As enchanting as this valley was, they dared not spend a day in it longer than was necessary, and with reluctance they left it to launch forth, they knew not where. Crossing over the ridge, they came to a high table land, broad, and over which a fresh pure air constantly circulated. This was lightly timbered, and they feared another desert was before them. They were, however, relieved from this fear by coming to a high range of hills, which, on crossing, they found a succession of ridges, the first ridge having hid the summits of the others; as they crossed one after another, they became more and more entangled among them, and continued for two days wandering among shady dells, and over rocky, craggy precipices, until they sat down at night exhausted, with their flesh torn by the thorns and stones over which they had made their way. For the last two days, they had been unable to ride, the ground being so broken that they found it quite as much as their beasts were able to do, to make their way along unburthened, and now they were lame, their hoofs being much bruised, and the flesh around the hoofs swollen. Selecting a narrow defile, the best spot for a camp they could find, they turned their horses loose to graze, having no fear they would run away, and then turned to provide for their own wants.

This was soon over, and then they lay down to rest. When the morning broke, their horses had disappeared, and on examining the trail where they went, they discovered they had been led away in Indian file, having been stolen by savages. Here, now, was new trouble for them; for, without doubt, the Indians would hang around, and attack them, perhaps, the first moment it suited them, or that they could be sure of success.

"There was but a small party of them last night that stole the horses; I am sure of that, and they will return with augmented numbers very soon, or I shall be deceived," said the trapper.

"We can fight as well as they," said the chief; "so let them beware."

"Yes, we can do that; but we must get out of this spot. There is not an uglier one in the whole continent to be attacked in," replied the trapper.

"How can we get away? our horses gone, and if here, would be as helpless almost as we are, and ourselves so worn out that very little life is left in us," said Jane, in a desponding tone.

"While there is life there is hope," said the trapper. "Do not give up so, we have passed too many severe trials to despair at the loss of our horses."

"Than which, a greater calamity could not have happened," said Sidney; "but, as uncle says, we must get out of this place, for if we are obliged to defend ourselves, we shall stand but little chance of doing it effectually, hemmed in here."

"Look! look! and save yourselves; we are too late!" cried Edward, pointing upward towards the top of the precipice that overhung the defile, and from which, as they raised their eyes, they saw a dozen savages on its verge, in the act of hurling a shower of rocks upon them.

The savages, seeing their whereabouts was discovered, set up an unearthly yell, which was given back by the chief with one of defiance, as he darted behind a tree, an act the rest had performed at the first moment of alarm. The stones and arrows flew around them like hail, but glancing against the large trunks of the trees behind which they were entrenched, fell harmless at their feet. After keeping up this mode of warfare upwards of an hour to no purpose, they held a council on the cliff, and after a short debate dispersed again, but now about half of the number began to let themselves down by catching hold of the saplings that grew along the cliff, and bending them, held on to the tops until they obtained a foothold several feet below, and then repeating the operation until they were two-thirds down. The chief said to Howe, "It will never do to let them among us—better pick them off before they get down."

"So I think," returned the trapper; "you stop the swinging of the lower one, and I will take the next."

Drawing their bows, two messengers of death hissed through the air, propelled by strong, true hands, and the two lower savages fell to the ground, striking on the very stones they had hurled down from the summit, and were horribly crushed and mutilated. The rest seeing the fate of their comrades, with a wild cry of alarm quickly swung themselves up again, and the whole party precipitously fled. The savages had evidently supposed they were unarmed, and on finding to the contrary, had probably retired to take counsel how to more safely carry their point.

"Now," said the chief, "is our time to save ourselves; for they are exasperated at the loss of the two warriors, and will never rest satisfied until they have destroyed us, if we remain within their reach."

Starting down the ravine, for about a mile, they ascended a cleft-like formation of the hills, which terminated at the base of an overhanging precipitous ledge of rocks rising two hundred feet above them, with rents occasionally along the line, extending from the top to the bottom in yawning chasms, in one of which they hoped to shield themselves from further pursuit. Ascending one of these chasms to the top of the ledge, they saw the savages running to and fro along the valley in search of them, having evidently lost the trail, much to their satisfaction, for now they could gain on their pursuers.

Following up their present advantages, they descended the mountain on the other side, and finding themselves at the foot of another less lofty, ascended it also, from which they saw before them a beautiful plain, level and well timbered, stretching away as far as the eye could reach. It was now dark, and secreting themselves the best they could, they spent the night supperless; for, alas! they had nothing to eat; their whole stock of provisions, furs, gourds, kettle, and, indeed, every article they had accumulated, being left behind them in their flight from the savages. Very little game was to be found on the mountains; but as day dawned, they struck out on the plain, hoping to find abundance.

The sun had far advanced, and they had become faint and weary, when they came to a stream which was filled with excellent fish, from which, with some berries and roots, they made a plentiful repast. While despatching this, deer came to the water to drink, and a fine doe was shot by the trapper, much to their satisfaction. Cutting it up, they shouldered it, and pursued their way. At nightfall they halted much exhausted, and had the savages then found them, they would have fallen an easy prey. But as they saw nothing of them they hoped they had relinquished the pursuit.

The next and the next day, they found themselves too sore and lame to move, and the third attempting to travel, they proceeded about three miles, when they gave out, building a bough hut by a clear spring of water, and resolved to stop until better fitted for travelling. No traces of Indians were visible, and they now found their greatest foes were beasts of prey, with which it seemed as if this part of the forest was filled. They managed, however, to spend three weeks without sustaining any serious injury from them, although they nightly prowled around their camp.

The days now began to shorten perceptibly, and the nights to lengthen, and the disagreeable truth forced itself upon them that the summer was waning, and they were as far, for aught they knew, as ever, from attaining the sole object of their lives,—their lost friends. Crossing the plain which extended many miles, they came to another range of hills which was so barren that they endeavored to avoid crossing it by going around them, and with this object, followed them down two day's journey, when they found the hills decreased to half their former height, and assuming a more fertile appearance, so they started to go over them. On arriving at the summit a scene of grandeur met their vision, although it appalled the stoutest hearts. Before them, stretching away in the distance and rising until its summit, capped with snow, pierced the clouds, a range of mountains lay—a formidable barrier over which they knew they ought not to go—and then came the conviction that they had wandered to the foot of the great barrier that separated the Pacific from the vast unexplored sandy desert, and the snowy peaks that rose before them were those of the Sierra Nevada. Now they were more certain of their whereabouts than they had been before; for, though they had never seen the great Sierra, they had heard of it often and knew the snows never left its summit, and to attempt to cross it was a feat they had no disposition to undertake. They knew moreover, that their friends were this side of the great Mountain, and that the desert they had passed must consequently have been between them. Then came the conviction that they had not wandered round the desert before they had crossed it, as they supposed, but had been on the eastern side instead of the western, and had from that moment been travelling directly from home during the journey in which they had endured so much, forced itself upon them. And yet, with the certainty of these facts, they did not dare to turn back and retrace their steps, for to do so in the bewildered and weakened state in which their minds and bodies were, would be almost sure destruction, could they hope or attempt to make their way through the territories of the savages that they had so fortunately evaded in their journey thither.

Long they stood on the summit of that mountain, their position commanding a view of the country for many miles around them, overlooking everything but the great Sierra that lifted its hoary head above them, as if commanding them to retreat. Awe and terror held them in breathless silence for a while, when a half sob was heard, and Jane pressed her hand tightly over her mouth to restrain the emotion which, in her weakened state, she could not control. Seeing her distress, the chief took her gently by the arm, and led the way down the mountain, until they came to a spring, where they stopped, kindled a fire, cooked their supper, and as the night air bid fair to be very cold before morning, built a temporary shelter of boughs. With a large fire burning to frighten beasts and dispel the damp air, they laid down to sleep.

Refreshed the next morning, they were better fitted to calmly reflect on their condition than the night before; still they were unable to form any decided course to pursue further than to remain through that day near their present encampment. After breakfasting, they descended to the valley, and there, to their surprise, found an encampment of Indians. Frightened, they turned to ascend the mountain, when the Indians came running towards them making unmistaken signs of friendship.

"They are friendly tribes, thank Heaven! for it betokens assistance when we least expected it," said Howe, joyfully, as he advanced to meet them.

"You had better be careful, uncle, and not get in their power, as they may prove treacherous," cried Jane.

The chief turned with a sorrowful look to her, and said,

"The pale faced maiden has no faith in the words of her darker skinned brothers. Is it because they have wronged her people more than they have suffered wrong; or because they dared in their manhood to defend, to the last moment, the houses of their wives and children, and the graves of their kindred?"

"No, no; not that, chief," said Jane, earnestly. "Why let such thoughts forever disturb you? Some cannot be trusted, and these may be of the number, for that reason I bade uncle be cautious. You, we never suspected, and you wrong us in being so sensitive on this subject."

