Guy knew no more for many hours. When he regained his senses, he found himself in Mrs. Harwood's wagon lying upon one of the divans. His mother was bending anxiously over him, and burst into a flood of joyful tears when she saw that he recognized her. Nothing could exceed Guy's joy at seeing her again though with traces of deep anxiety upon her face. Indeed, so delighted was he at his escape from death, that he was inclined to regard every one with favor! Even George Harwood, who a few days after his return to the camp, came to him, according to his father's instructions, to confess his unkindness and to ask pardon for the pain he had caused him.
"I just thought I would send you off on a fool's errand," said he, "but I never thought you would go so far, and frighten us nearly to death, and most kill yourself. I was so scared when you didn't come back I didn't know what to do. Father missed you, but thought you were somewhere about the wagons, and I dared not tell him you were not; but Gus turned coward during the afternoon, and told that I had sent you away—andthendidn't I catch it?" and George grimaced most dolefully, pointing to poor Guy's sprained ankle, and declaring that the pain of that was nothing to what he had had in his back for days past.
Mrs. Loring came in then, and sent him away, as Guy had been ill with fever ever since his night's exposure, and could bear but little excitement. It was nearly two weeks before he could rise, and they hadeven then to carry him from place to place, because he could not bear his weight upon his wounded limb. It fretted him sorely when they camped at night, to see how hard she must have worked while he lay ill; yet he could but perceive that she looked better and stronger than she had done since his father's death, and joyfully felt that the excitement and toil of a journey across the plains would restore his mother to health, whatever might be the effect upon him.
How kind they all were to him during the time he was slowly regaining his health and strength. Aggie sat by him constantly, in her childish way telling him of the wonders she daily saw, or coaxing him to tell her some pretty tale. Mrs. Harwood always smiled upon him when she passed, and Amy and Carrie Graham often asked him to their wagon, and lenthim books, or talked to him of the home they had left, and that which they hoped to find.
All the men missed Guy so much, he had always been so useful and good-natured. Mr. Harwood daily said, that there should be a jubilee in camp when Guy got well again. But he recovered so gradually that he took his old place in the train by almost imperceptible degrees, and was at the end of a month as active as ever.
They were then on the borders of the Rio Platte, or Nebraska River, in the country of the Pawnee Indians. They were about to leave behind them the vast, luxuriant prairie, and enter upon what may more properly be called the plains. Guy was not sorry to see the thick grass become thinner and thinner, for he remembered that amid its clustering blades he had nearly lost his life, and thereforelooked with much complacency upon the broad, shallow river, along which their course lay; the sandy loam beneath their feet, and the sand hills that arose like great billows of earth, rolling in regular succession over the level surface. George and Gus thought the country most dreary and wretched, and would scarcely believe Guy, when he told them of a desert called Sahara, that had not even a blade of grass upon it, save an occasional oasis, many miles apart, and which were often sought for, by the weary traveler, as he had himself sought the camp, during his terrible night on the prairie.
"It can't be worse than this," they eagerly contended, "I don't believe even Indians live here."
But they were soon convinced to the contrary, for a few days afterwards Guy startled them by the exclamation "seethe Indians! There are the Indians coming!"
George very boldly told them to "come on," but Gus went close to Guy, and declared that such mere specks as they saw in the distance couldn't be Indians; yet was suddenly most anxious to know whether they were cannibals, and if so, whether he looked a tempting morsel or not.
Guy could not help laughing at his questions, although he himself felt quite uneasy at the approach of the wild hunters of the prairies, which were seen rapidly drawing near to them. The men in the train formed a closer circle about the wagons, and hastily inspected their rifles, while Mr. Harwood gave them instructions how to proceed in case of an attack.
That, however, he did not greatly apprehend, as they soon perceived the Indians were but a small party of middle-aged,or old men, and squaws, and it is seldom such a party attempts to molest any number of travelers.
However, Mr. Harwood thought it best to keep them at a safe distance, and when they approached within a hundred yards of the train, suddenly commanded them to halt by raising his right hand with the palm in front, and waving it backward and forward several times. They, upon this, stopped their horses, and consulted together a few moments, then fell into a posture indicative of rest. Then, Mr. Harwood raised his hand again and moved it slowly from right to left. This they understood to mean "who are you?" One of the oldest of them immediately replied by placing a hand on each side of the forehead, with two fingers pointing to the front, to represent the narrow, sharp ears of a wolf.
"They are Pawnees," said Mr. Harwood. "Ah! there is the chief making signs that they wish to talk with us."
A long conversation by means of signs, in the use of which the prairie Indians are very expert, was then carried on between Mr. Harwood and the old chief. Remembering his promise to Aggie, to protect her from the Indians, Guy went to Mrs. Harwood's wagon to assure her there was no danger, and that he would remain near, and then took a stand behind the wagon where he could see and hear all that passed.
He was soon joined by George and Gus, for Guy was always so calm and collected that they felt quite safe near him, though he was no stronger or older than themselves.
They all watched the Indians with much interest, and were surprised to see thatinstead of being giants, as accounts of their cruel and wonderful deeds had led them to expect, they were of medium height. In place of the horrible face, and the flaming eyes they had pictured, they saw the countenances of these Indians were intelligent, and although of course of a bright copper hue, were in some instances quite handsome. The hair of the men was very long, and streamed like black pennants, upon the wind. Their arms, shoulders, and breasts were quite naked, and their dress consisted only of deer skin, with a cloth wound around the lower part of the body. One or two were covered with buffalo robes, of which every warrior carries one, in which he wraps himself when cold.
Guy thought that the men as they sat proudly upon their beautiful horses, holding in their hands long bows made of the tough wood of the osage orange, which isas supple as elastic, looked very noble and fine. Their bows were about eight feet long and were wound around with the sinews of deer, and strung with a cord of the same. The arrows were about twenty inches long, of flexible wood, with a triangular point of iron at one end, and two feathers intersecting each other at right angles, at the opposite extremity.
