"I am afraid they won't come back to-night," said she, as she strained her eyes in gazing up the river.

"Your friends on board would compel the captain to return; but he is a very good man, and I think he will be willing."

"But they may not miss me. There are very few passengers on board, and I have a state-room all to myself. I have been in it half the time, reading, and they may think I am there."

"There will be another steamer along in a few days, and you can go in her."

"In a few days!" repeated she. "What can I do for two or three days?"

"There's Mr. Mellowtone," I interposed, pointing to the pretty barge of my friend, who was returning to the Castle, as he had promised to do.

"And who is Mr. Mellowtone?" inquired my fair companion.

I explained who he was: and by the time I had finished my description, we arrived at the landing.

"There is no steamer to be seen," said Miss Ella, sadly.

"But she will come back, I am sure, even if she has gone a hundred miles, when they discover your absence," I replied.

"I wish I could think so."

"You may depend upon it."

"It is almost dark now."

"The steamers run by night as well as by day, in this part of the river, when the water is as high as it is now."

She walked down to the bank of the river, and continued to gaze earnestly up the stream, while I employed myself in loading my goods. I did not think, when I bought the barrel of flour, that I was now alone, and two hundred pounds was more than I could lift from the ground to the body of the wagon. But in the backwoods every person is necessarily full of expedients. Taking a shovel from the shanty, which Matt had built as a shelter in stormy weather, I dug a couple of trenches into the slope of the hill, corresponding to the wheels, and then backed the wagon into them, until I had a height of less than a foot to overcome. Using a couple of sticks as skids, I easily rolled the barrel of flour upon the vehicle. After loading the other articles, I was ready to return to the Castle.

Miss Ella stood on the bank of the river, still watching for the steamer. It did not come, and I invited her to return with me. She was chilled with the cool air of the evening, and reluctantly consented. I made a seat for her on the wagon, and assured her I should hear the whistle of the steamer when she returned.

"I am afraid she will not return," said she again, very gloomily.

"Of course she will. I doubt whether she will go any farther to-night than the fort, about twenty miles farther up the river," I replied. "Your friends must have discovered your absence by this time."

"No," she replied, shaking her head, "they will think I am in my state-room."

"Your mother is on board, I heard the captain say."

"She is, and my aunt."

"I am sure your mother will discover your absence. She will want to see you before you go to bed."

"No."

I had no experience of domestic life among civilized people, but I had read in books, lent to me by Mr. Mellowtone, that parents and children were very affectionate. In the stories, little girls always kissed their mothers, and said "good night" after they repeated their prayers. I thought it would be very strange if Ella's mother did not discover her absence till the next day. The young lady was very sad, and shook her head with so much significance, that I was afraid her mother was not kind to her, though I could hardly conceive of such a thing.

"Do you live here all alone?" she asked, after a silence of a few moments, as though she wished to turn my attention away from a disagreeable subject.

"I am all alone now, though it is only four days since the old man with whom I lived was killed by the Indians."

"By the Indians!" exclaimed Miss Ella, with a look of terror.

I repeated the story of the attack of the Indians; but I did not wish to alarm her, and refrained from saying that we expected another visit from them soon. I had heard nothing from Kit Cruncher since he departed, and I concluded that there was no present danger. My fair companion sympathized with me in the loss I had sustained, and asked me a great many questions in regard to my life in the woods. I told her how I happened to be there, and I think she forgot all about herself for the time, she was so interested in my eventful career.

We arrived at the Castle, and I found a good fire blazing in the room, but I did not see Mr. Mellowtone, though he had lighted it. I conducted Miss Gracewood into our rude house, and gave her a seat before the fire. Unhitching my horses, I went to the barn with them. While I was feeding them for the night, Mr. Mellowtone came in.

"I have been out into the woods," said he; "but I see no signs of any Indians."

"I don't think there are any very near us," I replied. "If there were, Kit Cruncher would return, and let us know of their approach. I have some company in the Castle, Mr. Mellowtone."

"Company?"

"Yes; a young lady."

"Is it possible!"

"She was left by the steamer. She had been to walk in the forest, and did not heed the whistle."

"This is not a very good place for ladies. We are liable to receive a visit from the Indians at any time."

"Don't say anything to her about it. It would only frighten her, and she is uncomfortable enough now," I suggested, as I led the way towards the house.

"Stop a minute, Phil Farringford," interposed Mr. Mellowtone. "I think I will not see your visitor."

"Not see her!" I exclaimed, astonished that one who had hardly seen a lady for years should desire to avoid one, especially a young lady of twelve.

"No; I think not."

"But she is young, and very pretty."

"So much the worse. It would revive old associations in my mind which are not pleasant. I will tell you more about that another time. But the steamer will return for the young lady—will it not?"

"Of course it will; but she thinks her friends in the boat will not discover her absence before morning, for she occupied a state-room alone."

"If the boat comes in the night, we shall hear her whistle. You and I can sleep in the block house, and your visitor can have the Castle all to herself."

"Very well."

"Now go and attend to her wants, and I will smoke my pipe in the field. It would not be polite to smoke in the presence of a lady," continued Mr. Mellowtone, as he left me.

He disappeared behind the building, leaving the aroma of his pipe after him. I thought his conduct was very strange; but then I had always regarded him as a singular man. He had never gone to the landing when a steamer arrived. If he wanted any stores, or wished to send to St. Louis for anything, he always commissioned Matt or me to do his business for him. He had never whispered a word in my hearing in regard to his past history, though he took a great interest in me.

I went into the Castle, and found that Miss Ella was as comfortable as the circumstances would permit. I put some pitch wood on the fire, which made the room light enough to enable one to read in any part of it. I prepared some supper, of which she ate very sparingly, though when, like an accomplished housekeeper, I apologized for the fare, she declared that it was very good.

I had to unload the wagon; but the barrel of flour was still too much for me, and I asked Mr. Mellowtone to help me, and he came to the front of the Castle for that purpose. I lighted a pitch-wood torch, and went out. Miss Ella followed me, and insisted upon holding the torch, when I began to thrust one end of it into the ground.

Mr. Mellowtone could not help seeing her; and when I was ready to roll down the barrel of flour on the skids, I saw that he was gazing at her very intently.

"What is this young lady's name, Phil Farringford?" he asked, in a low tone.

"Ella Gracewood," I replied.

"My daughter!" exclaimed he, with deep emotion, as he sprang towards her.



CHAPTER X.

IN WHICH PHIL VISITS PARADISE, AND FIRES AT AN INDIAN.

Ella raised the torch, and gazed earnestly into the face of Mr. Mellowtone.

"Father!" exclaimed she, springing into his arms.

I took the torch from her hand, utterly confounded by the scene. I could not see how Mr. Mellowtone could be the father of Miss Gracewood, for I knew enough of the customs of society to be aware that the daughter bore the parent's name. They wept and sobbed in each other's arms, and I was so touched that I could not help crying, too.

"You are but little changed, Ella," said the father. "Only a little taller."

He stepped back and gazed at her, as if to note the change which time had wrought in her.

"And you don't look any older than when we parted; how well I remember it!" replied Ella, her pretty face lighted up with joy. "Only your clothes are different."

Mr. Mellowtone wore the costume of the woods—a blue hunting-shirt, or frock, over pants stuffed into the tops of his boots, with a felt hat.

"I suppose, if I wore my black clothes, you would see no change at all in me," replied the father. "But I will help you unload your flour, Phil Farringford."

"I am in no hurry," I answered.

"Let us do it at once."

I handed the torch to Ella again, and we rolled the heavy barrel to the ground.

"How funny it looks to see you doing such work, father!" said she, laughing.

"But I am my own cook and my own servant. I chop my own wood, and shoot my own dinner. You shall go to my island home to-morrow, and I think we shall be very happy there."

"You needn't do anything more, Mr. Mellowtone," I interposed, when he was going to help unload the rest of the goods. "You can go into the house, and talk with your daughter."

"Why do you call him Mr. Mellowtone?" asked Ella. "That is not his name."

"It is the name by which I am known here in the forest," added he.

"But your name is Henry Gracewood."

"And you may call me so, Phil Farringford, in future," said Mr. Mellowtone. "My own name sounds strange to me now. I changed it to escape impertinent questions which might possibly be put to me."

Father and daughter entered the Castle, and seated themselves before the blazing fire. I rolled the barrel of flour into the store-room, between the house and the barn. Disposing of the rest of the articles I had bought in their proper places, my work was finished for the night.

"I will go to the block house now, Mr. Gracewood," I remarked, not wishing to intrude myself upon the happy father and child in the Castle.

"No, Phil Farringford," replied he; "I shall have no secrets from you after this, for you have learned enough to make you desire to know more."

"I don't wish to intrude, sir."

"Sit down, Phil Farringford. Now Matt Rockwood is gone, I shall regard you both as my children," continued Mr. Gracewood, with more sprightliness than I had ever seen him exhibit before.

I put some more pitch wood on the fire, and seated myself opposite the father and daughter, where I could see the glowing faces of both.

"Now, Ella, tell me how you happen to be so far from St. Louis," said Mr. Gracewood.

"We were going to Portland, Oregon. Mr. Sparkley failed in business, and lost all his property," replied she.

"Mr. Sparkley is my brother-in-law, Phil," added Mr. Gracewood. "And you are going with him, Ella?"