"It would be a fearful thing," returned the chief, "to see your race and kindred blotted from existence, to see their homes and pleasant places occupied by those who may be the cause of their extinction, and to know when the last of the race shall have departed, their name will be held synonymous with treachery and cruelty to futurity! Maiden! maiden!" added he, with a wild look, distorting his dark features, "may you never experience the torture of this feeling, nor the agony that hourly and yearly is mine."

"Think you, chief, the sorrow you feel for the extinction of your people is greater than that the people felt whom you extinguished in ages gone by, and whose existence can be traced only by the works of art they left behind them, which alone have survived, and still defy ages to come?"

"Listen to me, girl; for I speak from the promptings of the Great Spirit. The day may come when no longer our lands shall be yours, for another race may arise and avenge my people by the extinction of your own. You will be spared the torture of seeing it, as I do the struggles of my people. Nevertheless, the day will come when this shall be." So saying, with a hasty step and defiant brow, he turned from her, and joined the group of Indians who were conversing with Howe, Sidney, and Edward.

These Indians had evidently seen white men, or heard of them before; but could not speak a word of English, or any dialect the wanderers understood. They were, however, very communicative, and by signs and lines drawn on pieces of bark, gave them to understand that two moons' journey down the mountains was a pass over them, and on the other side there were plenty of people like themselves. But as it was now getting late in the season, they had better defer their journey until spring came again. At the same time they offered to take them in their village, and provide for them until they could depart in safety. They would not listen to this proposition, but accepted with eagerness their hospitality for a few days, in order to have an opportunity of making further inquiries as to the route and locality of the country they would have to pass through.



Chapter Eighteenth.

Thirty persons in the village. Their stay with the Indians. They proceed on their journey. Jane bitten by a rattlesnake. Taken back to the village. Frightful effects of the poison. It causes a violent fever to set in. Fatal consequences apprehended. She becomes delirious. The chief's unremitting exertions to counteract the disease. It slowly abated and Jane finally recovers. A war party returns having two white prisoners. Fears entertained of their safety. Minawanda assists them to escape by a sound indicating that of a whippoorwill. The white men also accompany them as guides. Their joy at their anticipated deliverance from the wilds of the forests. Miscellaneous conversation. They proceed on their flight unmolested.

There were about thirty persons in the lodges, the rest of the Indians, with their women and children, having gone out on one of their yearly hunting expeditions, as well for the excitement as for the supplies which they gather from them. These few were left to look after the village in the absence of the rest, and were principally those who were too old or ill to travel and hunt. After remaining a few days to prepare themselves, they set out, persuading an old Indian to accompany them as a guide two days' journey, in order to get them once more started in the right direction. They had no hope of returning directly to their friends. In fact, they knew that would be an impossibility to do by crossing the Sierra, and their object at that time was to find a settlement where they might know their whereabouts, and in what direction to go in order to return. The old Indian was positive there were people like themselves over the mountain of snow, and knowing they must have wandered a great way to come to it, they determined to make the most direct route to the nearest European habitation; for they had wandered so long that their friends had become a secondary object with them. Their first thoughts were to free themselves from the interminable forest, and sustain life.

About mid-day, as they were making their way among a thick growth of brush, a quick rattle was heard, which they all recognized as the warning of a deadly snake; but before they could save themselves, it had struck its poisonous fangs deep into the fleshy part of Jane's right foot.

Howe saw the snake bite her, and was at her side in a moment, and with a heavy club killed the terrible reptile on the spot. He then proceeded to bind the limb to prevent a free circulation of the blood, which in a few minutes would have conveyed the poison to the heart, and proved fatal. In the meantime, the chief and Sidney had been gathering an herb, which they bruised between two flat stones and poured over the wound, and put a few drops of the juice in her mouth.

She soon began to suffer excruciating pain, the limb swelling rapidly and turning a livid hue, while the bruised herbs which were bound over the wound every few minutes had to be exchanged for fresh ones, so rapidly did the poison act upon them.

"I feel it here!" said the poor girl, laying her hand on her heart; "it chokes, it suffocates me! Oh, it is terrible to die here! can you do nothing more? can nothing save me?" she added, turning her eyes inquiringly from one to the other of the group around her.

"We will do our best," said Sidney, "but that is very little," he added bitterly.

"Be brave, my poor child and never say die while there is life. As yet I see nothing to fear. The Indian's remedy is doing its work; we see that by the poison it extracts," said Howe, at the same time turning aside to hide the emotion that was welling up from his heart.

"The antelope shall not die," said the chief, "there is another remedy if the plant can be found," and with these words he hastened away into the forest. Her breathing now became more labored, her eye grew glassy, and languor began to pervade her whole frame. With breathless anxiety they awaited the return of the chief; for, if even successful in finding what he was in search of, he might be too late, as already life was waning; and as they knelt around her in speechless agony, and saw the distorted features and glassy eye, they knew that unless some active and powerful stimulant could be procured immediately she would be dead.

After twenty minutes' absence, though it seemed to them to be an hour, the chief returned with his hands filled with roots freshly torn from their bed, and laying them between two flat stones crushed them. Then pressing the juice into a drinking cup they had procured at the Indian village, held it to her lips. She made a motion as if she would drink, but her limbs were powerless, her teeth set, and every muscle rigid. With a low moan she closed her glassy eye, and hope then even fled from her heart. Not so the chief; prying open her teeth with the aid of his hunting-knife, he poured the extract down her throat, and then with a solution of it mixed in water, washed the wound, binding over it the bruised roots from which he had extracted the antidote. He then procured more of the same roots,[11] extracted the juice and repeated the process, continuing his efforts for half an hour, when she slowly opened her eyes, looked around, and whispered faintly, "I shall not die now, uncle. I breathe easier," then closed her eyes again with a sweet smile playing around her lips.

[11] Rattlesnake root—Botanical, Polygala senega—being an active stimulant, will counteract the bite of this most poisonous of reptiles.

Still the chief did not for a moment relax his exertions; he knew too well the subtlety of the poison of the rattlesnake, but while the rest were active in building a soft couch of boughs and leaves on which to lay her, he continued extracting the antidote with as much energy as at the first moment.

Her skin now began to assume a more natural hue; the eye lost its glassiness, and she could articulate with ease. An hour afterwards the swelling began to subside, and the danger was past. The chief had again saved her life.

He said not a word in exultation of his success, but it gleamed from his dark eyes, flushed his swarthy cheek, and swelled his brawny chest. Never strode he with loftier step or more regal carriage—a very impersonation of barbarian royalty. His superior knowledge in many emergencies into which they were brought in their primitive mode of life, his coolness, courage and energy under the trying circumstances that often occurred, commanded their voluntary reverence for the untaught, uncivilized Indian chief. The day and night wore away, and when they had hoped to resume their journey they found that a fever had succeeded the prostration produced by the poison, and she was too ill to travel. Dismayed at this new calamity, they were at a loss for awhile how to proceed. Their guide settled the point for them by insisting that the sick girl should be conveyed on a litter back to the village, where she could have a better shelter, and where her wants could be better supplied than in that lonely spot.

This they gladly acceded to, and when the sun again set she lay tossing in feverish delirium on a couch of skins within the tent of Minawanda their benevolent guide.

Cooling drinks were given her, and her throbbing, burning temples laved with cold water, fresh from the fountain. This soothed the pain, but it did not arrest the raging fever that burned in her veins, wasting her strength, and reducing her to a state as helpless as that of infancy.

The women in the village were untiring in their exertions to alleviate her suffering, and although they rendered her condition comparatively comfortable, yet the fever grew higher and stronger each day, until she became deprived of both reason and strength. The chief stood by the door of her lodge day and night, apparently without observing anything that was passing around him, and with the one feeling filling his entire soul—that of the antelope lying at the point of death, and he could do nothing to save her. Sidney was more active, and never left her couch, save to procure something for her. He, with Edward by her side, caressed her in her wild ravings until the excitement passed, and she was again calm. Then they would renew their exertions to assuage the fever, and cool the brain by laving it with water. It was all the remedy they had, and they used this freely. The ninth day of her illness the fever suddenly died away, and closing her eyes she slept as peacefully as the sleep of infancy for half an hour, when her breathing grew shorter, her chest heaved laboriously, and she unclosed her eyes, from which the light of reason once more shone. She whispered faintly, "Edward, come nearer; where are the rest of you? I feel so strangely! is this death?"

"We are here—all here!" cried Sidney, with a broken voice; "and you know us now, do you not, sister?"

"Yes, I know you now; but I feel so weak, and so strangely! have I been sick long? I remember now," she added, "the snake bit me, and I am poisoned, and shall die!"

