus became far more profitable dead than alive.

I have said little of the doings of my sister and Lily. Both were growing into charming young girls, and certainly looked older than they really were. They were also—which was of more importance—sensible and good, devoted to our mother. I always looked upon Lily as a sister; indeed our mother treated her with the same affection as she did Kathleen.

Months and years went by, faster than I could suppose possible. We brought more and more ground under cultivation, our cattle increased, as did our herds of swine even still faster, while the few sheep we had brought became a large flock. Mr Tidey still acted as tutor to the family. Dan had, however, become almost a young man, and I had long considered myself grown up. We laboured on the farm, hunted and fished and traded in furs; some of the furs we bought from the Indians, and a considerable number we trapped or shot ourselves.

Uncle Denis remained a bachelor, although, when urged by my mother, he sometimes talked of going eastward to look out for a wife. I had no intention of following his example even if he did go. I could not tell whether Lily would consent to marry me, but I determined some day to ask her, feeling now that I should never find her equal in any part of the world.

Chapter Fourteen.

My mother is taken dangerously ill—Dio and I set off to Fort Hamilton—Boxer disobedient—End of our first day’s journey—An agreeable addition to our supper—Cat-fish—My dog on the watch—A midnight interruption—Overtaken by the snow—A trying day’s march—We are at length able to camp—Strong inclination to sleep—Boxer keeps watch—The red-skins near—Our horses and rifles stolen—We suffer from hunger—We continue our way on foot—Sleep in a hollow tree—Pursued by wolves—We kill one of the pack—Saved by our dog and a buffalo carcase—Worn out—Camp.

Hitherto our community had enjoyed the most uninterrupted good health, no accidents had even occurred requiring more surgical skill than my father or uncle were able to afford. In this we were especially fortunate, for we knew of no doctor nearer than Fort Hamilton, and we could scarcely expect him to come in any ordinary case of illness. At length our dear mother began to ail, and her pale cheek and sunken eye showed that she was suffering greatly. One evening, towards the end of the year, the trees being already stripped of their leaves, Lily came to me.

“Our dear mother is, I fear, very, very ill,” she said; “I don’t think that your father is aware how serious her case is, and unless we can get a doctor to prescribe for her, I am afraid that she will die. I should be sorry to frighten you unnecessarily, Mike, but I am sure it is of the greatest importance that a medical man should see her without delay.”

“I am ready to set off this moment, and I will endeavour to bring back a doctor at all costs,” I answered.

“Do go, Mike,” she said; “and yet I fear that you may encounter dangers on the way, the journey is long, and the Indians are less peaceably disposed, it is reported, than they have been of late, but I pray that God will protect you, and I am sure that He will, when you are performing an act of duty.”

“Neither difficulties nor dangers shall prevent me from going, and I feel as you do, that it is most important our mother should have medical assistance. I am the fittest person to go, and I shall have no fears, knowing that you, dear Lily, are praying for me.”

“Remember too, Mike, that God will hear my prayers, and grant them too, as He has promised,” exclaimed Lily; “what an encouragement it is to know that He does hear faithful prayer, and never fails to attend to it.”

As may be supposed, this was not the whole of our conversation. When my father came in, I broke the subject to him; not wishing to alarm him more than necessary about my mother’s health, at the same time anxious to obtain his permission for going. He at first hesitated, as I expected that he would do, being more aware even than Lily was of the difficulties of such a journey at that season of the year, when at any time a snow-storm might come on and cover the ground many feet in depth. At last, however, when I told him what Lily had said, he consented. I had intended to go alone, trusting to my rifle for support, should I require more provisions than I could carry on my horse. As soon as I announced my intention of starting, Dio entreated that he might accompany me.

“I will keep up wid you, Massa Mike, however fast you may hab to go. Watch at night when you camp, and will remain by you while I have life, should you be attacked by Indians or grizzlies. Do let me go?” exclaimed the faithful fellow.