"Yes; Mr. Sparkley has a good chance to go into business there."

"Is your—is your mother with him?" asked Mr. Gracewood, with some embarrassment.

"She is."

I was not a little puzzled by what I heard. My good friend spoke of the mother of Ella, and I knew that she was his daughter. The mother, therefore, was his wife, as I reasoned out the problem; but I could not understand how he happened to be living in the backwoods, away from her and his child. Mr. Gracewood was silent for a time, and I began to realize that there was something unpleasant in his family relations, though the matter was incomprehensible to me.

"I suppose your mother does not speak very kindly of me," said the father, at last, with considerable emotion.

"I never heard her speak an unkind word of you, father," replied Ella, promptly; and at the same time her eyes filled with tears.

"I am glad to hear that."

"It is true, father," added the daughter, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"Don't cry, Ella; all may yet be well. Perhaps I was to blame, in part."

"You will see mother when she comes back in the steamer—won't you, father?" pleaded she.

"She may not wish to see me."

"I know she will be glad to see you."

Mr. Gracewood was moody and agitated again. I saw that he was struggling with his feelings, and I hoped that the gentle words of his daughter would lead to a reconciliation. She seemed like an angel of peace to me, as she threw oil upon the troubled waters. But I felt like an intruder in such a scene, and I left the Castle on the pretence of attending to the horses. I did not return, feeling that I was not needed in such an interview. I made up a bed in the block house, and was about to turn in, when Mr. Gracewood joined me. He told me he had attended to all the wants of his daughter, and that she would sleep in the Castle.

"I know you were astonished at what you heard, Phil Farringford," said he, as we lay down in the block house.

"I was, sir, and I felt very bad when your daughter wept."

"I am afraid, from what Ella says, that I am quite as much to blame as her mother. Indeed, I had begun to think before that the fault was not all on her side. When my father died, he left a handsome fortune, which was divided between my brother and myself. I was educated at one of the best colleges in the west, and intended to study the profession of law; but the death of my father placed sufficient wealth in my possession to enable me to live in luxury without any exertion. I was married, and for a few years lived very happily.

"I had always been very fond of fishing and hunting, and while in college I spent all my vacations in camp, on the prairie or in the forest. After I was graduated, I used to devote two or three months of the year to these pursuits. When I was married, I was not willing to forego this luxury,—for such it was to me,—and without going into the painful details, this subject became a source of difference between us. I thought my wife was unreasonable, and she thought the same of me. Six years ago she told me, if I went on my usual excursion, she would leave me, never to return. I could not believe she was in earnest. I had reduced the period of my absence to six weeks, and when I returned found my house closed. Mrs. Gracewood was at the residence of her brother, Mr. Sparkley. I sent her a note, informing her of my return.

"She wrote me in reply, that if I would promise to abandon my annual hunting trip, or take her with me, she would come back. I replied that I would travel with her wherever she desired to go, and at any time except in June and July, and that a woman was out of place in a camp of hunters. She positively refused to return or to see me on any other than her own conditions. I met Ella every week at my own house, where she came in charge of a servant. Neither of us would yield, and life was misery to me. The next spring I placed all my property in the hands of my brother, with instructions to pay my wife an annuity of three thousand dollars a year, and made a will in favor of my child.

"I had been to this region before, and hunted upon the island where I now live. To me it was a paradise, and I determined to spend the rest of my days there. I felt that I had been robbed of all the joys of existence in the love of my wife and child. Taking the materials for my house, furniture, a piano, and my library, with a plentiful supply of stores, I came up the river in a steamer, and have lived here ever since."

"But didn't you wish to see your daughter?" I asked.

"Very much; but I was afraid that the sight of her would break down my resolution, and induce me to yield the point for which I had contended. A kind Providence seems to have sent my child to me, to open and warm my heart."

"Do you still think you were right?" I asked.

"I do; my annual hunt was life and strength to me for the whole year. I thought my wife's objections were unkind and unreasonable; but I believe now, since I have seen Ella, that my manner was not conciliatory; that I was arbitrary in my refusal. Perhaps, if I had been kind and gentle, and taken the pains to convince her that my health required the recreation, she would have withdrawn her objections. Quarrels, Phil Farringford, oftener result from the manner of the persons concerned than from irreconcilable differences."

I went to sleep, but I think it was a long night to Mr. Gracewood. When I waked he had left the block house; but I found him with Ella, at sunrise, on the bank of the river. He had called her up, and was going to start at that early hour for Paradise, as he called his island. He invited me to go up as soon as I could, declaring that there was no danger from the Indians so long as Kit did not return. I was sorry to lose my pretty visitor so soon; but she was as impatient to see the home of her father as he was to have her do so.



I watched the beautiful boat as Mr. Gracewood pulled up the stream; but I trembled when I considered the danger of losing my neighbors, for Ella would not think of remaining long in such a lonely region. I took care of the horses, and turned them out to feed on the new grass, believing that they would be better able to take care of themselves in my absence if the Indians visited the clearing. After breakfast, I walked down to the landing, where I had a boat, as starting from there would save me the labor of paddling a mile against the current. I soon reached the island, and landed upon the lower end. I had taken my rifle with me, so as to bring down any game I happened to see.

As I walked up the slope of the hill, I discovered in the water, on the north side of the island, a couple of Indian dugouts. I was alarmed, and hastened with all speed to the house of my good friend. I heard the music of his piano, and was assured that the Indians had not yet done any mischief. I went up to the door, which was wide open. Mr. Gracewood sat at the instrument, with his pipe in his mouth, inspired by the melody he was producing. At the same instant I perceived the head of an Indian at a window behind the pianist. I saw him raise a rifle, as if to take aim. As quick as my own thoughts, I elevated my own piece and fired.



CHAPTER XI.

IN WHICH PHIL ENGAGES IN THE PURSUIT OF THE INDIANS.

The shot which I fired was instantly followed by a fierce and savage yell. Until this moment the invaders had been creeping like cats up to the house, and Mr. Gracewood and Ella had no suspicion of their presence. In coming up the river I had crossed to the opposite side by a diagonal course, partly to shorten the distance, and partly to avoid a strong current, which swept in close to the shore above the mouth of Fish Creek. The Indians must have been making the passage at the same time; but the island was between them and me, so that I could not see them.

They belonged to the same band that had attacked us at the Castle. The fact that they had their dugouts with them assured me they had come down Crooked River, the next stream above the Fish, on our side of the Missouri. I concluded that they intended to renew the attack upon the Castle, and had come in their boats so that they could approach on the water side of the farm. They knew Mr. Gracewood very well, and meant to plunder him first, for his share in the occurrences of the last week.

I could form no idea of the number of Indians on the island. I judged that there were but few, for I could see only two dugouts on the bank of the river. The savage at whom I had fired was in the act of stealing in at the window. He had but just raised his head, and was the only one I could see. His companions were near him, however, as I soon learned from the yell they uttered.

Mr. Gracewood's house was large enough to contain two rooms below, and two sleeping apartments in the attic. The front room, on the south side of the building, was nearly half filled by a Chickering's grand piano—a magnificent instrument, which was the joy and solace of the recluse in his self-imposed exile. I had often sat for hours, while he played upon it, listening to the wonderful melody he produced. He was an enthusiast in music, and when he played he seemed to be inspired. Almost invariably his pipe was in his mouth when seated at the instrument, and I supposed his two joys afforded him a double rapture. I used to think, if it had been my case, I could have dispensed with the pipe, for it seemed like adding gall to honey.

The grand piano was a powerful instrument, and I had heard its tones before I landed, and I listened to them with pleasure until my attention was attracted by the sight of the dugouts. The front door was open, and Mr. Gracewood glanced at me as I appeared at the door, but he did not suspend his rapturous occupation. Behind him stood Ella, enjoying the music; and both were totally unconscious of the deadly peril that menaced them. At the same instant I discovered the head of the Indian. He had evidently surveyed the interior of the room before, and he did not see me. I fired, and he dropped. His companions yelled, and Ella uttered a scream of terror. She was beside herself with fear, and apparently thinking the house was full of Indians, she rushed out at the open door as I entered. Mr. Gracewood seized his rifle, and a revolver which hung on the wall.

I loaded my piece without delay, and followed the recluse out of the house. I heard him fire before I overtook him. The plan of the savages failed as soon as they were discovered, for they were too cowardly to stand up before the rifles of the white man. As I hastened after Mr. Gracewood, I glanced at the outside of the window through which I had fired at the Indian. I supposed I had killed him, but his body was not there. A terrible scream from Ella, followed by a cry of anguish from her father, startled me at this moment, and I ran with all speed in the direction from which the sounds came. Passing beyond the house, I discovered four Indians in full retreat. Two of them were dragging the shrieking Ella over the ground towards the point on the river where the dugout lay. My blood ran cold with horror as I realized that they had captured the fair girl.

The poor child, in her terror, had run away from the house to escape the savages, who, she supposed, were in it, but only to encounter them where we could not prevent her capture. The agony of her father was fearful. He groaned in the heaviness of his soul. We could not fire upon the Indians without danger of hitting Ella, whom her captors cunningly used to protect their own bodies from our bullets.