"No, oh! no, you will not," said Howe, in his cheering tones; "you will not do any such thing. You are a brave girl, and will live many a long year yet. Here is a good draught for you, take it and keep quiet, and you will be well in a few days," he added, as he presented her some whey he had made from goats' milk and ripe grapes. Then ordering every one from the lodge, he shut out the light, and stationing himself by her side, bade her sleep, taking the precaution to arouse her every few minutes to administer to her the whey. She slept at intervals till sunset, when she again awakened perfectly conscious, and declared she felt much better. She now improved rapidly, and in a week's time was enabled to walk with assistance in the open air. Her appetite returned which, together with the pure air, caused her rapidly to improve, and regain her strength again; but they were at a loss in what manner to prosecute their fatiguing journey with her. To set out on foot was out of the question, as she would probably give out the first day, and to be carried on a litter she would not consent to, as she rightly argued it was as much as one was able to do to get himself along, without carrying a burthen.

There was not a horse or a mule in the village, although the Indians insisted that the hunting parties that had gone out had some with them, and if they would await their return, they could obtain one for her. While hesitating what course to pursue, shouts of the returning party were heard from the summit of the hill, and were recognized as those that betokened a great victory. The answer was taken up by every inhabitant of the village, and echoed back in full chorus.

In half an hour, the Indians, in admirable confusion, came galloping into the village, decorated in all the savage panoply of war; their grotesque features made still more repulsive and hideous by the paint with which they were besmeared. This, together with the shouts of the women, and wild yells of the children, constituted a more vivid picture of pandemonium than anything earthly.

One group of the returning party seemed to concentrate the curiosity of the Indians in the village more than another, and going thither they saw with surprise two white men confined as prisoners, their hands bound behind them with leather thongs. They looked almost worn out with fatigue and anxiety. Apprehensive for their own safety, they retreated to the lodge of their guide, and there learned that these two men had been captured three hundred miles south, and that they belonged to an overland emigrant party, who, in a battle with the Indians, had all been killed, with the exception of the two, and these, with the oxen, horses, and baggage, had fallen into the hands of the savages, and were conveyed to their village.

"This does not look well for our own safety," said Sidney.

"Not an arm will be raised against the pale faces who have eaten and smoked beneath the lodge of Minawanda," said the guide, solemnly.

"Perhaps not, with your consent," retorted Sidney, "but they may not think it worth while to ask it."

"The rights of hospitality are sacred with my people; let not the young man fear; no harm will come to him," said the guide, indignantly.

"One thing is certain, a light is breaking on our path. We have found some of our own race, though under unfavorable circumstances. Yet we may learn from them how to find our homes," said the trapper, encouragingly.

"If we get a chance to speak to them," said the chief, pointing significantly towards a lodge whence rose the wail of despair for a warrior who had gone out in the pride of manhood and returned not. "They will be avenged for the warriors who fell in the fight with the whites," he added, "and though they will respect us while guests of Minawanda, they will hem us round so we cannot escape, at last falling into their hands, if the blood of the two prisoners do not satisfy the bereaved friends of their lost warriors."

"We must deceive them some way and slip away privately," said the trapper, in a subdued voice as the guide left the lodge, and wended his way over to the lodges whence proceeded the mournful sounds.

"Let us fly from here, now we are alone and free," said Jane, nervously. "The deepest recess of the forest is preferable to staying here."

"We cannot do that; we should be discovered, brought back, and strictly guarded, and thus be frustrated in all our chances of escaping. No, no; we want some of their horses to give us a start, besides several hours of the night to cover our retreat," said the chief.

"Besides this," said the trapper, "it is hardly a Christian act to leave these two men to perish by the hands of the savages. I do not think they will offer us any harm, and we may not only effect their escape peacefully, but induce the Indians to carry us to the nearest settlement with their horses. We must keep a strict and vigilant watch, and see which way things turn, and act accordingly."

The day passed and the sun had set, yet Minawanda had not returned to his lodge, from which the wanderers had not ventured for fear of further exasperating the Indians. This occurrence troubled them, and in truth looked ominous, as it had never occurred before, and with great impatience they watched for his coming. Still, hour after hour passed, and he came not, and with forebodings of evil, they proposed that one of them should reconnoitre the village under the cover of darkness to discover what was brewing among them. The chief volunteered his services, as possessing a subtlety which was unequalled, and with his noiseless tread, he went silently forth; but, before he had gone twenty yards from the door a hand was laid on his shoulder, and the voice of the guide whispered in his ear, "return to the lodge! your life depends upon it. I will be there in an hour!"

The chief stood irresolute a moment, then as silently returned to the lodge and related the circumstance, and asked the advice of the rest whether he had better wait or proceed.

"I think Minawanda is our friend, and we had better do his bidding," said the trapper.

Silently they remained a few moments, when the sound of a light step fell on their ear, and the Fawn, a child of twelve years, and a daughter of the guide stepped within the lodge, and with a startled look stood irresolute for a moment, then going up to Jane, nestled close to her side fixing her dark starry eyes on hers with a bewildered gaze.

"What would you with me?" inquired the young girl, as she endeavored to reassure her.

"My father can no longer protect the white strangers," she replied, "but he can save them if they will place themselves under his directions."

"What says the young squaw?" asked the chief, whose acute ear had caught the low tones of the child.

Jane repeated what the fawn had said, when the trapper placed himself by her side and demanded what they were to do.

"I do not know, except that, when the Whippoorwill is heard behind the lodge, you are all to go out silently, and as the cry is heard, you are to follow the sound until you meet others who will be in waiting for you——"

"To lead us to the stake!" said the chief. "Is my brother mad, that he listens to this chattering, and will he run into the snare laid to entrap him?"

"Really, chief, you see through the treachery of these savages better than any one else, and do credit to your education," said Sidney.

"We will not go to them to be murdered in the dark," said Edward. "If they want anything of us, here we are, and here we will be until daylight."

"It will then be too late," said the fawn, sadly. "My father bade me say the two pale faced prisoners would be there, and when day broke, and it was found they had escaped, my people could not be restrained, but would sacrifice you in their stead. He would have come himself to tell you this, but feared to be from the council that has been held, for fear of suspicion, as it is known to all the returned hunters that you are in his lodge."

"I do not believe that Minawanda meditates treachery," said Howe. "If he wanted to give us up, why take the precaution? He knows we are in his lodge, and he could lead his warriors to take us any moment, if that was his object. I think he is sincere, and, for one, am willing to place myself in his hands."

"I, too, am willing to trust him," said Jane. "We cannot make matters worse, and it may be the means of our return to our friends. The sight of others inspires hope, and if we could get away with them, they could probably lead us out of the forest."

Their conversation was here cut short by the clear shrill notes of the Whippoorwill, close behind the lodge.

"There it is," cried the fawn, bounding to her feet. "Go! go! do not hesitate, or you will be lost!"

"Come," said the trapper, taking Jane by the hand; "I feel assured there is truth in that child's face. Let us hasten on."

"If you go, I do," said Edward; "I can stand as much, and more than you can."

"And I," said Sidney.

"If the antelope goes, I will go to defend her," said the chief, following, as the trapper, with Jane, moved away in the darkness, in the direction whence the sound had come. Hurrying into the thick forest that skirted the back of the lodge, they were at a loss which direction to take, when again some distance ahead the shrill cry burst on their ears, and they noiselessly and rapidly advanced as near as they could imagine a quarter of a mile, when it was again heard ahead of them. Still following, they travelled about the same distance again, when the hand of Minawanda was laid on Howe's arm, as he said—"Stand still a moment!—I will apprise the others of your presence!" and disappearing in the darkness, they heard him talking low, but rapidly, for a few moments; then he once more stood before them, and bidding them follow, led them on a short distance where, by the faint glimmer of starlight, they saw men and a number of horses standing. "Mount!" said Minawanda; "there are horses for all. Here is the best one for the young squaw;" so saying, he lifted Jane from the ground, and seated her firmly on her horse's back—and placing the bridle in her hand, turned to assist the rest; but they had all mounted, and were waiting directions which way to proceed. Up to this moment they had not heard the voices nor seen the forms of those who were to accompany them, save by the dusky outlines which did not even reveal the number, and so quiet and rapidly had the whole transpired, that they had no time to think of anything.

"Guides! move on!" said Minawanda; "follow, brothers, they will lead you to your own people—and when there, forget not that a generous, disinterested deed may be performed by an Indian, although he risks life in so doing." So saying, he shook hands with them all in rapid succession, and darting away, they were alone with the guides, whom they saw were two in number, and mounted like themselves.

"Well, Jones," one of them said, in a very subdued tone, "if this is not one of the queerest pieces of work I ever saw, then call me an Arab."

"Never mind, Cole," the other answered, "push ahead as fast as you can, or the Indians will broil us yet. We must get a good start to cheat the rascally red-skins."