“I only hesitated, Dio, lest you might suffer from the weather, should the winter begin before we can get back,” I answered.

He thanked me when I consented, as much as if I had granted him a great favour. He at once proposed that, as the winds were already cold, we should put on our warm clothing, so as to be prepared for snow and frost, should it overtake us. As his advice was good, I of course agreed to follow it.

The next morning we were on foot before daybreak. My father had authorised me to offer a large fee to the surgeon, and he sent a message entreating the commandant to allow him to come, and promising to send him back under a strong escort if necessary.

Kathleen and Lily were up to get my breakfast and to see us off.

“May Heaven protect you, my boy, and bring you back in safety with the doctor,” said my father, as he wrung my hand.

Other farewells were said, and mounted on our favourite horses, with our rifles and pistols ready to our hands, our buffalo robes and blankets strapped behind us, and our haversacks filled with provisions and cooking utensils hung to our saddles, we set off. The increasing light enabled us to go at a good speed. We had got some distance from home, when looking round I saw that Boxer was following us. I ordered him to go back, but though always obedient, after stopping an instant, he came on again, and as he had volunteered to undergo the fatigues of the journey, I allowed him to come. As soon as I called him, he rushed forward, leaping and barking to show his delight, and then fell behind again, steadily making his way at the heels of our horses. With the first part of the country we were well acquainted, and as the weather promised to be fine, we hoped to make a rapid journey. We got over a good distance during the first day, and camped comfortably in the sheltered nook of a wood near a stream, where our horses could obtain plenty of grass. As it was important to husband our provisions, Dio, who had brought a fishing-line and hooks, fitted up a rod, and was fortunate enough to catch two fine cat-fish. The cat-fish, although its name is not attractive, is excellent when cooked. It has, indeed, a very fine flavour, is firm, white, and very rich. In appearance it is like a diminutive dolphin. It has double fins in addition to those on its back, and a long beard-like excrescence hangs from each side of its mouth. One was more than sufficient for our supper, but Boxer had no objection to eat the remainder. I was very glad my faithful dog had come, as he assisted to keep watch, and was not likely to allow any foe to approach the camp without giving us warning. Having built a lean-to, we arranged our beds, composed of twigs and leaves, of which there were abundance on the ground, and with our saddles for pillows and our feet to the fire, we rolled ourselves up in our blankets, feeling as comfortable as any people could do on feather beds. I, however, had not been long sleeping, when I was awakened by hearing Boxer barking furiously close to my ears. Starting up I saw a huge white animal, with glaring eyes, staring at us from a respectful distance. Boxer, though a brave dog, had apparently thought it prudent not to attack the creature without arousing me to be ready to assist him. Leaping to my feet, I instinctively seized my rifle, and, remembering the tricks played by Indians, my first idea was that it was an enemy covered up by a wolf-skin, trying to inspect our camp, and perhaps to steal our rifles and other property, should he have an opportunity. I then recollected that an Indian was much more likely to carry off our horses, and looking round I saw them feeding quietly at the spot where they had been left. They could not have seen the wolf, and the wolf could not have seen them. I was convinced, however, that the animal I had seen was really a wolf. On observing me move, huge as it was, it began to slink away, showing that it was alone, and had not the courage to attack a man and a dog. Though I could have knocked it over with my rifle, I did not think it worthy of powder and shot, but calling to Dio, I picked up a thick stick, that had served to poke up the fire, and ran forward. The creature now took the alarm, and bounded off at full speed, Boxer and I following close at its heels. The dog, exerting itself to the utmost, at last made a spring and fixed his teeth in the hind-quarters of the wolf, somewhat impeding its progress. This enabled me to get up and deal several hard blows on the creature’s head, one of which, given with more force, or better aim, brought it to the ground, and Dio coming up, we quickly deprived it of life. The skin, from the size of the animal and its rare colour, was of some value, but as we could not carry it with us, we hung it up to the branch of a tree, on the chance of finding it on our return, merely taking some of the flesh to reward Boxer for his vigilance and exertions.