Mr. Gracewood ran, but his limbs seemed to be partially paralyzed by the agony of his soul. It was but a short distance to the river, and before we could overtake the Indians they had dragged their prisoner into one of the dugouts, and pushed off from the shore. I passed the poor father, but reached the bank of the river too late to be of any service to Ella. There were two Indians in each boat. They had gone but a few rods before a bullet whistled near my head, and I retreated to the shelter of a tree until Mr. Gracewood joined me.



"Heaven be merciful to me and to her!" groaned he, pressing both hands upon his throbbing head. "What shall we do, Phil Farringford? Tell me, for I am beside myself."

"Let us take your barge and follow them."

At that moment the shrill whistle of a steamer echoed over the island. The sound came from up the river, and I was satisfied that it was the boat in which Ella had been a passenger, returning for her.

"It will be a sad moment to her mother when she hears what has become of Ella," groaned Mr. Gracewood.

"Let us get into your boat as quick as possible, and meet the steamer as she comes down," said I.

We ran to the landing-place at the lower end of the island, and embarked in the barge. Mr. Gracewood rowed with all his might up the stream.

"Do you see the dugouts, Phil Farringford?" he asked, after he had pulled to the upper end of the island.

"I can just see them. They are making for Crooked River."

"Do you see the steamer?"

"She is not in sight yet."

The mouth of Crooked River was half a mile above Paradise Island. Its head waters were in the Indian country, but the most of its course was through a more level region than that through which the two branches of the Fish flowed, though the mouths of the two were not more than a couple of miles apart. Crooked River was, therefore, practicable for boats, while there were frequent rapids in Fish Creek and its tributaries.

"There's the steamer," said I, after we had gone a short distance farther.

"And where are the dugouts?"

"They have gone into Crooked River."

"Can the people in the steamer see them?" asked the anxious father.

"No," I replied, sadly.

Mr. Gracewood continued to pull with all his might, and in silence, till we came within hail of the steamer.

"Hold on!" I shouted, making violent gestures with my arms.

The captain immediately recognized me, and the wheels of the steamer stopped. Mr. Gracewood pulled the barge up to the steamer, and we went on board.

"Where is the young lady we left at your wood-yard?" demanded the captain, very much excited, as I stepped on deck.

"She was captured by the Indians less than an hour ago," I replied, breathless with emotion. "They have taken her up into Crooked River. Do put your boat about and chase them."

"Captured by the Indians!" exclaimed the captain, aghast at the intelligence.

"Will you put about, and follow them, captain?" interposed Mr. Gracewood.

"He is Ella's father," I added.

"I am," said he.

The captain directed the pilot to start the steamer, and head her up the river, as we dragged the barge on deck.

"But we can't go up these small streams," he added.

"The Indians cannot have gone far, and the water is deep for several miles," replied Mr. Gracewood.

"I will do the best I can. We have a detachment of troops which I am to land at your yard, Phil," continued the captain.

"I'm glad to hear that. The Indians will give us no peace until they have been punished for the mischief they have done."

"Did you say this gentleman was Ella's father?" asked the captain, pointing to Mr. Gracewood, who had gone to the bow of the boat, and was on the lookout for the Indians.

I told him all that had transpired since we met the evening before, including the capture of Ella.

"If he is Ella's father, his wife is on board," said the captain. "I suppose I must tell her what has happened to her daughter; but I don't like to do it."

As he left me to perform this unpleasant duty, I saw two ladies and three gentlemen, two of them officers, coming down the steps from the boiler deck. I inferred that one of these ladies was the mother of Ella. She had evidently received an intimation that something had occurred to her daughter, for she was very much disturbed.

"What has happened, Captain Davis? Where is Ella?" she demanded, in broken tones.

"I am sorry to say that the news is not as pleasant as I could wish," replied the captain.

"Where is she?" cried Mrs. Gracewood.

"Her father is here, and——"

"Her father!" exclaimed the anxious mother.

Mr. Gracewood, whose attention was attracted by the sound of her voice, came up to the group, and was instantly recognized by his wife.

"O, Henry!" gasped she. "Forgive me!"

"Nay, I ask to be forgiven," he replied, choking with emotion.

Without any explanation or terms whatever, the reconciliation seemed to be perfect.

"This must be a sad meeting, Emily, for I fear that Ella is lost to us."

"Where is she?" demanded Mrs. Gracewood.

"In the hands of the Indians," replied the suffering father.

"O, mercy! mercy!" groaned the poor mother. "They will kill her!"

"Let us hope not," replied Mr. Gracewood, struggling to repress his emotions.

But this intelligence was too heavy for the strength of the poor lady, and she was borne fainting up the stairs to the saloon. Mr. Gracewood assisted in this duty, and I was left to give the military officers the information they needed. The steamer had already entered Crooked River, and a leadman was calling out the depth of water.

"There they are!" I cried, when the boat turned a sharp bend in the river, as I discovered the two dugouts paddling up the stream.

"We will make short work of them," replied Lieutenant Pope, who was in command of the detachment of soldiers sent down for our relief.

The Indians saw the steamer, and immediately made for the shore, where they landed.



CHAPTER XII.

IN WHICH PHIL TAKES DELIBERATE AIM AT ONE OF THE CAPTORS OF ELLA.

"What is your name, young man?" said Lieutenant Pope to me.

"Phil Farringford, sir."

"Are you acquainted with the country in this vicinity?"

"Yes, sir; I have been over it many times."

"Then you can act as a guide," added the officer, who had collected his force on the forward deck, in readiness to disembark them.

Presently the steamer reached the point at which the Indians had landed. The dugouts were hauled up on the shore; but we could see nothing of the savages, who had disappeared in the forest, half a mile from the stream, where the land began to rise.

"Can we make a landing here?" asked the captain.

"You can," I replied.

"Do so, captain," added Lieutenant Pope.

"I wouldn't land here," I interposed.

"Why not?"

"This boat can go three miles up the river, sure, and perhaps five. The Indians must travel up stream in order to escape you. If you go up two miles farther, you can head them off."

"Keep her a-going, captain," added the officer.

"Two or three miles east of us is Big Fish Creek. The Indians can't get across below us without swimming."

"Then we shall have them between these two streams."

"Of course it is possible for them to get across the Big Fish, but it won't be very easy, unless they get rid of their prisoner."

"How far is it across the country to the creek?" asked the lieutenant.

"About three miles here. Crooked River twists round in a half circle."

"You may be gone a week, Lieutenant Pope," interposed the captain. "I can't wait here a great while."

"You need not wait an hour after you have landed my force," replied the officer. "But you must take my stores down to the landing at the wood-yard. I will send a sergeant and ten men to take charge of them."

The campaign, it appeared, was to be commenced at this point, and I was to guide the soldiers to the Indian village north of our settlement. Mr. Gracewood soon appeared on the forward deck, and the plan was explained to him. His wife was a little better, and he was anxious to join in the pursuit of the savages. I tried to prevail upon him to go down to the landing with the soldiers; but he was resolute, and declared that he would follow the Indians till he recovered his daughter.

"One of us should go down with the soldiers, and take care of Mrs. Gracewood; for I suppose she no longer thinks of going to Oregon," I said.

"Why will you not go, Phil Farringford?" he replied.

"I am to act as the guide for the soldiers who pursue the Indians."

"I will guide them," added Mr. Gracewood.

"Either of you," interposed the lieutenant.

I was anxious to go with the soldiers myself, and to have a hand in capturing the miscreants who had carried off Ella; but her father had a stronger claim upon this duty, and I yielded. Two miles above the point where we had passed the dugouts, the steamer made a landing. After I had explained to Lieutenant Pope the nature of the country, and the localities of the streams, he decided to take only half his force with him, and to send the other half to the landing, with instructions to march up the Little Fish towards the Indian village. The two detachments would come together on the river before reaching their final destination.

The soldiers who were to pursue the Indians landed, and the steamer started again. It was about noon when we reached the landing at the Castle. The captain, who had been detained so long by the events narrated that he was impatient to be on his voyage up the river again, hurried the soldiers on shore. Mrs. Gracewood bade adieu to her brother and his wife, who proceeded on their long journey. It was hard to leave without knowing the fate of poor Ella, but the circumstances were imperative. I conducted Mrs. Gracewood to the shore, and the steamer departed.

The poor mother was in a state bordering on frenzy. Her anxiety and suspense were hardly endurable. I went up to the Castle, caught the horses, harnessed them to the wagon, and conveyed her and her trunks to the house. In the mean time the soldiers had marched up to the clearing, and decided to pitch their tents near the block house, for they were not to start for the upper country till the next morning, lest the Indians should be alarmed before the other force could reach the place of meeting.

The troops hauled their tents and provision to the camp ground with my team; and the scene at the clearing was vastly more lively than I had ever before seen there. Mrs. Gracewood could not stay in the Castle, and she joined me in the field. I said all that I could to comfort and console her. I know not how many times she asked me whether I thought the savages would kill her daughter. I did not believe they would.

"Why should they, Mrs. Gracewood?" I reasoned. "They know very well that such a murder would bring a terrible vengeance upon them. Before this time they have seen that the soldiers are on their track."

"Why should they carry her off, then?" asked the poor mother, wiping away the tears that so frequently blinded her.

"As a prisoner, alive and well, she may be of great value to her captors. They may procure a large ransom for her, or they may protect themselves by having her in their power. To kill her would bring nothing but disaster to them."

"But they will at least abuse her."

