Chapter Nine.

Chapter Nine.The settlers determine to accept Mr Sparks’ offers—Lily’s sorrow at leaving the old settlement—Mode of advance—Sabbath observance on the march—We are left behind, in consequence of our waggon breaking down—Our great want of water—A dangerous descent—The horrid spectacle of the wolves—Our oxen flagging, I proceed forward alone in the direction of a fire in the distance—My joy upon discovering our friends—Reuben offers to accompany me back—We get lost—Faithful Mike finds us—Strange horsemen—Mike, Reuben, and I taken prisoners by the Sioux.The fire gave more support to the schemes of Mr Sparks than did all his arguments and glowing descriptions. Mr Claxton, my uncles, and most of the settlers who possessed the means of transport, resolved to accept his offers, and at once prepared for the journey. Those who had no waggons made up their minds to remain where they were, and to cultivate the ground, which the ashes would render more fertile than before. The grass, after the first rain, would spring up and afford a rich pasture for their cattle; and the charred trunks would enable them to rebuild their log-huts and put up fences. I had reason afterwards to believe that they chose the wisest course; though at the time I was well pleased at the thought of the long journey we were to take, and the adventures we might expect to meet with.I was surprised to find that Lily did not enter into my feelings. “I would far rather have stayed where we were,” she said. “The trees would soon have become green again, and we could have cultivated the ground as before, and the river and hills would have remained the same; though, as Uncle Stephen and aunt, and you, Roger, wish it, I am ready to go.”My uncles had saved a bag of dollars, and the Claxtons and others were provided with cash. Therefore, as soon as the country was sufficiently cool to enable the waggons to move, two were sent off to the eastward to bring back such stores as were required; while the main body began to move southward, along the bank of the river, to a spot where we intended to cross.Our course for some distance was to be to the southward; after which we were to turn to the south-west till we reached the prairie. I cannot describe each day’s journey. In front marched a body of a dozen men, with their axes, to clear the road. The waggons, drawn by long teams of oxen, followed; and the loose cattle, driven by the younger men and boys, brought up the rear.While no fears existed of an attack from the Indians, the axemen generally marched a day in advance of us, to cut a road through the woods. Another party, acting as hunters, ranged on one side or the other of the line of march in search of deer, bears, or any other animals, and birds; and they contrived, when possible, to reach the camping-ground an hour or two before the waggons, so that they might get the fires lighted, and have the game they had killed cooking on the spits, in readiness for the women and children. Reuben and I undertook to hunt, since we were as good shots as any of the emigrants. We always went together, and seldom failed to bring in game of some sort.As evening approached we made our way towards the spot fixed on for the encampment. Before nightfall the main body usually arrived, and the waggons were arranged in a circle, so as to form a sort of fortification in case of attack from the Indians: though we had no great reason to apprehend such an event at that period of our journey. No time was lost in commencing supper; and as soon as it was over the women and children went to rest inside the waggons, while the men not on guard lay down either under them or in the neighbourhood of the fires. A spot was always chosen—either by the side of a stream or near some pool—where the cattle could find water and good grass. They were then turned out to graze, under charge of a few armed men. Of course, we all kept our rifles by our sides, so that we might be ready to defend ourselves at a moment’s notice.We met with very few Indians, and those we fell in with seemed disposed to be friendly. They saw that we were merely passing through their hunting-grounds, and had apparently no objection to our killing the comparatively small amount of game we met with. Had we shown any intention of settling, the case might have been different.We thus pushed on for many days together, halting only on the Sabbath, to obtain the rest which both we and our cattle required. This was a day we all enjoyed. One of the elders conducted a service, and the wilderness we were traversing resounded for the time with praise and prayer.Thus we travelled on day after day; but we made but slow progress through the densely-wooded country, having sometimes to cut our way amid the trees, though we were generally able to find a passage without felling them. Occasionally, however, we were compelled to do even that, and to drag the huge trunks out of the road, before the waggons could proceed. We had also frequently to cross rivers. When no ford could be found, we built large rafts, on which the waggons were ferried over, while the oxen gained the opposite bank by swimming. They were accustomed to the undertaking; and, strange as it may seem, we never lost any by this means.At length we gained an open but more desert region. The ground was stony and uneven, and we had rocky hills to ascend and dark gorges to pass through. Water was scarce, and we had often to carry sufficient to supply our wants for a couple of days; while our cattle suffered greatly from thirst. We could no longer hunt in small parties, for fear of encountering hostile Indians; but we were able to kill game without going to any great distance from the camp, as we found several species of deer inhabiting those wilds.My uncle’s waggon was one day bringing up the rear of the train; and our water being nearly exhausted, we were pushing forward as fast as the oxen could move, in the hope of reaching a stream before dark, when one of the wheels came off, and the waggon, in falling over, suffered considerable damage. Under other circumstances, the train would have stopped till our waggon was put to rights; but as most of the oxen were suffering from thirst, and many of the party had no water remaining, it was important for them to push forward without delay. We were therefore compelled to remain by ourselves; but no Indians had as yet been seen in this part of the country, and we hoped that we should escape without being attacked.My uncles were not men to be frightened by difficulties. They and Mike, with Quambo and I, immediately set to work to do what was necessary. We unloaded the waggon, and commenced repairing the damage it had received. This, however, took us some time, and it was quite dark before we got the wheel on again and the waggon reloaded. Having been more provident than the rest of the party, we were able to wet our beasts’ muzzles, and still have sufficient water to last ourselves for a few hours.As we wished to overtake our companions as soon as possible, we immediately pushed forward, and soon got into a somewhat more level country than we had lately been passing through; but the ground was very hard, and in the darkness we could not perceive the tracks made by those in advance. Had an Indian guide been with us, he would undoubtedly have discovered them; but we had to trust to our own sagacity, and we had not gone far when we found that we had got out of the right road. We did our utmost to regain it, but in vain. Still, believing that we were going in the proper direction, we proceeded onwards. The stars came out brightly from the sky, and we shaped our course as directly as we could by them.While Uncle Stephen drove, Uncle Mark and I, with Mike and Quambo, marched on either side, our faithful dogs following at our heels. We kept a look-out in every direction, lest we should chance to be observed by a band of Indians, who, seeing a small party, might pounce down upon us; still, we were all accustomed to look on the bright side of things, and though we were aware of the possible danger, we were not unnecessarily alarmed. Our chief anxiety arose from a fear of not finding water for our thirsty beasts. They might hold out during the cool hours of night; but should they not be supplied with the necessary fluid, they must in a short time succumb, and dreadful indeed would be the consequences to ourselves.When I occasionally went up to the waggon, I found Aunt Hannah and Lily awake. They kept up their spirits very well, and naturally inquired whether we had as yet discovered the track of those who had gone before.“Not yet,” I answered in as cheerful a voice as I could command; “but we soon shall, I dare say; and, at all events, we are going in the right direction. The stars are shining brightly, and by them Uncle Stephen can guide the waggon as well as if we had the train of our friends in view. But we shall soon be up with them, I hope, and find them all comfortably encamped.”“I trust that we may,” said Aunt Hannah, “if not, we shall find water, I suppose, in a few hours, and we shall certainly overtake them to-morrow.”This showed what was passing in her mind. She had begun to suspect—what really was the case—that we had widely deviated from our course. One thing was very certain,—that it would be destruction to stop; so, although our oxen were beginning to show signs of fatigue, and we felt our own legs aching, we continued to move forward.At length, about a couple of hours before dawn, we arrived at the edge of a ravine, the sides of which, though not precipitous, appeared to beverysteep, and down which it would have been madness to attempt taking the waggon in the dark. We must either stop, or try to find a passage across to the north or south. We had observed that the valleys already passed by us were shallower to the southward; we therefore turned our waggon in that direction, hoping shortly to discover a practicable path, though we suspected that it would lead us even further from the track of our friends.We went on and on, fancying that we could discern the bottom of the valley more clearly than at first, and hoping soon to discover a sufficiently gentle slope which we might be able to descend. But we were deceived, and though Uncle Mark and I made our way down in several places, we saw that the waggon would certainly be upset should we attempt to get it down. We were almost in despair of success, for the ravine appeared to run on to the southward with equally rugged sides as at first. The panting oxen, too, could scarcely drag on the waggon, and we began to fear that they would fall unless water should be found. We urged them on, however, for stopping to rest would not avail them, and might prove our destruction.Morning at length broke, when we saw a hill before us which seemed to be the termination of the ravine; and as the light increased, to our joy we caught sight of a silvery line of water making its way along the course of the valley. Our eagerness to reach the bottom was now greater than ever; and we could with difficulty restrain the oxen from rushing down the bank. We had to keep at their heads, indeed, to prevent them attempting so mad a performance.On we went, till we saw before us what we had so long been looking for,—a gentle slope which it would be easy to descend, while on the opposite side the ground was equally favourable for again ascending to the same elevation as before. Putting the drag on the wheel, we commenced the undertaking; and though I more than once feared that the waggon would be upset, we reached the bottom in safety. Then, immediately unyoking the tired oxen, we hurried to the fountain-head to obtain water, while they rushed to a pool close below it, where they could more easily drink. Near at hand was an abundance of fresh grass, with which they quickly recruited their strength.Aunt Hannah and Lily offered to watch while we lay down and took the sleep we so much required.“I will keep a look-out all round, and if I see any suspicious Indians approaching I’ll scream loud enough to wake you all,” said Lily, half in joke, as if she were not at all anxious on the subject.“One thing is very certain,—if they do come, we cannot run away from them,” observed Uncle Mark. “We must hope that they will prove friendly, for if not we shall have to beat them or be cut to pieces. However, we will trust to your watchfulness, and pick up a little strength to continue our journey.”We accordingly lay down under the waggon, and in less than a minute were fast asleep.We rested till about ten o’clock, when Aunt Hannah, as Uncle Stephen had desired, awoke us. Not a human being had approached the valley, though she said that she had seen some creatures moving along on the top of the heights; but what they were she could not make out, though they did not look, she thought, like deer.Having taken a hurried meal, we again yoked the oxen; and going behind with crowbars to assist, we commenced the ascent of the hill. It was harder work than we expected, but, by making a zigzag course, in about half an hour we got to the top. Looking ahead, the country appeared to be pretty level, with rocky hills rising out of it in various directions, but we expected to have no difficulty in making our onward way. We had filled all our skin-bottles with water, and even should we meet with no more till the following day the cattle would not materially suffer.My uncles were of opinion that we had crossed near the source of the stream at which the rest of the party must have stopped, and that by verging to the right we should fall upon their tracks, although we did not expect to meet with them till the close of the day, owing to the direction we were taking. They might possibly have sent back to help us; but as they had not many men to spare, it was more likely that they would push forward, expecting us ultimately to overtake them. We kept a look-out for water as we went along, that we might allow our animals to drink, and thus be able to continue our journey the next day although none should be found at the camping-ground. Still, though we went on and on, no signs could we discover of our friends. Already the sun was sinking towards the west.I had gone on ahead, and made my way up a hill over which we should have to pass, that I might obtain before sunset a wide view around, when I saw some way before me a number of creatures moving about. They seemed to be very busy, but what they were doing I could not make out. Some objects lay near them on the ground. I hastened on, and when I got nearer I perceived that the objects were broken pieces of waggons,—several wheels, and portions of the woodwork,—while the animals, I had no doubt, were wolves, from the horrid sounds which reached me; a mixture of snarling, yelping, barking, and growling, for I cannot otherwise describe the noise made by the creatures.Not wishing to approach closer by myself, I returned to tell my uncles what I had seen. Uncle Mark and Quambo accompanied me back, and as we got nearer the wolves looked up and snarled at us, and continued their occupation; but what was our horror, on advancing a little further, to discover that they were feeding on the dead bodies of a number of persons stretched on the ground! A dreadful fear seized us. Could they be those of our late companions? I shuddered, and burst into tears.Yes! there could be no doubt about it, I thought. There lay those we had lately parted from in health and strength, cruelly murdered, and now the prey of the savage wolves. Our friends the Claxtons!—Dora! honest Reuben! and their parents!Then the fearful thought that such might ere long be our fate came over me.“Can none have escaped?” I exclaimed.Uncle Mark advanced a few paces nearer the wolves, with his gun, ready to fire should they attack him. He was looking at a man whom the wolves had not yet torn to pieces. Apparently he was only just dead, and had probably defended himself to the last, keeping his assailants at bay.“That man did not belong to our party,” I heard Uncle Mark cry out. “These people must have formed part of another emigrant-train.”Quambo and I ran up to him. We then shouted together, and some of the wolves nearest to us, startled by our approach, left their prey, when we were convinced, by the dresses of the corpses, that Uncle Mark’s surmise was correct. This discovery somewhat relieved our minds. Our friends might have escaped; but at the same time it was too evident that hostile Indians were scouring that part of the country, and that we ourselves might ere long be attacked, and share the fate of the unhappy persons we saw before us.We now slowly retreated, shouting as we did so to keep the wolves at bay, and turning every few paces to face them; for had they seen us fly, they might have been induced to follow. They were now, however, happily for us, too much engaged in their dreadful feast to take further notice of us.Having told Uncle Stephen what we had seen, we turned the heads of the oxen away from the spot, directing our course to the right, where the ground appeared to be more even than any we had yet gone over. We agreed not to let Aunt Hannah and Lily know of the dreadful scene we had witnessed; but it was important to get as far as possible from the spot, and we determined, if the oxen could drag the waggon, to continue on all night.“Do you think it likely that the wolves, when they have finished their horrible feast, will track us out?” I said to Uncle Mark.“I hope not,” he answered. “Were they starving, they might do so; but only the younger animals, which would have been prevented by their elders from joining in the feast, may possibly follow us. If they do, we can keep them at a distance, for they are more easily frightened than the older brutes.”The stars, as on the previous night, were very bright, and we were able, by them, to keep a direct course. Our chief desire now was to rejoin our friends, and next to that to find water. We, of course, as we moved along, kept a strict watch, as before; but the scene I had witnessed made me feel much more anxious than usual, and every moment I expected to see a band of Indians start up from behind the rocks which here and there rose above the plain, or to hear a flight of arrows whistling through the air past our ears—perhaps to feel one sticking in my body.Uncle Stephen had advised Aunt Hannah and Lily to lie down in a space left vacant for them in the middle of the waggon, where they would be protected by the luggage piled up on both sides.We had now gone on many hours without water, and our cattle began to show signs of being very thirsty. All we could do was to wet their muzzles with a little of the water we had brought with us; but our lives might depend upon our pushing on.As we generally marched apart—two of us on either side of the waggon—we had no opportunities for conversation, and were left, consequently, to our own melancholy thoughts. Had I been by myself, or with male companions only, I should not have cared so much; but my mind was troubled by the idea of what might be dear Lily’s fate, and that of Aunt Hannah, should we be attacked, or should our cattle break down and we be unable to proceed.The oxen went slower and slower, notwithstanding every effort of Uncle Stephen to make them move at their usual pace. At last they came to a stand-still. Mike and Quambo, who at the time were ahead, endeavoured in vain to induce them to move on. Uncle Mark and I ran forward to assist them. As I was about to do so I caught sight of a ruddy spot in the distance, away somewhat to the left. That must be a fire, I thought, and I pointed it out to Uncle Mark.“It may be the camp-fire of our friends,” he observed; “but we must not be too sure, for it may be that of a band of Indians.”He asked Uncle Stephen what he thought.“The Indians generally take care to have their fires in places where they cannot be seen from a distance, so that is much more likely to be what you at first supposed,” he answered. “At all events, we will try and find out.”“If the oxen cannot be got to move, I will go on and ascertain,” I said. “I can direct my course by the fire, and will approach cautiously. Should I discover that Indians are encamped there, I will hurry back and let you know. We must then try and make our way in some other direction.”“I am afraid, Roger, that in such a case our hope of escape will be very small,” said my uncle in a grave tone. “Unless we can find water in some hollow in which it will be possible to conceal ourselves, at the return of day, the Indians are sure to see us. Should they cross our track, they are equally certain to come upon us before long. We must, however, hope for the best. Go forward as you propose, and may Heaven protect you, my boy.”Without stopping to bid Lily and my aunt good-bye I hurried on, keeping my gaze on the fire, which, growing brighter as I advanced, enabled me without difficulty to direct my course for it. The ground was tolerably even, but sloped slightly downwards in the direction I was taking. The fire, indeed, when I first saw it, appeared to be in a hollow, or at all events at a lower elevation than that where we were standing. I looked back once or twice, and quickly lost sight of the waggon. So far I was satisfied that, should the people who had made the fire be Indians, they would not discover the waggon until daylight, by which time I hoped we should be able to conceal ourselves among the hills in the neighbourhood.I hurried on as fast as I could venture to move, ignorant of what was before me. It would be useless, I knew, to attempt concealing my trail, but as I did not intend to go nearer the camp-fire than was necessary to make out who were there, I hoped some time would elapse after I had retreated before the Indians could discover that any one had been near them. Now and then, when crossing a hill, I lost sight of the fire, and had to direct my course by the stars overhead. Again I saw it before me, blazing brightly. I hoped that Uncle Stephen was right in his conjectures. The fire, however, was further off than I had supposed, and the greater part of an hour was consumed before I got close enough to see the figures moving about it.I now crept on as noiselessly as I could, for I knew that the least sound would be conveyed to the quick ears of the Redskins. Fortunately there were a number of bushes in the neighbourhood, behind which I could conceal myself.As I was going on I heard voices, and stopped breathlessly to listen. They did not sound like those of Indians, and presently I saw a couple of figures pass in front of the fire. I almost shouted for joy as I distinguished by their outlines against the bright blaze that their dress was that of white men. I felt sure that the people I saw before me were our friends; still, caution was necessary, for it was possible that they were prisoners of the Indians, saved from the caravan lately destroyed, only to meet with a more cruel death by torture. There might be a large party of Indians encamped.Presently two other fires came into view, which had been hitherto concealed by the thick bushes surrounding the hollow in which the camp was formed. I crept on and on, crouching down like a panther about to spring on its prey. The voices became more and more distinct, and at last I found myself on the top of the bank, with only a few bushes intervening between me and those encamped below.On pushing aside the branches my eyes were greeted by the pleasant sight of waggons, cattle, and a number of people; some cooking before the fires, others preparing their resting-places for the night. Not far off, at the lower part of the hollow, for it could scarcely be called a valley, was a pool reflecting the stars overhead.Feeling sure that I saw my friends before me, I now rushed down the slope towards them. The first person I met was Reuben Claxton.“Why, Roger! where have you come from?” he exclaimed. “We were very anxious about you, and my father had determined, should you not appear soon, to return with a party to your relief.”I quickly told him what had occurred, several others gathering round to hear my account. They were greatly alarmed at the description I gave of the remains of the emigrant-train we had discovered. I pointed out that their own camp was formed with less care than usual; of which fact they were convinced, but excused themselves on the plea that they had arrived very tired just at dark, having had a rough country to traverse, and that their cattle had suffered from want of water since the last place they had stopped at. The way I had approached showed them how easily they might have been surprised by a party of hostile Indians.I told them that I must be off again at once, as I was anxious to get back to our waggon, in order that we might join them without delay. Reuben offered to accompany me, and I was very glad to have him. We therefore set off immediately.It was necessary to be careful, however, to keep a direct course; and this could only be done by watching a star which I had marked, overhanging the spot where I had left the waggon. By any deviation to the right hand or to the left we might easily pass it.Reuben told me that many of the emigrants had become very anxious, and the account I had brought would make them still more so. Could they venture back alone, he thought they would be willing to return to the settlement.“For my own part, I like the wild sort of life we are leading; but I should be happier if I knew that Lily and my aunt were in safety, whereas they are exposed to as much danger as we are,” I observed.More than once I thought that we had gone wrong, as it was impossible to distinguish objects clearly in the gloom of night. I fancied that we must have performed the distance; still I could nowhere see the waggon. The dreadful thought occurred to me that some prowling Indians might have pounced upon it, and carried it off.“I hope not,” said Reuben, when I told him my fears. “We may not have gone far enough yet; or we are perhaps too much on one side or the other.”We went on a little further, trying to pierce the gloom. Then we stopped to listen, but could hear no sounds.“We must have gone wrong,” I said; “for I am certain that we should otherwise have got up to the waggon by this time.”Still Reuben thought that I might be mistaken.“Let us shout, and perhaps they will hear us;” and before I could stop him, he cried out at the top of his voice—“Hallo! Mr Tregellis, whereabouts are you?”Thinking it too probable that Indians were not far off, I dreaded lest the shout might be heard by them, and I advised Reuben not to cry out again.I was still fearing that we had missed the waggon, when a voice reached our ears. It was that of Mike.“Is that you, Masther Roger? If you are yourself, come on here; but if not, I’ll throuble you to stop where you are, or I’ll be afther shooting you through the head.”“All right, Mike!” I exclaimed, as we made our way in the direction from whence the voice came.He had grown anxious at my long delay, and had got leave from my uncles to try and find out what had become of me.We soon got back to the waggon; and by giving the patient oxen the remainder of our water, they having in the meantime cropped some grass, we were able to move forward. The road, in the dark, was difficult; but we managed to reach the camp without any accident, and were heartily welcomed by our friends.Those who wished to return had, we found, summoned a meeting, and it was settled that the matter should be decided by the majority of votes. My uncles turned the scale in favour of going on. They pointed out that it would be as dangerous to retreat as to advance.Mr Sparks urged that it would be madness to give up the enterprise. Water, he assured us, would be found at the end of every day’s march, or even oftener; and though Indians might be met, with our rifles we could without difficulty keep them at bay, as none of them were likely to possess firearms—their only weapons being bows and arrows and spears. His remarks prevailed; and it was agreed that after a day’s rest, which the cattle greatly required, we should recommence our march.Once more we were making our toilsome way across the desert. For two days we had moved on without interruption, keeping scouts out as usual on either side to give notice should any Indians approach. Reuben and I, and other young men, performed that necessary duty for several hours each day.Early in the morning of the second day we caught sight in the distance of a couple of horsemen with long spears in their hands. They galloped towards us, apparently to ascertain who we were; then, wheeling round, they quickly disappeared, and though we were on the watch we saw no more of them. When we halted at noon, we of course reported the circumstance. As it showed that Redskins were in the neighbourhood, several more men were told off to act as scouts, with orders to retreat towards the train the moment they might see any Indians, whether few or many.Reuben, Mike, and I were advancing as I have described, somewhat ahead of the train, when towards evening we entered a valley, the hills sloping away on either side of it. At the further end we expected to find a stream, at the side of which we could encamp. I was leading, Mike was next to me, and Reuben was nearest the train. The ground I was traversing was somewhat rough, and I was leaping from one rock to another, when I fell and sprained my ankle. Just as I got up—being then on higher ground than my companions, and having a more extensive view—I saw a large band of horsemen approaching at full gallop. I knew at once that they were Redskins.“Indians! Indians!” I shrieked out to Mike. “Tell Reuben to run and let our friends know that the enemy are upon us.”Mike shouted at the top of his voice, as I had desired him. I saw Reuben set off, and Mike following him. Presently Mike stopped and looked back to see what had become of me. I endeavoured to run, but found it impossible to move. Before I had made a second step, I sank to the ground.“Sure, you are not coming, Masther Roger,” cried Mike, on seeing me fall.The pain I endured prevented me speaking.Mike rushed back towards me, crying out all the time, “Come along! come along!” But move I could not.He was still at some distance from me, when, looking round, I saw that the Indians were rapidly approaching. I made signs to him to save himself, but he either did not, or would not, understand them.“Go back! go back!” I at length cried out.“Arrah! and sure, not till I’ve got you on me back,” he answered, still making his way towards me.I felt very certain that, with me to carry, he could not possibly reach the train before the Indians would be up with us, and he could scarcely have failed to know this.“Cling to me back, Masther Roger, and I’ll show the Ridskins how a bog-trotter can get over the ground;” and stooping down, he seized my arms and threw me on his back. “Now, here we go!” he cried out, and began leaping over the ground with as much agility as if he had had no burden to carry.But his efforts, as I feared they would be, were in vain. A wild whoop sounded in my ears, and looking back I saw upwards of a dozen Indians in their war-paint—their feather-plumes and cloaks flying in the air, as they galloped forward on their mustangs over the rocky ground, sending the stones and dust flying away from their heels. I expected every instant to feel one of those ugly-looking spears plunged into my back. One of the painted warriors was just about to finish my career, when I heard a loud voice shouting in an authoritative tone; and instead of transfixing me, he let the point of his spear fall, then, seizing me by the collar, dragged me up on his steed, and laid me across his saddle in front of him.Another treated Mike in the same manner, in spite of his struggles to free himself. I made no resistance, knowing it was useless to do so.The two Indians who had captured us wheeled their horses round and galloped away, and we met crowds of other warriors galloping at full speed in the track of the first. I got one glance round, which enabled me to see that the enemy were close up to the waggons, while the puffs of smoke and the report of rifles showed that my friends were determined to defend themselves. Several of the Indian saddles were emptied in a minute, but still a whole host of the savages appeared charging down on the train. Whether or not Reuben had succeeded in getting under shelter of the waggons, I could not tell. I saw no more, for my captor galloped off with me round the hill, and they were concealed from view, though I could still hear the sound of the shots and the shrieks and shouts of the combatants. I had no hope of escaping with life, and believed that I was reserved to suffer the fearful tortures to which the Redskins so frequently subject their prisoners.After going some distance the Indian stopped, and lifting me up from the painful position in which I lay, placed me behind him; fastening me by a leather strap round his body, and so securing my arms that I could not move. He had previously deprived me of my rifle, which I had hitherto held firmly in my grasp, hoping against hope that I might have an opportunity of using it. I saw Mike not far off, he having been treated much in the same manner, though not without the assistance of another Indian, who had accompanied the one on whose horse he was placed.Having secured us, the Indians again galloped forward. After going some distance, I saw that we were approaching a more wooded region than the one we had left, with a stream or river running through it; and I thought that I could distinguish cliffs, below which the river, in part of its course, made its way.I could manage to turn my head, and as I did so I fancied that I discerned another horseman coming up behind us, with a prisoner, whom I naturally feared was Reuben. Further off were numerous Indians, but whether they formed the whole of the body which had attacked the train or not I could not make out. If they were, I had great hopes that the Redskins had been defeated, although they would probably wreak their vengeance on us, their unfortunate captives. Still, in either case I felt sure that we should be put to death—though I rejoiced in the belief that Lily and my other relatives and friends had escaped; for as none of the Indians I had seen had firearms, I had good reason for hoping that our party had gained the victory. Should Mr Sparks prove equal to his professions, by leading them well and taking the necessary precautions against surprise, they might still fight their way through the hostile territory.My mind being relieved of anxiety about my friends, I was able to think more about myself and Reuben and Mike. Had we any chance of escaping? I was determined, at all events, to make the attempt; and I was very sure that they would do likewise. I resolved, could I get near enough to Mike, to tell him of my intention, and to advise him to keep up his spirits; and before long I had an opportunity.“Bedad! it’s what I have been afther thinking about,” he answered. “I’ll let young Reuben know me thoughts, too. We’ve outwitted the Ridskins once before, and, sure, we’ll thry to play them another trick.”He spoke in a tone of voice which showed that no coward fears had overcome him.We galloped on until we reached the wood, where our captors dismounted, aided by the third Indian I have mentioned. I had scarcely thought about my foot during my ride, but when I was cast loose and attempted to move by myself, I found that I could not stand, and presently sank to the ground. Mike, on finding himself at liberty, hurried to my assistance, and, taking off my shoe, examined my ankle.“It’s a bad sprain,” he observed; “but maybe these rid gintlemen will just let me get some cowld wather. I’ll bathe it and bind it up, and in the course of a few days, or in less time than that, it will be all to rights again.”I could only smile, not believing that I should be allowed many days to get well.He then carried me under the shade of a tree, against the trunk of which I reclined. The pain rapidly went off, and I was better able to consider our position, and the possibility of escape.