“Dis not good ting to do, Massa Mike,” observed Dio, as we returned to camp; “maybe other wolves come, too many for us, when we sleep, and we find hard job to get away from them.”

“I don’t see why, because we have killed one white wolf, we are more likely to be attacked by the brown ones,” I answered; “had we let it escape, we might with more reason suppose that it would tell its fellows.”

Dio shook his head, but he let the subject drop, and once more, on reaching camp, we went to sleep, trusting to Boxer to call us if necessary, and as we could not take the wolf-skin, he benefited most by the adventure.

The night had been lovely, the stars were still shining brightly overhead when we awoke. Knowing that it was nearly morning, I proposed that we should breakfast and ride on. There was daylight sufficient to enable us to see our way. Boxer, not content with his plentiful supper, as soon as he saw us moving, started off in the direction of the dead wolf, and when we were on the point of mounting, reappeared with his mouth besmeared with blood, showing how he had been employed. From the way he moved on, I was afraid he had over-eaten himself; he, however, contrived to keep up with our horses. During the night there had not been a breath of wind, but as the sun rose, it began to blow fresh from the east, and soon shifted to the northward, from which quarter a bank of clouds rising rapidly, formed a dark canopy over the sky. On one side the sun shone brightly across the prairie, lighting up its vivid tints of green and brown and yellow, while on the other the whole country wore a wintry aspect. Every instant the wind became stronger and stronger, and the cold increased. Unbuckling our buffalo robes, we put them over our shoulders, drawing down the flaps of our caps to keep our ears warm. Before long it began to rain, but the rain soon changed into snow, which came down thicker and thicker, until, in the course of an hour, the whole face of the country was covered by a sheet of white, making it difficult to distinguish the marks which had hitherto guided our course.

“Dis not pleasant, Massa Mike,” observed Dio; “we must push on to a wood, for if de snow falls as it now does, before many hours de horses will not be able to travel through it.”

Dio was perfectly right, but the question was whether we could find the desired wood. From my knowledge of the country, I believed that no forest existed for many miles, the intermediate space being one extensive prairie, the very worst description of country to be caught in by a snow-storm. Still it would not do to pull up where we were, as we had no means of lighting a fire. We urged on our horses therefore, trying to keep as direct a course as possible. The snow, however, fell so thickly, that we could no longer discern objects at any distance. It was difficult, indeed, to steer a straight course, for the flakes quickly obliterated the tracks of our horses’ hoofs. We could only judge that we were going right by the wind, which blew on our left cheeks. That, however, veered about, coming in fitful gusts, and driving the snow against our eyes with a force that almost blinded us. Our horses, too, began to grow weary by their efforts to make their way through the snow, and I feared, after all, that we should have to dismount, and lead them on by the bridle. Still it would not do to give in.

“We must push forward, Dio, and perhaps the snow before long will cease,” I observed.

“Nebber fear, Massa Mike,” answered the faithful black whose teeth were chattering with the cold; “worse things dan dis happen ’fore now, and we got safe out of dem.”