"They may compel her to travel too fast for her strength, for the soldiers will keep them moving at a rapid rate. Wasn't it very singular that she was left behind last night?" I asked, wishing to change the current of her thoughts a little, if possible.

"It seems strange now. I did not think of such a thing as that she was not on the steamer. I supposed she was in her state-room reading till evening. Her room was lighted, as usual; and when I retired, as the light seemed to assure me she was there, I thought I would not disturb her. The steamer stopped at the fort. She did not appear at breakfast, and I went to her room. I was frightened when I saw that it had not been occupied, and I ran to the captain. Inquiry proved that she had not been seen since we left this landing. I was told that people lived here, and that she would not suffer. As soon as the freight was unloaded, the steamer returned."

While I was talking with her, the shrill screaming of a steamboat whistle assured me I had another customer for wood. Slinging my rifle over my shoulder,—for in these troublous times it was not safe to go unarmed,—I rode old Firefly down to the landing. I sold twenty cords of cotton-wood, and put eighty dollars into my pocket. I told the captain all the news, while the hands were loading the fuel; and the steamer went on her winding way up the river. In a short time she disappeared beyond the bend. I was about to mount my horse, and return to the Castle, when I discovered a dugout in the distance cautiously stealing down the great river, under the shadow of the bank. It contained two Indians; but I was thrilled with excitement when I discovered a young lady seated between them.

It was Ella Gracewood.

I was in a clump of trees, where I had fastened Firefly, and the savages could not see me. I unslung my rifle, and satisfied myself that it was in condition for use. Breathless with interest and anxiety, I watched the dugout. I realized that the Indians had doubled on the soldiers in pursuit of them by returning to their boats, and coming down Crooked River. They evidently intended to ascend the Fish River. Aware that the troops were in hot pursuit of them, I could understand that their only solicitude was to escape with their prisoner, whose presence was a sort of guarantee of their own safety.

I hardly dared to breathe, lest the savages should discover me. I crouched behind a bush, and watched the progress of the enemy, as they rounded the point, and paddled up the Fish River. I could not make up my mind what to do. If I went up to the camp to inform the soldiers of what I had seen, I should lose sight of the dugout. I expected every moment to see the other two Indians come round the point in the second dugout, but they did not appear.

As the savages ascended the stream, I crawled out of my hiding-place. Mr. Gracewood's barge had been left at the lauding by the steamer, and I launched it as the dugout disappeared beyond a bend in the creek. I rowed with the utmost caution up the stream, fearful that the quick ear of the Indians might detect the sound of the oars. I took the precaution to muffle the oars, using an old coat I found in the boat for the purpose. At the bend where I had lost sight of the enemy, I held the barge by an overhanging branch, until I had satisfied myself that it was safe to proceed. The dugout was not in sight, and I continued to pull up the stream, pausing at every turn to take an observation.

As it was not safe for me to go forward while the dugout could be seen, I had not obtained another view of it when I reached the junction of the Big and Little Fish Creeks. As the soldiers were between the former and Crooked River, I knew the fugitives would not take that branch, and I confidently pulled up the Little Fish. Two miles above the junction the rapids commenced, and boats could go no farther in this direction. Unfortunately the stream was too straight to suit my purpose, and seeing the dugout half a mile ahead of me, I landed, and determined to walk in the path on the bank of the creek.

The trees enabled me to keep out of sight, and I quickened my pace, so as to lessen the distance between myself and the enemy. As they made but slow progress against the current, I was soon as near them as I dared to go. In this manner I crept along the path till the dugout arrived at the rapids. The Indians landed, and compelled Ella to do so. I could not see her face, but I judged that she had in some degree become reconciled to her situation.

The place where the fugitives landed was at the mouth of the little brook up which Mr. Gracewood and I had followed the horse thieves. The rapids were just above the mouth of this stream, and the locality was my favorite fishing-ground. I supposed the savages would follow the path on the bank of the creek, which led to the Indian village; but instead of doing so, they struck into the woods by the route the horse thieves had taken. I walked up to the mouth of the brook; but I knew the Indians could go but a short distance in the direction they had chosen. It was nearly sundown, and I concluded that they intended to encamp for the night. I had about decided to return to the Castle, and procure the assistance of the soldiers, when I heard one of the Indians approaching. Concealing myself behind a tree, I waited to observe his movements.

He went to the river, embarked in the dugout, and pushing out into the middle of the stream, commenced fishing, not fifty yards from me. I could not resist the temptation to open the battle, and taking deliberate aim at the Indian with my rifle, I fired.



CHAPTER XIII.

IN WHICH PHIL AND HIS COMPANION ARRIVE AT THE CABIN OF KIT CRUNCHER.

If I had considered the matter a moment longer, probably I should not have had the courage to open the battle; for, if I failed to hit the Indian, my situation would become desperate, and with an empty rifle in my hand, I could only depend upon my legs for safety, while the savages would be able to escape with their prize before the soldiers could be brought up.

Fortunately for me, I did not miss my aim. My bullet evidently passed through the brain of the savage, for he threw up his arms, and dropped over into the bottom of the dugout. His fall disturbed the boat, and detached it from the overhanging branch by which he had secured it, to enable him to fish. The current whirled it around, and carried it down the river.

Though I could not rid myself of a certain sensation of horror, when I found that I had actually taken a human life, I was well satisfied with what I had done. My frame trembled with emotion and excitement as I hastened to load my rifle again. I expected that the sound of the shot would bring the other Indian to the spot, and I nervously awaited his approach; but he did not appear. As the first Indian had come to the creek to obtain food, his companion doubtless supposed he had fired at some game. The wind wafted the smell of smoke to me, and I surmised that the savage at the camp was preparing to cook the fish or game which the other was to obtain.

The sun went down, and it began to be dark in the shades of the forest. I had become composed and resolute again, after waiting half an hour for the coming of the other redskin. I had arrived at the conclusion that it was not worth while to return to the Castle for the soldiers. I was sure that the Indian at the camp fire would soon come down to the creek to ascertain what had become of his companion. To prevent him from stumbling upon me, I retreated a little farther from the stream into the forest. I could not be mistaken in my calculation, which was soon verified by the sound of footsteps in the direction of the Indian camp.

I found my heart beating violently again, and I dreaded the necessity of shooting the savage almost as much as I did the consequences if I failed to do so. It was still light enough for me to see him distinctly when he made his appearance on the bank of the brook. I raised my rifle with the intention of firing the instant he stopped long enough to enable me to insure my aim, for I had not confidence enough to shoot while he was in motion. But I was so agitated that I was not in condition to do justice to my own skill. The savage walked rapidly to the bank of the creek, and halted, looking up and down in search of the dugout and his companion.

"Ugh!" grunted he, in order to express his dissatisfaction at the long absence of his associate, I suppose.

Then he shouted, and waited for a response from his absent friend; but he did not hold still long enough to enable me to cover his head with the muzzle of my piece. I was so excited by the consideration of the fatal consequences to me, and perhaps to Ella, if I failed to bring him down, that I had not pluck enough to fire. I had slain one man, and it was awful to think of killing another. I would have given all the gold in my pocket if Kit Cruncher had stood by my side at that instant, and relieved me of the fearful responsibility of the occasion.

Of course there was no response to the call of the Indian; and, after glancing all around him, he walked rapidly down the path on the bank of the creek in search of his lost mate. This movement on his part afforded me a new hope. As Ella had not come to the stream with her surviving captor, it was evident enough that he had left her at the camp fire, probably tied to a tree, or otherwise secured.

I waited till the Indian had disappeared, and then hastened in the direction of the camp. I did not take much pains to move without noise, for I concluded that the Indian would have his ear to the ground frequently, to obtain tidings of his missing associate. I ran with all the speed I could command. I found Ella fastened to a tree near the fire. Her hands were tied behind her, so that she was unable to help herself.

"O, Phil Farringford!" cried she, as I approached.

"Don't make any noise, Ella," I replied, cutting the cords which bound her. "Follow me, and be very careful."

"Where are the Indians?" she asked, in a whisper, her teeth chattering with terror and excitement.

"I have shot one, and the other is not far off."

I conducted my fair companion a short distance down the brook, and taking her in my arms, I bore her across the stream.

"Hark!" said I, as I placed her on the other side.

We listened, and I heard the Indian shouting for his companion. From the direction of the sound I concluded that he was near the mouth of the brook. Certainly he had retraced his steps from the point where he was when I started to rescue Ella. It was probable that he had heard my steps, but doubtless he supposed they were those of his missing mate. I had made considerable noise when I scrambled up the steep bank of the brook with my burden, which was immediately followed by his call.

"He has heard us," I whispered, preparing my rifle for use.

"What shall I do?" asked my trembling charge.

"Come with me. The brook is between him and us now, and I don't think he will hear our steps, if we move very carefully."

I took her by the hand and led her through the dark forest. I intended to proceed in an easterly direction till I came to Kit Cruncher's Brook, and then follow the path along its bank to the Castle. I paused occasionally to listen, but I heard no more shouting. The savage had probably gone back to his camp, and discovered that his prisoner was missing.

"We must hurry along as fast as we can, Ella," said I, finding that my companion was inclined to go very slowly.

"I am very tired, Phil."

"I am sorry, but we cannot waste our time. If that Indian can find where we crossed the brook, he will pursue us."

"How far must we go?"