The fire gave more support to the schemes of Mr Sparks than did all his arguments and glowing descriptions. Mr Claxton, my uncles, and most of the settlers who possessed the means of transport, resolved to accept his offers, and at once prepared for the journey. Those who had no waggons made up their minds to remain where they were, and to cultivate the ground, which the ashes would render more fertile than before. The grass, after the first rain, would spring up and afford a rich pasture for their cattle; and the charred trunks would enable them to rebuild their log-huts and put up fences. I had reason afterwards to believe that they chose the wisest course; though at the time I was well pleased at the thought of the long journey we were to take, and the adventures we might expect to meet with.

I was surprised to find that Lily did not enter into my feelings. “I would far rather have stayed where we were,” she said. “The trees would soon have become green again, and we could have cultivated the ground as before, and the river and hills would have remained the same; though, as Uncle Stephen and aunt, and you, Roger, wish it, I am ready to go.”

My uncles had saved a bag of dollars, and the Claxtons and others were provided with cash. Therefore, as soon as the country was sufficiently cool to enable the waggons to move, two were sent off to the eastward to bring back such stores as were required; while the main body began to move southward, along the bank of the river, to a spot where we intended to cross.

Our course for some distance was to be to the southward; after which we were to turn to the south-west till we reached the prairie. I cannot describe each day’s journey. In front marched a body of a dozen men, with their axes, to clear the road. The waggons, drawn by long teams of oxen, followed; and the loose cattle, driven by the younger men and boys, brought up the rear.

While no fears existed of an attack from the Indians, the axemen generally marched a day in advance of us, to cut a road through the woods. Another party, acting as hunters, ranged on one side or the other of the line of march in search of deer, bears, or any other animals, and birds; and they contrived, when possible, to reach the camping-ground an hour or two before the waggons, so that they might get the fires lighted, and have the game they had killed cooking on the spits, in readiness for the women and children. Reuben and I undertook to hunt, since we were as good shots as any of the emigrants. We always went together, and seldom failed to bring in game of some sort.

As evening approached we made our way towards the spot fixed on for the encampment. Before nightfall the main body usually arrived, and the waggons were arranged in a circle, so as to form a sort of fortification in case of attack from the Indians: though we had no great reason to apprehend such an event at that period of our journey. No time was lost in commencing supper; and as soon as it was over the women and children went to rest inside the waggons, while the men not on guard lay down either under them or in the neighbourhood of the fires. A spot was always chosen—either by the side of a stream or near some pool—where the cattle could find water and good grass. They were then turned out to graze, under charge of a few armed men. Of course, we all kept our rifles by our sides, so that we might be ready to defend ourselves at a moment’s notice.

We met with very few Indians, and those we fell in with seemed disposed to be friendly. They saw that we were merely passing through their hunting-grounds, and had apparently no objection to our killing the comparatively small amount of game we met with. Had we shown any intention of settling, the case might have been different.

We thus pushed on for many days together, halting only on the Sabbath, to obtain the rest which both we and our cattle required. This was a day we all enjoyed. One of the elders conducted a service, and the wilderness we were traversing resounded for the time with praise and prayer.