This description Guy quoted to his companions, from a book he had once read, and they saw at once how perfectly true it was. While they were astonished at the appearance of the men, they were much diverted at that of the women. They were very short and ugly; each had her hair cut short, and they were dressed the same as the men with the addition of a skirt of dressed deer skin. Their faces were tattooed in the most uncouth devices, and altogether they appeared quitehideous, as they sat upon their horses, in the same position as the men, regarding with much interest the movements of their chief who had been made to understand that he might come alone to the train.
At first, he seemed doubtful about the propriety of such an act, but his wish for gain soon overcame his caution, and he rode up to Mr. Harwood, making many signs and protestations of friendship, which were returned most graciously. After a long series of compliments had passed between them, the old chief gave Mr. Harwood to understand that his people were hungry and needed sugar, corn, and many other things. Mr. Harwood replied by saying there were many deer upon the prairie, which they could kill, that they themselves had but little provision but would give them some beads, and bright paints, intoken of the good feeling of the whites toward them.
At that the old man was delighted, for the Indians are very fond of beads and all kinds of ornaments, and of paints, with which they daub their faces and arms in the most grotesque manner, upon any grand occasion. But the old chief disdained to exhibit any satisfaction, and smoked the pipe, that had been offered him, in the most indifferent manner while the presents were being procured from the wagons.
When the old man had entered the camp, George and Gus thought it prudent to retreat to their mother's wagon, from whence, they could look out and see all that was going on. Aggie, on the contrary was so anxious to have a nearer view of the Indians, when she found them so much less terrible than she had imagined, that she begged her mother to allow her tostand with Guy outside the wagon, and after some little hesitation, Mrs. Harwood permitted her to do so.
When Guy lifted the little girl from the wagon, the savage gave a grunt of surprise, and gazed for a long time upon her with such evident admiration that Guy was greatly afraid he would take a fancy to carry her off. But Aggie, herself entertained no such fears, and after looking at the old man curiously for some little time, approached him slowly and examined his strange dress, the circular shield covered with buffalo hide that was strapped on his left arm, and the formidable war-club that lay at his side. It was made of a stone, about two pounds in weight, round which a withe of elastic wood was bound, being held in its place by a groove which had been formerly cut in the stone. The two ends of the withe formed a handleabout fourteen inches long, and were bound together with strips of buffalo hide, which rendered it strong and firm, totally preventing it from either splitting down, or breaking when used, as no doubt it often was, with great force, upon the heads of unfortunate enemies.
The old chief allowed Aggie to examine all those things with the greatest good nature, and when she touched his quiver of arrows, and asked him to give her one, he grunted assent; so she took the prettiest one, and after admiring it for some time, nodded and smiled, and walked toward Guy with the prize in her hand. But immediately the Indian darted to his feet, frowning with anger, and sprang toward the frightened child. Mr. Harwood and most of the men believed for the moment that he was indeed about to attempt to carry her off, and with loud voices badehim stand back, and levelled their rifles upon him, to enforce obedience. The old man raised his hand, and immediately the whole force on the prairie commenced galloping toward them.
"Aggie give him his arrow!" cried Guy at this juncture, "he misunderstood you; he thinks you have stolen his arrows! Give it to him."
She did so, the old man released her, and she fled to the wagon like a frightened deer. With a few expressive gestures Guy explained to the Indian the mistake that had been made, and at the same time it became evident to Mr. Harwood and his party. The chief signaled to his party to retire, and in less time than it has taken to describe it, peace was restored; whereas but for Guy's presence of mind a terrible battle might have followed Aggie's innocent freak.
But, notwithstanding that peace had been restored, they were all glad when the chief took up his presents and went back to his motley followers, and even more so, when they put their horses to their utmost speed, and returned to their lodges; where no doubt they gave to their tribe an astounding account of the adventure of their chief in the camp of the white man.
For some time after the encounter with the Indians, which happily ended so peacefully, the train moved on without meeting with any adventures. George and Gus thought the days passed very drearily, and longed for some excitement, but Guy was altogether too busy to feel dull. Mrs. Harwood's baby was quite sick, and as Mrs. Loring's time was fully taken up in attending to him, Guy had double work to do.
You would be surprised if I should tell you half that he did. Of all the fires he built; the oxen he fed; the water he carried, and even the breakfasts and suppers he helped to cook. And he did it all in the best manner of which he was capabletoo. Although the first biscuits he made were heavy, the next were light as down, for he inquired into the cause of his failure and rectified it, and by doing that in every case he soon learned to do perfectly all that he undertook.
Most children would have thought the life of constant toil which Guy led very wretched indeed; but he did not, for he had daily the gratification of perceiving that the great object of their journey across the plains was being gradually accomplished; his mother's health was slowly becoming strengthened, by every step they took toward the snowy mountains, beyond which lay the fruitful valleys in which they hoped to find a home.
But, as the days passed by, they greatly feared that one of their number would never reach there; the baby boy grew worse. The cooling breezes that broughthealth to his weakly sister, seemed fraught with death for the lately blooming boy. Guy was greatly saddened by the sufferings of the child, and by the grief of its parents, and shuddered when he saw the bones of animals which lay by thousands bleaching upon the desert, and once was filled with horror on coming across a human skull, which the prairie wolves had dragged from some shallow grave, and separated far from its kindred bones. The idea that the body of the poor little baby should meet such a fate, filled him with sorrow, and although it had always seemed to him a natural and peaceful thing that the temple of clay should rest under its native dust, after the flight of the soul, he thought that the Indian mode of sepulture, of which they saw examples every day, by far the best.
Very often they saw a curious object inthe distance, and two of the party, riding forward to examine it, would report an Indian place of burial. Guy had himself gone forward once and found, to his surprise, two forked poles, some six or eight feet high, supporting something wrapped in a blanket. This something was a dead Indian, who in this strange position, with his weapons in his hands, was waiting his summons to the "happy hunting grounds."