"It is five miles to the Castle, but it is only two to Kit Cruncher's cabin."

"I am very faint, for I have eaten nothing since we breakfasted on the island very early this morning," added Ella.

"I think I can find something for you to eat when we get to Kit's cabin."

"But where is my father, Phil?" asked Ella. "I hope nothing has happened to him."

"Nothing has happened to him. He is with the soldiers who landed up Crooked River. Did you not see the troops?"

"I saw them when they landed, but not afterwards."

"Did the Indians use you badly?" I inquired.

"No; they only compelled me to walk when I was so tired that every step was painful."

"Where did you go after you left the dugouts?"

"I'm sure I don't know. We travelled till we came to another river."

"That was the Great Fish," I added.

"Two of the Indians left us then, and paddled across this river on a log. They had a talk before they separated, and they pointed often at me. I knew that it was about me."

"Where did you go then?" I asked, anxious, if possible, to ascertain the plan of the savages.

"We walked back again till we came to the edge of the forest, not far from the river. Here one of the Indians lay down on the ground, so that the soldiers could not see him, and crawled to the stream. The other led me through the woods towards the Missouri, two or three miles, I should think; at any rate, I was completely exhausted. At last we arrived at the great river, in sight of the island where my father lived."



"But where were the soldiers?" I asked.

"I suppose they were beating about the woods, looking for us. The Indian drove me down the steep bank of the river to the water-side. I was terribly frightened, and if my savage conductor had not held my arm I should have slipped down into the river. Here I was permitted to rest myself for an hour, and then the other Indian came in the boat."

"Did you see the steamer that went up the river this afternoon?"

"I did; and when the Indians heard the whistle, they ran the boat into a creek, and kept very quiet until she had passed. Then they paddled up the river by the wood-yard."

"I saw you when you went by, and followed in your father's barge," I added.

"Did you come all alone?"

"Yes; there are about thirty soldiers at the Castle; but I thought, if I went after them, I should lose sight of you, and so I came up alone. I have some good news for you, Ella."

"What is it?" she asked, faintly.

"Your father and mother met on board of the steamer, and are now good friends."

"I am so glad! But I do wish we could rest," she added.

"Sit down on this log, Ella," I replied, conducting her to a fallen tree. "I haven't heard anything from that Indian, and I don't believe he is on our track."

"O, I hope not; but I couldn't run if I saw him this instant."

"We ought to get back to the Castle to-night, if it is possible," I added.

"I don't believe I can walk so far."

"Your poor mother is suffering every moment. If she only knew you were safe, I would not go farther than Kit's cabin to-night."

After resting for half an hour, we resumed the weary tramp through the woods, and at last reached the brook on the other side of which was the hunter's log hut. There was a light in it, which assured me Kit was at home. I carried Ella over the stream in my arms, and we approached the house. I took the precaution to reconnoitre the premises before I entered, for it was not impossible that some of the enemy had taken possession of the cabin; but through the open door I saw the tall hunter at work over the fire, evidently cooking his supper.

"How are you, Kit?" said I, leading my charge into his presence.

"Are you hyer, Phil, boy!" exclaimed he. "Who's that with you?"

"It's Mr. Mellowtone's daughter."

"I never knowed he had a darter."

As briefly as possible, I told Kit what had occurred since he left the clearing.

"I've jest kim in from the nor'ard," said he. "The Injuns is on the rampage. There's more'n a hund'ed on 'em not more'n a two hours' tramp up the Little Fish, and there's goin' to be more trouble. I was goin' down to the Castle as soon as I'd eat my supper. I ain't sartin there ain't some redskins 'tween hyer and the clearing. Leastwise, I don't think it's safe to go down by the brook path."

I was surprised and annoyed at his last remark; and Kit, after putting another slice of bacon in the pan over the fire, proceeded to explain the ground of his fears.



CHAPTER XIV.

IN WHICH PHIL ROWS THE BARGE UP THE BIG FISH RIVER.

If there were any Indians between the Castle and Kit Cruncher's cabin, we were certainly between two fires, and it was necessary that something should be done very soon.

"What makes you think there are Indians below us, Kit?" I asked.

"I'll tell you, boy," replied the patriarchal hunter, as he turned a slice of bacon in the pan. "I've seen Injun tracks p'inted that way."

"Where did you see them?"

"Over on the Little Fish. It has rained hard sence I went up the river, and the tracks I see was new ones."

"Were they above or below the lower rapids?"

"Above, boy. I struck across the country above the swamp, and hit my brook near the spring where it starts. Two Injuns had come down, I know."

"Well, Kit, those were the two who crossed the Big Fish on a log—two of the four who went to the island this morning and captured Miss Gracewood. The other two came around by the river in the dugout, and camped near the lower rapids. In my opinion, they had agreed to meet there."

"Most like it is as you say, boy. I'm glad it's no wus. But 'tain't safe for the gal to stay hyer. There'll be a hund'ed Injuns down hyer to-morrow, mebbe as arly as daylight. I cal'late them two that come over this mornin' is doggin' round the Castle now."

"If they are, they have found a camp of soldiers there, and not a very good chance to plunder the place."

Kit Cruncher placed the frying-pan, in which the great slices of bacon had been cooked, upon a chest, with a basket of crackers. Ella ate heartily of the meat, for it was very good, in spite of the homely manner in which it was served. We finished the meal without any interruption from Indians or others. The poor girl declared that she felt very much refreshed and strengthened, and was able to walk again.

"Now we are ready for a start," said Kit, when he had put his house in order.

"How far is it through the woods to the Little Fish, Kit?" I asked.

"Across hyer 'tain't more'n a mile."

"Then I think we had better go that way," I added. "I left Mr. Gracewood's boat not far from the place where the two rivers join, and we can go down in that."

"Very well, boy; but I cal'late there's three Injuns atween us and the Castle somewhar. But 'tain't no matter; if they show theirselves, my rifle will make quick work on 'em."

We crossed the brook, and struck into the woods on the other side. Ella walked by my side, holding my hand, while Kit led the way through the gloomy forest.

"Where do you suppose my father is now, Phil?" asked the poor girl.

"With the soldiers."

"But where are the soldiers?"

"They are in the woods beyond the Big Fish, I suppose. They must have scoured the woods down to the Missouri before dark. I have no means of knowing whether they were able to find any tracks of the fugitives to assist them; if not, they have been very much puzzled."

"And all this time my poor father thinks I am in the hands of the Indians, and fears that I have been killed or abused," added Ella.

"I am very sorry; but I do not see that we can do anything to-night to relieve his anxiety."

"No, Phil, I see that you cannot. You have been very brave and noble, and very kind to me, and I shall remember you with gratitude as long as I live."

"I don't ask for anything better than to serve you," I replied. "In the morning the troops at the Castle will start, and I have no doubt they will communicate with those beyond the Big Fish in the course of the day."

"I do wish father were here. I am afraid he will expose himself to the Indians, or wear himself out, he is so anxious for me."

"We will do the best we can to let him know that you are safe. Perhaps Kit and I will try to find him, as soon as we have conducted you to the Castle, and relieved the anxiety of your poor mother."

"We marched very cautiously through the woods, and with our rifles in our hands ready for instant use. In a short time, under the skilful lead of the hunter, we reached the river; but I had left the barge a mile farther down the stream.

"I am not sure that we shall find the barge where I left it, Kit," said I, as we took the path on the bank of the Little Fish.

"Most like you won't, boy. That Injun that went down to look for t'other mought have took it."

"What will you do, then?" asked Ella.

"We shall be obliged to walk another mile, to the landing-place."

My trembling companion was constantly in fear of an attack from the savages, or that a shot from them would hit her, or some other one of the party. I said all I could to comfort and assure her; but the circumstances were so novel to her that she could not be reconciled to them. As I was not without fear myself, I could not take the matter so coolly as Kit did. But the old hunter, steady and brave as he was in peril, was a prudent man, and not at all disposed to be reckless. He knew that an Indian bullet could kill him, as well as another man, and he had none of that affectation of courage which so often belies the boaster and the reckless man.

"Hyer's your barge," said Kit, ahead of us, when we had gone less than half a mile down the stream.

"So it is; but I did not leave it here," I replied, as I glanced at the boat.

"That Injun has come up stream in it, and left it hyer. Most like he ain't fur from hyer."

I assisted Ella into the barge. Kit seated himself in the bow, and I took the oars.

"Fotch her over under the further shore, boy," said Kit, as I pushed off the boat. "Keep as fur as you kin from danger allus."

The old hunter's suggestion was certainly a good one, as was fully demonstrated only a few minutes later. I pulled the barge to the other side of the river; but we had gone only a few rods before the crack of a rifle, followed by a whizzing bullet, assured us the enemy were at hand. The barge was painted white, and was a shining mark in the night for the savages to fire at.

"O, mercy!" cried Ella.

"Did it hit you?" I asked, alarmed by her cry.

"No, no—but——"

"Don't make any noise, then."

"Run the barge ashore hyer, boy," said Kit Cruncher, quietly.

I obeyed instantly; but another shot followed the first one, though, fortunately, neither of them did any harm.

"Let the gal go ashore," added Kit.

I understood his plan, and assisted Ella to land.

"Run up the bank into the woods, and get behind a tree," I said to her, as a third shot came across the river.