"Hush about the broiling, you make me nervous. How about our company? All there?" again sung out the one called by his companion, Jones.

"Here! all right; five of us, following we do not know who, nor where he will lead us to," said Howe, in a merry tone.

"Don't know? Well, perhaps you never heard of Jones, son of old Major Jones, away down in old Connecticut. That is me, and I guess you will not be sorry you are following me, especially as Cole says, we were all to be broiled in a heap by those red skins."

"That I shall not, and right glad I am of your services to help us out of as deep an entanglement as I think ever a set of Christians got into," said the trapper.

"Well, I do not know, but I guess we will cheat them; the moon will be up soon, and then we can ride faster," replied Jones.

"Are you sure of the way you have to go?" asked Sidney, who was still nervous about getting bewildered in the forest.

"I guess I am," replied Jones. "Did I not come over it this morning?"

"Yes, but you might miss your way," returned Sidney.

"Might miss! Why young man, where was you educated, to learn the possibility of doing such a thing? There is no such word as failing to a downeaster."

"I think you must have failed once, or you would not be here," retorted Sidney, facetiously.

"The best failure for us that was ever made," said Jane, earnestly. "We shall find our way out by that means."

"Only that object is attained, I do not care for the rest," remarked Edward. "See yonder the moon is rising, and welcome enough will be its light."

They made their way quite rapidly, and as mile after mile was placed between them and the village, their hopes of eluding their pursuers were strengthened. Jane did not feel the fatigue, so excited had she become, although, Howe had taken the precaution soon after they started, of riding close by her side, so that he could assist her at a moment's warning; for he knew she was too weak to bear such rapid travelling over fallen trees, stones, brush, and marshy ground long, and he feared that a reaction would ensue. He did not know how strongly the love and desire to reach home again burned in her heart, strengthening by its power every muscle and nerve.



Chapter Nineteenth.

They arrive at a stream of considerable magnitude over which they cross. Encampment on its bank. They ride in the water to elude their pursuers. Jones and Cole give them some information relative to their friends, having met Lewis at Fort Laramie. The joyful reception of the news. Desire to return. The lateness of the season prevents it. They continue on. Arrival at the base of the Sierra Nevada. Fear of crossing the mountains in the snow. They retreat to a place of security with intentions to encamp for the winter. They construct themselves winter quarters as well as they can.

At daylight the fugitives came to a considerable stream which they crossed and halted on the opposite bank. They turned their horses loose to feed and rest, and taking some fish from the stream by means of shooting them with their arrows,[12] they broiled them. The fish, together with some roasted yampa roots, made a plentiful and nourishing repast. Letting their horses rest as long as they dared, they mounted and entering the stream, followed it down a mile, so as to deceive the Indians, should they be pursued, then again taking to the bank they rode with great speed, until their beasts began to flag, when again halting on a position that overlooked the country around, they prepared themselves a dinner, turning their horses loose to graze while they ate. After partaking of their meal, Jane fortunately fell asleep, and when they feared to remain in that position, they awoke her, and proceeded on till late in the night. Again halting, and posting a sentinel who was relieved every two hours, they lay down to sleep, for they were worn out with their rapid marches. At the first faint streak of light, they were in motion, and thus pursuing their way rapidly for three more days, they were glad to halt, as their horses were emaciated, lame, and sore, and were scarcely able to keep their feet, so galling and toilsome had been their journey.

[12] A common mode of taking fish among the Indians.

They calculated they had saved themselves from pursuit, and accordingly prepared for a few days' rest which was made doubly sweet to them by the prospect of the dear home and friends which loomed up before them. Building a temporary shelter, they spent several days in that place and became more acquainted with their two new companions. Jones was a curiosity in himself, fearing nor caring for nothing but being broiled alive, a fate for which he evinced the utmost repugnance, and declared he would be willing to adopt any emergency than encounter it, an alternative they all coincided heartily in, with the exception of Cole, who expressed a decided belief that it was preferable to many things, and delighted to hold up its advantages, but what they were he never specified to his more sensitive companion.

They were both from Connecticut and had been some years sailors, their ship having been driven and wrecked by winds on the Pacific coast they were obliged to content themselves as best they could; and as they enjoyed a large share of constitutional Yankee restlessness, sought to turn their misfortunes to some account. While waiting for relief they explored the deep unbroken wilds that surrounded them. In doing this they encountered many difficulties, and often hazarded their lives, but were rewarded by finding, as they asserted, gold mines scattered over a large district. Returning home by an overland route with specimens of the ore, they had induced others to return with them, accompanied by their families, their object being to take up the land on which the precious metal was found and settle it, guessing with characteristic shrewdness that as soon as it was known in the Eastern States that there was gold in the place, the land would be of immense value.

There were eleven of them all, two women and two children, one ten and the other twelve years old; the rest being well calculated for such a daring enterprise. It was their intention to keep the same Indian trail back they had gone over in returning home, trusting to memory to keep them from straying. When their journey was two-thirds accomplished the Indians had come unawares upon them and after fighting as long as they could hold out, all were killed but these two, who were made prisoners with all their baggage. "It was a struggle for life, and two days we kept them at bay," said Jones, "but we were one after another picked off until but five of us were left, when the savages maddened by the sight of their killed and wounded which must have been in great numbers, closed around us and we fought hand to hand for a few minutes, when Cole and myself were overpowered, disarmed and captured, the rest were killed, scalped, and their dead bodies left on the ground unburied to become a prey to beasts scarcely more savage than the Indians. Our fate was decided on in council the same evening we were taken to the village. We were sentenced to run the gauntlet.[13] If we survived we were to become part of the tribe to supply the places of the lost warriors; if we fell, the stake awaited us. We looked upon ourselves as doomed, when an old Indian came to us, and displacing the thongs with which we were bound, bade us follow him. The rest you know, and we are here together."

[13] The gauntlet consists in drawing up the members of the village in two files facing each other four feet apart, through which the victim has to make his way, the Indians striking at him as he runs with clubs, knives, tomahawks or any weapon they choose to arm themselves with. Not one out of a hundred get through the file, and if they do they are sure to meet with kindness; but if beaten down they are either killed on the spot or carried wounded and bleeding to the stake where they perish amidst horrible tortures.

"For which I am really grateful," said the trapper, who informed them of the principal events of their wandering for the last year and a-half. They listened with great interest until the recital was finished, and then Jones said, musingly, "It must be that you are the same of whom we heard so much, more than a year ago, although your friends believed you had perished by the cruel hands of the Indians."

"Then you have seen them! Are they well? Have they removed from the encampment by the brook?" and numberless other questions were showered in a breath upon them.

"One at a time," said the imperturbable Yankee; "one at a time, and I will answer them all."

"Then, are they alive and well?" asked Jane, who could not restrain her anxiety.

"They are, as far as I know," said Jones. "I saw but one they called Lewis, and he was well, and I heard him tell another man who was inquiring for the rest of the family that the rest were.

"Thank heaven for that," said Jane, fervently.

"Where are they?" asked the trapper.

"I don't know, exactly," said Jones. "The young man I saw was at Fort Laramie. He had heard there were several distant tribes of Indians encamped there to trade with the whites, and had come to see if he could learn from them the fate that had befallen you."

"Then I suspect," said the trapper, "they have remained near the spot where they were encamped when we were stolen."

"Who is the chief of the Arapahoes?" asked Whirlwind.

"I think he is called the Bald Eagle, but I don't remember distinctly. When I passed through their country last spring, I heard about a great Medicine man, who was likewise their chieftain, who had been killed or carried away at the same time part of the family of Mr. Duncan had."

"This is the chief," said the trapper, "he still lives, and I hope will for many a long year yet to come."

"That would be great news for the Arapahoes," said Cole, "and their joy could scarcely be exceeded by that of Mr. Duncan's family, could they know their lost ones were safe."

They had somewhat recovered from the fatigues of their flight, and proposed renewing their journey. The autumn, which was far advanced, warned them it was time to be on the move, if they intended to reach the haunts of civilization before the snows began to fall, and as Cole and Jones assured them they would certainly strike a trail that led to the Pacific coast in three or four days' travel, they were impatient to be on the move. They suffered much with the cold, as the nights were keen enough to create ice an inch in thickness, and the frosts destroyed a great deal of the herbage on which the horses subsisted. The third day the sky began to grow heavy in the morning, and as the air was keen they feared snow would fall, but it partially broke away before night, greatly to their satisfaction. They lay down by their camp-fire with the stars gleaming, though faintly, above them.