On his return to the train, Guy hastened to find Aggie, to tell her of what he had seen. She was listening very attentively, when George ran up, exclaiming: "Look at the rats! there are thousands of rats on the plains!"
Aggie looked in the direction indicated by her brother, and crying: "Oh, the dreadful rats," was about to run away, when Guy stopped her, telling her, laughingly, that they were the wonderful littleprairie dogs, of which they had heard so much.
Truly enough when she gained courage to look at the little animals, she saw that although they at first sight resembled rats, on closer inspection they appeared even more like squirrels. The children were greatly entertained by watching their quick, active movements, as they darted about through the low grass. A very busy community they appeared to be, and with plenty to gossip about. To Aggie's delight Guy pretended to translate their quick, chirruping barks into our own language. Some he said were telling how a monster rattlesnake had come to visit them without any invitation, and that the only food he would eat, was the youngest and fattest of their families; and that their constant intruders, the owls, had the same carnivorous tastes, besides which they renderedthemselves particularly disagreeable, by standing in the doors and staring at every dog that went by, and even preventing the entrance of visitors, to the great distress of all the belles and beaux in town.
All this may have been very true, for the excited little creatures talked so continuously that I am sure they must have had some grievance, and the children thought it must be the owls that stood solemnly at the entrance of many of the burrows. They did not see the rattlesnakes, so even Aggie somewhat doubted the tales of their ferocity, which Guy said the little prairie dogs related.
But although these little creatures were such chatterers, they appeared very industrious, for many hillocks of sand indicated where their homes were burrowed. Each little hole was occupied by a pair of dogs, one of which was often seen perched onthe apex like a sentinel. But like many other sentinels, they appeared on the watch for danger, not to combat, but to avoid it, for they darted like a flash into their holes whenever a lean, prowling wolf stalked near them, or even a prairie hen flew by.
"I wish you would tell us a story about prairie dogs," said Aggie to Guy, that evening when they were gathered around the camp-fire.
"I am afraid it is impossible for me to do that," he replied, "for very little seems to be known about them. Naturalists have never paid much attention to them, curious as they are."
"But the Indians must know something about them," said Gus.
"Yes, I suppose so," returned Guy, "for before the white man came to annoy them, they had nothing to do but to watch animals and learn their habits, that theymight know which were fit for food, and which was the easiest way of killing them. Ah, yes, now that I have been thinking about it, I do remember a story that the Indians tell about the prairie dogs!"
"Oh tell it!" cried Aggie, eagerly; Gus seconded the request, and even George drew nearer, for Guy had a great reputation as story teller in the camp.
"It is rather a long tale," said he, "but the Indians say, a true one. It happened years and years ago when each animal understood the language of all others, and men conversed with them as readily as with themselves.
"In those days each tribe had its sorcerers, or wise men, who pretended to cure not only all diseases but to control the destinies of men. They were accordingly held in great veneration by their simple-minded dupes, as are their few descendants,which even at this day practice in a lesser degree the arts of their forefathers.
"Well, it happened that when these men were more powerful among the tribes than the chiefs themselves, that they combined together to wrest from the hands of these the commands that they held, in order that they might hold the people both in bodily and mental subjection. There had for a long time existed a tradition among them, that when a daughter of a chief—an only child,—should love a brave of an unfriendly tribe, they would have power to change her into a flower or animal, and unless the brave should find the means within ten moons, or months, to break the enchantment, she would die, and with her every chieftain and his family. Accordingly these wicked sorcerers found constant pretexts for involving the tribes in war, especially if they supposed that the onlydaughter of a chieftain loved a brave of another tribe; but for many years all their arts were in vain, for the Indians were so passionate and revengeful that immediately an affront was given or received, violent hatred vanquished love, and the chiefs and their families were saved.
"The sorcerers were almost in despair of ever obtaining the entire authority they craved, when it came to pass that two rival tribes met upon the plains, and as was usual in such cases, a battle was fought. The Ohoolee tribe were victorious, and killed many of the Gheelees and also took many of them prisoners. Among the latter, was the only daughter of the chief Sartahnah, the beautiful Mahdrusa.
"Great was the consternation of her tribe, for this maiden was held more precious by them than a hundred braves. She was more graceful than the fairest flower thatgrew upon the prairie; her hair was longer than the grass by the riverside and blacker than the night; her eyes were like those of the young fawn, and her voice was sweeter than a breeze laden with the song of birds. There was not a chieftain or brave of the Gheelee's but would have laid down his life for her, and great was the grief and shame that befell them when she was taken captive by the Ohoolees.
"From that day there was continual war waged between the two tribes. The Ohoolees acted on the defensive, the Gheelees on the offensive. Never a week passed but that a party of braves went forth to attempt the rescue of the beautiful Mahdrusa from the lodges of the enemy. The chief, her father, to increase if possible the zeal of the braves promised her hand to him who should deliver her. There was great rejoicing when this was madeknown, for all loved Mahdrusa, though she cared for none. Her rescue was attempted with a thousand times more eagerness than before, and one day Anoctah, the bravest of all the Gheelees, led her in triumph to her father's wigwam and demanded his reward.
"Mahdrusa heard him with dismay, and clasping her father's knees, sank down before him, and entreated him to give Anoctah some other treasure.
"The old chief told her that was impossible, and Mahdrusa wept so loudly that the whole tribe gathered about the lodge and asked what had befallen the beautiful daughter of Sartahnah. But she would say nothing, yet wept continually, so that the sorcerers said the spirit of the rivers was within her, and that they alone, could deliver her from it.
"Now these men had reasoned togetherover her strange malady, and said, 'She mourns so much over her betrothal to Anoctah because she loves a brave of an unfriendly tribe. Let us then take her from her father, and place her in the great medicine lodge where we can work our enchantments upon her, and make ourselves rulers of all the tribes.'