I remembered, indeed, my many former providential escapes, and I had not forgotten that my dear little Lily was praying for us. Still matters looked worse and worse. The snow gave no sign of ceasing, while the wind blew more keenly and fiercely than before. The day, too, was drawing to a close. A night on the prairie under such circumstances would be truly dreadful. There was no moon, and with the sky obscured, should the snow continue to fall, we might even possibly become separated. I urged Dio to keep close to me, and I knew that Boxer would not fail to do so. We rode on and on, but our steeds went slower and slower, while the cold had become so intense that I feared we should be frozen if we continued to ride; I therefore, in the hopes of getting my blood into quicker circulation, by the exertion of walking, got off, as did Dio, and we led our horses. I went first, he following close behind me, and Boxer bringing up the rear. The snow had become so deep, that I had to lift up my feet at every step, making the exertion excessively fatiguing. Our horses went on readily enough. As I beat a path, Dio had somewhat less difficulty than I had. At last he begged that he might lead the way to relieve me, but this I would not allow. Severe as was the exercise, I still preferred it to riding. At last, our horses being somewhat rested, having brushed the snow from our saddles, we remounted and endeavoured to urge them on at a faster rate than we had lately been going. The snow suddenly ceased falling. I stood up in my stirrups to look round, in the hopes of distinguishing a wood in one direction or another where we might find shelter, but one uniform sheet of white covered the whole ground as far as the eye could see. Our great object was to keep in a straight line towards the east, but, as before, we had only the wind to guide us. Scarcely had we gone a hundred yards, when the snow again fell as thickly as ever. I felt the cold creeping over me. Poor Dio I knew must be suffering even more than I was, but not a word of complaint did he utter.

“Long lane, massa, dat hab no turnin’!” he cried out, trying to laugh. “Perhaps ’fore long we come to de wood where plenty of sticks, and we light fire, build hut, an’ de horses find grass, an’ we sit down warm and comfortable.”

“I shall be very thankful if we do,” I answered; “but it has become terribly dark. It will be a difficult matter to see a wood, even should we get near one.”

“Yes, Massa Mike, but de hosses find it out, even it we don’t,” answered Dio in a cheery tone; “what we best do is to let dem take dare own way; dey know what the wood is, dough we no see him.”

I followed Dio’s advice, but our horses showed no inclination to turn either to the right hand or to the left, but ploughed on through the snow, as though unwilling to remain exposed to it as we were; I took out my watch, but could scarcely see the hands, though I managed to make out that it was about five o’clock, and that the sun must have set; indeed, the rapidly increasing darkness assured me that in a short time night would overtake us. I soon could only barely distinguish the outline of my horse’s head against the white ground. I frequently spoke to Dio, for fear any accident should make him drop behind, when he might have a difficulty in finding me again.

“Do not lose sight of my horse’s tail, whatever you do,” I shouted out.

Dio promised to keep me in sight, but that was not so easy, though probably his horse would from instinct keep close behind mine. At last I could scarcely see my own hand when I held it up, and my horse’s ears were totally invisible. I had heard of travellers crossing the open prairie perishing in a snow-storm, and I began to fear that such might be our fate, but then I recollected Lily and my little sister. They were praying for us, and I took courage. Several times Dio and I got off to warm ourselves, but as I found on the whole that we made slower progress on foot than on horseback, we again remounted. I have since wondered how we could have endured the chilling breath of that piercing wind for so many hours. On and on we went, the time appeared longer indeed than it really was, but we had no means of calculating how it went by. Dio continued talking, both to assure me that he was close behind, and to keep up my spirits, though the idea of giving in as long as we and our horses had strength to move, never occurred to me. At length it seemed to me that my horse was verging to one side, as I felt the wind blowing in my teeth, more directly than it had hitherto done, then, after some time longer, a low murmuring sound reached my ears. It was, I fancied, the soughing of the wind among the branches of tall trees. Still I could see no object ahead. Next there came a lull, but the snow did not decrease. Presently I made out what seemed like a large column close to me, on the right hand side, then I saw another on the left. They were the trunks of trees, and from the irregular way the snow flakes fell, I was sure that we had gained the confines of the wood.

“We all right now, Massa Mike,” sang out Dio; “dis is de wood: we get off and build a hut under some of dese trees.”