Thus we travelled on day after day; but we made but slow progress through the densely-wooded country, having sometimes to cut our way amid the trees, though we were generally able to find a passage without felling them. Occasionally, however, we were compelled to do even that, and to drag the huge trunks out of the road, before the waggons could proceed. We had also frequently to cross rivers. When no ford could be found, we built large rafts, on which the waggons were ferried over, while the oxen gained the opposite bank by swimming. They were accustomed to the undertaking; and, strange as it may seem, we never lost any by this means.

At length we gained an open but more desert region. The ground was stony and uneven, and we had rocky hills to ascend and dark gorges to pass through. Water was scarce, and we had often to carry sufficient to supply our wants for a couple of days; while our cattle suffered greatly from thirst. We could no longer hunt in small parties, for fear of encountering hostile Indians; but we were able to kill game without going to any great distance from the camp, as we found several species of deer inhabiting those wilds.

My uncle’s waggon was one day bringing up the rear of the train; and our water being nearly exhausted, we were pushing forward as fast as the oxen could move, in the hope of reaching a stream before dark, when one of the wheels came off, and the waggon, in falling over, suffered considerable damage. Under other circumstances, the train would have stopped till our waggon was put to rights; but as most of the oxen were suffering from thirst, and many of the party had no water remaining, it was important for them to push forward without delay. We were therefore compelled to remain by ourselves; but no Indians had as yet been seen in this part of the country, and we hoped that we should escape without being attacked.

My uncles were not men to be frightened by difficulties. They and Mike, with Quambo and I, immediately set to work to do what was necessary. We unloaded the waggon, and commenced repairing the damage it had received. This, however, took us some time, and it was quite dark before we got the wheel on again and the waggon reloaded. Having been more provident than the rest of the party, we were able to wet our beasts’ muzzles, and still have sufficient water to last ourselves for a few hours.

As we wished to overtake our companions as soon as possible, we immediately pushed forward, and soon got into a somewhat more level country than we had lately been passing through; but the ground was very hard, and in the darkness we could not perceive the tracks made by those in advance. Had an Indian guide been with us, he would undoubtedly have discovered them; but we had to trust to our own sagacity, and we had not gone far when we found that we had got out of the right road. We did our utmost to regain it, but in vain. Still, believing that we were going in the proper direction, we proceeded onwards. The stars came out brightly from the sky, and we shaped our course as directly as we could by them.

While Uncle Stephen drove, Uncle Mark and I, with Mike and Quambo, marched on either side, our faithful dogs following at our heels. We kept a look-out in every direction, lest we should chance to be observed by a band of Indians, who, seeing a small party, might pounce down upon us; still, we were all accustomed to look on the bright side of things, and though we were aware of the possible danger, we were not unnecessarily alarmed. Our chief anxiety arose from a fear of not finding water for our thirsty beasts. They might hold out during the cool hours of night; but should they not be supplied with the necessary fluid, they must in a short time succumb, and dreadful indeed would be the consequences to ourselves.

When I occasionally went up to the waggon, I found Aunt Hannah and Lily awake. They kept up their spirits very well, and naturally inquired whether we had as yet discovered the track of those who had gone before.

“Not yet,” I answered in as cheerful a voice as I could command; “but we soon shall, I dare say; and, at all events, we are going in the right direction. The stars are shining brightly, and by them Uncle Stephen can guide the waggon as well as if we had the train of our friends in view. But we shall soon be up with them, I hope, and find them all comfortably encamped.”

“I trust that we may,” said Aunt Hannah, “if not, we shall find water, I suppose, in a few hours, and we shall certainly overtake them to-morrow.”

This showed what was passing in her mind. She had begun to suspect—what really was the case—that we had widely deviated from our course. One thing was very certain,—that it would be destruction to stop; so, although our oxen were beginning to show signs of fatigue, and we felt our own legs aching, we continued to move forward.

At length, about a couple of hours before dawn, we arrived at the edge of a ravine, the sides of which, though not precipitous, appeared to beverysteep, and down which it would have been madness to attempt taking the waggon in the dark. We must either stop, or try to find a passage across to the north or south. We had observed that the valleys already passed by us were shallower to the southward; we therefore turned our waggon in that direction, hoping shortly to discover a practicable path, though we suspected that it would lead us even further from the track of our friends.

We went on and on, fancying that we could discern the bottom of the valley more clearly than at first, and hoping soon to discover a sufficiently gentle slope which we might be able to descend. But we were deceived, and though Uncle Mark and I made our way down in several places, we saw that the waggon would certainly be upset should we attempt to get it down. We were almost in despair of success, for the ravine appeared to run on to the southward with equally rugged sides as at first. The panting oxen, too, could scarcely drag on the waggon, and we began to fear that they would fall unless water should be found. We urged them on, however, for stopping to rest would not avail them, and might prove our destruction.

Morning at length broke, when we saw a hill before us which seemed to be the termination of the ravine; and as the light increased, to our joy we caught sight of a silvery line of water making its way along the course of the valley. Our eagerness to reach the bottom was now greater than ever; and we could with difficulty restrain the oxen from rushing down the bank. We had to keep at their heads, indeed, to prevent them attempting so mad a performance.

On we went, till we saw before us what we had so long been looking for,—a gentle slope which it would be easy to descend, while on the opposite side the ground was equally favourable for again ascending to the same elevation as before. Putting the drag on the wheel, we commenced the undertaking; and though I more than once feared that the waggon would be upset, we reached the bottom in safety. Then, immediately unyoking the tired oxen, we hurried to the fountain-head to obtain water, while they rushed to a pool close below it, where they could more easily drink. Near at hand was an abundance of fresh grass, with which they quickly recruited their strength.

Aunt Hannah and Lily offered to watch while we lay down and took the sleep we so much required.

“I will keep a look-out all round, and if I see any suspicious Indians approaching I’ll scream loud enough to wake you all,” said Lily, half in joke, as if she were not at all anxious on the subject.

“One thing is very certain,—if they do come, we cannot run away from them,” observed Uncle Mark. “We must hope that they will prove friendly, for if not we shall have to beat them or be cut to pieces. However, we will trust to your watchfulness, and pick up a little strength to continue our journey.”

We accordingly lay down under the waggon, and in less than a minute were fast asleep.

We rested till about ten o’clock, when Aunt Hannah, as Uncle Stephen had desired, awoke us. Not a human being had approached the valley, though she said that she had seen some creatures moving along on the top of the heights; but what they were she could not make out, though they did not look, she thought, like deer.

Having taken a hurried meal, we again yoked the oxen; and going behind with crowbars to assist, we commenced the ascent of the hill. It was harder work than we expected, but, by making a zigzag course, in about half an hour we got to the top. Looking ahead, the country appeared to be pretty level, with rocky hills rising out of it in various directions, but we expected to have no difficulty in making our onward way. We had filled all our skin-bottles with water, and even should we meet with no more till the following day the cattle would not materially suffer.

My uncles were of opinion that we had crossed near the source of the stream at which the rest of the party must have stopped, and that by verging to the right we should fall upon their tracks, although we did not expect to meet with them till the close of the day, owing to the direction we were taking. They might possibly have sent back to help us; but as they had not many men to spare, it was more likely that they would push forward, expecting us ultimately to overtake them. We kept a look-out for water as we went along, that we might allow our animals to drink, and thus be able to continue our journey the next day although none should be found at the camping-ground. Still, though we went on and on, no signs could we discover of our friends. Already the sun was sinking towards the west.

I had gone on ahead, and made my way up a hill over which we should have to pass, that I might obtain before sunset a wide view around, when I saw some way before me a number of creatures moving about. They seemed to be very busy, but what they were doing I could not make out. Some objects lay near them on the ground. I hastened on, and when I got nearer I perceived that the objects were broken pieces of waggons,—several wheels, and portions of the woodwork,—while the animals, I had no doubt, were wolves, from the horrid sounds which reached me; a mixture of snarling, yelping, barking, and growling, for I cannot otherwise describe the noise made by the creatures.

Not wishing to approach closer by myself, I returned to tell my uncles what I had seen. Uncle Mark and Quambo accompanied me back, and as we got nearer the wolves looked up and snarled at us, and continued their occupation; but what was our horror, on advancing a little further, to discover that they were feeding on the dead bodies of a number of persons stretched on the ground! A dreadful fear seized us. Could they be those of our late companions? I shuddered, and burst into tears.

Yes! there could be no doubt about it, I thought. There lay those we had lately parted from in health and strength, cruelly murdered, and now the prey of the savage wolves. Our friends the Claxtons!—Dora! honest Reuben! and their parents!

Then the fearful thought that such might ere long be our fate came over me.

“Can none have escaped?” I exclaimed.

Uncle Mark advanced a few paces nearer the wolves, with his gun, ready to fire should they attack him. He was looking at a man whom the wolves had not yet torn to pieces. Apparently he was only just dead, and had probably defended himself to the last, keeping his assailants at bay.

“That man did not belong to our party,” I heard Uncle Mark cry out. “These people must have formed part of another emigrant-train.”

Quambo and I ran up to him. We then shouted together, and some of the wolves nearest to us, startled by our approach, left their prey, when we were convinced, by the dresses of the corpses, that Uncle Mark’s surmise was correct. This discovery somewhat relieved our minds. Our friends might have escaped; but at the same time it was too evident that hostile Indians were scouring that part of the country, and that we ourselves might ere long be attacked, and share the fate of the unhappy persons we saw before us.

We now slowly retreated, shouting as we did so to keep the wolves at bay, and turning every few paces to face them; for had they seen us fly, they might have been induced to follow. They were now, however, happily for us, too much engaged in their dreadful feast to take further notice of us.

Having told Uncle Stephen what we had seen, we turned the heads of the oxen away from the spot, directing our course to the right, where the ground appeared to be more even than any we had yet gone over. We agreed not to let Aunt Hannah and Lily know of the dreadful scene we had witnessed; but it was important to get as far as possible from the spot, and we determined, if the oxen could drag the waggon, to continue on all night.

“Do you think it likely that the wolves, when they have finished their horrible feast, will track us out?” I said to Uncle Mark.

“I hope not,” he answered. “Were they starving, they might do so; but only the younger animals, which would have been prevented by their elders from joining in the feast, may possibly follow us. If they do, we can keep them at a distance, for they are more easily frightened than the older brutes.”

The stars, as on the previous night, were very bright, and we were able, by them, to keep a direct course. Our chief desire now was to rejoin our friends, and next to that to find water. We, of course, as we moved along, kept a strict watch, as before; but the scene I had witnessed made me feel much more anxious than usual, and every moment I expected to see a band of Indians start up from behind the rocks which here and there rose above the plain, or to hear a flight of arrows whistling through the air past our ears—perhaps to feel one sticking in my body.

Uncle Stephen had advised Aunt Hannah and Lily to lie down in a space left vacant for them in the middle of the waggon, where they would be protected by the luggage piled up on both sides.

We had now gone on many hours without water, and our cattle began to show signs of being very thirsty. All we could do was to wet their muzzles with a little of the water we had brought with us; but our lives might depend upon our pushing on.

As we generally marched apart—two of us on either side of the waggon—we had no opportunities for conversation, and were left, consequently, to our own melancholy thoughts. Had I been by myself, or with male companions only, I should not have cared so much; but my mind was troubled by the idea of what might be dear Lily’s fate, and that of Aunt Hannah, should we be attacked, or should our cattle break down and we be unable to proceed.

The oxen went slower and slower, notwithstanding every effort of Uncle Stephen to make them move at their usual pace. At last they came to a stand-still. Mike and Quambo, who at the time were ahead, endeavoured in vain to induce them to move on. Uncle Mark and I ran forward to assist them. As I was about to do so I caught sight of a ruddy spot in the distance, away somewhat to the left. That must be a fire, I thought, and I pointed it out to Uncle Mark.

“It may be the camp-fire of our friends,” he observed; “but we must not be too sure, for it may be that of a band of Indians.”

He asked Uncle Stephen what he thought.

“The Indians generally take care to have their fires in places where they cannot be seen from a distance, so that is much more likely to be what you at first supposed,” he answered. “At all events, we will try and find out.”

“If the oxen cannot be got to move, I will go on and ascertain,” I said. “I can direct my course by the fire, and will approach cautiously. Should I discover that Indians are encamped there, I will hurry back and let you know. We must then try and make our way in some other direction.”

“I am afraid, Roger, that in such a case our hope of escape will be very small,” said my uncle in a grave tone. “Unless we can find water in some hollow in which it will be possible to conceal ourselves, at the return of day, the Indians are sure to see us. Should they cross our track, they are equally certain to come upon us before long. We must, however, hope for the best. Go forward as you propose, and may Heaven protect you, my boy.”

Without stopping to bid Lily and my aunt good-bye I hurried on, keeping my gaze on the fire, which, growing brighter as I advanced, enabled me without difficulty to direct my course for it. The ground was tolerably even, but sloped slightly downwards in the direction I was taking. The fire, indeed, when I first saw it, appeared to be in a hollow, or at all events at a lower elevation than that where we were standing. I looked back once or twice, and quickly lost sight of the waggon. So far I was satisfied that, should the people who had made the fire be Indians, they would not discover the waggon until daylight, by which time I hoped we should be able to conceal ourselves among the hills in the neighbourhood.

I hurried on as fast as I could venture to move, ignorant of what was before me. It would be useless, I knew, to attempt concealing my trail, but as I did not intend to go nearer the camp-fire than was necessary to make out who were there, I hoped some time would elapse after I had retreated before the Indians could discover that any one had been near them. Now and then, when crossing a hill, I lost sight of the fire, and had to direct my course by the stars overhead. Again I saw it before me, blazing brightly. I hoped that Uncle Stephen was right in his conjectures. The fire, however, was further off than I had supposed, and the greater part of an hour was consumed before I got close enough to see the figures moving about it.

I now crept on as noiselessly as I could, for I knew that the least sound would be conveyed to the quick ears of the Redskins. Fortunately there were a number of bushes in the neighbourhood, behind which I could conceal myself.

As I was going on I heard voices, and stopped breathlessly to listen. They did not sound like those of Indians, and presently I saw a couple of figures pass in front of the fire. I almost shouted for joy as I distinguished by their outlines against the bright blaze that their dress was that of white men. I felt sure that the people I saw before me were our friends; still, caution was necessary, for it was possible that they were prisoners of the Indians, saved from the caravan lately destroyed, only to meet with a more cruel death by torture. There might be a large party of Indians encamped.

Presently two other fires came into view, which had been hitherto concealed by the thick bushes surrounding the hollow in which the camp was formed. I crept on and on, crouching down like a panther about to spring on its prey. The voices became more and more distinct, and at last I found myself on the top of the bank, with only a few bushes intervening between me and those encamped below.

On pushing aside the branches my eyes were greeted by the pleasant sight of waggons, cattle, and a number of people; some cooking before the fires, others preparing their resting-places for the night. Not far off, at the lower part of the hollow, for it could scarcely be called a valley, was a pool reflecting the stars overhead.

Feeling sure that I saw my friends before me, I now rushed down the slope towards them. The first person I met was Reuben Claxton.

“Why, Roger! where have you come from?” he exclaimed. “We were very anxious about you, and my father had determined, should you not appear soon, to return with a party to your relief.”

I quickly told him what had occurred, several others gathering round to hear my account. They were greatly alarmed at the description I gave of the remains of the emigrant-train we had discovered. I pointed out that their own camp was formed with less care than usual; of which fact they were convinced, but excused themselves on the plea that they had arrived very tired just at dark, having had a rough country to traverse, and that their cattle had suffered from want of water since the last place they had stopped at. The way I had approached showed them how easily they might have been surprised by a party of hostile Indians.