"So in the night they took her from her father's wigwam into the great medicine lodge, which was hung about with the herbs they used in their incantations, and had in the centre a great heap of stones, within which was a fire burning.
"Beside these stones, which were kept constantly hot, they made Mahdrusa sit down, and while she still wept, her tears fell upon the stones, and a great vapor arose, which the sorcerers condensed upon clay vessels into drops of water as pure as crystal, and with them and the herbs thathung around, made a decoction so powerful that when they had forced Mahdrusa to drink it, she lost all power and reason, and her spirit lay passive in the hands of her tormentors.
"'We will take it from her body,' said they, 'and place it where no brave will ever discover it.
"'Let it fly to the centre of the wild rose,' said one. But the others demurred, saying her lover would certainly seek it there.
"'Better hide it under the thick skin of the buffalo,' said another.
"'No!' they answered, 'the brave that Mahdrusa loves must be a fearless hunter, therefore his arrow would bring her forth.'
"In short, they talked of every flower and beast on the prairie, but found in all some fault, until the most cunning of all mentioned the prairie dogs. 'No one wouldlook for her in their miserable holes,' said he, 'and they are such chatterers that the magpies, themselves, would not have patience to listen to them.'
"So it was agreed that her spirit should dwell as a prairie dog, and before long out sprang one from a reeking cauldron of herbs, and they took it to the holes of the prairie dogs and left it there, placing beside it a terrible serpent, that all others might be afraid to approach it, and an owl at the door, as a sentinel that would stand looking patiently for an enemy both night and day, and never breathe to the gossips around her the tale of the princess that was prisoned within.
"And that was how the rattlesnake and owl became sharers in the homes of the prairie dogs, and it was with these awful companions that the spirit of Mahdrusa spent many weary days. Meanwhile herbody lay in the medicine lodge of her people, and the sorcerers said that her soul had ascended to the stars, where, in ten moons, she would be purified from her sin and return to her body, or that it would die, and moulder away.
"This news soon spread over the prairies, but the brave that Mahdrusa loved would not believe it. He knew the wicked desires of the sorcerers, and believed that she was a flower on the prairie, and that he was appointed to rescue her.
"So he went forth and cut down every flower that he found, and he toiled so ceaselessly that before two moons had passed not a blossom remained, and still he found not his beautiful Mahdrusa. Then he made a strong bow, and arrows that could not miss the mark, and he slew the beasts of the prairie by hundreds, yet he could not find his love. And so ninemoons passed by, and Mahdrusa was still in her horrible captivity, and the brave that sought her was bowed down as if by years, with the weight of his sorrow, and his body was so steeped in the blood of the animals he had slain that he was redder than clay, and his descendants continue so to this very time. All the beasts of the prairie had he slain in his terrible anger, and all the people had fled to the mountains for food, thither he thought he would follow them, and he sat down upon a ridge of sand, to strengthen his bow, and sharpen his arrows, when, lo! quite unmindful of him, a thousand little creatures he had fancied too insignificant to notice, sprang forth from their holes, and gathered in groups for their daily gossip.
"They angered him so greatly by their chatter that he placed an arrow on his bow to fire amongst them, when his hand wasstayed by hearing a curious tale that a gay young dog was telling.
"'She lives next to my mother's lodge,' said he, 'and the poor thing never appears either to eat or drink. I took her a delicate slice of cactus myself, but I dropped it in a terrible fright, for a great serpent darted towards me, and an owl sprang forward and devoured my youngest brother before he had time to utter a squeak.'
"The brave rejoiced when he heard these words, and springing up, went in search of the captive prairie dog. Many weary days he sought in vain. He asked of her whereabouts from every insect he met, but none could give him any information, and the prairie dogs, under the spell of the sorcerers, were silent—on that topic, at least.
"There was but a day left in which he could act. Almost in despair, hewandered about the prairie dog town, vainly looking for his love.
"At last he remembered that a queer old woman whom he had met, while hunting one day, had told him that she was his guardian fairy, and had given him two little pieces of stone which he was to strike together if ever he was in great trouble, and she would appear and help him.
"He had taken but little notice of the old woman at the time, supposing her to be a conjurer or evil worker, and he had dropped the little stones into his pouch, where they had long lain forgotten. Without daring to hope that they would be of any use, he took them out, and struck them together. A tiny spark of fire fell from them upon some dry grass at his feet, a flame sprang up, and lo! out of it stepped the old woman he sought.
"'So you have called me at last!' said she, 'what is it that I shall do?'
"'Lead me, kind fairy, to the hiding place of the beautiful Mahdrusa,' he replied
"So she went before him to a part of the prairie that, in all his wanderings, he had not visited. But, strangely enough, before his feet the grass turned into briars, through which he only with the greatest difficulty could force his way. Every timid hare became a wolf, each gentle fawn a raging buffalo, but the brave went on undaunted, brandishing his war-club, and keeping his formidable foes at bay. Never for a moment did he allow fear to gain possession of him for he knew if he did he should be lost. It was only faith and courage that could carry him safely through that enchanted ground.
"'Stop!' cried the fairy, when he hadpassed unscathed through a thousand dangers. 'Mahdrusa is before you!'
"But before he could look for her, the owl flew like a fierce hawk in his face, and pecked at his eyes, and the rattlesnake sprang upon him burying its deadly fangs into his arm. The brave almost lost his courage then, but he heard Mahdrusa, though in the voice of a prairie dog, entreating him to save her. He caught the serpent in his hands, and seizing its jaws, tore it asunder, and wrapped its writhing body around his wound, while at the same moment the fairy called up a terrible wind that blew the owl far away, and to the arms of the young warrior, the little prairie dog that held the soul of Mahdrusa.