On dismounting, as Dio proposed, I found that the snow was scarcely an inch deep. By creeping about we discovered a clump of trees, under the lee of which but little snow had rested. We could feel that there was grass, and were consequently sure that our horses would not stray from the spot. We therefore took off the saddles and saddle-bags, and, having put on their halters instead of their bridles, left them to feed, while we broke off, from the lower branches and bushes, a sufficient amount of dead wood to kindle a fire. It was somewhat doubtful, however, whether the wind would allow us to light it, or if we succeeded in doing so, whether it would scatter the sparks about, and perhaps ignite some of the underwood, so as to set the whole forest in a blaze. Against such a catastrophe as this we had especially to guard. The idea also occurred to me that possibly some old bear might have taken up its winter-quarters in the hollow trunk of one of the trees, but I was satisfied from Boxer’s quiet behaviour that such was not likely to be the case; he followed close at my heels wherever I went, and I knew that he would spring forward, should any savage animal be near, to do battle in my defence. Dio and I kept talking the whole time, that we might not run the risk of being separated. As I was groping about, I observed a luminous appearance, somewhat like the embers of a fire, though of a paler hue. It was a mass of touchwood in the hollow of a tree. I put my hand in and broke off a lump. Though it would not afford flame itself, it would enable us to kindle a blaze. Close below it I discovered a quantity of dry leaves, and we now had the means of making what we so much required, a fire to warm our benumbed limbs. No hunter in the prairies is ever without a flint and steel, and we soon had a cheerful fire, burning away between the roots of a thick tree, round which we crouched with our buffalo robes over our shoulders, Boxer joining us to enjoy the warmth. We had had no food since the morning, and as we began to grow warm our hunger also increased.

“Where are the saddle-bags?” I asked, thinking they were close at hand.

“I put dem down whar’ we unsaddled the horses—I go get dem,” said Dio. Jumping up he speedily returned with them, bringing also the saucepan and tin mugs, with a water-bottle which was still quite full, but he left the saddles, where they had been first placed on the ground. Our hunger made us immediately apply to the contents of the saddle-bags, while we put on our saucepan to brew some tea, which served more quickly than anything else to restore warmth to our bodies. Poor Boxer, however, came off but badly, as we could only afford to give him a small portion of the bacon and bread, being disappointed of the game we hoped to shoot to feed him. As to building a hut, besides the difficulty of obtaining materials, both Dio and I were so fatigued, that once having sat down we felt no inclination to move about more than was necessary. All we could do, indeed, was to collect a further supply of wood to keep up our fire. On looking at my watch I found that it wanted scarcely three hours to morning. I felt by this time an overpowering inclination to sleep, and Dio, I saw by the way he uttered his words, was affected in the same manner. As far as we could judge the snow continued to come down as heavily as before, but as we were protected by the thick overhanging limbs of the trees, very little fell on us. We could hear our horses cropping the grass, where we had tethered them, and we hoped they would obtain sufficient to enable them to continue the journey the next day. To keep awake any longer I found was impossible, so, drawing my blanket tightly round me, I lay down with my feet towards the fire, as near as I could venture to place them without fear of being burned. Dio was already asleep, and I dropped off immediately afterwards. I do not know how long it was after I had closed my eyes, when I became conscious that Boxer was crawling close to me, licking my face, trembling and whining in a peculiar manner. I was, however, so heavy with sleep, that I did not comprehend for some time the cause of this. Finding that he could not rouse me, he rushed across to Dio, whose voice I soon heard.

“Some ting de matter, Massa Mike. Wake up, wake up. Boxer know dat red-skin not far off.”

Boxer again came back to me and gave a pull at my blanket, which effectually awakened me.

“Red-skins!” I cried out, sitting up and listening. “I can hear nothing.”

“Boxer does dough,” answered Dio.

The fire had burnt low, a few glowing embers alone remained, insufficient to cast a light to any distance, I sprang up, intending to put some more wood on to kindle a blaze, when the sound of horses’ feet reached my ears. “Our animals have got loose at all events, and if we are not quick about it, we shall have a hard job to recover them,” I exclaimed.