But the Indians were firing blindly in the dark, and though the last bullet hit the boat, we were still safe. Kit stepped on the shore, and we dragged the boat out of the water. The hunter paused on the bank of the river, and gazed across in the direction from which the shots came.

"There's three on 'em over thyer," said Kit. "The shots was too near together to come out of one barrel. Haul the barge up the bank afore they hev time to load up agin."

The barge was light, and we had no difficulty in taking it up the bank into the woods. For the present we were safe; but it was certain that there were three savages on the bank of the river, and between us and the Castle. We had, luckily, escaped injury so far, and Kit was not the man to lead us into any unnecessary peril. We were now on the tongue of land between the Big and the Little Fish Rivers, and only a short distance above their junction. At the point where we landed it was less than a quarter of a mile from one river to the other.

"We can't go down Fish River to-night," said I, when we had pulled the boat up the bank.

"Not without resk, boy," replied Kit.

"What shall we do?" asked the frightened Ella.

"Don't be skeered, little gal," interposed Kit, in a tone more tender than he was in the habit of using. "You are as safe hyer as you'd be in your marm's lap."

"Can't the savages come over here?" she inquired.

"'Pears like they can't; leastwise, not without swimming, and we kin stop 'em faster'n they kin come over. Rifle-balls travels fast," answered Kit, sagely. "But I don't reckon they'll want to come over hyer."

"Do you suppose they know there are soldiers at the clearing?" I asked.

"I don't reckon they do. They mought know it, and they mought not; but from what you say, I cal'late they hain't had time to go down and see."

"Perhaps they intended to go there to-night," I suggested.

"It mought be."

"I think they were looking for something to eat first. I believe the two Indians who came across the river on the log were to meet the other two at the camp on the brook where I went. They knew they could get plenty of fish there. After I shot one of the party at the camp, the remaining one must have come across the other two. They will keep between us and the Castle."

"Most like they've been lookin' for the gal all the evenin'," added Kit.

"It seems to me, if they knew the soldiers were at the clearing, they would not stay here."

"'Tain't much use to guess at these things. You mought as well shoot at nothin' in the dark. We can't go down Fish River to-night; that's all that's sartin."

"That is very true."

"And I cannot see my mother to-night, then," said Ella.

"I dunno, little gal; 'pears like you can't; but mebbe you kin see your father," replied Kit. "And it mought be you kin see both. I dunno. We must be keerful. Better not see 'em till to-morrer 'n not see 'em at all."

"What do you mean by seeing her father tonight, Kit?" I inquired, afraid that he was kindling vain hopes in the mind of the suffering maiden.

"I'll tell you, boy. Ef, as you say, them soldiers is rampagin' over the country 'tween the Fish and Crooked River, we mought find 'em afore mornin'. We kin kerry this boat over to the Big Fish, and land on t'other side on't."

"That's a capital plan, Kit, and our safest course," I replied.

We wasted no time in debating a question on which we were perfectly agreed. We carried the light barge across the tongue of land, and launched it in the Big Fish. Our party embarked, and I pulled up the river. I realized that it would not be an easy matter to find the soldiers, for they would not kindle any camp fire, which would betray their presence to the savages.

I pulled vigorously, for half an hour, against the current; and we were satisfied that the three Indians had not crossed the river, for we were not again annoyed by them. As the barge approached the rapids, beyond which we could not go by water, we heard a noise on the shore.

"Who goes there?" shouted a soldier.

"Friends," I replied.

"Advance, friends, and give the countersign."

We had no countersign, but I immediately ran the boat ashore, and we landed.



CHAPTER XV.

IN WHICH PHIL AND HIS COMPANIONS START FOR THE CASTLE.

"Who are you?" demanded the soldier who had hailed the boat, probably astonished to find himself answered in plain English.

"Friends," I replied.

"What is your name?"

"Phil Farringford."

"You are the boy that came on board the steamer this morning?"

"I am; have you seen any Indians to-day?"

"Not an Indian."

"You didn't go where they were," I added.

"We have been beating about the woods all day; but the Indians who captured the girl have dodged us."

"Then you haven't recovered her yet?"

"No."

"I have; and here she is," I continued; helping Ella out of the boat, and up the bank of the river.

By this time half a dozen soldiers had gathered on the shore, with their blankets on their arms. When they understood that the young lady had been recovered from the Indians, they gave an involuntary cheer.

"Where is my father?" asked Ella, anxiously.

"I suppose he is with Lieutenant Pope," replied Corporal Flint, who was the spokesman of the party. "The headquarters are about a mile up the river."

"I must go to him at once," added Ella, nervously.

"You shall, miss. The hunt's up now, and we needn't stay here any longer," continued the corporal. "We are divided into three squads, and posted on the river to keep the Indians from crossing."

"There hasn't been an Indian on this neck for six hours," I added; and I proceeded to inform the corporal in what manner the Indians had made their escape.

"They are cunning," said he. "They know the country better than we do."

"Whar's the cap'n?" demanded Kit, who had been engaged in hauling the barge out of the water, and concealing it in the bushes.

"Who are you?" replied Corporal Flint, as the tall hunter loomed up before him.

"I don't reckon it makes any matter who I am; but I want to see the cap'n, and show him whar the redskins is."

"Lieutenant Pope commands the troops, and he will be very glad to know where the redskins are."

"My father is with him; do let us make haste," said Ella, dragging me by the hand in the direction of the next post of the soldiers.

"We will escort you, miss," added the corporal, ordering his squad to march.

Our walk was enlivened by the frequent challenge of the sentinels posted along the bank of the river. One half of the troops were watching the stream, while the other half slept. In a short time we reached the bivouac of the commanding officer. As we approached, I recognized the form of Mr. Gracewood, who was walking back and forth near the party asleep on the ground.

"Here she is, Mr. Gracewood!" I shouted, while the soldiers were going through their military forms, for they were very precise in all these matters.

The unhappy father halted, and Ella dragged me towards him, impatient to heal the wounded heart. He seemed to be unable to comprehend the meaning of my words; but as soon as he saw her in the gloom of the forest, he rushed forward and clasped her in his arms. I heard them sob in each other's embrace, and while the tears started in my own eyes, I had an all-sufficient reward for the peril and labor I had incurred in restoring her.

"Why, Ella, I can hardly believe it is you," said he, his voice tremulous with emotion.

"It is I, father," she replied, clinging to him convulsively. "I am so happy!"

"Are you safe? Are you hurt? Did they injure you?"

"No, father I have been awfully frightened, but I am not hurt. You don't say a word to Phil. He saved me."

"Phil Farringford!"

"Yes, father."

"My dear boy, you have saved me from a misery you cannot understand," said the glad parent, grasping my hand.

"I am very glad to do something for you, after you have done so much for me, sir."

"But how was it? Tell me about it. Where did you find her?" asked Mr. Gracewood.

"I congratulate you, sir," said Lieutenant Pope, approaching the spot, having learned the substance of the story from Corporal Flint.

"I am the happiest man in the world," added Mr. Gracewood, with enthusiasm. "Phil Farringford is a hero! Now let us know where you found her."

"Here's Kit Cruncher, too," I added, unwilling that my stalwart ally should be ignored.

Mr. Gracewood shook hands with Kit, who was duly introduced to the lieutenant.

"I'm hyer, Mr. Mell'ton, or Mr. Greasewood—if that's your name."

"Gracewood," interposed the happy Ella.

"Jest so; Greasewood—that's what I say. I'm hyer, and I want to tell the cap'n whar the redskins is; but I don't reckon my story'll spile while Phil tells you about the gal. Go on, boy; wag your tongue as fast as you wagged your legs to-day."

"I've had rather a long tramp to-day, and I'll sit down and rest while we talk," I answered, availing myself of a log.

I related minutely all the circumstances of the recapture of Ella, and gave her explanation of the plan by which the Indians had escaped from the soldiers.

"I never thought of those dugouts," said the lieutenant. "We have not been near the river to-day."

"Now, cap'n," interposed Kit Cruncher, "the Injuns from the nor'ard is on a rampage. More'n a hund'ed on 'em is camped on the head streams of the Little Fish, working down this way. They mean to wipe out all on us. They stole Matt's hosses, but we got 'em back. Then they kim down on us, and two or three on 'em got shot. Now the whole on 'em's comin' down."

"I will take care of them if you will show me where they are," added the officer.

"I'll do that. I ain't no milintry man, but I kin tell you how to fix them redskins. Them Injuns up thar has got hosses. They're go'n' to come down by the Little Fish. Phil tells me you sent a force to the Castle. Ef you take 'em in the rear with your men, by marchin' round across both the Fish rivers, the t'other kin take 'em in front, and atwixt the two you'll chaw 'em all up."

"Do you think we had better march to-night?" asked Lieutenant Pope, evidently impressed by the suggestion of the veteran hunter.

"No; that would spile the whole game. Let 'em kim down as fur's they will."

"But where are the three Indians who were engaged in the capture of Miss Gracewood?"

"They're doggin' round the clearin'; but I don't reckon they know any sogers is over thar yet."

"They will join the large force on the Little Fish, and inform them of our presence here."

"They mought do it; but a march of seven mile will fotch you to 'em. They'll start arly 'n the mornin'; and them three Injuns won't go up to their camp to-night, for they're as fur off from it as we are. Ef you start at sunrise, you kin git in behind 'em, crossin' both rivers in the forenoon."