About midnight they were awakened by flakes of snow falling on their faces, and on awaking, they discovered the ground white around them. Before morning the white covering was three inches deep. The winter had set in uncommonly early, and they with saddened hearts rode all day through the falling snow. Night came on, and scraping the ground clear of leaves and snow, they built themselves a temporary shelter, leaving one side open, by which the camp-fire was built. They had nothing to eat, having laid by no supply of roots or meat, and the ground was covered with snow so that the roots could not be found. Leaving Sidney, Edward, and Jane in the camp, the rest went out to get some game, and in half an hour the trapper returned with a pair of wild turkeys. He was followed soon by Cole who brought some pheasants and a grey squirrel. As the shades of night began to gather around them, the others came in with a fawn and a mountain sheep. There was no fear then of their being supperless; and, after eating a hearty meal, they laid down to sleep with the snow still falling around them. When they awoke in the morning the sky was clear and the sun arose warm, and by noon had softened the snow so much as to make it wet their clothing, as they brushed it from the pendant branches in riding along. When they encamped that night, Jane was shivering with cold, and too ill to eat; but the rest lay by the fire, and slept as well as the disagreeable situation in which they were placed would allow. Jane was quite ill the next day, and they did not think it prudent to travel; but by night she felt much better, and as they calculated they could strike the trail in another day's journey, they determined to be in the saddle by daylight.

Riding, as fast as the rugged uneven country through which they were travelling would permit, for three hours, they came to the trail earlier in the day than they had anticipated, greatly to their relief. Here now they were on a road that would lead them to their friends from which they had so long been separated, during which time they had encountered so many trials and so much suffering. The sight of it dispelled all fatigue from them, and they were ready, nay, eager, to turn their horses homeward. They were restrained from such mad proceedings by the cool, undisturbed equanimity of Jones, who said: "The journey home requires three months' hard travelling, and if we undertake it in our present unprepared condition, we shall certainly perish by cold and hunger. On the other hand the trail in the opposite direction, will lead us to a safe harbor, in a third of the distance which, when accomplished, we shall be willing to stay in till spring comes again. It is always dangerous travelling through these wilds when prepared, but in our destitute condition it is most hazardous."

"Lead us on; we can endure it," cried the children, enthusiastically.

"No, no; children," said the trapper, "Jones tells the truth, we can never cross the country that lies between us and our friends, in the dead of winter. We must content ourselves in a place of security, if we can find one, until spring again comes."

"Yonder," said the chief, pointing towards the west, where the Great Sierra arose with its snowy peaks towering among the clouds, "are the Snow mountain. To reach the white settlement beyond we must cross it. We are too weak and destitute to do it. Let us build a lodge here and gather what provisions we can before the snow is deeper, and the deer all leave us."

"I believe it is the best thing we can do, for our safety," said the cautious trapper.

"Oh! no; do not think of such a thing!" said Sidney. "I am sure we can cross the mountain, and when over them, it cannot be far to civilized habitations."

"You are young and sanguine," said the trapper, "and do not know the dangers before you."

"We might as well pursue the trail a day or two," said Jones, "and then, if we think we cannot cross the mountain, we can build winter quarters. For my part, I do not relish a winter here, any more than Sidney."

"Well," said Cole, casting an admiring glance towards Jane, "I think quarters might become tolerable, if well supplied with venison—and I think they might, between us all."

The chief saw the look, and a close observer might have for an instant observed a peculiar glitter in his eye, but no word or movement of his indicated that he had witnessed it, or if he did, cared for it. Resuming their journey, they were soon made aware that the ground before them was rising, and covered with a greater depth of snow. By noon they had come to the base of high ranges of hills that rose one above another, and above all towered the Sierra Nevada. Over these the trail extended, and they were compelled either to encamp on the spot, go back, or cross over the mountains. To pass over them seemed impossible—to encamp on the exposed slope on which they were would subject them unnecessarily to severe suffering from cold; and their only safe alternative was to fall back to some secure unexposed position, and raise a winter camp.

A few miles back, a sheltered position was discovered; the snow was cleared away, and all working with an earnest will, a commodious hut was soon erected consisting of strong poles for the frame work, which were covered with bark, and this again thickly studded with boughs to keep out the cold. The ground was also strewn with them, for they had no skins to spread over it, nor even to make themselves a covering through the night with—a want from which they suffered much. Taking advantage of their experience the last winter, they collected stone from beneath the snow, and built themselves a rough but efficient fire-place, which occupied nearly one side of the hut, and in which they could build large fires that diffused their genial warmth over the room without endangering the frail fabric.



Chapter Twentieth.

The cold increases. The men take large quantities of fur. Abundant supplies of game. Conversation on various matters. Jones and Cole tell some of their adventures in the gold regions. A boulder of gold. Shooting it from a precipice. Jones loaded down with riches. Comfortable condition of the children. Howe describes an adventure he experienced near Lake Superior by falling into an Indian's deer-pit. Whirlwind relates a circumstance that occurred to himself and Shognaw in reference to their escape from the Crows. The party's resignation to their lot.

As the severity of the winter increased, they took daily hunting excursions, in order to procure the necessary furs and skins to help ward off the cold, always preserving their game, which was brought home, dried and smoked by the fire, to preserve it against an hour of need. They soon had their hut lined throughout with skins, the edges joined with sinews or slender strips of hide, which kept the wind from finding its way to them through the openings. They also covered the ground with skins, reserving the fur of the foxes and beaver which they snared, as well as the lighter skins, to make themselves new and warm clothing. Their food was almost entirely animal, as they rarely succeeded in getting anything of a vegetable character. They occasionally found a "nut-pine" tree, from which they gathered its fruits, but they disliked the taste of them, and gathered them more for the light they gave when on fire, than for eating. Though they were not as comfortably housed, or as well provided with the necessaries of life, as the winter previously; yet they did not suffer so as to endanger health, by either hunger or cold, and their greatest discomfort arose from the want of vegetable food and salt. For the last article they had searched in vain, and had come to the conclusion that there were no saline beds within many miles of them. Jones and Cole never grew tired of listening to their account of the hidden wealth they had discovered, and they would spend days speculating on the best plan of opening a communication with the districts containing the golden prize.

"I would have kept the urn," said Cole, "if a whole legion of Indians had been at my back."

"Perhaps not," said Jones. "I myself have seen the time when gold was a burthen."

"The time you shot the boulder!" remarked Cole, laughing.

"Laugh as you will," said Jones; "that was a lucky shot if it was an almost fatal one."

"What is it?" they all asked, seeing there was more than Jones felt disposed to tell.

"Why," said Jones, "when among the gold mines on the other side of the mountain we were not satisfied with the flakes of gold in the sand, and supposed, of course, that there was a solid bed of it somewhere up the river, from which it was washed down by the constant action of the waters. As we proceeded along the river the ground became more rugged until it led us into a cluster of hills and precipices jumbled up together. Entering a narrow ravine we soon came to a curious looking place with smooth sides standing perpendicularly, about twenty feet apart, which was gradually contracted to within two feet, leaving the end narrow and jagged. We soon saw there was ore in it, and on examining closely we discovered places where large blocks of the precious metal had been torn from its bed, with the marks of the mining tools still plainly visible. Looking around us we picked up among the loose pieces on the ground some lumps of pure gold, which were among the specimens we carried home."

"Yes, yes; that is all very well, and very true," said Cole, "but it is not all; tell the rest."

"They will not believe it if I do. They never did in the States, so what is the use of it?" said Jones.

"We have seen such wonderful things ourselves that we are prepared for anything," said the trapper.

"He may if he chooses," said Jones, pointing to Cole. "I shall not, it is of no use."

"The narrow place," said Cole, "where we found the gold was about fifty feet high, and nearly half way up to the top we discovered a huge boulder of pure gold, as large as a bushel basket, hanging by a slim thread of gold no larger than your finger. This thread was fully four inches long, and seemed to have been cut that way by some one who had been supported while doing so from above, for the boulder was in that position that if worked at from below it would crush the artisan in its fall. We were equally resolved to get hold of this mammoth prize, but the question how we could get it was not so easily solved, as it rested against the opposite side and would evidently turn and fall if this narrow thread was broken.

"'I have it!' said Jones, exulting at the happy thought. 'I'll shoot it off,' for we both had rifles.

"'And be crushed with its weight,' said I; but the words had not died on my lips when the sharp crack of the rifle was heard, and down came the prize. Both turned to fly from the danger, but Jones's foot caught in some loose stones and he was prostrated, and the boulder rolling as it fell deposited itself exactly across him. I removed the uncomfortable load as soon as possible, but Jones's stomach has been out of order ever since, especially when he sees solid bodies overhead."

"What became of the lump of gold?" asked the trapper.

"We hid it in the earth; but should have been to it again before this time had we not been overhauled by the Indians."