"So was half the task of the lover accomplished; yet all his toil would be in vain if he could not before the moon set thatnight place her soul in the body it had before tenanted. But he was many leagues from the lodge in which it lay, and he knew that by his own power he could not hope to reach it in time, so he called upon the good fairy again, and she turned a rabbit into a fleet courser that bore the lover and the enchanted maiden, over the prairie with the swiftness of wind.
"The moon was but a few inches, it appeared, above the horizon, when they reached the lodge. By command of the sorcerers all the people had returned from the mountains to see whether the spirit of Mahdrusa would come from the stars, or her body, which all this time had lain as if in a deep sleep, take upon itself the signs of death. All were gathered in the great lodge. The cauldron of herbs from which the enchanted prairie dog had emerged was boiling over the fire, andaround it the sorcerers were standing. Before them lay the body of the beautiful Mahdrusa, and beside it stood her father and Anoctah.
"Into the lodge, into the midst of all the people, the young brave sprang! The warriors of the Gheelees raised their war clubs when they saw one of the hated Ohoolees, but the young brave cried, 'strike me not, for I bear the soul of Mahdrusa!"
"Then they all fell back and Anoctah said, 'Restore it to her body, and she shall be thine, if she loves thee better than me.'
"But the sorcerers sprang upon him, and tried to tear the little prairie dog from his bosom, but the fairy cried:—
"'Hold her with thy right hand into the cauldron and she shall be saved!'
"So he broke away from the sorcerers and plunged the enchanted one into theboiling cauldron, unheeding the agony he suffered or the cries of the little animal he held, and in a moment the moon plunged beneath the horizon; Mahdrusa arose from her long sleep; the sorcerers fell into the boiling cauldron and were consumed; and all the people shouted for joy, and with one accord cried that the Ohoolees should from henceforth be their brothers, and the young brave who had rescued Mahdrusa, their chieftain, when her father was called to the happy hunting grounds.
"The next day the marriage of the young brave and Mahdrusa was celebrated with great splendor. And, behold, after the ceremony was over, a beautiful young maiden stood in the place where the old woman had been.
"'I too was enchanted by those wicked sorcerers, and condemned to wear the form of an old woman until I should make twoyoung hearts perfectly happy. I have completed my task to-day.'
"Then Anoctah who had been very sorrowful, looked up, and seeing the beautiful maiden, forgot his love for Mahdrusa, and entreated the stranger to be his wife.
"She loved him well and consented, and thus made a third heart joyful as those of the young Ohoolee brave and his beautiful Mahdrusa."
"And they lived happily together all their lives," quoted Aggie, from the fairy tales she had heard, "Why, Guy, that was a long story," she added yawning, "and it has made me so sleepy I shall go to bed. Good-night!"
"Good-night," returned Guy, not very well pleased that she should be so sleepy, and fearing that his story must have been very stupid as well as long. Perhaps it was because of this, that he sat down bythe fire again when she was gone instead of going to bed as he usually did, and it was from sitting there that he got into trouble on the following day, and to tell you what his trouble was shall be the duty of the next chapter.
"I say," said George, slapping Guy on the shoulder, the moment after his father bade them "good-night" and went to his wagon, telling them to go to theirs, "I say, I have got the best thing to tell you, and we'll have the greatest fun, if you don't turn sneak and try to get out of it."
"I'm not likely to turn sneak!" retorted Guy very indignant that he should be thought capable of such a thing. "What are we to have such fun at? I don't think you will find that I shall shirk it."
Now, Guy never would have said that without knowing what George's fun was to be, had he not been vexed at Aggie'scool reception of his story, and at some other things that had happened through the day. He was in a very restless, dissatisfied temper, and, as many other boys do under those circumstances, he felt like doing any wild thing that was suggested to him, without inquiring whether it was right or wrong.
George saw that, and, greatly delighted, said: "I told Gus I didn't believe you would back out, and we will have such a jolly time! You know there are numbers of antelopes on the plains here, and I heard James Graham say this morning, that there would be sure to be a great many of them go down to that little creek to drink just as soon as the moon rose."
"Well," said Guy, wondering greatly what the herd of antelopes had to do with their fun.
"Well," returned George, "I have been reading a book that tells all about hunting them. That was what I was doing when pa thought me so studious to-day, and I found out how to hunt them at night, and it's just as easy as can be. You have only to creep up to them silently, and you can shoot them down by dozens."
"Like partridges?" commented Guy, in a tone of doubt.
"You needn't laugh at what I say," returned George. "You can ask Gus if it isn't so, and if you don't believe him, I'll show you the book."
"Oh! I believe it all, of course!" said Guy, hastily; "but I don't see what difference it makes to us, for we have nothing to hunt antelopes with."
"There are plenty of guns in the wagon," said George, in a low voice, "and I don't see why we shouldn't use them."
Guy was greatly startled at this speech, for Mr. Harwood had told all the boys never to touch one of the guns. He reminded George of that, but he only laughed, and began a glowing account of the glorious time they would have in creeping toward the creek, in the moonlight, and shooting down the antelopes as they bent their heads to drink.
Guy's imagination was highly excited by George's words, and from being the most unwilling, he became the most anxious that the midnight hunt should be attempted, quite forgetting Mr. Harwood's commands in thinking of the triumph they might have in the morning, in exhibiting two or three dead antelopes.
He readily assented to George's proposition, that they should then proceed to the wagon, and choose their guns. No inducements or threats, even to the breaking ofhis bones, would induce Gus to touch one.
"Then," said George, "you shall carry this small hatchet, and a knife, so that we shall be able to cut the horns and tails off the antelopes that we can't bring home with us. I don't suppose we shall be able to carry more than one apiece."
After securing their guns, they left the camp very cautiously, each one going a different way, and all meeting at a point about a quarter of a mile from the camp, on the banks of the little stream, where they expected the antelopes would come to drink.