Kit Cruncher was very clear in his views, and the commander of the troops saw the wisdom of his plan. The latter knew nothing of the country, and was dependent upon the information afforded by such men as Kit for the means of punishing the Indians when they violated their treaty obligations.

"As my daughter cannot go with you, we need remain here no longer," said Mr. Gracewood.

"But you can't get to the clearing to-night," replied Lieutenant Pope. "You may be intercepted by these strolling savages; and I cannot spare my men to escort you, for they may be obliged to march all day to-morrow."

"Where is my barge, Kit?" asked the anxious father.

"In the bushes down the river."

"We can carry it across the land to the Crooked River, and go down in that way. I am very anxious to join my wife, who is still suffering with anxiety for our child," added Mr. Gracewood.

"Very well; if you feel safe to leave the camp, I shall not object," continued the lieutenant. "My men shall carry your boat over to the river."

"Phil will go with me, and I don't think there is any danger."

"I should be glad to have you go, for I wish to send some orders to Lieutenant Jackson, commanding the men at the clearing."

"Exactly, cap'n," interposed Kit. "Send word for 'em to form a line atween the Little Fish and the pond. Phil kin show 'em whar it is."

Four men were sent to carry the barge across the country to Crooked River, and Kit explained to the officer the nature of the region where he suggested that the line of defence should be established. By the light of a match, the lieutenant wrote an order, which he gave to me, to be delivered to the officer in command of the detachment at the Castle. Bidding the lieutenant good night, we started for the river, attended by Kit, who was determined to see us safely embarked.

"I am afraid you are too tired to walk, Ella," said I, placing myself at her side.

"I am very tired, and I hope the distance is not long."

"Not less than two miles," I replied.

"I will try to do it," said she, with all the courage she could muster.

After going half the distance, we met the men who were carrying the boat. They had laid it on a couple of poles, and were bearing it on their shoulders. By this time poor Ella was almost fainting with exhaustion.

"We kin tote the gal in the boat," said Kit.

"She cannot sit on the keel of it," replied Mr. Gracewood; for the soldiers had placed it bottom upwards on the sticks.

"We kin turn it t'other side up," added Kit. "Drop that boat, sogers."



The men, who were full of sympathy for Ella, laid the boat upon the ground. Kit turned it over, and with the painter and another line, slung it to the poles right side up. Ella seated herself in the barge, and the soldiers lifted it up, placing the poles upon their shoulders. The march was resumed, and occasionally Kit and Mr. Gracewood relieved the men, so that it was not very hard work. We reached the river, and embarked.

"Take care of yourself. There'll be a big fight to-morrer, and the Injuns'll git squeezed."

"I will endeavor to take care of myself," I replied, as we pushed off.

Mr. Gracewood took the oars, and I was permitted to rest myself, after the severe fatigue and excitement of the day.

"Is there any danger now, father?" asked Ella.

"No, child, I don't think there is," replied Mr. Gracewood.

"Do you think there is, Phil?" she added, appealing to me.

"No; but I should like to know where those two dugouts are."

"According to your story, one of them has gone adrift, and the other is up this river," said Mr. Gracewood. "Is your rifle in order, Phil?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then keep a sharp lookout, Phil; and I think we shall be all right."

And we were all right till we reached a point near the mouth of Fish River, where I discovered a dugout moving out into the Missouri, and containing three men.



CHAPTER XVI.

IN WHICH PHIL ARRIVES AT THE CASTLE.

Mr. Gracewood was not rowing at the time I discovered the dugout, for the swift current of the Missouri gave us sufficient headway, and the oars were only used to keep the boat from whirling. Poor Ella, worn out by the fatigues and perils of the day, had dropped asleep, her head resting upon my shoulder. I only raised my hand, and pointed out the position of the dugout. Mr. Gracewood understood me, and looked in the direction indicated.

The three Indians in the boat were doubtless the ones who had visited the island in the morning. I concluded that they had found the dugout in which I had shot the savage, and which had probably grounded somewhere in the shallow water. But the Indians were not coming towards us, and I judged from their movements that they did not see us. The dugout came into the great river, and then headed down the stream.

"Don't move," I whispered to Mr. Gracewood.

"But the current is carrying us upon them," he replied, his anxiety apparent in his tones.

"If you can work her farther in shore without making any noise, do so," I added.

In paddling the dugout the Indians all faced ahead, instead of astern as in rowing. We were under the shadow of the high bank of the river, which was covered with wood. Mr. Gracewood carefully worked the barge nearer to the bank, until I was able to grasp the branch of a tree which had fallen down as the earth caved off beneath its roots. I held it there, and in a moment more the dugout disappeared in the gloom.

"They are not looking for us," said Mr. Gracewood.

"No; but they have not come down here for nothing," I replied.

"What do you think they intend to do?"

"They fired at us as we were coming down the river. Possibly they followed us, and saw us go up the Big Fish. Perhaps they think now that there is no one at the Castle, and they can plunder it without opposition. They will soon discover their blunder."

"But Mrs. Gracewood is there."

"So are the soldiers."

"They may capture her if she is in the Castle, while the soldiers are encamped in the rear, not expecting an enemy on the river side."

"We need not stay here any longer," I added, letting go the branch, and permitting the current to carry the barge down the stream. "Don't make any noise with the oars, Mr. Gracewood."

"We must hurry forward and alarm the soldiers. They have no suspicion that there are any Indians within many miles of them."

"What's the matter, father?" cried Ella, waking with a start.

"Hush! Ella. Don't make any noise. We are safe, and there is no danger."

"What has happened?" she whispered, trembling with fear.

"Nothing has happened; but we saw three Indians go down the river. They did not discover us, and there is nothing to fear. Don't be alarmed."

The barge floated down to the mouth of the Fish, and Mr. Gracewood, using the oars very carefully, guided it to the landing, where we went on shore. I hastened up the rising ground to ascertain if there was any demonstration against the Castle. On the way, I heard old Firefly neigh; and then I remembered that I had left him there when I started to follow the Indians. The old fellow was very glad to see me, for he probably did not like to be excluded from his warm stable, and robbed of his supper.

I jumped upon his back, and rode down to the landing, where Mr. Gracewood was hauling up his boat. My appearance on horseback startled him and Ella, but the sound of my voice reassured them. I explained in what manner I happened to be mounted so speedily.

"I will ride up to the Castle, and see that the soldiers are on the lookout for those Indians," I added. "I will return with the wagon in a few minutes, and carry you to the house."

"And leave us here alone?" said Mr. Gracewood.

"Do you think there is any danger?" I inquired.

"Those Indians may land here and discover us. For myself I don't care; but I am afraid on account of Ella, who is too weak to run, how ever great the peril."

"I will take her on the horse with me if you like," I suggested.

"But you may meet the savages, and a bullet from the cunning foe might destroy all my hopes in this world."

"I will not leave you, then, sir; but I thought Ella was too feeble to walk another mile."

"I could not walk a mile," added she, faintly.

"What shall we do, then?" I asked.

"We will go a little way with you."

Ella had sat so long in the barge that her limbs were stiff, and she was unable to walk, even a short distance. Her father had lifted her out of the boat, and seated her on a log.

"I could do nothing if the Indians came upon me, with my child in this helpless condition. I will carry her in my arms a little way, and we will conceal ourselves in the bushes. Go as quick as you can, Phil Farringford," said the anxious father.

"I will not be absent long," I replied, as I urged Firefly forward.

The horse was anxious to reach his stable, and he galloped at the top of his speed. I kept a wary lookout for the savages, as I approached the Castle, but I saw none.

"Halt!" shouted a sentinel, placing himself in the road.

This vigilance on the part of the troops assured me the Castle was in no danger of a surprise, and I reined in my steed.

"Who goes there?" demanded the guard.

"Friend, in a tremendous hurry," I replied.

"Advance, friend in a tremendous hurry, and give the countersign."

"I have no countersign; but I am Phil Farringford."

"O, the young fellow that belongs here!"

"Yes; and by this time there are three Indians in a dugout in front of you. Stir up your men, and send two or three of them down towards the landing. Mr. Gracewood and his daughter are there, and the Indians may find them."

"Has the girl been found?"

"Yes; but I can't stop to talk. Wake up your officer."

I hurried Firefly to the barn, and dismounted.

"Who is it? What has happened?" asked Mrs. Gracewood, in trembling tones, as she came towards the stable.

"It's only Phil," I replied. "All right, Mrs. Gracewood."

"Where have you been? I was afraid the Indians had caught you."

"I have been after Ella."

"O, have you heard anything from her?" demanded she, choking with emotion.

"Yes, we have heard from her. She's all right," I answered, as I throw the harness upon Firefly.

"What do you mean? Don't deceive me, Phil."

"I won't, Mrs. Gracewood. You shall see her yourself in ten minutes."

"Where is she?" gasped the poor mother, apparently unable to believe the good news.

"She is down at the landing; but she is all worn out, and not able to move a step. I am going down with the wagon after her."

"Do you really mean so?"

"Certainly I do, Mrs. Gracewood; and her father is with her."

"Father in heaven, I thank thee!" exclaimed she, fervently, sobbing and weeping.

"It's just as I tell you; but you had better go into the house, for there are some Indians along the river somewhere."

"I am not afraid of them, if I can only see Ella."