"A fortunate escape," said Howe, "equal to one I made many years ago, ere I learned to distrust the ground I walked over before testing its security. Being on one of our trapping expeditions, father and myself found ourselves on the territory of the St. Croix Indians, who evinced great friendship for us, insisting we should take up our abode in their village as long as we thought fit to remain in their territory. We soon became domesticated among them, and spent our nights there although our days were spent in the most secret recesses of the forest in setting our traps, curing skins, and in observing the habits of the wild denizens of the forest. One day father and myself separated, he to look after our traps set in one direction, I in another; and as I neared the place of destination, while walking over ground smooth and level as you ever saw the ground in the forest, suddenly it gave way, precipitating me into a hole full ten feet deep with smooth, perpendicular sides that defied all attempts to climb them. I had fallen into an Indian's deer trap, dug and covered over so as to deceive them; but which would readily give way precipitating the game into the snare, the escape from which was impossible. I laughed at my stupidity at first, as I knew within an hour, father would be along when with his assistance I could be easily extricated. I soon had enough to do without laughing, for in half an hour after, I heard a step above, but before I had time to speculate on it, the nose of a half grown cub was thrust over the top, and in the next moment its ugly carcase came tumbling down and fell with a crash at my feet, uttering a cry of pain as it fell, which was answered by a growl from above, and in a minute more its dam stood on the brink growling fiercely at me, as she saw her cub lay helpless and moaning on the ground. With a spring she lighted on her feet within six feet of where I stood, for I had retreated into the farthest corner, not at all relishing a fight in such close quarters, for the hole was only about eight feet square—and not a very agreeable place to be cornered in with an enraged bear. Fortunately I had clung to my rifle, in falling, and had also my hunting knife in my belt, so I concluded if she was in for a struggle, not to back out of it. I saw at once the cub had been killed in the fall, for the old bear smelt round and moaned softly to it, and then finding it did not stir, turned it over and over with her paw. Finding it still exhibited no signs of life, she turned towards me with gnashing teeth and flashing eyes, and then, I must say, I really felt cornered. You know I told you," he added apologetically, "that I was young then; in fact not more than twenty. Well, the beast raised herself for a spring at me, when I gave her a pair of bullets, that made her howl; but she sprang and grasping me in her huge arms, fastened my arms to my side so that my knife was useless in my belt, and I was making up my mind that all was over with me, when father halloed above, he having been drawn thither, by my calls for help, followed by a leap into the hole, and a half dozen thrusts of his knife into the monster's heart, relieved me from the closest embrace I hope ever to encounter."

"I should suppose you could have seen some signs to indicate the trap," said Edward.

"The Indians take good care that there are none; covering slender poles over with a thick layer of leaves that hides effectually the abyss beneath."

"My brother was in danger," said the chief, laughing at his mishaps, "but it was not equal to one of my warriors who, with me, went out once to recover some horses the thieving Crows had driven away. We found the horses, and starting for home had proceeded about a mile, when we discovered a whole army of the Crows start in pursuit. Our only hope of safety for ourselves lay in flight, and abandoning our horses for which we had risked our lives, we went scouring through the forest at a furious rate. The animals we rode were jaded, and those of our pursuers fresh, and we soon saw they gained upon us, and abandoning our horses behind a sharp curve that hid us from sight, we made them gallop away, and then betook ourselves to trees for safety. In ten minutes after the Crows galloped past us, leaving us safely secreted in the friendly branches in which we had taken shelter. Shognaw had climbed a large beech tree that stood within a few feet of the one in which I had taken shelter. I once or twice thought I heard a growl like that uttered by cubs, but the excitement I felt for our safety, dispelled it the next moment. As soon as we were left alone, and the sounds of the pursuers died away in the distance, I felt some alarm, for I knew if there were cubs about, the old bear would dislodge us, and, in all probability, our retreat would be discovered by some straggling Crows. At that moment, Shognaw, calling my attention in a low tone, said, 'I have got into a bear's hole, full of young cubs, what shall I do? for the old one will not be away long, as she, on finding a commotion raised by the Crows will, for her own safety, take refuge in her den.'

"'We cannot fight her, that is certain,' said I, 'for we should then be discovered; but, if we watch our chance, we may get away from this spot, and find safety in some other, but we must be very cautious that no Crows are in sight first.'

"'I think there are none now,' he replied, not at all relishing the idea of trespassing on the domicil of madam Bruin.

"'Hist! there they are,' said I, as we saw a number of them come yelling towards us, and on looking again, I discovered them in pursuit of something which, in a few minutes, bounded from a clump of bushes and made for the tree in which Shognaw had hid, and then to our dismay, we saw it was the old bear pursued by the Crows. He too saw her coming, and ascended to the topmost branches high above the hole, and well he did, for in a moment more, she had crawled in just as the hunters came to the foot of the tree. They were foiled of their game, and after consulting for a moment whether it was best to cut or burn down the tree, they concluded to burn it, as the less laborious way to dislodge the old bear. Accordingly, they dispersed in search of fire, leaving half their number to guard the tree while away. I saw at once that we were caught in a trap, and that nothing but coolness and strategy could save us. The tree in which I was, being a little out from the one they were watching, favored my escape, which I effected by noiselessly descending, and edging away by darting from tree to tree, until I had attained a safe position that overlooked the spot where I feared Shognaw would meet his doom. The fire was soon kindled, and being fed with dry brush, soon wound and crackled up the trunk, and began to scorch and consume the branches and leaves of the tree. I began to think I ought to face the whole band single handed, in an attempt to rescue the poor fellow, when I saw him swing himself down from limb to limb, and drop to the ground in the midst of the astonished Crows, and take to flight. For a moment they were too surprised to comprehend that it was really a man, and a foe; but they soon recovered from the panic, and sounding their war cry, the whole band gave chase. Shognaw took to a river half a mile distant, and plunging in, rose among some rushes that skirted the bank, among which he hid himself till dark, when he made his way in safety home, which he reached before I did, for I was looking out for him the whole night, and returned when I made up my mind that he had at last fallen into the hands of the Crows."



Chapter Twenty-First.

Departure of winter. Joy at the fact of knowing which way they were travelling. Their encampment by the side of a beautiful lake. They reach the first ranges of the Sierra Nevada mountains. Whirlwind offers to go to Mr. Duncan's encampment and guide them through the forests. He starts on that expedition accompanied by Cole. The children pursue their journey. Discovery of gold. They experience great difficulties in crossing the Sierra. Three of their horses dashed to pieces over a precipice. Narrow escape of Jones. Discovery of singular ancient walls. An engraved slab of granite. They reach the foot of the Sierra in safety. Their route continued. They finally arrive at the residence of a Spanish Curate. They consent to tarry awhile at his house.

Winter gradually wore away—the snow-girt hills and valleys were divested of their mantle of gloom, and were clothed with vestments of green, spangled with crimson, blue, and gold flowers, the perfume of which called forth the soft hum of bees as they flew from flower to flower, extracting the honied dews. Far from the sunny South the birds came with their glad, cheering voices, giving forth a welcome to the dawning spring. The winter had been long and tedious, cheered only with the certainty that they knew which way they had to travel in order to reach the haunts of civilization; and though they had kept the hunger wolf at bay, their strength gradually gave out under their unhealthy diet, and when they were ready to travel, they were in a pitiful condition to endure its fatigues. Their horses were even worse off than themselves. Worn with privation to skeletons, they were drooping and spiritless; and had not the wanderers used great exertion to collect the young grass for them, they would have perished, for they were too languid to crop it themselves.

Slowly at first new vigor became infused into them, and in a few weeks' delay, and the spring rains being over, their horses gathered strength, and they determined to proceed on their journey. Upon mature deliberation they considered it prudent to cross the mountains to the Pacific coast, and then send word to Mr. Duncan where they were, as they did not deem themselves strong or well enough prepared to make the distance back to their friends. Whirlwind heard the decision, and then told them he thought it best that one or more of them should return to Mr. Duncan, and as he could be spared best, offered to go, if either Jones or Cole would guide him on the road; "for," said the chief, "Duncan and the rest can come to you better than you can go to them, in your present condition."

"Always generous," said Jane, with gratitude beaming in her eye, for in truth she felt heart-sick at the thought of placing a still greater distance between herself and those her heart yearned to see.

"It is nothing," said the chief. "Whirlwind would give his life, if it would save the antelope a pang of sorrow or grief."

"I think Duncan would as soon settle here as in Oregon, his original destination," said the trapper; "and if we can so arrange it as to make it safe for us, I think myself it would be a better plan, than for all of us to proceed over the mountains, and then, when we are able, return again."

"In doing this," said Cole, "we can reach Mr. Duncan's camp, if still where you left him, which I think he is, before midsummer, and then he will be able to reach you at the nearest settlement by the time frost again comes. I am willing to accompany the chief, while Jones can guide you in safety over the Sierra before you."