They stayed there in silence for some time, for Guy, remembering his former experience on the prairie, was afraid to venture for even a moment out of sight of the camp-fires. But at last they all became so impatient at remaining so stilland seeing nothing, that they ventured, very cautiously, a little farther up the stream. Guy took the lead, and very often would stop, and motion to his companions to do likewise, whenever he fancied he heard any noise.
Thus two very tiresome hours passed away, and Gus was very crossly protesting against staying any longer, when Guy motioned him very eagerly to be still, and with great triumph pointed to a number of animals that, one by one, very slowly and cautiously, were going down to the water to drink.
They were very slender and graceful, about the size of a small deer, and covered with coarse, wiry hair, and bearing upon their small, well-formed heads a pair of branching horns.
They descended to the water, without exhibiting any signs of suspicion or fear,for the boys, quite by accident, had got to the leeward of them—that is, where the wind would not pass from them to the antelopes, and give to the keen animals notice of their presence.
"Now," whispered Guy, excitedly, "wait until you see them stoop their heads to drink, and then fire at them! Now—ready!"
Both boys raised their guns and fired. There was a terrible concussion. Both were thrown flat upon their backs, with the idea that their heads, or at least their noses, were shot off, and away stampeded the antelopes, as fast as their slender legs would carry them.
Gus began to howl and cry most wildly, believing that his brother and Guy were both killed. They, however, soon convinced him that they were both alive, by rising, each declaring his nose was broken,and pointing to the flowing blood as proof of it.
George was terribly enraged, chiefly at the gun, which he declared had "kicked" him. Guy, on his part, was very much vexed with George, for having brought him on such a profitless adventure; but though he was suffering very much from his rashness, the whole thing appeared to him so ridiculous, that he laughed long and heartily.
"I believe you would laugh if you were dying," grumbled George, as they stood together by the side of the creek, washing their face. "Pretty figures we shall make to-morrow, sha'n't we? And pa will give it to you to-morrow, too, for taking the guns."
"You told me to do it!" retorted Guy, sullenly, but quite alarmed at the thought of Mr. Harwood's impending wrath, aswell as angry at himself for having done anything to incur it.
George answered him very rudely, and then followed a quarrel between the two, which was at last brought to an abrupt termination by a terrible scream from Gus. They looked toward him, and saw, with horror, an immense panther, but a short distance off, making ready for a spring.
The boys were transfixed with horror, as they saw his glaring eyes fixed upon them.
They saw him crouch like an immense cat, preparing to spring upon its prey. They saw a sudden flash of fire before their eyes, heard the report of a gun, and, with as much fear as joy, beheld the terrible monster spring high into the air, and fall to the ground, tearing up the ground with its claws, and foaming at the mouth, in agony. Another shot ended its struggles and its life together.
The boys uttered cries of joy for their delivery from the terrible death with which the panther had threatened one, or perhaps even all, of them; but they were very much frightened to see that their deliverer was Mr. Harwood.
He looked at them very sternly and said—
"You may be very thankful that I heard the reports of your guns and came in search of you, or your disobedience might have been punished most fearfully."
With great sorrow and shame they felt that his words were true, as they stood beside the dead panther, and looked at his long claws, and the firm white teeth in his large mouth.
Gus burst into tears, and said he knew the horrible creature was making straight for him, and eagerly assured his fatherthat he would never disobey him again in his life.
George and Guy were quite ready to make the same promise, but Mr. Harwood looked so stern that they dared not speak to him, and Guy felt utterly wretched when, instead of scolding him, Mr. Harwood looked at him very sorrowfully, and said:
"I am disappointed in you, Guy! I thought I could trust you."
"The next thing, I heard the reports of the guns, and immediately surmised where you were. I was so anxious about you, that I would not call one of the others, but came immediately in pursuit of you, and it is well that I did."
"How was the baby, when you left?" asked the conscience-stricken Guy.
"Dying," returned Mr. Harwood, emphatically.
Guy waited to hear no more, but darted forward, reaching the camp some minutes before his companions. He saw that several in the train were up, and some called after him, asking where he had been. Without stopping to answer them, he ran on to Mrs. Harwood's wagon, and seeing it all alight within, sprang to the front, and hastily putting the canvas door aside, asked how the baby was.
His mother came over to him, crying and wringing her hands—
"Oh, Guy!" she cried, "where have you been? How wicked you were to leave us so, when the baby was dying!"
Guy knew not what to say—he had no excuse to offer, for he never thought of putting the blame on George. He, therefore, kept silent, and in a most miserable state of mind, followed Mr. Harwood and his sons to the camp.
Gus kept close to his father all the way, crying out every minute or two that he saw another panther, and at last asking how it was that their absence from camp was discovered.
"The baby was very ill," answered Mr. Harwood, gravely. "He was in convulsions, and your mother wanted to put him in a hot bath. I went to call Guy to help us, and then found you were gone."
"And what did you do then?" asked Gus.
"Oh, mother!" he cried, "is he dead!"
"Yes," she answered. "He died while you were laughing and sporting. I should think you would never enjoy yourself again, while you can remember that."
Guy looked at the little babe, lying dead on its mother's lap, and thought, indeed, that he never should be happyagain. Aggie added to his distress by looking at him sternly, with her widely-opened eyes, and crying:
"Go away, you bad, bad boy! I will never love you again."
"And Mr. Harwood will never trust me," thought Guy, bitterly, as he left the wagon, and passed Mr. Harwood and his sons, who were about to enter it.
Guy slept but very little that night; in the first place, his bruised face was very painful, and he was, besides, haunted by the remembrance of Mr. Harwood's reproachful glance, when he had said he had been deceived in him; and he wondered if he would carry into execution the threat he had made before they left home, and greatly feared that he would, for he felt that he had been quite disobedient, and seemingly ungrateful enough, to be left alone on the prairie.
The train did not move on as early the next morning as usual, for the poor little baby was buried upon the banks of the little stream where the boys had so nearly lost their lives.