By this time, the sentinel who had confronted me had passed the word to the camp, and the soldiers were all under arms. A squad of them hastened to the river, and presently I heard a couple of shots in that direction. I had finished harnessing the horses, and was putting old Matt's bed upon the wagon for Ella to lie upon, when Lieutenant Jackson, the officer in command of the detachment, rushed up to me.

"What is the matter?" he demanded. "Are we attacked?"

"There are three Indians on the river. I suppose your men are firing at them. Here is an order from Lieutenant Pope," I added, handing him the paper, and jumping upon the wagon, where Mrs. Gracewood had already placed herself. "We have recovered the young lady, and I am going down to the landing after her."

"But I wish to know——"

"Well, I can't stop now to talk, sir."

"I will go with you;" and he leaped upon the wagon.

"I advise you to take two or three more with you. You may capture the three Indians your men are firing at now."

He called three of his men, who joined us in the wagon, and I drove off as fast as I could make the horses go.

"Where did you see Lieutenant Pope?" asked Mr. Jackson.

"At his camp on the Big Fish. You must keep those three Indians from going up the Fish River if you can."

"Why so?"

But the violent jolting of the wagon prevented me from talking, and him from hearing; so I deferred my explanation till a more convenient season. In a few minutes, I stopped the horses a short distance from the landing, when Mr. Gracewood hailed me from a clump of bushes. I felt relieved when I saw that Ella and he were safe. I helped the trembling mother out of the wagon, and conducted her to the spot.

"My child! O, Ella!" cried Mrs. Gracewood, as she bent over the form of her daughter.

"I am safe, mother," she replied, faintly.

They sobbed and wept in each other's arms till Mr. Gracewood interposed, and then we placed the sufferer on the bed in the wagon.

"Now, lieutenant, if you will let one of your men drive the horses up to the Castle, I will tell how the land lies here," said I, when the party was ready to start.

Mr. Jackson ordered one of the soldiers to go with the wagon, and return with it; but Mr. Gracewood preferred to drive himself while Ella was a passenger. As the team started, I walked with the officer and two soldiers down to the landing. I imparted all the information I had obtained, including the movements of the Indians who had captured Ella.

"You are a plucky little fellow to stand up and shoot down an Indian: but I think you would have done better if you had called me, instead of following the Indians yourself," said Lieutenant Jackson.

"I don't think so. We might have gone a dozen miles before we found them, if I had lost sight of them. The three Indians went down the river just as we came in sight. I heard your men fire at them. Now you must not let them go up the Fish, for they will carry information to the large party up that river, and spoil the plan of Lieutenant Pope."

"You are right, my boy," replied the officer, as he posted his two men where they could see the dugout as it approached.

"You will have a big fight to-morrow," I added.

"I should think so from what you say; but I haven't read my orders yet."

"Hark!"

I heard the splashing of paddles in the river below us, and I concluded that the three Indians who had failed in front of the Castle were returning to Fish River.



CHAPTER XVII.

IN WHICH PHIL CONDUCTS THE SOLDIERS TO THE LINE OF DEFENCE.

I had a theory of my own in regard to the movements of the four Indians who had come down the Crooked River in the two dugouts. The savages were incensed against us because they had failed to obtain our horses, and because we had shot two or three of their men in the skirmishes which followed. This party had gone home and stirred up the Indians, who were now upon the war-path. Mr. Gracewood had identified himself with the defence of the Castle, and they had visited his island to wreak their vengeance upon him, and obtain his property.

If he was at home, they would kill him; if not, they would appropriate or destroy his property. Having disposed of him, if he were there, the four Indians were to go down the river to the front of the Castle, and when the main body appeared in the forest, make an attack on the river side, or steal upon us in the night, and murder us in our sleep. At any rate, these Indians knew that a large force of their own people were coming down the Fish, and they were in some manner to assist them.

Lieutenant Jackson and myself went to the bank of the river, and soon saw the dugout, two of the Indians in it paddling with all their might. They had discovered their blunder, in part at least, when the soldiers opened upon them. The fact that any one was awake at the Castle was enough to turn them from their purpose, for they had not the courage to stand up before the rifle of Kit Cruncher, whom they doubtless supposed to be there.

"Give them a shot, Morgan," said the lieutenant to one of his men.

The soldier fired, but without effect, except to alarm the Indians.

"Why didn't you hit them?" added the officer, as the savages turned the dugout from the shore, and paddled with renewed zeal towards the opposite side of the great river.

"So I would if they would hold still long enough for me to cover them," replied the soldier.

The other man fired, but with no better success, so far as we could discover. Before they could reload their pieces, the dugout was too far off to warrant the wasting of any more powder and lead.

"You will not see them again to-night," said I, as the Indians disappeared in the gloom.

"Can they get to the rear of our position by any other way than up this river?" asked Lieutenant Jackson.

"Yes, sir, they can. They may go up Bear River to the lake, and cross the country to the Fish," I replied. "But there are rapids between the lake and the Missouri, and they would have to carry their boat half a mile."

"Then I must put a guard at the mouth of the Bear."

"It will be the safest way," I added, as the soldier returned with my team.

We drove back to the Castle, and I put up the horses. The lieutenant sent a corporal and two men to the mouth of Bear River, two miles below the Castle; and I was satisfied that the three Indians could not possibly join the band which was moving down the Fish. We went into the house together, where a cheerful fire of pitch wood was blazing on the hearth. Poor Ella had dropped asleep, and her father and mother sat by her bedside watching her heaving chest. They were very anxious about her, though Mr. Gracewood declared that she suffered only from exhaustion, and that rest would restore her.

The lieutenant read the order I had brought to him, and we left the Castle, so as not to disturb Ella. By this time I was willing to believe I was tired myself. I thought it must be nearly daylight, and was surprised when the officer told me it was only twelve o'clock. It seemed to me that I had lived a whole year since sundown. I was invited to sleep in the lieutenant's tent, and I did sleep there in good earnest till long after sunrise the next morning, when a soldier called me.

"We are about ready to start, Phil," said Mr. Jackson. "My orders say you are to be my guide."

"I must take care of my horses and pigs, and eat my breakfast."

"My men have fed your horses, and cleaned them. I thought you would be very tired, and I had your work done for you," said the lieutenant.

"I was tired—that's a fact; but I am as good as new now."

"Mr. Gracewood says your breakfast is all ready."

"How is Ella?" I asked.

"She is better, but still very weak."

"Is she sick?"

"No, they say not; only worn out."

I went to the Castle, and was at once greeted with an outpouring of thanks from father, mother, and daughter for what I had done the night before. Ella, as the officer had said, was suffering only from stiff limbs and over-fatigue. Mr. Gracewood had cooked our breakfast, and we all sat down to the table. It was a happy family which gathered around the board, and the father said a prayer of thanksgiving for the mercy of God in sparing our lives during the perils of the preceding day and night; and it was a prayer in which we all joined, in mind and heart.

The scene was a novel one to me. It was the first time in my life that I had ever sat at table with women—the first family I had ever seen together. I had read of such things, and my kind teacher had told me all about the customs of civilized life. I thought that every family, as father, mother, and children gathered together at table, or in the evening, ought to be very happy. Still I knew it was not so, for even the reunited husband and wife before me had quarrelled and separated. People do not understand and appreciate their greatest blessings, because they are so common; but I, who had never known a mother's care,—at least not since my infancy,—could realize what a joy it was to have a father and mother, and to be with them every day. It seemed to me that I could never disregard the slightest wish of father or mother, if I had them.

I ate a hearty breakfast, for even the pretty sentiment which was flitting through my mind could not impair my appetite. When I went out I found that the lieutenant had drawn up his force in the field, struck his tents, and loaded his baggage upon my wagon. Firefly and Cracker were harnessed, and I had only to take my seat on the load. The soldiers had repaired the bridge over the brook, and everything was ready for a start.

"Of course you leave a guard here, lieutenant," I said, as I took my place on the wagon.

"I have detailed a corporal and three men to take care of the Castle," replied Mr. Jackson. "Do you think that is force enough?"

"Plenty, sir, if they keep their eyes wide open," I replied. "They have only to guard the approach on the water side."

"All right. Attention—company! Shoulder arms! Right shoulder—shift! Forward—march!"

The soldiers marched ahead, and I followed with the wagon. It was about two miles to the point between the lake and the Little Fish, where the detachment was to be posted, and in less than an hour we arrived at our destination. We halted, and a sergeant and three men were sent forward to scout the woods, and give the troops early intimation of the approach of the enemy. The rest of the force was immediately set at work in the erection of two breastworks—one near the river, and the other between Kit's Brook and the lake. The first commanded the road on the Little Fish, and the other the brook path.

"Don't your soldiers have any cannons?" I asked, after the lieutenant had set the men at work.

"We have some mountain howitzers at the fort; but field-pieces are not available for this bushwhacking service," replied Mr. Jackson. "I wish we had a couple of howitzers here."

"Mr. Gracewood has what he calls a twelve-pounder."

"Indeed! Is it mounted?"

"It's on wheels, if that is what you mean."

"Do you know whether he has any ammunition for it?" asked the officer, evidently much interested in the information I had given him.

"He has plenty of powder, and some tin cans——"

"Canister shot: just the thing for us," interposed the officer. "Is it possible to have this gun brought down here?"