I told them that I must be off again at once, as I was anxious to get back to our waggon, in order that we might join them without delay. Reuben offered to accompany me, and I was very glad to have him. We therefore set off immediately.

It was necessary to be careful, however, to keep a direct course; and this could only be done by watching a star which I had marked, overhanging the spot where I had left the waggon. By any deviation to the right hand or to the left we might easily pass it.

Reuben told me that many of the emigrants had become very anxious, and the account I had brought would make them still more so. Could they venture back alone, he thought they would be willing to return to the settlement.

“For my own part, I like the wild sort of life we are leading; but I should be happier if I knew that Lily and my aunt were in safety, whereas they are exposed to as much danger as we are,” I observed.

More than once I thought that we had gone wrong, as it was impossible to distinguish objects clearly in the gloom of night. I fancied that we must have performed the distance; still I could nowhere see the waggon. The dreadful thought occurred to me that some prowling Indians might have pounced upon it, and carried it off.

“I hope not,” said Reuben, when I told him my fears. “We may not have gone far enough yet; or we are perhaps too much on one side or the other.”

We went on a little further, trying to pierce the gloom. Then we stopped to listen, but could hear no sounds.

“We must have gone wrong,” I said; “for I am certain that we should otherwise have got up to the waggon by this time.”

Still Reuben thought that I might be mistaken.

“Let us shout, and perhaps they will hear us;” and before I could stop him, he cried out at the top of his voice—“Hallo! Mr Tregellis, whereabouts are you?”

Thinking it too probable that Indians were not far off, I dreaded lest the shout might be heard by them, and I advised Reuben not to cry out again.

I was still fearing that we had missed the waggon, when a voice reached our ears. It was that of Mike.

“Is that you, Masther Roger? If you are yourself, come on here; but if not, I’ll throuble you to stop where you are, or I’ll be afther shooting you through the head.”

“All right, Mike!” I exclaimed, as we made our way in the direction from whence the voice came.

He had grown anxious at my long delay, and had got leave from my uncles to try and find out what had become of me.

We soon got back to the waggon; and by giving the patient oxen the remainder of our water, they having in the meantime cropped some grass, we were able to move forward. The road, in the dark, was difficult; but we managed to reach the camp without any accident, and were heartily welcomed by our friends.

Those who wished to return had, we found, summoned a meeting, and it was settled that the matter should be decided by the majority of votes. My uncles turned the scale in favour of going on. They pointed out that it would be as dangerous to retreat as to advance.

Mr Sparks urged that it would be madness to give up the enterprise. Water, he assured us, would be found at the end of every day’s march, or even oftener; and though Indians might be met, with our rifles we could without difficulty keep them at bay, as none of them were likely to possess firearms—their only weapons being bows and arrows and spears. His remarks prevailed; and it was agreed that after a day’s rest, which the cattle greatly required, we should recommence our march.

Once more we were making our toilsome way across the desert. For two days we had moved on without interruption, keeping scouts out as usual on either side to give notice should any Indians approach. Reuben and I, and other young men, performed that necessary duty for several hours each day.

Early in the morning of the second day we caught sight in the distance of a couple of horsemen with long spears in their hands. They galloped towards us, apparently to ascertain who we were; then, wheeling round, they quickly disappeared, and though we were on the watch we saw no more of them. When we halted at noon, we of course reported the circumstance. As it showed that Redskins were in the neighbourhood, several more men were told off to act as scouts, with orders to retreat towards the train the moment they might see any Indians, whether few or many.

Reuben, Mike, and I were advancing as I have described, somewhat ahead of the train, when towards evening we entered a valley, the hills sloping away on either side of it. At the further end we expected to find a stream, at the side of which we could encamp. I was leading, Mike was next to me, and Reuben was nearest the train. The ground I was traversing was somewhat rough, and I was leaping from one rock to another, when I fell and sprained my ankle. Just as I got up—being then on higher ground than my companions, and having a more extensive view—I saw a large band of horsemen approaching at full gallop. I knew at once that they were Redskins.

“Indians! Indians!” I shrieked out to Mike. “Tell Reuben to run and let our friends know that the enemy are upon us.”

Mike shouted at the top of his voice, as I had desired him. I saw Reuben set off, and Mike following him. Presently Mike stopped and looked back to see what had become of me. I endeavoured to run, but found it impossible to move. Before I had made a second step, I sank to the ground.

“Sure, you are not coming, Masther Roger,” cried Mike, on seeing me fall.

The pain I endured prevented me speaking.

Mike rushed back towards me, crying out all the time, “Come along! come along!” But move I could not.

He was still at some distance from me, when, looking round, I saw that the Indians were rapidly approaching. I made signs to him to save himself, but he either did not, or would not, understand them.

“Go back! go back!” I at length cried out.

“Arrah! and sure, not till I’ve got you on me back,” he answered, still making his way towards me.

I felt very certain that, with me to carry, he could not possibly reach the train before the Indians would be up with us, and he could scarcely have failed to know this.

“Cling to me back, Masther Roger, and I’ll show the Ridskins how a bog-trotter can get over the ground;” and stooping down, he seized my arms and threw me on his back. “Now, here we go!” he cried out, and began leaping over the ground with as much agility as if he had had no burden to carry.

But his efforts, as I feared they would be, were in vain. A wild whoop sounded in my ears, and looking back I saw upwards of a dozen Indians in their war-paint—their feather-plumes and cloaks flying in the air, as they galloped forward on their mustangs over the rocky ground, sending the stones and dust flying away from their heels. I expected every instant to feel one of those ugly-looking spears plunged into my back. One of the painted warriors was just about to finish my career, when I heard a loud voice shouting in an authoritative tone; and instead of transfixing me, he let the point of his spear fall, then, seizing me by the collar, dragged me up on his steed, and laid me across his saddle in front of him.Another treated Mike in the same manner, in spite of his struggles to free himself. I made no resistance, knowing it was useless to do so.

The two Indians who had captured us wheeled their horses round and galloped away, and we met crowds of other warriors galloping at full speed in the track of the first. I got one glance round, which enabled me to see that the enemy were close up to the waggons, while the puffs of smoke and the report of rifles showed that my friends were determined to defend themselves. Several of the Indian saddles were emptied in a minute, but still a whole host of the savages appeared charging down on the train. Whether or not Reuben had succeeded in getting under shelter of the waggons, I could not tell. I saw no more, for my captor galloped off with me round the hill, and they were concealed from view, though I could still hear the sound of the shots and the shrieks and shouts of the combatants. I had no hope of escaping with life, and believed that I was reserved to suffer the fearful tortures to which the Redskins so frequently subject their prisoners.

After going some distance the Indian stopped, and lifting me up from the painful position in which I lay, placed me behind him; fastening me by a leather strap round his body, and so securing my arms that I could not move. He had previously deprived me of my rifle, which I had hitherto held firmly in my grasp, hoping against hope that I might have an opportunity of using it. I saw Mike not far off, he having been treated much in the same manner, though not without the assistance of another Indian, who had accompanied the one on whose horse he was placed.

Having secured us, the Indians again galloped forward. After going some distance, I saw that we were approaching a more wooded region than the one we had left, with a stream or river running through it; and I thought that I could distinguish cliffs, below which the river, in part of its course, made its way.

I could manage to turn my head, and as I did so I fancied that I discerned another horseman coming up behind us, with a prisoner, whom I naturally feared was Reuben. Further off were numerous Indians, but whether they formed the whole of the body which had attacked the train or not I could not make out. If they were, I had great hopes that the Redskins had been defeated, although they would probably wreak their vengeance on us, their unfortunate captives. Still, in either case I felt sure that we should be put to death—though I rejoiced in the belief that Lily and my other relatives and friends had escaped; for as none of the Indians I had seen had firearms, I had good reason for hoping that our party had gained the victory. Should Mr Sparks prove equal to his professions, by leading them well and taking the necessary precautions against surprise, they might still fight their way through the hostile territory.

My mind being relieved of anxiety about my friends, I was able to think more about myself and Reuben and Mike. Had we any chance of escaping? I was determined, at all events, to make the attempt; and I was very sure that they would do likewise. I resolved, could I get near enough to Mike, to tell him of my intention, and to advise him to keep up his spirits; and before long I had an opportunity.

“Bedad! it’s what I have been afther thinking about,” he answered. “I’ll let young Reuben know me thoughts, too. We’ve outwitted the Ridskins once before, and, sure, we’ll thry to play them another trick.”

He spoke in a tone of voice which showed that no coward fears had overcome him.

We galloped on until we reached the wood, where our captors dismounted, aided by the third Indian I have mentioned. I had scarcely thought about my foot during my ride, but when I was cast loose and attempted to move by myself, I found that I could not stand, and presently sank to the ground. Mike, on finding himself at liberty, hurried to my assistance, and, taking off my shoe, examined my ankle.

“It’s a bad sprain,” he observed; “but maybe these rid gintlemen will just let me get some cowld wather. I’ll bathe it and bind it up, and in the course of a few days, or in less time than that, it will be all to rights again.”

I could only smile, not believing that I should be allowed many days to get well.

He then carried me under the shade of a tree, against the trunk of which I reclined. The pain rapidly went off, and I was better able to consider our position, and the possibility of escape.