Guy thought he had never witnessed so sad a scene as when they laid the beautiful baby, that looked as pure and sweet as a white lily, in the rough coffin that some of the young men had hastily made, and carried him to a lonely spot, that perhaps no feet had ever trod before, and, breathing a prayer over him, left him to his long sleep, far from the place of his birth, or that for which his kindred were bound, and where never a tear would be dropped above him, or a sigh breathed.
Guy's only comfort was, and, perhaps, too, that of the poor baby's father and mother, that he could not be quite alone, even when they left him, for God wouldwatch over him; and he could not but rejoice that they had not been forced to leave him in the shifting sands of the desert, but that a green tree bent over him, and grass would spring above the sod in which he lay.
Poor little Aggie was quite brokenhearted at the loss of her poor little playfellow, and, quite forgetting her anger went to Guy for comfort.
After he had said all he could to cheer her, he told her of his own troubles, and how sincerely sorry he was, for having disobeyed her father. Aggie listened very attentively, and at last said:
"Perhaps papa will forgive you. I know he will, if you go to him and tell him how sorry you are, and promise him you will never be so wild and disobedient again."
"That I will," said Guy readily. "Iwould do anything to merit his kindness once more."
But it was several days before Guy could summon courage to speak to Mr. Harwood, who treated him very coldly, seldom asking him to do anything, and never intrusting the care of even the slightest article to him. Guy every day grew more and more miserable, while Gus and George congratulated themselves upon their father's silence, and almost forgot that they had ever incurred his displeasure.
"But, if the baby hadn't died, wouldn't he have 'whaled' us, though!" ejaculated George, one day.
Guy was shocked and surprised to hear him speak so lightly, and, without more ado, left him, and going to Mr. Harwood, told him how grieved he was for his disobedience, and begged him to forgive him, and restore him to his confidence again.
"I will forgive you, Guy," said Mr. Harwood, kindly; "but I cannot place any trust in you again, until you show yourself worthy of it.
"I will show myself worthy!" exclaimed Guy, firmly. "I will, indeed, Mr. Harwood, and at the same time show my gratitude for your kindness."
And scarcely a week passed before Guy fulfilled his promise.
"I believe it is snowing over yonder," cried Aggie to Guy one day, pointing to the west, where, truly enough, as far as the eye could reach, the earth appeared perfectly white.
"It does look like snow," returned Guy, looking intently in the direction she indicated, "but it is now June, and we certainly ought not to encounter such a fall as that appears to be, besides, there is a perfect glare of sunshine there! Ah, I have it! That is not snow, but alkali!"
"What is alkali?" asked Aggie. "Is it cold! Will it melt?"
"I don't know," answered Guy, "let us ask Mr. Graham, he will be able to tell us all about it."
So that very evening when the train stopped to encamp for the night, they waited until Mr. Graham had finished his work, and Guy had done all that was required of him, and then went to the camp-fire of the Grahams.
They were very warmly welcomed, for both Guy and Aggie were great favorites of them all, and after they were all quietly seated, Guy pointed to the desert of alkali that shone like crystal beneath the beams of the moon, and asked Mr. Graham if he could tell them of what it was composed, and how it came there.
"Of the last I can say nothing," returned Mr. Graham, "except that it was placed there by an all-wise Creator for some good purpose. The substance itself is a sulphate of soda, and is generally found near sulphur, and soda springs. A fall of rain usually brings it forth from theearth it impregnates in great quantities, and it looks very beautiful. The white particles often assume the most delicate shapes, like flakes of snow for instance, or most delicate leaves, and ferns."
"I shall be very glad when we get there," said Aggie, "I shall think we are passing a winter in fairy lands."
"Then I am afraid you will think it a very disagreeable winter," returned Mr. Graham, laughing.
"Why?" asked Aggie, opening wide her eyes in astonishment. "Is it cold there? I thought that the sun shone as warmly there as it does here."
"So it does," replied Mr. Graham. "It will not be of the weather that you will complain, but of what you call the beautiful snow."
"Ah! yes, perhaps the glare will hurt my eyes."
"I think it very likely, Aggie," said Amy Graham, "but my brother was not thinking of that, but of something much worse. These alkali salts are very poisonous, and often kill people if they are partaken of even slightly."
"Indeed!" ejaculated Aggie and Guy at once.
"I'll never touch them!" continued the latter, "and I am so sorry I can't, because I thought it would be so nice to eat some, as if it was snow."
"I should never think of eating it," said Guy. "And I think Aggie would not when she had once seen what kind of a substance it is," said Mr. Graham, "for it looks much more like powdered washing-soda than snow, and tastes more like it too."
"Then I am sure I wouldn't take enough even to make my mouth tastebadly!" exclaimed Aggie, with a gesture of disgust.
"I thought the same at one time," said Mr. Graham, "yet it was only a very short time afterwards that I was nearly killed by partaking of it."
"How?" cried both the children, eagerly. "Do tell us about it, Mr. Graham."
"Certainly I will," he answered, kindly. "I believe I have told you before that this is not the first time I have been across the plains. I made my first trip before gold was discovered in California, and when few people thought of going there.
"There was then no well defined route such as we have been following, and when we reached the alkali desert we lost trace of any road, and had to depend entirely upon our reasoning powers for guidance."
"Hadn't you any compass?" asked Guy.