Selecting two of the best horses for the use of Whirlwind and Cole, they took leave of them, charging them with a multitude of messages for their friends, and when they started on the homeward route, they too moved on towards the mountain before them, whose snow-crested head loomed up among the clouds. At noon our wanderers halted at the spot they retreated from when they went into their winter quarters, and after resting, began to climb the rugged ascent, Jones leading the way; and, save an occasional path beaten by the denizens of the forest, their only landmark was the blazed trees.[14] Jones had been over the ground before, and as his memory was very tenacious, he saved them from much anxiety, and often from danger, as well as unnecessary fatigue. Their progress was necessarily slow and painful, but they were still brave at heart, and bore it in silence. At night they halted by the side of a beautiful lake, around which the hills curved gracefully, forming a natural basin, which held the transparent waters against the side of the mountain. Its banks were richly covered with grass, and shaded by aspens which, with the rugged peaks of the mountains that towered above, gave it a sylvan appearance.

[14] Bark cut off from trees to indicate a certain course through the forests. It is a very common practice among the pioneers of the West.

Numerous flocks of ducks were seen on the surface of the lake, and some of them contributed to the supper of the travellers, whose appetites, sharpened by the mountain air, relished their delicious flavor. Following down this lake the next morning for nearly half a mile, they passed round it, and commenced the ascent of the range above them. Innumerable springs dotted the trail on either side, while shrubs and the earliest spring flowers hung and overrun every crevice in the rocks around them. The scenery was wilder here than any they had met with before in all their wanderings. Their path led them often between stupendous, curious looking rocks, which rose on either side, narrowing the pass so that they were obliged to travel in Indian file. It was a singular place—the grey, smooth, rocky precipices—the strip of blue sky far above—an open chasm, in which one would naturally expect if anywhere, to encounter spirits and hobgoblins. Happily for our wanderers, they were well aware they had not emigrated from the old world, but in their place feared to encounter hostile Indians. Emerging from this defile, they continued their course over a rocky surface, the vegetation every moment growing more sparse, and when night came on they were nowhere near water, and all they had to relieve their thirst was what they found in crevices of rocks that had collected there during the last rain. A little scanty herbage was all their horses could find after their hard day's travel, and had they not brought a supply of fowl from the lake where they had camped the night before, they would have gone supperless to rest.

At early dawn they left that inhospitable spot, and by sunrise came to the top of the acclivity of the range. Below them lay a beautiful valley clothed with verdure, through which flowed a considerable river, and beyond the range of hills that skirted it on the other side, rose the topmost snow-covered peak of the Sierra. They found the descent into the valley far more difficult than the ascent, the trail often leading them along a narrow footpath, the rocks rising perpendicularly on one side, while on the other were yawning chasms a hundred feet below, apparently ready to receive them, should they stumble, or deviate from the rugged path before them. They made the descent in safety, and rested themselves for the remainder of the day on the bank of the river. On examining the stream, they found it too deep to be forded in the usual way of riding their horses over. They built a raft, on which they crossed, holding the horses by the halter, making them swim by its side.

The next morning, with a day's supply of provisions for themselves and animals, they began the ascent of the range before them, the summit of which they gained the next day with perfect safety, and then began the opposite descent, camping for the night on the western side. The slope at this point was less rugged and difficult of descent than the other, and they encamped at its base, having made extraordinary marches the last few days, taking into consideration the dangerous path over which they had travelled. There was no valley here, the ground between this range and the Sierra being a commingling of rolling hills, shady dells, and narrow ravines, all densely covered with verdure, through which small rivulets murmured, taking their rise at the base of the Sierra, and wound their way through the broken surface, now in tranquil beauty, and anon dashing in waterfalls down ledges of rocks, their clear limpid waters lashed to a foam. Large quantities of deer, elk, antelope, and mountain sheep, were found there, as well as wild turkeys, geese, partridges, duck, and numerous other smaller fowls. Secure in the mountain fastnesses the game had multiplied till it had completely filled the whole country, and Howe declared that during all his hunting and trapping career, he had never encountered such a variety and quantity in so small a space of territory.

"I cannot think it a small space," said Jones. "In my opinion, it extends many hundred miles each way, giving game range enough."

They were now at the foot of the last and most formidable object that debarred them from civilization, and here they thought it prudent to halt a few days to recruit their own as well as their animal's strength, and prepare provision to carry with them. The second day of the halt while they were in search of the roots of the yampa, they found on turning up the earth that it was specked with fine particles of gold. They were highly elated at this, for now, with a fair prospect of freeing themselves from the wilds, it had its old intrinsic value, and doubly valuable would it be to them, on gaining a settlement, as not one of them had an article of clothing about them that was not made of skins, and many in not over good repair.

"We can save this now, I suppose," said Sidney, "that the chief is not by with evil spirits?"

"Certainly, as much as you like," returned the trapper. "I intend to find some on my own account."

"You will not find any that will equal in quantities and value, that of the cavern in the oasis," said Edward.

"You don't know that," returned his uncle. "I have always noticed where gold is found in flakes, mixed with earth, that it has been washed in ages past into its present bed, from where it originally was in a pure state. At least such is the conclusion formed by present appearances."

"No harm in searching for it," said Jones, who was in ecstacies at the discovery of gold, and he began to tear up the loose earth in every direction around him. Leaving the rest picking out the tiny flakes from the earthy bed, Howe and Jones spent the day in examining the localities around where they thought it most likely the ore was to be found, but obtained only torn hands and feet for their labor, and were glad to give up the search and return to camp. During their absence the children had collected a great deal, sometimes finding nuggets as large as a walnut.

"Oh! well," said Jones, in a fretful tone, when the children displayed their wealth before him, "I can get enough when I am over the mountains, if I have missed it to-day."

"As for that, we will share with you," said Jane. "You have lead us so far out of the wilderness where, without your aid, we might have perished. We do not forget this, and what we have to bestow, which is very little, is at your command."

"Well, well, there is no need of it: I tell you I have lumps of gold over the mountains larger than I can lift. Besides, can I not get some myself out of the earth to-morrow?"

After a few days' sojourn here, they prepared themselves as well as their scanty means would allow, to cross the barrier before them. All day long they rode over the broken ground, along which the trail lay, and at night halted far up its rugged side, where they could look down upon the rolling valley below. Here they found the night air very cold, and they were obliged to enclose boughs around them to break the wind from their miserable retreat while they slept.

Taking an early breakfast, they started on, and at night, having made a good day's ride, reached within a short distance of the summit of the mountain. Here they experienced much difficulty in respiration. The vegetation also became very sparse; the ground sometimes in large spaces being covered with piles of slate and limestone, among which, not a shrub could take root. They often terminated in precipices making the trail through their windings difficult and dangerous. By the aid of large fires they spent the night very comfortably, and the next morning determined, while still refreshed by rest, to cross the summit and make the descent so far as would make respiration less difficult, for even now they were at times dizzy and faint. To ride through these difficult places was impossible, and dismounting, they passed up the narrow path one at a time; sometimes the ascent was so glassed with ice and so steep that they were obliged to pull themselves up by clinging with their hands to the rocks above them. A crust of ice and snow covered the ground, and the horses being unshod, floundered and stumbled, and often made narrow escapes from being precipitated into the abyss below. The poor beasts seemed to comprehend the danger, and carefully tried the ground at every step before venturing their weight fully upon it, and shuddering and trembling, kept as far from the edge of the ice-bound rocks as the narrowness of the pass would allow them. The sun shone brightly, but it created little warmth, and in the middle of June they were suffering the rigors of winter.

Safely they stood upon the summit of the Sierra! Away to the west a smooth blue belt girt the horizon, while to the east a long range of mountains rose against the sky. It was the Pacific on the west, and the Wahsatch mountains on the east, with the broad valleys basking in a summer sun between them, through which rivers wound their dark serpentine lines, while away to the north-east the great desert lay, with its white sands glittering beneath the rays that fell upon it.

What struck them as peculiar, was numerous dark spots scattered at intervals over the barren waste, while in the centre lay some of immense size, clothed with dark verdure, from the midst of which rose a mountain, looking from that distance, like a shaft against the sky. They concluded to themselves, these must be strips of land, yet in their wanderings they had come across but one. They did not relish the idea of being caught in darkness on that inhospitable elevation, and turning their steps once more into the trail, began the descent. Greatly to their relief, they found this more even and less steep, and descended a few hundred feet without any great exertion. They now could breathe freer, and began to be much relieved. Ice and snow also disappeared, and keeping on their way steadily, by night they reached a refreshing spring, around which grass grew in abundance, and by which they encamped for the night. Tired and weary as they were, they were more cheerful and happy that night than they had been for months previously, it seemed to them that the great barrier had been overcome, and they had safely passed the last fiery ordeal they should be called to encounter. They felt as though the night had passed, and day was dawning on their weary and forlorn prospects.