Chapter Ten.My sprained ankle—Mike’s devotion—Reuben brought to the camp—The Indians bind us to trees—The debate on our fate—I am released by Sandy McColl—Old Samson again—The secret cavern—Samson is very kind and attentive to me—His close attention to my account of the burning of the settlement, and the rescue of Lily and me when children—I recover, and Samson and I leave the cavern to reconnoitre—The Indian massacre—Sandy, Reuben, and Mike are hotly pursued—Our fortress besieged—We hold out, and beat off our besiegers—Our start—The elk.The Indians, instead of binding Mike, as I expected they would do, allowed him to come and sit by me under the tree; narrowly watching him, however, though they did not interfere with us.“Faix, thin, Masther Roger, I don’t think these Ridskin gintlemen can be intending to do us much harm, or they would not be afther letting us sit so quietly by ourselves,” he observed.“I am not so confident of that, Mike,” I answered. “We must wait till the rest come up, to judge how they will treat us; at all events, I would advise you, when you get the chance, to mount one of their best horses and gallop off. I am afraid that I shall be unable to make the attempt, or I would try it.”“Why, thin, Masther Roger, would you be afther belaving that I would go and desart you? Even if they were to bring me a horse, and tell me to mount and be off, it would break me heart intirely to think that I had left you to their tinder mercies. Whativer they do to you, they may do to me; and I’ll stop and share iverything with you.”“I deeply feel your generosity, Mike,” I said; “but you might have saved yourself and got back to the waggons, had you not attempted to carry me off, and I therefore wish you to try and escape if you have the opportunity.”Mike laughed and shook his head; and when I still urged him to escape if he could, he put on that look of stolidity which an Irishman so well knows how to assume, and refused to reply to any of my remarks.While we had been talking, the Indian I had seen following us approached, having slowly walked his horse, which had apparently been lamed. I now caught sight of the person behind him, and with much concern recognised my friend Reuben. One of our captors assisted him to dismount; and Reuben, with his hands bound, was dragged forward to a short distance from us, where he was compelled to sit down on the ground, the Indians intimating by signs that he must not move. He looked very melancholy, evidently imagining that he was soon to be put to death. I tried to cheer him up by telling him that we had not been ill-treated.“That may be,” he answered; “but I know their treacherous nature. Depend upon it, when they all eat together, and talk over the number of their warriors who have been slain, they will wreak their vengeance upon us. Are you prepared to die, Roger? We must make up our minds for that, and we may consider ourselves fortunate if we are not scalped and flayed first. I have often read, with very little concern, of the dreadful tortures the Redskins inflict on their prisoners, little dreaming that I should ever have to suffer the same.”“It is not wise to anticipate evil,” I said. “Let us hope for the best; and perhaps means may be offered us, that we do not now think of, to make our escape.”“I don’t see where they can come from,” he replied. “These fellows keep too sharp a look-out on us to give us a chance. Look there! here come the whole tribe of savages, and they will soon settle our fate.”He pointed as he spoke to a large number of horsemen galloping across the country from different directions, towards us. They halted outside the wood, and several of them appeared to be wounded; but they did not allow themselves to exhibit any sign of suffering. Having taken the saddles and bridles from their horses, the greater number led them down towards the water to drink; while six, who, from their more ornamental dresses, appeared to be chiefs, advanced towards us. Their principal man, or head chief, spoke to us; but as we could not understand what he said, we knew that it would be useless to reply. He then pointed to Mike and me, and addressed a few words to his companions. They nodded, and we were led to separate trees, to which we were bound, with our hands secured behind us in a very unpleasant fashion.Matters now began to look more serious than at first. Darkness was coming on, and our captors lighted a large fire near to the spot where we were bound, and those among them who acted the part of cooks began dressing the evening meal. They then sat down to discuss it—an operation which was soon concluded. We in the meantime were left bound to the trees, watching what was going on. After supper, a similar fire having been lighted near where we were bound, the principal Indians took their seats round it and began to smoke their long pipes, while, as I suspected, they deliberated on our fate. They were some little distance off, but the flames from the fire cast a red glow on their figures, and enabled me to observe the expression of the countenances of those turned towards me, from which, with painful anxiety, I endeavoured to learn how they were disposed towards us. Though I could hear their voices, I could not understand a word that was said.After talking for some time, one of them, whose back, however, was towards me, got up and addressed his companions. He spoke at some length, and I would have given much to know what he was saying. His spear he held with one hand; with the other he pointed, now to the sky, now to some unseen distant object, now he waved it in the air. The other Indians gazed up at his countenance, as if greatly moved by his address; but whether he was pleading for us or advocating our death, I could by no means discover. In vain I listened to catch any words I might understand.At last he brought his address to a conclusion, and sat down; when another slowly rose and commenced a harangue which was equally unintelligible to me. Still, I felt very sure that the discussion was one on which our lives depended; and, judging from the countenances of the Indians, I was nearly certain that they intended to kill us.The next speaker was even more long-winded than the first. I thought that he would never bring his address to a conclusion.A fourth man got up. His face was also turned away from me. His action was more vehement than that of his predecessors, and the tones of his voice afforded me but very little hope of mercy from his hands.While he was speaking, another Indian, whom I had not hitherto seen, stalked into the circle, and regarding the speaker with a fixed and, as I thought, somewhat contemptuous look, sat himself down among the others. His appearance evidently created a considerable amount of astonishment, little as the natives are accustomed to show their feelings. So soon as the last had ceased speaking, he rose and addressed the assembly. As he did so, it struck me that he bore a strong resemblance to Manilick, though he was much more gaudily dressed than I had ever seen that young chief.All eyes were turned towards him as he spoke, and scarcely had he commenced when I heard a voice whisper in my ear, “Trust to me!” At the same moment I felt that the thongs which bound me were being cut, and the next instant I was at liberty; but, recollecting my sprained ankle, I feared that it would not avail me. To my surprise, however, when I tried to move I found that I could do so without much pain.I slipped round the tree, when I felt my hand grasped by that of my deliverer, who, discovering that I could move but slowly, stooped down and lifted me on his back. The darkness prevented me from seeing who he was, but I felt convinced, from his dress and the tone of his voice, that he was a white man. He moved along cautiously under the trees towards the bank of the river.“Can you swim?” he asked in a low voice, “Yes—like a fish,” I answered.“Then we will take to the river at once. There are horses waiting on the opposite side, lower down. We can float with the current till we reach them,” he continued.We were not more than three or four minutes in reaching the bank, and we at once glided in so as to create no splash.“Strike out towards the middle of the river,” he whispered; “but do so as gently as possible.”I followed his directions, and found that I could swim without any pain to my ankle.“Now throw yourself on your back, and we will float down with the current,” he said.We could all this time hear the voice of the Indian addressing the assembly of warriors. So intent were they in listening to what he was saying, that they had evidently not discovered my escape.“Can nothing be done to save my companions?” I asked, thinking of the dreadful fate which might await Reuben and Mike.“Others will look after them,” he answered. “Don’t speak, lest the water should convey your voice to the shore.”After we had gone some distance he told me to turn round again and swim, so that we might make more progress.“Now make for the shore,” he said.In a short time we gained a spot where the trees grew close down to the bank. Climbing up there, he led me through the wood. On the further side I found a man holding three horses.“Glad to get you out of the clutches of the Indians, my son Reuben,” he said.“I am not Reuben,” I answered; “but I heartily wish that he had escaped. I am Roger Penrose.”“Why, Sandy McColl, I told you to try and set Reuben at liberty; though I am glad to see you, Roger,” said the speaker, whom I now recognised as the old trapper, Samson Micklan.“I should have been discovered if I had attempted to reach the two others, for they were much nearer the fire; and, in truth, I could not distinguish one from the other,” said Sandy.“Well, we must see what can be done to rescue Reuben and the Irishman,” said old Samson. “Our friend Manilick promised to plead for you and Mike, and, should he fail, to come and let me know; and he will, I trust, exert his influence in favour of Reuben, when he finds that you have got off. At all events, the Indians will not put their prisoners to death till they get back to their lodges, and we must try and set them at liberty before then. Though they have vowed to have my hair, I fear them not, for I have outwitted them a hundred times—and intend to outwit them as many more, if I have the chance. But we must not delay here, for when they find that you have got away they will suspect that you took to the river, and will scour the banks in search of you.”Anxious as I was to save my friends, I had no wish again to fall into the hands of the Indians, I therefore very readily mounted one of the horses.“If you, Samson, will go on to the cave with this young man, I will return and try to help the others,” said Sandy. “Maybe, while the Indians are looking for me, they may leave them unguarded, and I may have a chance of carrying out my object.”“That’s what we’ll do, then,” answered old Samson. “I needn’t tell you to be cautious, because I know that you will be so.”As he spoke, Samson threw himself on one of the horses, and took the rein of the third. “We shall better deceive the Redskins if we take this one with us,” he observed. “They may possibly discover that it has no rider; but it will puzzle them, at all events, if they come upon our trail, and they will be less likely to suspect that you are watching them.”“Don’t fear for me,” answered Sandy. “I’ll keep my wits about me; and if the other two can make good use of their legs, we will overtake you before long, should I manage to set them free. If I am caught, why, I shall only suffer the fate I have often thought would be my lot.”Saying this, Sandy again plunged into the wood out of which we had come; while Samson and I galloped away across the country. It was too dark to discern objects at any distance, but my companion seemed to be thoroughly acquainted with the ground. At last I saw before me a hill, rising out of the plain. As I got nearer, I observed that the sides and summit in many places were covered with trees; in others, it was barren and rocky. We directed our course towards a gap in the hillside, up which we wound our way.“Can you walk?” asked old Samson.“I will try,” I answered, imitating his example and dismounting—when I soon found that I could get on better than I should have supposed possible.He led two of the horses, while I followed with the third; but, passing amid the trees, the animals had to lower their heads to enable them to creep under the boughs.On getting out of the wood, I found that we were proceeding up a steep zigzag path, along which two people could not make their way abreast. At last we reached a narrow terrace, with a few trees growing on it. We made our way between them till Samson entered a cavern, the mouth of which would admit only a horse, or, at the utmost, a couple of persons at a time. I followed; and having gone through this narrow archway, Samson told me to stop. He then, using his flint and steel, lighted a torch, and by the flame I discovered that we were in a large vaulted chamber. On one side there were some rude stalls, and litter for horses; on the other, a couple of rough bunks, and a table and some stools, showed that it was used as a human habitation.“This is my home and fortress,” said Samson. “I come to it occasionally when tired of hunting; and I always keep here a store of provisions. At the further end is a spring of water, so that I might hold it for any length of time against a host of foes. I have never as yet been attacked, for the Indians know that they could not attempt to drive me out with impunity, and think it wiser to leave me and my companion unmolested.”I asked him how he came to know that we had been captured by the Indians.“Because I witnessed with my own eyes what happened,” he answered. “I was on the hillside overlooking the train, but had no time to warn you of the approach of the enemy, nor could I at first help you; but I saw you three carried off, and then made my way here to get the assistance of Sandy, who had remained at home, as well as the three horses.”I asked him if he thought that our friends had escaped.“I know that the Indians were beaten off,” he answered; “but whether any of the emigrants were killed or wounded, I cannot say. They continued their course, and must have encamped shortly afterwards by the side of the river. They will there have formed a strong camp, which the Indians will not venture to attack. Their road will lead them not far from this, when you can rejoin them, and I will pay them a visit.”“But I could not show my face among them without Reuben and Mike. I should feel as if I had deserted my friends, without attempting to rescue them,” I said.“A very right spirit, my lad,” answered old Samson; “but you could have done nothing, and would only have lost your life if you had made the attempt. Sandy has a long head on his shoulders, and a brave heart; and if any man can circumvent the Redskins, he can. He has a good drop of their blood in his veins, with the brains of a white man, and knows all their ways.”These assurances somewhat relieved my mind. The exertions I had made, however, had brought on the pain in my foot; and after having eaten some food which Samson gave me, I was thankful, by his advice, to lie down in Sandy’s bunk. I slept, but not soundly, for I fancied that I heard the voices of the Indians consulting as to our fate; and then, in my dreams, I saw them approaching with their scalping-knives to take the hair off my head. Such being the character of my dreams, I was glad to awake and find myself in comparative safety.Old Samson was listening at the entrance of the cave. He had, I found, the means of barricading it with stout timbers, so that no foes could force their way in without paying dearly for the attempt. I rose from the bunk, intending to join him, but he told me to lie quiet. I obeyed, and was soon asleep; and when I again awoke daylight was streaming through the entrance. I looked round, but Samson was not to be seen.On attempting to get up, I found that my ankle was much swollen, and that I could not walk. With a groan I sank back again on the bunk, and waited anxiously for Samson, wondering what had become of him. The horses were still there, munching their fodder, so he was not likely to have gone far. At last I saw him at the entrance.“Well, lad, you may get up now, and have some breakfast,” he said.I told him that I could not walk, as I was suffering severely from my ankle.“That’s a bad job,” he observed; “I intended to have moved away from this. There are more Redskins in the neighbourhood than I like, as no game can be got while they are here.”I asked if Sandy had appeared, and brought any tidings of Reuben and Mike.“No,” he answered; “for the reason I have given, they could not make their way across the country in daylight. But that is no reason why Sandy should not have succeeded. He may have set them at liberty, and concealed them and himself in some other place. There are several caves like this in different directions, which seem to be made by nature as refuges from the Indians. The only difficulty is to get to them without being tracked, as it is always a hard job to escape the keen eyes of the Redskins, although the horsemen of the plains are not so clever in tracking a foe as those who go on the war-path on foot. That makes me hope that we shall hear of our friends, though it may be some time hence.”These remarks of old Samson again somewhat relieved my mind. I then asked him when he thought that the emigrant-train would pass by; and whether he could manage to let me join it on horseback, for I thought that I could ride although I could not walk.“I much doubt whether it will pass this way at all,” he answered. “It will either turn back, or, if the leader is a man of judgment, he will conduct it by a different route, further to the south. Your uncles, Mr Claxton, and their companions are brave men, but they will not wish to encounter the savage hordes who have assembled to stop their progress on the road they intended taking.”I was very glad to hear this opinion from one who was so well able to judge rightly, and I felt more reconciled than I otherwise should have been at remaining inactive; for, as to moving, unless I was placed on horseback, I knew that was impossible. As far as I could tell, it might be many days before I could recover, as a sprain, I was aware, is frequently as difficult to cure as a broken bone; still, I did not like to keep old Samson in the cave, should he wish to go out for the purpose of ascertaining what had become of Sandy. I told him that I should not be at all afraid of staying by myself, if he could manage to close the entrance behind him.“I have no desire to show myself on the plain, or I should have a dozen Redskins galloping after me; and though I should not fear to meet twice as many, provided I could take shelter behind some big trees, I would rather not meet them where I should be exposed to their arrows,” he answered. “We must make up our minds to be prisoners for some days to come; and keep a constant watch, too, lest they should get upon our trail, and find their way up here.”“But how can you manage to keep watch alone? You will require some sleep,” I observed.“Two or three hours are quite sufficient for me; and they are not likely to attack us for the first hour or two before and after midnight,” he answered. “If they come at all during the night, it will be soon after dark, or just before dawn. I know their ways, and have thus been frequently enabled to get some necessary rest, even when I knew that they were on my trail.”“But you would surely be better for more than two or three hours of sleep; and if you will drag my bunk to the door, I will keep watch while you rest.”To this he would not agree. “You require all the sleep that you can get,” he said. “No enemy, either, is able to break in on us unawares. I have made arrangements in case of an attack, as you would have seen, had you examined the entrance. There is a thick door which can be slid across it; and in the door several loopholes, so that Sandy and I could hold it against any number of Indians who might manage to make their way up the hill.”From what old Samson had said, I fully expected that the cave would be attacked; for I did not suppose that the Indians, scouring the country, would fail to observe our tracks.The entrance was always kept closed, and we should have been in darkness had it not been for a rude lamp, fed by bear or deer fat, which stood on the table. The old hunter and his companion had stored up a large supply of dried grass for the horses, so that it was not necessary to turn them out to feed. He allowed me to sleep as much as I could, and when I was awake he generally seemed disposed to enter into conversation. He told me many of his adventures and escapes from Indians, and appeared to like to have me talk to him, and to hear all about my uncles, Aunt Hannah, and Lily.One day I began repeating to him the history Uncle Mark had given me of his and Uncle Stephen’s arrival in America. As I went on, I saw that he was listening with more and more interest; and when I described how, on reaching the village where my parents had lived, they found it burnt to the ground, and discovered Lily and me, and our murdered mothers, he exclaimed—“Did your uncles learn the name of the little girl’s mother?”“No,” I answered; “she died before she had time to utter it, and could only commit her infant to their charge.”“Strange!” exclaimed the old man. “I had a daughter, my only child, living in that village; and she, with her husband and babe, were, I had every reason to suppose, slaughtered by the savages who attacked the place. Yet it is possible that their infant may be the very one your uncles saved; but, alas! I can never be sure of that.”“But I think that you may have very satisfactory proofs whether or not Lily is your daughter’s child,” I answered, “for Aunt Hannah has carefully preserved her clothing, and some ornaments which her mother wore, and which you may be able to recognise.”“That I certainly should,” said old Samson, “for I had but a few days before parted from my daughter to proceed eastward. On hearing of the massacre, I returned; but finding the whole village a mass of blackened ashes, and being unable to gain any tidings of the beings I loved best on earth, I had no doubt left on my mind that they had all perished. Having thus no one to care for, I took to the life I have since led—which I had before only occasionally followed, after the death of my wife and the marriage of my daughter, for the sake of the sport it afforded me.”From this time forward old Samson constantly spoke about Lily; and, persuaded by his own hopes that she was his grand-daughter, he seemed to be fully convinced that such was the case. His anxiety to see her, and to examine the clothes and ornaments which Aunt Hannah had preserved, increased every day; but how were we to find Lily and Aunt Hannah? Had our friends turned back; or had they pushed forward, fighting their way successfully towards the fertile region to which they were bound? Neither he nor I could bring ourselves to contemplate what might otherwise have happened—had they been overwhelmed by the hordes of savages, and met the fearful fate which had overtaken the smaller band whose remains we had discovered?The old trapper went out every day to ascertain if the Indians had moved away from the plain below us—should he find the country open, he intended, he said, to go in search of Sandy, and those he might have rescued—but he as often returned with the information that the Indians still occupied the country. I, of course, greatly hampered him, for he would not leave me in the cavern for long together. Had he been by himself, he could easily have started at night and made his escape.Gradually my ankle regained strength, and Samson now made me get up and walk about to try it. Unwilling longer to detain him, I at last declared that it was quite well, making light of the pain I still felt when I walked, and begged to accompany him the next time he went out. He consented. “But you must not go without a weapon; and you can use it well, I know,” he observed, as he drew a rifle from under his bunk. He produced also a powder-horn, which I slung over my shoulder, and a bag of bullets. The great drawback to our place of concealment was, that although well hidden from the sight of those in the plain, we had to go some distance before we could obtain a view of the surrounding country.Leaving the horses in the stable, and the entrance open, we set out. Then going some distance down the hill, we made our way through the thick wood which covered its sides, and were just emerging into the open space, when, through the bushes, I caught sight of several horsemen galloping across the country. I made a sign to my companion to keep concealed, and crept forward on my hands and knees. As I looked out, I discovered the object of the Indians. A solitary waggon had just come into view, and they were about to attack it.I drew cautiously back, for though the Indian warriors were probably intent on the business in hand, their keen eyes might have detected me. I asked Samson if we could assist the unfortunate people in the waggon.“I fear not,” he answered. “We might kill a few of the Redskins; but unless the travellers possess a number of rifles, and make a bold stand, we cannot help them. We will, however, be ready to take a part if we have opportunity.”As the horsemen approached, three rifles alone opened fire upon them from behind the waggon. One of their number fell, but several dashed forward; while others, circling round, prepared to attack the devoted emigrants from the opposite side. The affair, which was a short one, was dreadful to witness. We should, I saw well enough, lose our lives did we show ourselves. Indeed, before we could have got up to the waggon, all its defenders were killed by the savages surrounding it; and we knew too well that those inside must, according to their cruel custom, have been put to death, whether women or children. The Indians of the plains have no compassion either for age or sex. The dreadful thought occurred to me that those we had seen slaughtered might be our own friends. It was evident, however, from his calmness, that the idea of such a thing had not crossed old Samson’s mind.After plundering the waggon of everything they considered of value, the savages set it on fire. While it was burning, and they were still gathered round it, a dreadful explosion took place, scattering destruction among them. Panic-stricken, and not knowing what might next happen, the survivors mounted their horses and galloped off. A keg of powder, which they must have overlooked, had probably exploded.“They deserve their punishment,” said the old man, “and they will not come back again in a hurry; so we may now descend into the plain, and see if we can learn who the unfortunate people were.”This was what I was wishing to do. We accordingly left the wood and made our way down the hill, towards the remains of the waggon. We had not got far, however, when we caught sight of three horsemen galloping across the plain towards us. My companion scrutinised them narrowly.“If they are friends, they have reason for their hurry; and if enemies, the sooner we get under cover the better,” he observed. “We must not now attempt to reach the waggon. Ah! I understand all about it. See! out there come a dozen or more horsemen. They must be Indians in pursuit of the first—who, if I mistake not, are our friends. Come on, Roger! they will reach the hill as soon as we do.”As he said this we retreated to the foot of the hill, and began to climb it as rapidly as we could.“But, if these are our friends, will they find their way to the cave?” I asked.“Yes, yes! Sandy knows it as well as I do,” he answered, without stopping.We were just approaching the entrance of the cave, when the war-whoops of the Indians, and their loud cries, as they shouted to each other, reached our ears.“They are making their way up the hill,” said Samson. “Get inside, lad, and prepare to close the entrance when I tell you.”The loud rustling sound of persons making their way through the brushwood was heard, and presently Sandy, accompanied by Reuben and Mike, sprang out from among the trees, and rushed towards the mouth of the cavern.“No time to be lost,” sang out Sandy. “The Redskins are at our heels!”In a moment they were all three within the cave. Old Samson was still outside, and I saw him lift his rifle and fire. At the same moment two arrows flew past his head—one sticking in the woodwork, the other entering the cavern—and just then I caught sight of the fierce countenances of half-a-dozen red warriors who were making their way between the trees. Their leader, springing forward tomahawk in hand, nearly reached Samson; when, with the agility of a far younger man, he sprang through the opening, and I immediately closed the door—the sharp blade of the weapon burying itself deep in the wood.“Now, we’ll give it them!” exclaimed Samson, as he and Sandy opened three of the concealed loopholes, through which we thrust the barrels of our rifles and fired on our assailants. Their leader fell dead, shot through the heart by Samson. Two others were severely wounded, but numbers were following them, and rushing forward with their hatchets, dealt desperate blows on the door.“You may cut away pretty hard, my laddies, before you break that in,” observed Sandy, as he reloaded his rifle. Samson and I were doing the same, and again we fired; but most of the Indians, knowing the time we should take to do that, sprang aside, and only one of them was hit.“You will find two more rifles in yonder chest,” said Samson to Reuben and Mike. “Quick! load them, and we’ll astonish the Redskins.”While he was speaking, the blows on the door were redoubled, and in spite of its strength it appeared every instant as if it would give way. Samson was, in the meantime, ramming down his charge, and again his rifle sent forth its deadly contents. Instead of firing together, we now followed each other, allowing a few seconds to elapse between each shot, thus making our assailants afraid of approaching the door. We guessed that they were collected on either side, where our rifles could not reach them.In a couple of minutes or so Reuben and Mike had found the rifles, and loaded them.“Now!” said Samson, “you two and Roger fire together; and then Sandy and I will take your places, and try what we can do.”We waited till the savages, losing patience, again attacked the door with their axes, in a way which threatened each instant to bring it down, when we all three ran out the muzzles of our rifles and fired. Another savage was, at all events, hit; but they had been on the watch, and had actively sprung, some on one side and some on the other, so that we could not be certain what execution had been done. The moment, however, that our rifles were withdrawn, as many as could attack the door leaped forward, and began hacking away with greater fury than before. Scarcely had the first strokes been given when Samson and Sandy fired into their midst, killing two of the most determined—the bullets passing through the bodies of the first and wounding others behind them. Five rifles, however, were more than they were prepared to encounter. They must have guessed that we had increased our number, for, with cries of rage and disappointment, they deserted the door and got under shelter.“Hurrah! we have beaten them,” I cried out, and was turning to Reuben to shake hands, and to ask how he and Mike had escaped, when Samson observed—“We must not be too sure that they will not make another attempt, for they are up to all sorts of tricks, and will not give in so easily.”“What are they likely to do?” I asked.“Try to burn us out,” answered Samson. “But we must be prepared, and show them that five well-handled rifles can cope with all the arrows and hatchets among them. We do not lack ammunition, and might stand the siege for a month or more.”Samson’s surmises were correct. Though we could not see the Indians, we heard their voices, and the sound of chopping, and presently a bundle of fagots was thrown down in front of the door.“Stand ready,” said Samson, “and fire, if we can catch sight of one of them through the loopholes.”Another and another fagot followed, but as yet so carefully had they been thrown that we could not get a shot. It appeared to me that they were dropped from above. The pile was increasing, and soon rising higher than the loopholes, prevented us from seeing any one. Presently we heard the sound of crackling, and the flames rapidly caught the pile.“Close the loopholes,” said Samson. “We’ll keep out the smoke as long as we can. The door is tough, too, and will stand the flames better than our enemies suppose.”We all stood with our rifles in our hands, ready for any emergency.“Should the door burn through and the cavern fill with flames, we must rush out, lads, rather than be stifled; and we may be pretty sure of knocking over four or five Redskins, if they stop to give us the chance,” said Samson, who had not for a moment lost his calm manner. “It may be the smoke won’t be more than we can bear. See! I am prepared for everything.” He pointed to a mass of woodwork, which leant against the wall of the cavern. It was longer than the width of the door, and of a height which would enable us to fire over it. “This will serve as a barricade,” he said. “When the Indians fancy that they are going to get in without difficulty, they will find themselves stopped in a way they little expect.”The crackling sound of the flames increased, and thin wreaths of smoke found their way in through the crevices between the woodwork and the rock; still the stout door resisted the fire, which we began to hope might burn itself out without igniting our defences. We could hear the voices of the Indians outside. They were, we guessed, piling up more fagots, as the others had burned down.Sandy put his hand to the door. “It’s getting very hot,” he said.“Well, then,” exclaimed old Samson, “we must get our barricade ready, should the door give way, and then crouch down behind it. The nearer we are to the ground, the less we shall suffer from the smoke.”We accordingly dragged the heavy piece of woodwork from the place where it had been standing, to the position it was to occupy, where we laid it flat on the ground. It was at the proper moment to be lifted up, and supported by stout pieces of timber, serving as props, on the inner side. It would thus shelter us, and prevent our enemies from entering.The door took even longer than we had expected to burn through; but at last, here and there, the forked flames were seen making their way through it, and after this its complete destruction was rapid. Down the upper part came with a crash, followed by the shouts of the Indians, and a shower of arrows—which, however, flew over our heads. No further attempts were made to increase the pile of fagots; our foes supposing that their work was accomplished, and that, even were we not suffocated by the smoke, we should speedily become their victims. We knew that the Indians were not likely to rush through the flames; we therefore waited concealed on either side, behind the rock, till they had somewhat subsided.Old Samson listened eagerly for any sounds which might indicate that the attack was about to be recommenced.“Now, lads! up with the barricade!” he shouted out; and with one united effort we lifted it from the ground, directly across the doorway. Scarcely was it securely fixed before the Indians, who had not perceived what we were about, leaped over the burning embers and came rushing on. Our five rifles rang out together, and as many Redskins bit the dust. The rest found themselves stopped by the barricade; and with the crowbars which we had used to get it in position we struck furiously at their heads, beating them back into the hot embers, where several of them, stunned by our blows, were quickly suffocated, or burned to death. The remainder, believing success hopeless, fled from the spot, and made their way down the hill to where they had left their horses. On this we dashed out and followed them, picking off several more. We should have pursued them further, had not their numbers made it prudent for us to remain under shelter of the wood.On reaching their steeds they mounted and galloped off. In their haste to attack us, they had not taken the trouble to destroy the horses which Sandy, Reuben, and Mike had ridden, and which were grazing at a little distance. Having caught them without much difficulty, we returned with them to the cave.“This will no longer be a secure hiding-place for us,” observed Samson, “for the Indians are sure ere long to come back and attempt to revenge themselves. They will watch day after day for weeks together, till they see some of us go out in search of game; and they will then manage to get between us and the cave, so as to cut us off. I can pretty well guess the sort of tricks they will try to play us; and it is not always easy to circumvent them.”Samson’s advice was not to be despised. The Indians, however, were not likely to come back that day, so that we might take some hours’ rest before preparing for our departure—our wish being to try and ascertain the course followed by the emigrant-train, which we would then endeavour to overtake. This, as we had horses, we might hope to do in the course of a week or ten days, even supposing that it had pushed forward without any stoppages.With such ammunition and provisions as we could carry, we started on our journey just after the sun had gone down, as Samson thought it prudent to get some distance ahead during the hours of darkness, so that, should our enemies be on the look-out for us, we might escape unobserved.Well-armed and well mounted as we were, we did not fear any ordinary band, possessed only of bows and arrows, we were likely to encounter while on the road. Our chief danger would lie in being attacked while encamped at night. To guard as much as possible against surprise, we chose a spot difficult of access, or one by the side of a broad stream, with a few trees which might afford us shelter, without concealing the approach of our foes; or else we threw up a breastwork of logs and branches, behind which we could be protected from the arrows of our assailants. The old trapper and Sandy were adepts at making arrangements of this kind, and were never at a loss. Of course, one of the party, or sometimes two, kept guard; our horses being hobbled near, as we always chose localities where there was an abundance of grass. We could thus, in case of alarm, immediately bring them in under such protection as we had formed for ourselves. They, of course, ran a greater risk of being shot than we did, but that could not be helped.I had naturally been curious to know how Reuben and Mike had escaped from the Indians. Reuben told me that he had given himself up for lost when he heard the chiefs discussing, as he supposed, what they should do with us. Each in succession made a long speech, becoming more vehement as they proceeded. He fully expected to be flayed alive, or roasted over a slow fire, or shot to death with arrows aimed so as to avoid vital parts. He had not recognised Manilick, and was therefore not aware that we had a friend in the council. The warriors at last ceased speaking, when he saw one approaching with uplifted tomahawk, which he fully expected would be buried in his brain. What was his surprise to find, instead, the thongs which bound him severed, and to feel himself at liberty! He stood for a moment or two irresolute, not knowing what to do.“Run! my friend, run!” said the Indian; “make for the river, and you will escape.”He was not slow to obey the command, but before doing so he looked wistfully at Mike, whose bonds were also cut, as his had been, and by the same friendly Indian. Mike immediately started off with him, but they had not got far when they met Sandy, who had been on the watch for them; and all three slipping noiselessly into the stream, swam across it. On landing, Sandy led them on foot at a rapid pace to a rocky hill some five or six miles away from the river. Having proceeded along it, the nature of the ground being such that even an Indian could not discover their trail, Sandy led them to a cave very similar to the one we had occupied. Here, he assured them, they would run little risk of being discovered. Sandy supplied them with game, and finally succeeded in getting possession of three horses, which he managed to carry off from the Indians. He did not call it “stealing” them, observing that they had all doubtless been taken from white men. On these they had finally made their escape and joined us, though, as we had seen, hotly pursued.I asked Reuben if he liked the sort of life we were leading.“I shall be very thankful to find myself safe in some settlement where the war-whoops of the Indians are not likely to be heard,” he answered. “I used to like to hear about such adventures as we are going through, but I confess that I consider them very unpleasant realities.”I was very much inclined to agree with Reuben. One thing, however, was certain—for the present we must make up our minds to go through whatever came in our way.Day after day we travelled on, encamping as I have previously described at night, or sometimes pushing forward during the hours of darkness and halting in the day-time. By doing this we saved ourselves the labour of forming defences, as we could in a moment mount and be in readiness to encounter a foe. We had, however, greatly exhausted our stock of provisions, and it became necessary to look after game with which to replenish our store. This we had hitherto avoided doing, as when hunting we should of necessity be separated, and if discovered by enemies we might be cut off in detail. We agreed, at last, that hunt we must; for we had all been on a very slender allowance of food, and were beginning to feel the pangs of hunger. Our horses, too, from being constantly on the move, now showed signs of fatigue. We accordingly halted earlier than usual one day, on the side of a tree-covered knoll, from which we could obtain a good look-out over the surrounding country. Here we resolved to remain for a couple of days, for, having seen no signs of Indians, we hoped to be unmolested. After putting up the framework of a lean-to, to afford us shelter at night, we ate the remainder of our provisions; and while Sandy took the horses down to a stream which flowed below us, we lay down to rest, keeping our rifles by our sides.I had been dreaming of venison, and buffalo humps, and other prairie luxuries, when I heard Reuben whisper—“See! Roger, see! There’s a magnificent deer within easy shot.”I instinctively rose to my knees, with my rifle in my hand, and levelled it at the animal. It was a fine elk, as I knew by the thick branchy horns. At the same moment old Samson sat up. Reuben, knowing that he was not so good a shot as I was, did not attempt to fire. I felt somewhat nervous lest I might miss, though old Samson was not likely to let the deer escape even if I did so. I pulled the trigger, however, and the deer, giving one bound from the earth, fell over, shot through the heart. The sound awoke Mike, and we all rushed down to take possession of our prize. We very quickly cut it up, and shouldering the better portions, carried them to our encampment. Here we soon had a fire blazing, and some rich steaks before it.Though we had now obtained sufficient food to last us for some days, yet we remained for the time we had determined on, in order to dry the venison, so that we might cure it, and prevent its becoming unfit for use. We were fortunate in killing another deer almost in sight of our camp; so, with renewed strength after our long rest, we again set out, hoping before long to gain tidings of our friends, whom Samson still persisted in believing were ahead of us. I had my doubts on the subject, but felt that I ought to yield to his better judgment.