"Certainly," replied Mr. Graham, "butas we were rather uncertain which direction we ought to take, it was not of much use to us. Before a week was over, both ourselves and the cattle were quite worn down with our tiresome march across the glaring, blinding desert. Our condition daily grew worse, for all sickened, and suffered dreadfully for want of water, for there was none to be found but that which was impregnated with soda. Many of the people drank it, and became very sick; the weary oxen quaffed it from the little pools, formed by the rain, by the wayside, and daily two or three died, and we were compelled to leave them to bleach as white as the alkali around them. For my part, I drank no water for days; enduring the agonies of thirst in silence, and praying that we might soon find relief. One day, one of my comrades died, he had borne the torture attending abstinence as long aspossible, and then had drank to repletion, and been poisoned. There had been a heavy shower, and he had been quite unable to resist the temptation it offered. Two days after, it rained again, and I was almost as imprudent as my friend had been, and was immediately taken so ill that I feared I should share his resting-place. I never shall forget how rejoiced I was when we got into a pure atmosphere and healthy soil again, but it was weeks, yes, even months, before the effects of my poisoned draught passed entirely away."
"Dear me," cried Aggie, in dismay, "are there no June springs in the alkali desert! Oh, dear! dear! just think of having come so far just to be poisoned!"
"We will see that you do not drink after a shower," said Mr. Graham, laughing. "But even the little birds could do that here. And indeed there will be nonecessity for you to do so, as several springs have been discovered since the time I spoke of."
"I wish you hadn't told me about it," said Aggie, sadly, "I shall think all the time of the poor creatures that have been poisoned. I don't like to hear of such dreadful things, even if they are true. I would a great deal rather hear a pretty story. Miss Carrie, won't you tell me one?"
"My brother has told you of something that once happened to him," she replied, readily, "and now, if you like, I will relate a little adventure that befell me when I was a little girl."
"Oh! that will be splendid, Miss Carrie. Do tell us all about it."
"I must tell you, in the first place," began Miss Graham, when she had drawn Aggie nearer to her side, so that she shouldnot lose one word she was about to say, "that I was not at all a good little girl at the time the event I am going to tell you of, took place, and you must not, therefore, be surprised to hear of any naughty actions I used to do.
"My favorite ones were those by which I could frighten people. Nothing used to delight me so much as to tell ghost stories to my younger brothers and sisters and leave them without explaining them, when often the poor little creatures would become nearly convulsed with terror, and my mother would find great trouble in quieting them. I had often been scolded, and even whipped for my malicious mischief but all to no purpose, and at last no notice was taken of me, and I thought my father and mother had made up their mind to let me tell horrible stories until I was tired of them. My parents often went out in theevening to the theatre, or some party and on such occasions it was my usual practice to coax my brother Charlie, and sister Amy into the dining room with me, while the nurse put my youngest brother to bed. When I had, by dint of threats, and persuasions, got them into the room, I would make them sit by the fire suddenly put out the candles, and begin some dreadful story. Generally the nurse came in the middle of it and carried them away to bed, where they would cower under the blankets and tremble at every sound."
"I know," interrupted Aggie, "I used to do that after George had told me stories. But did you believe what you used to tell them?"
"'No, my love, although I have indeed told such horrible things, as even to awaken my own fears. Generally however, I laughed heartily at the idea ofghosts and said I should like to see one.'
"'Oh don't say so,' said Amy, one night. 'What should we do if one should appear?'
"'I do wish one would,' returned I, 'how you would run.'
"Just then I heard a terrible crash, as if all the crockery and tinware upon the kitchen dressers had tumbled down.
"'What can that be,' I cried in alarm.
"'What?' asked my brother, very quietly.
"'Are you deaf?' I retorted. 'Don't you hear that dreadful noise? There it is again. Oh, what shall I do?'
"It was no wonder I was frightened for there sat my brother and sister as if they heard nothing, while every moment the noise grew louder. I had always thought myself a very brave girl before, but I shook with alarm at these unearthlysounds, and shrieked with terror when the door opened, and a terrible figure surrounded by blue flame entered the room. I pointed at it in speechless horror. It towered nearly to the ceiling and looked down upon me with eyes that glowed like coals. It held in its hand a whip made of snakes with which it menaced me. For a few seconds I could neither move nor speak, while my brother and sister laughed and talked as if nothing unusual was going on. I was convinced that this revelation from the spirit world was made to me alone, and I was overwhelmed by the fear that I was to be carried away bodily, to answer before the ghosts I had derided. The monster advanced toward me. With a shriek I bade it begone! it laid its death cold hand upon me and—"
"'Oh, Miss Carry, don't tell any more.'
"Oh, it was so horrible!" cried Aggie,clasping Guy's arm lightly. "Oh dear, dear, didn't you die with fright?"
"It appears not," returned Miss Graham, laughing, "but I do not know but I should have done so, had not my brother James rushed into the room, caught hold of the supposed ghost and cried, 'there there, that will do Tom! Don't you see the poor child is nearly frightened to death.'"
"So it wasn't a real ghost after all," exclaimed Aggie, in a tone of mingled disappointment and relief.
"No, it was not a real ghost after all, but only a very good sham one, that was made up by my brother and cousin to frighten me out of my propensity of frightening others, and you may be sure it did so. I didn't think I ever afterwards told a ghost story of which I could not as readily give an explanation as of this."
"But you frightened me though," said Aggie, drawing a long breath.
"But you are not frightened now, darling?"
"Why of course not Miss Carrie."
"But do you know I think I would rather hear that pretty little story about the 'Christ-child,' that you told us a few evenings ago, or one of those little poems of which you know so many."
"I do not think I can remember any to-night," said Miss Carrie, "but perhaps Amy can."
"Please try dear Miss Amy," cried Aggie running to her, "Mr. Graham, and Miss Carrie have both told us a story, and now if you will repeat some pretty poetry it will be so nice."
Miss Amy laughed pleasantly, and lifted Aggie on her lap. "My pet," she said, "yesterday I heard you ask your motherwhat she thought the prettiest thing in the world."
"Oh, yes," cried Aggie, "and she couldn't decide. What do you think the prettiest Miss Amy? But then perhaps you are like mamma, you think there are, so many beautiful things in the world that you can't choose between them."
"Yes," said Miss Amy sweetly though gravely, I have decided. "Now listen to me a few minutes and you shall know what is to me
FAIREST AND BEST:"