Without a moment’s delay I dashed forward in the direction in which we had left the horses tethered, followed by Dio. They were both gone. If they had pulled up the tether-pegs, and we were under a mistake in supposing that Indians had carried them off, we might easily catch them in the morning. Should we follow them now, we might run the risk of losing ourselves, and indeed it was too dark to see their tracks in the snow; still, hoping that we might come up with them before we lost sight of our fire, we went on, until Dio stumbled over the trunk of a fallen tree, and I, knocking my head against a bough, was almost stunned. I heard Dio cry out, but I was too much hurt to reply. Boxer was close at my heels; he uttered a bark which brought the black to my assistance. In less than a minute I recovered.

“We must go back to the fire,” I said, “for we shall be frozen if we remain long away from it.”

Just at that moment, looking in the direction of our camp, I saw—unless I was deceived—two figures, on which a flickering flame cast an uncertain light, pass by on the other side of the fire. The alarming thought occurred to me, that we had come away without our rifles, and that, should the persons I fancied I had seen prove to be enemies, we were entirely in their power. On looking again, I could see no one. I told Dio, but he had not seen the figures. My first impulse was to rush forward, to ascertain if our rifles had been taken; then I thought, if hostile Indians are on the watch, they will shoot us down as soon as we appear within the light of the fire.

“It will be more prudent to ascertain whether any enemies are near,” I whispered to Dio; “we will creep up, keeping as close as possible to the trunks of the trees, until we get nearer the fire, and learn what has happened.”

We did as I proposed, Boxer keeping close to my heels. This was somewhat suspicious, as it showed that he, at all events, believed that Indians were not far off, he sharing the dislike of all white men’s dogs to the red-skins. We managed to creep up to within a short distance of our camp, without, as we supposed, exposing ourselves to view. When we looked round from behind the trunk of a tree which we had gained, we could see no one.

“After all I believe that my fancy has deceived me,” I whispered to my companion; “probably the horses have only gone a short distance, to find more grass. We may as well go back and sleep quietly until morning.”

We accordingly, without hesitation, returned to the camp. The first thing I did was to look about for the rifles; what was my dismay not to find them where I felt sure they had been left. Our saddle-bags, too, were gone. We walked round and round the fire, to be certain that we were not mistaken, but we could discover neither the one nor the other. We were now convinced that Indians must have visited our camp during our absence, and that our horses also had been carried off. The only surprising thing was, that they had not attacked us. Perhaps they only waited until we were seated before our fire to shoot us; they might suppose that we had pistols, and were afraid of venturing near while we were on the watch. My first impulse was to fly and try to escape, but in what direction should we go? Until daylight, we could not find our way out of the forest. We should in all probability fall into their hands. I never before felt my scalp fit so uncomfortably to my head. The thieves, whoever they were, had, however, left us our blankets, which perhaps had escaped their observation. To stay where we were, with the prospect of being shot, would be madness. Snatching up our blankets, therefore, we secured them over our shoulders, and, followed by Boxer, endeavoured to make our way through an opening, which as far as we could calculate, led towards the east. We went on groping our way, sometimes falling over logs, but managing again to recover our feet. It was better to keep moving than to sit down. Although the cold in the forest was much less than in the open prairie, it was still very severe, and we might very easily be frozen to death. Our chief consolation was, that day would soon return, and that we might at all events be able to see our way. We were still a long distance from the fort, and even should we ultimately reach it, the delay of sending medical assistance to my dear mother might be of serious consequence. Daylight at last returned, but not a break in the sky indicated that the snow was about to cease. It was important to keep under the shelter of the trees as long as we could. Should we venture after we got out of the forest to cross the open prairie without weapons to defend ourselves against enemies, or any means of obtaining food? Dio and I decided that it must be done at all risks; that on we would go as long as our legs would carry us. It was now broad daylight. We were making our way on, when we came to a stream, which flowing but slowly, had been frozen over during the night. As I knew the rivers in that locality ran more or less to the eastward, it would assist in guiding our course, but the appearance of the ice did not encourage us to use it as a high road. We settled therefore to keep along the bank, crossing it or cutting off angles as might appear advisable.