The Indians, instead of binding Mike, as I expected they would do, allowed him to come and sit by me under the tree; narrowly watching him, however, though they did not interfere with us.

“Faix, thin, Masther Roger, I don’t think these Ridskin gintlemen can be intending to do us much harm, or they would not be afther letting us sit so quietly by ourselves,” he observed.

“I am not so confident of that, Mike,” I answered. “We must wait till the rest come up, to judge how they will treat us; at all events, I would advise you, when you get the chance, to mount one of their best horses and gallop off. I am afraid that I shall be unable to make the attempt, or I would try it.”

“Why, thin, Masther Roger, would you be afther belaving that I would go and desart you? Even if they were to bring me a horse, and tell me to mount and be off, it would break me heart intirely to think that I had left you to their tinder mercies. Whativer they do to you, they may do to me; and I’ll stop and share iverything with you.”

“I deeply feel your generosity, Mike,” I said; “but you might have saved yourself and got back to the waggons, had you not attempted to carry me off, and I therefore wish you to try and escape if you have the opportunity.”

Mike laughed and shook his head; and when I still urged him to escape if he could, he put on that look of stolidity which an Irishman so well knows how to assume, and refused to reply to any of my remarks.

While we had been talking, the Indian I had seen following us approached, having slowly walked his horse, which had apparently been lamed. I now caught sight of the person behind him, and with much concern recognised my friend Reuben. One of our captors assisted him to dismount; and Reuben, with his hands bound, was dragged forward to a short distance from us, where he was compelled to sit down on the ground, the Indians intimating by signs that he must not move. He looked very melancholy, evidently imagining that he was soon to be put to death. I tried to cheer him up by telling him that we had not been ill-treated.

“That may be,” he answered; “but I know their treacherous nature. Depend upon it, when they all eat together, and talk over the number of their warriors who have been slain, they will wreak their vengeance upon us. Are you prepared to die, Roger? We must make up our minds for that, and we may consider ourselves fortunate if we are not scalped and flayed first. I have often read, with very little concern, of the dreadful tortures the Redskins inflict on their prisoners, little dreaming that I should ever have to suffer the same.”

“It is not wise to anticipate evil,” I said. “Let us hope for the best; and perhaps means may be offered us, that we do not now think of, to make our escape.”

“I don’t see where they can come from,” he replied. “These fellows keep too sharp a look-out on us to give us a chance. Look there! here come the whole tribe of savages, and they will soon settle our fate.”

He pointed as he spoke to a large number of horsemen galloping across the country from different directions, towards us. They halted outside the wood, and several of them appeared to be wounded; but they did not allow themselves to exhibit any sign of suffering. Having taken the saddles and bridles from their horses, the greater number led them down towards the water to drink; while six, who, from their more ornamental dresses, appeared to be chiefs, advanced towards us. Their principal man, or head chief, spoke to us; but as we could not understand what he said, we knew that it would be useless to reply. He then pointed to Mike and me, and addressed a few words to his companions. They nodded, and we were led to separate trees, to which we were bound, with our hands secured behind us in a very unpleasant fashion.

Matters now began to look more serious than at first. Darkness was coming on, and our captors lighted a large fire near to the spot where we were bound, and those among them who acted the part of cooks began dressing the evening meal. They then sat down to discuss it—an operation which was soon concluded. We in the meantime were left bound to the trees, watching what was going on. After supper, a similar fire having been lighted near where we were bound, the principal Indians took their seats round it and began to smoke their long pipes, while, as I suspected, they deliberated on our fate. They were some little distance off, but the flames from the fire cast a red glow on their figures, and enabled me to observe the expression of the countenances of those turned towards me, from which, with painful anxiety, I endeavoured to learn how they were disposed towards us. Though I could hear their voices, I could not understand a word that was said.

After talking for some time, one of them, whose back, however, was towards me, got up and addressed his companions. He spoke at some length, and I would have given much to know what he was saying. His spear he held with one hand; with the other he pointed, now to the sky, now to some unseen distant object, now he waved it in the air. The other Indians gazed up at his countenance, as if greatly moved by his address; but whether he was pleading for us or advocating our death, I could by no means discover. In vain I listened to catch any words I might understand.

At last he brought his address to a conclusion, and sat down; when another slowly rose and commenced a harangue which was equally unintelligible to me. Still, I felt very sure that the discussion was one on which our lives depended; and, judging from the countenances of the Indians, I was nearly certain that they intended to kill us.

The next speaker was even more long-winded than the first. I thought that he would never bring his address to a conclusion.

A fourth man got up. His face was also turned away from me. His action was more vehement than that of his predecessors, and the tones of his voice afforded me but very little hope of mercy from his hands.

While he was speaking, another Indian, whom I had not hitherto seen, stalked into the circle, and regarding the speaker with a fixed and, as I thought, somewhat contemptuous look, sat himself down among the others. His appearance evidently created a considerable amount of astonishment, little as the natives are accustomed to show their feelings. So soon as the last had ceased speaking, he rose and addressed the assembly. As he did so, it struck me that he bore a strong resemblance to Manilick, though he was much more gaudily dressed than I had ever seen that young chief.

All eyes were turned towards him as he spoke, and scarcely had he commenced when I heard a voice whisper in my ear, “Trust to me!” At the same moment I felt that the thongs which bound me were being cut, and the next instant I was at liberty; but, recollecting my sprained ankle, I feared that it would not avail me. To my surprise, however, when I tried to move I found that I could do so without much pain.

I slipped round the tree, when I felt my hand grasped by that of my deliverer, who, discovering that I could move but slowly, stooped down and lifted me on his back. The darkness prevented me from seeing who he was, but I felt convinced, from his dress and the tone of his voice, that he was a white man. He moved along cautiously under the trees towards the bank of the river.

“Can you swim?” he asked in a low voice, “Yes—like a fish,” I answered.

“Then we will take to the river at once. There are horses waiting on the opposite side, lower down. We can float with the current till we reach them,” he continued.

We were not more than three or four minutes in reaching the bank, and we at once glided in so as to create no splash.

“Strike out towards the middle of the river,” he whispered; “but do so as gently as possible.”

I followed his directions, and found that I could swim without any pain to my ankle.

“Now throw yourself on your back, and we will float down with the current,” he said.

We could all this time hear the voice of the Indian addressing the assembly of warriors. So intent were they in listening to what he was saying, that they had evidently not discovered my escape.

“Can nothing be done to save my companions?” I asked, thinking of the dreadful fate which might await Reuben and Mike.

“Others will look after them,” he answered. “Don’t speak, lest the water should convey your voice to the shore.”

After we had gone some distance he told me to turn round again and swim, so that we might make more progress.

“Now make for the shore,” he said.

In a short time we gained a spot where the trees grew close down to the bank. Climbing up there, he led me through the wood. On the further side I found a man holding three horses.

“Glad to get you out of the clutches of the Indians, my son Reuben,” he said.

“I am not Reuben,” I answered; “but I heartily wish that he had escaped. I am Roger Penrose.”

“Why, Sandy McColl, I told you to try and set Reuben at liberty; though I am glad to see you, Roger,” said the speaker, whom I now recognised as the old trapper, Samson Micklan.

“I should have been discovered if I had attempted to reach the two others, for they were much nearer the fire; and, in truth, I could not distinguish one from the other,” said Sandy.

“Well, we must see what can be done to rescue Reuben and the Irishman,” said old Samson. “Our friend Manilick promised to plead for you and Mike, and, should he fail, to come and let me know; and he will, I trust, exert his influence in favour of Reuben, when he finds that you have got off. At all events, the Indians will not put their prisoners to death till they get back to their lodges, and we must try and set them at liberty before then. Though they have vowed to have my hair, I fear them not, for I have outwitted them a hundred times—and intend to outwit them as many more, if I have the chance. But we must not delay here, for when they find that you have got away they will suspect that you took to the river, and will scour the banks in search of you.”

Anxious as I was to save my friends, I had no wish again to fall into the hands of the Indians, I therefore very readily mounted one of the horses.

“If you, Samson, will go on to the cave with this young man, I will return and try to help the others,” said Sandy. “Maybe, while the Indians are looking for me, they may leave them unguarded, and I may have a chance of carrying out my object.”

“That’s what we’ll do, then,” answered old Samson. “I needn’t tell you to be cautious, because I know that you will be so.”

As he spoke, Samson threw himself on one of the horses, and took the rein of the third. “We shall better deceive the Redskins if we take this one with us,” he observed. “They may possibly discover that it has no rider; but it will puzzle them, at all events, if they come upon our trail, and they will be less likely to suspect that you are watching them.”

“Don’t fear for me,” answered Sandy. “I’ll keep my wits about me; and if the other two can make good use of their legs, we will overtake you before long, should I manage to set them free. If I am caught, why, I shall only suffer the fate I have often thought would be my lot.”

Saying this, Sandy again plunged into the wood out of which we had come; while Samson and I galloped away across the country. It was too dark to discern objects at any distance, but my companion seemed to be thoroughly acquainted with the ground. At last I saw before me a hill, rising out of the plain. As I got nearer, I observed that the sides and summit in many places were covered with trees; in others, it was barren and rocky. We directed our course towards a gap in the hillside, up which we wound our way.

“Can you walk?” asked old Samson.

“I will try,” I answered, imitating his example and dismounting—when I soon found that I could get on better than I should have supposed possible.

He led two of the horses, while I followed with the third; but, passing amid the trees, the animals had to lower their heads to enable them to creep under the boughs.

On getting out of the wood, I found that we were proceeding up a steep zigzag path, along which two people could not make their way abreast. At last we reached a narrow terrace, with a few trees growing on it. We made our way between them till Samson entered a cavern, the mouth of which would admit only a horse, or, at the utmost, a couple of persons at a time. I followed; and having gone through this narrow archway, Samson told me to stop. He then, using his flint and steel, lighted a torch, and by the flame I discovered that we were in a large vaulted chamber. On one side there were some rude stalls, and litter for horses; on the other, a couple of rough bunks, and a table and some stools, showed that it was used as a human habitation.

“This is my home and fortress,” said Samson. “I come to it occasionally when tired of hunting; and I always keep here a store of provisions. At the further end is a spring of water, so that I might hold it for any length of time against a host of foes. I have never as yet been attacked, for the Indians know that they could not attempt to drive me out with impunity, and think it wiser to leave me and my companion unmolested.”

I asked him how he came to know that we had been captured by the Indians.

“Because I witnessed with my own eyes what happened,” he answered. “I was on the hillside overlooking the train, but had no time to warn you of the approach of the enemy, nor could I at first help you; but I saw you three carried off, and then made my way here to get the assistance of Sandy, who had remained at home, as well as the three horses.”

I asked him if he thought that our friends had escaped.

“I know that the Indians were beaten off,” he answered; “but whether any of the emigrants were killed or wounded, I cannot say. They continued their course, and must have encamped shortly afterwards by the side of the river. They will there have formed a strong camp, which the Indians will not venture to attack. Their road will lead them not far from this, when you can rejoin them, and I will pay them a visit.”

“But I could not show my face among them without Reuben and Mike. I should feel as if I had deserted my friends, without attempting to rescue them,” I said.

“A very right spirit, my lad,” answered old Samson; “but you could have done nothing, and would only have lost your life if you had made the attempt. Sandy has a long head on his shoulders, and a brave heart; and if any man can circumvent the Redskins, he can. He has a good drop of their blood in his veins, with the brains of a white man, and knows all their ways.”

These assurances somewhat relieved my mind. The exertions I had made, however, had brought on the pain in my foot; and after having eaten some food which Samson gave me, I was thankful, by his advice, to lie down in Sandy’s bunk. I slept, but not soundly, for I fancied that I heard the voices of the Indians consulting as to our fate; and then, in my dreams, I saw them approaching with their scalping-knives to take the hair off my head. Such being the character of my dreams, I was glad to awake and find myself in comparative safety.

Old Samson was listening at the entrance of the cave. He had, I found, the means of barricading it with stout timbers, so that no foes could force their way in without paying dearly for the attempt. I rose from the bunk, intending to join him, but he told me to lie quiet. I obeyed, and was soon asleep; and when I again awoke daylight was streaming through the entrance. I looked round, but Samson was not to be seen.

On attempting to get up, I found that my ankle was much swollen, and that I could not walk. With a groan I sank back again on the bunk, and waited anxiously for Samson, wondering what had become of him. The horses were still there, munching their fodder, so he was not likely to have gone far. At last I saw him at the entrance.

“Well, lad, you may get up now, and have some breakfast,” he said.

I told him that I could not walk, as I was suffering severely from my ankle.

“That’s a bad job,” he observed; “I intended to have moved away from this. There are more Redskins in the neighbourhood than I like, as no game can be got while they are here.”

I asked if Sandy had appeared, and brought any tidings of Reuben and Mike.

“No,” he answered; “for the reason I have given, they could not make their way across the country in daylight. But that is no reason why Sandy should not have succeeded. He may have set them at liberty, and concealed them and himself in some other place. There are several caves like this in different directions, which seem to be made by nature as refuges from the Indians. The only difficulty is to get to them without being tracked, as it is always a hard job to escape the keen eyes of the Redskins, although the horsemen of the plains are not so clever in tracking a foe as those who go on the war-path on foot. That makes me hope that we shall hear of our friends, though it may be some time hence.”

These remarks of old Samson again somewhat relieved my mind. I then asked him when he thought that the emigrant-train would pass by; and whether he could manage to let me join it on horseback, for I thought that I could ride although I could not walk.

“I much doubt whether it will pass this way at all,” he answered. “It will either turn back, or, if the leader is a man of judgment, he will conduct it by a different route, further to the south. Your uncles, Mr Claxton, and their companions are brave men, but they will not wish to encounter the savage hordes who have assembled to stop their progress on the road they intended taking.”

I was very glad to hear this opinion from one who was so well able to judge rightly, and I felt more reconciled than I otherwise should have been at remaining inactive; for, as to moving, unless I was placed on horseback, I knew that was impossible. As far as I could tell, it might be many days before I could recover, as a sprain, I was aware, is frequently as difficult to cure as a broken bone; still, I did not like to keep old Samson in the cave, should he wish to go out for the purpose of ascertaining what had become of Sandy. I told him that I should not be at all afraid of staying by myself, if he could manage to close the entrance behind him.

“I have no desire to show myself on the plain, or I should have a dozen Redskins galloping after me; and though I should not fear to meet twice as many, provided I could take shelter behind some big trees, I would rather not meet them where I should be exposed to their arrows,” he answered. “We must make up our minds to be prisoners for some days to come; and keep a constant watch, too, lest they should get upon our trail, and find their way up here.”

“But how can you manage to keep watch alone? You will require some sleep,” I observed.

“Two or three hours are quite sufficient for me; and they are not likely to attack us for the first hour or two before and after midnight,” he answered. “If they come at all during the night, it will be soon after dark, or just before dawn. I know their ways, and have thus been frequently enabled to get some necessary rest, even when I knew that they were on my trail.”

“But you would surely be better for more than two or three hours of sleep; and if you will drag my bunk to the door, I will keep watch while you rest.”

To this he would not agree. “You require all the sleep that you can get,” he said. “No enemy, either, is able to break in on us unawares. I have made arrangements in case of an attack, as you would have seen, had you examined the entrance. There is a thick door which can be slid across it; and in the door several loopholes, so that Sandy and I could hold it against any number of Indians who might manage to make their way up the hill.”

From what old Samson had said, I fully expected that the cave would be attacked; for I did not suppose that the Indians, scouring the country, would fail to observe our tracks.

The entrance was always kept closed, and we should have been in darkness had it not been for a rude lamp, fed by bear or deer fat, which stood on the table. The old hunter and his companion had stored up a large supply of dried grass for the horses, so that it was not necessary to turn them out to feed. He allowed me to sleep as much as I could, and when I was awake he generally seemed disposed to enter into conversation. He told me many of his adventures and escapes from Indians, and appeared to like to have me talk to him, and to hear all about my uncles, Aunt Hannah, and Lily.

One day I began repeating to him the history Uncle Mark had given me of his and Uncle Stephen’s arrival in America. As I went on, I saw that he was listening with more and more interest; and when I described how, on reaching the village where my parents had lived, they found it burnt to the ground, and discovered Lily and me, and our murdered mothers, he exclaimed—

“Did your uncles learn the name of the little girl’s mother?”

“No,” I answered; “she died before she had time to utter it, and could only commit her infant to their charge.”

“Strange!” exclaimed the old man. “I had a daughter, my only child, living in that village; and she, with her husband and babe, were, I had every reason to suppose, slaughtered by the savages who attacked the place. Yet it is possible that their infant may be the very one your uncles saved; but, alas! I can never be sure of that.”

“But I think that you may have very satisfactory proofs whether or not Lily is your daughter’s child,” I answered, “for Aunt Hannah has carefully preserved her clothing, and some ornaments which her mother wore, and which you may be able to recognise.”

“That I certainly should,” said old Samson, “for I had but a few days before parted from my daughter to proceed eastward. On hearing of the massacre, I returned; but finding the whole village a mass of blackened ashes, and being unable to gain any tidings of the beings I loved best on earth, I had no doubt left on my mind that they had all perished. Having thus no one to care for, I took to the life I have since led—which I had before only occasionally followed, after the death of my wife and the marriage of my daughter, for the sake of the sport it afforded me.”

From this time forward old Samson constantly spoke about Lily; and, persuaded by his own hopes that she was his grand-daughter, he seemed to be fully convinced that such was the case. His anxiety to see her, and to examine the clothes and ornaments which Aunt Hannah had preserved, increased every day; but how were we to find Lily and Aunt Hannah? Had our friends turned back; or had they pushed forward, fighting their way successfully towards the fertile region to which they were bound? Neither he nor I could bring ourselves to contemplate what might otherwise have happened—had they been overwhelmed by the hordes of savages, and met the fearful fate which had overtaken the smaller band whose remains we had discovered?

The old trapper went out every day to ascertain if the Indians had moved away from the plain below us—should he find the country open, he intended, he said, to go in search of Sandy, and those he might have rescued—but he as often returned with the information that the Indians still occupied the country. I, of course, greatly hampered him, for he would not leave me in the cavern for long together. Had he been by himself, he could easily have started at night and made his escape.

Gradually my ankle regained strength, and Samson now made me get up and walk about to try it. Unwilling longer to detain him, I at last declared that it was quite well, making light of the pain I still felt when I walked, and begged to accompany him the next time he went out. He consented. “But you must not go without a weapon; and you can use it well, I know,” he observed, as he drew a rifle from under his bunk. He produced also a powder-horn, which I slung over my shoulder, and a bag of bullets. The great drawback to our place of concealment was, that although well hidden from the sight of those in the plain, we had to go some distance before we could obtain a view of the surrounding country.

Leaving the horses in the stable, and the entrance open, we set out. Then going some distance down the hill, we made our way through the thick wood which covered its sides, and were just emerging into the open space, when, through the bushes, I caught sight of several horsemen galloping across the country. I made a sign to my companion to keep concealed, and crept forward on my hands and knees. As I looked out, I discovered the object of the Indians. A solitary waggon had just come into view, and they were about to attack it.

I drew cautiously back, for though the Indian warriors were probably intent on the business in hand, their keen eyes might have detected me. I asked Samson if we could assist the unfortunate people in the waggon.

“I fear not,” he answered. “We might kill a few of the Redskins; but unless the travellers possess a number of rifles, and make a bold stand, we cannot help them. We will, however, be ready to take a part if we have opportunity.”

As the horsemen approached, three rifles alone opened fire upon them from behind the waggon. One of their number fell, but several dashed forward; while others, circling round, prepared to attack the devoted emigrants from the opposite side. The affair, which was a short one, was dreadful to witness. We should, I saw well enough, lose our lives did we show ourselves. Indeed, before we could have got up to the waggon, all its defenders were killed by the savages surrounding it; and we knew too well that those inside must, according to their cruel custom, have been put to death, whether women or children. The Indians of the plains have no compassion either for age or sex. The dreadful thought occurred to me that those we had seen slaughtered might be our own friends. It was evident, however, from his calmness, that the idea of such a thing had not crossed old Samson’s mind.

After plundering the waggon of everything they considered of value, the savages set it on fire. While it was burning, and they were still gathered round it, a dreadful explosion took place, scattering destruction among them. Panic-stricken, and not knowing what might next happen, the survivors mounted their horses and galloped off. A keg of powder, which they must have overlooked, had probably exploded.

“They deserve their punishment,” said the old man, “and they will not come back again in a hurry; so we may now descend into the plain, and see if we can learn who the unfortunate people were.”

This was what I was wishing to do. We accordingly left the wood and made our way down the hill, towards the remains of the waggon. We had not got far, however, when we caught sight of three horsemen galloping across the plain towards us. My companion scrutinised them narrowly.

“If they are friends, they have reason for their hurry; and if enemies, the sooner we get under cover the better,” he observed. “We must not now attempt to reach the waggon. Ah! I understand all about it. See! out there come a dozen or more horsemen. They must be Indians in pursuit of the first—who, if I mistake not, are our friends. Come on, Roger! they will reach the hill as soon as we do.”

As he said this we retreated to the foot of the hill, and began to climb it as rapidly as we could.

“But, if these are our friends, will they find their way to the cave?” I asked.

“Yes, yes! Sandy knows it as well as I do,” he answered, without stopping.

We were just approaching the entrance of the cave, when the war-whoops of the Indians, and their loud cries, as they shouted to each other, reached our ears.

“They are making their way up the hill,” said Samson. “Get inside, lad, and prepare to close the entrance when I tell you.”

The loud rustling sound of persons making their way through the brushwood was heard, and presently Sandy, accompanied by Reuben and Mike, sprang out from among the trees, and rushed towards the mouth of the cavern.

“No time to be lost,” sang out Sandy. “The Redskins are at our heels!”

In a moment they were all three within the cave. Old Samson was still outside, and I saw him lift his rifle and fire. At the same moment two arrows flew past his head—one sticking in the woodwork, the other entering the cavern—and just then I caught sight of the fierce countenances of half-a-dozen red warriors who were making their way between the trees. Their leader, springing forward tomahawk in hand, nearly reached Samson; when, with the agility of a far younger man, he sprang through the opening, and I immediately closed the door—the sharp blade of the weapon burying itself deep in the wood.

“Now, we’ll give it them!” exclaimed Samson, as he and Sandy opened three of the concealed loopholes, through which we thrust the barrels of our rifles and fired on our assailants. Their leader fell dead, shot through the heart by Samson. Two others were severely wounded, but numbers were following them, and rushing forward with their hatchets, dealt desperate blows on the door.

“You may cut away pretty hard, my laddies, before you break that in,” observed Sandy, as he reloaded his rifle. Samson and I were doing the same, and again we fired; but most of the Indians, knowing the time we should take to do that, sprang aside, and only one of them was hit.

“You will find two more rifles in yonder chest,” said Samson to Reuben and Mike. “Quick! load them, and we’ll astonish the Redskins.”

While he was speaking, the blows on the door were redoubled, and in spite of its strength it appeared every instant as if it would give way. Samson was, in the meantime, ramming down his charge, and again his rifle sent forth its deadly contents. Instead of firing together, we now followed each other, allowing a few seconds to elapse between each shot, thus making our assailants afraid of approaching the door. We guessed that they were collected on either side, where our rifles could not reach them.

In a couple of minutes or so Reuben and Mike had found the rifles, and loaded them.

“Now!” said Samson, “you two and Roger fire together; and then Sandy and I will take your places, and try what we can do.”

We waited till the savages, losing patience, again attacked the door with their axes, in a way which threatened each instant to bring it down, when we all three ran out the muzzles of our rifles and fired. Another savage was, at all events, hit; but they had been on the watch, and had actively sprung, some on one side and some on the other, so that we could not be certain what execution had been done. The moment, however, that our rifles were withdrawn, as many as could attack the door leaped forward, and began hacking away with greater fury than before. Scarcely had the first strokes been given when Samson and Sandy fired into their midst, killing two of the most determined—the bullets passing through the bodies of the first and wounding others behind them. Five rifles, however, were more than they were prepared to encounter. They must have guessed that we had increased our number, for, with cries of rage and disappointment, they deserted the door and got under shelter.

“Hurrah! we have beaten them,” I cried out, and was turning to Reuben to shake hands, and to ask how he and Mike had escaped, when Samson observed—

“We must not be too sure that they will not make another attempt, for they are up to all sorts of tricks, and will not give in so easily.”

“What are they likely to do?” I asked.

“Try to burn us out,” answered Samson. “But we must be prepared, and show them that five well-handled rifles can cope with all the arrows and hatchets among them. We do not lack ammunition, and might stand the siege for a month or more.”

Samson’s surmises were correct. Though we could not see the Indians, we heard their voices, and the sound of chopping, and presently a bundle of fagots was thrown down in front of the door.

“Stand ready,” said Samson, “and fire, if we can catch sight of one of them through the loopholes.”

Another and another fagot followed, but as yet so carefully had they been thrown that we could not get a shot. It appeared to me that they were dropped from above. The pile was increasing, and soon rising higher than the loopholes, prevented us from seeing any one. Presently we heard the sound of crackling, and the flames rapidly caught the pile.

“Close the loopholes,” said Samson. “We’ll keep out the smoke as long as we can. The door is tough, too, and will stand the flames better than our enemies suppose.”

We all stood with our rifles in our hands, ready for any emergency.

“Should the door burn through and the cavern fill with flames, we must rush out, lads, rather than be stifled; and we may be pretty sure of knocking over four or five Redskins, if they stop to give us the chance,” said Samson, who had not for a moment lost his calm manner. “It may be the smoke won’t be more than we can bear. See! I am prepared for everything.” He pointed to a mass of woodwork, which leant against the wall of the cavern. It was longer than the width of the door, and of a height which would enable us to fire over it. “This will serve as a barricade,” he said. “When the Indians fancy that they are going to get in without difficulty, they will find themselves stopped in a way they little expect.”

The crackling sound of the flames increased, and thin wreaths of smoke found their way in through the crevices between the woodwork and the rock; still the stout door resisted the fire, which we began to hope might burn itself out without igniting our defences. We could hear the voices of the Indians outside. They were, we guessed, piling up more fagots, as the others had burned down.

Sandy put his hand to the door. “It’s getting very hot,” he said.

“Well, then,” exclaimed old Samson, “we must get our barricade ready, should the door give way, and then crouch down behind it. The nearer we are to the ground, the less we shall suffer from the smoke.”

We accordingly dragged the heavy piece of woodwork from the place where it had been standing, to the position it was to occupy, where we laid it flat on the ground. It was at the proper moment to be lifted up, and supported by stout pieces of timber, serving as props, on the inner side. It would thus shelter us, and prevent our enemies from entering.

The door took even longer than we had expected to burn through; but at last, here and there, the forked flames were seen making their way through it, and after this its complete destruction was rapid. Down the upper part came with a crash, followed by the shouts of the Indians, and a shower of arrows—which, however, flew over our heads. No further attempts were made to increase the pile of fagots; our foes supposing that their work was accomplished, and that, even were we not suffocated by the smoke, we should speedily become their victims. We knew that the Indians were not likely to rush through the flames; we therefore waited concealed on either side, behind the rock, till they had somewhat subsided.

Old Samson listened eagerly for any sounds which might indicate that the attack was about to be recommenced.

“Now, lads! up with the barricade!” he shouted out; and with one united effort we lifted it from the ground, directly across the doorway. Scarcely was it securely fixed before the Indians, who had not perceived what we were about, leaped over the burning embers and came rushing on. Our five rifles rang out together, and as many Redskins bit the dust. The rest found themselves stopped by the barricade; and with the crowbars which we had used to get it in position we struck furiously at their heads, beating them back into the hot embers, where several of them, stunned by our blows, were quickly suffocated, or burned to death. The remainder, believing success hopeless, fled from the spot, and made their way down the hill to where they had left their horses. On this we dashed out and followed them, picking off several more. We should have pursued them further, had not their numbers made it prudent for us to remain under shelter of the wood.

On reaching their steeds they mounted and galloped off. In their haste to attack us, they had not taken the trouble to destroy the horses which Sandy, Reuben, and Mike had ridden, and which were grazing at a little distance. Having caught them without much difficulty, we returned with them to the cave.

“This will no longer be a secure hiding-place for us,” observed Samson, “for the Indians are sure ere long to come back and attempt to revenge themselves. They will watch day after day for weeks together, till they see some of us go out in search of game; and they will then manage to get between us and the cave, so as to cut us off. I can pretty well guess the sort of tricks they will try to play us; and it is not always easy to circumvent them.”

Samson’s advice was not to be despised. The Indians, however, were not likely to come back that day, so that we might take some hours’ rest before preparing for our departure—our wish being to try and ascertain the course followed by the emigrant-train, which we would then endeavour to overtake. This, as we had horses, we might hope to do in the course of a week or ten days, even supposing that it had pushed forward without any stoppages.

With such ammunition and provisions as we could carry, we started on our journey just after the sun had gone down, as Samson thought it prudent to get some distance ahead during the hours of darkness, so that, should our enemies be on the look-out for us, we might escape unobserved.

Well-armed and well mounted as we were, we did not fear any ordinary band, possessed only of bows and arrows, we were likely to encounter while on the road. Our chief danger would lie in being attacked while encamped at night. To guard as much as possible against surprise, we chose a spot difficult of access, or one by the side of a broad stream, with a few trees which might afford us shelter, without concealing the approach of our foes; or else we threw up a breastwork of logs and branches, behind which we could be protected from the arrows of our assailants. The old trapper and Sandy were adepts at making arrangements of this kind, and were never at a loss. Of course, one of the party, or sometimes two, kept guard; our horses being hobbled near, as we always chose localities where there was an abundance of grass. We could thus, in case of alarm, immediately bring them in under such protection as we had formed for ourselves. They, of course, ran a greater risk of being shot than we did, but that could not be helped.

I had naturally been curious to know how Reuben and Mike had escaped from the Indians. Reuben told me that he had given himself up for lost when he heard the chiefs discussing, as he supposed, what they should do with us. Each in succession made a long speech, becoming more vehement as they proceeded. He fully expected to be flayed alive, or roasted over a slow fire, or shot to death with arrows aimed so as to avoid vital parts. He had not recognised Manilick, and was therefore not aware that we had a friend in the council. The warriors at last ceased speaking, when he saw one approaching with uplifted tomahawk, which he fully expected would be buried in his brain. What was his surprise to find, instead, the thongs which bound him severed, and to feel himself at liberty! He stood for a moment or two irresolute, not knowing what to do.

“Run! my friend, run!” said the Indian; “make for the river, and you will escape.”

He was not slow to obey the command, but before doing so he looked wistfully at Mike, whose bonds were also cut, as his had been, and by the same friendly Indian. Mike immediately started off with him, but they had not got far when they met Sandy, who had been on the watch for them; and all three slipping noiselessly into the stream, swam across it. On landing, Sandy led them on foot at a rapid pace to a rocky hill some five or six miles away from the river. Having proceeded along it, the nature of the ground being such that even an Indian could not discover their trail, Sandy led them to a cave very similar to the one we had occupied. Here, he assured them, they would run little risk of being discovered. Sandy supplied them with game, and finally succeeded in getting possession of three horses, which he managed to carry off from the Indians. He did not call it “stealing” them, observing that they had all doubtless been taken from white men. On these they had finally made their escape and joined us, though, as we had seen, hotly pursued.

I asked Reuben if he liked the sort of life we were leading.

“I shall be very thankful to find myself safe in some settlement where the war-whoops of the Indians are not likely to be heard,” he answered. “I used to like to hear about such adventures as we are going through, but I confess that I consider them very unpleasant realities.”

I was very much inclined to agree with Reuben. One thing, however, was certain—for the present we must make up our minds to go through whatever came in our way.

Day after day we travelled on, encamping as I have previously described at night, or sometimes pushing forward during the hours of darkness and halting in the day-time. By doing this we saved ourselves the labour of forming defences, as we could in a moment mount and be in readiness to encounter a foe. We had, however, greatly exhausted our stock of provisions, and it became necessary to look after game with which to replenish our store. This we had hitherto avoided doing, as when hunting we should of necessity be separated, and if discovered by enemies we might be cut off in detail. We agreed, at last, that hunt we must; for we had all been on a very slender allowance of food, and were beginning to feel the pangs of hunger. Our horses, too, from being constantly on the move, now showed signs of fatigue. We accordingly halted earlier than usual one day, on the side of a tree-covered knoll, from which we could obtain a good look-out over the surrounding country. Here we resolved to remain for a couple of days, for, having seen no signs of Indians, we hoped to be unmolested. After putting up the framework of a lean-to, to afford us shelter at night, we ate the remainder of our provisions; and while Sandy took the horses down to a stream which flowed below us, we lay down to rest, keeping our rifles by our sides.

I had been dreaming of venison, and buffalo humps, and other prairie luxuries, when I heard Reuben whisper—

“See! Roger, see! There’s a magnificent deer within easy shot.”

I instinctively rose to my knees, with my rifle in my hand, and levelled it at the animal. It was a fine elk, as I knew by the thick branchy horns. At the same moment old Samson sat up. Reuben, knowing that he was not so good a shot as I was, did not attempt to fire. I felt somewhat nervous lest I might miss, though old Samson was not likely to let the deer escape even if I did so. I pulled the trigger, however, and the deer, giving one bound from the earth, fell over, shot through the heart. The sound awoke Mike, and we all rushed down to take possession of our prize. We very quickly cut it up, and shouldering the better portions, carried them to our encampment. Here we soon had a fire blazing, and some rich steaks before it.

Though we had now obtained sufficient food to last us for some days, yet we remained for the time we had determined on, in order to dry the venison, so that we might cure it, and prevent its becoming unfit for use. We were fortunate in killing another deer almost in sight of our camp; so, with renewed strength after our long rest, we again set out, hoping before long to gain tidings of our friends, whom Samson still persisted in believing were ahead of us. I had my doubts on the subject, but felt that I ought to yield to his better judgment.

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