They were in no great hurry to be on their road the next morning, for on awaking they found themselves sore and stiff in their limbs, and their beasts' hoofs torn and swollen. Towards noon, however, much refreshed, they once more started, and after proceeding on their journey about two hours, they came to a dangerous pass—the path being not over three feet wide, steep, and difficult of descent.[15] Directing Sidney, Jane, and Edward ahead, Howe and Jones began the descent with the horses; when in the most difficult place, one of the animals became restive, and rearing, was precipitated below, dragging Jones, who had hold of the bridle, with him. One terrible cry of distress was heard as the horse went over the side, and then a crash on the jagged rocks, and the noble beast was dashed to atoms two hundred feet below them. Frightened at the plunge and cries of mortal anguish, the rest of the horses broke, and bounded wildly down the path. Howe, seeing he could not control them, sprang close to the wall of rock, thus saving himself from being crowded over the abyss by the terrified beasts who, in their headlong career, heeded nothing before them. As they came to a sharp angle in the trail, as it wound down the mountain, the two foremost horses, instead of turning, plunged over the side, and with a neigh of terror, were soon crushed, like their companion, on the rocks in the deep abyss below. The others seeing the two disappear, paused sufficiently to avert the danger, and turning the angle, landed safely on the table, where the children had preceded them.

[15] Since 1840 this pass over the Sierra has been abandoned, and one far easier and less difficult discovered twenty miles below it. It was originally used by the Indians, as the shortest route to the valley beyond.

Terrified at seeing the horses without Howe and Jones, they hastened up the mountain to where the first catastrophe had occurred, and arrived in time to see their uncle assist Jones into the path from a jutting rock a few feet below, where he had landed in no wise hurt, with the exception of a few bruises. The rock that had caught him was but a few feet broad, and it was nearer a miracle that he was not dashed to the bottom of the abyss than we are accustomed to experience. The poor beast was a pitiful sight to look upon, and at a glance at his mangled body they turned sickened away. The other two had also been crushed instantly and lay lifeless where they had fallen. Thankful for their own escape, yet grieving for the fate of their faithful animals that had been through so many privations with them, they encamped on the broad table below, where they found a spring of pure water and plenty of grass for their two remaining horses.

The next day as they were wending their way slowly along, they came to a range of walls so singular in their conformation as to make them pause in their journey to examine them. On a broad table, girt in on either side by the rocky fortresses of the Sierra, a column arose twenty feet long and sixteen wide at the base, diminishing as it rose to a height of thirty feet so as to leave the top eight by twelve feet in dimensions. This column was ascended by a flight of steps, regular and perfect in their construction. They were not long in ascertaining this to be a work of art, and perhaps for centuries on centuries it had stood there defying the elements, and was even now as solid and perfect, with every block of granite in its place, as when first laid.

"This is the work of the ancestors of the old man of Lake Superior," said Howe, thoughtfully.

"Perhaps the savages he told you of, whom he said inhabited the mountains built it," returned Jane.

"It was never built by a people destitute of the arts and sciences. Mark the accuracy with which each stone is made to fit its place, hewn and polished until it is as smooth as marble. Note also the cement in which it is laid, black and hard as glass, like that in which the temple was laid where we spent our first winter. No, no; depend upon it, a civilized people have been here centuries before our forefathers ever heard of this continent."

A cry of astonishment from Edward who had ascended to the summit, called their attention there also. Gaining the top, they found on the centre, raised on blocks of granite, a foot from the smooth floor, a heavy slab of granite six feet long and two wide and six inches thick, elaborately carved on the edges, the design being entwined serpents, the heads laying over the ends with closed mouths and open eyes. They were represented as being scaly, and each scale was chiseled with some strange device, all differing in shape and finish. On this slab lay a flint, the edges sharp, hollowed into a slightly oval form, being made into a sharp and thin scoop with the shape of a shell. By its side lay a stone mallet perfect also in its finish. With feelings of awe they left this memento of the unknown past, and pursued their journey.

The rest of the descent they found comparatively easy, and they were once more where birds sang and flowers bloomed, game roamed, and savages prowled. Making easy journeys, in a few days they hailed with joy a clearing which they saw was inhabited. The owner proved to be a Creole missionary from a Spanish settlement below, who had been stationed there to look after the spiritual welfare of the Indians, and who received our wanderers with great kindness. When they told him who and what they were, the benevolent curate, like a good christian, insisted they should make his domicil their home until they heard from their friends. This offer they gladly accepted; and in exchange for their gold which fascinated the pious man's eyes in a wonderful degree, they obtained some clothing, and when once more dressed in the garb of civilization, they began to think their wanderings were indeed over.



Chapter Twenty-Second.

Return to the family of Mr. Duncan. Lewis and his father succeed in getting back to camp. The effect the capture of the children produced on the health of Mr. and Mrs. Duncan. Cole and the chief reach the camp of the Arapahoes. Their surprise. They continue their course to Mr. Duncan's camp. Joy at the news they bring. They start again for the west. Thirty Arapahoes accompany them. They arrive at the Sierra Nevada.

Having followed our wanderers through many exceedingly trying and difficult scenes, since they became separated from the rest of the family and were lost in the deep and dreary desert, to the hospitable fireside of the curate beyond the Sierra Nevada where they again met with the comforts of civilized life, we will leave them for the present and return to the family of Mr. Duncan. The last we saw of Mr. Duncan and Lewis was in the battle with the Crows; but they succeeded in making their escape, and finally returned to their camp, only, however, to convey the sorrowful intelligence of the sad fate of all who had gone out to the rescue except himself and Lewis. This sad event confined him to a bed of sickness from which he arose after many weeks of suffering, with feeble and tottering steps, and locks whitened by suffering. Grief had done what time had not—it had made him old and grey.

Mrs. Duncan submitted meekly to the terrible blow; but the elasticity of her step was gone, the light from her eye, and the usual glad smile from her lips had disappeared. Had her children sickened and died, she could have laid them away in the grave, with the consoling thought, that all must lay there at last. But the harassing idea of the torture they would be subjected to, and the terrible death they must at last suffer, if indeed they still lived, was a constant source of agony to her.

"If I only knew that they were dead and at rest, I would be content; but, alas! I fear they still live!" she often said to herself, and then the throbbings of her heart would not be still. Poor mother! her thoughts made her life a torture of the deepest intensity.

Lewis would not believe they were dead, and had devoted the whole time of their absence in wandering from tribe to tribe, in his endeavors to gain some information of them. Once he heard there were some white persons captive in a distant Indian village, but he could not learn the name of the tribe, or in what part of the vast western wilds they were located. Twice he had been through to Oregon in hopes of obtaining a clue to their whereabouts, but heartsick had returned only to sink the already drooping spirits of his parents still lower. Mr. Duncan had removed his family farther east, where he would be less liable to be annoyed by hostile Indians, and there taking up his abode determined to await until he could learn the fate of his children.

Cole and the chief travelled with great rapidity. They were inured to hardship from infancy, and with nothing to impede their progress, sometimes riding, and sometimes walking, the fourth week out they came to the Arapahoe village in the evening just as the shades of night were drawing to the lodges, the men, women, and children who had scattered themselves during the day through the forest. The chieftain's eye kindled as the old familiar faces passed before him, and his breast heaved with pride us he read in their cheerful steps and careless ways the security and prosperity of his tribe. Cole and the chief were standing in the shadow of a large chesnut tree, which protected them from observation, but from which they saw all that was passing in the village without being seen. Gradually the Arapahoes seated themselves on the bank of a small stream in little groups, and then the chief saw who it was that had succeeded him in command—it was his best friend—the brave and good Eagle.

"Stay here, till I return," whispered the chief to Cole, and then folding his arms over his brawny chest, he walked with a proud step into their midst. Every tongue seemed to be paralyzed, every limb nerveless, as they, with horror depicted on their swarthy faces, saw him approaching.

At last one old man slowly arose and stretching his long bony hand toward him, said—"Does not our chief rest well in the spirit land, that he comes back to his people again? or does he come to warn us of danger?"

"The Arapahoes have forgotten their chief," said Whirlwind, bitterly.

"No, no: not forgotten him!" cried a young girl—his sister—bounding into the circle, and throwing herself, into his arms.

"The Singing-Bird does not forget," said the chief, holding her tightly in his embrace.

"We did not forget, but thought you dead!" they all cried, after fairly recovering from their panic. The Eagle was one of the first to give him a hearty welcome back, and as he did so, he laid his plume on the returned chieftain's head—thus resigning his title and authority.

"No, keep it yet for awhile," returned Whirlwind, "I must leave you for a time." He then explained the disasters that had befallen them, and, finally, his self-imposed duty in uniting the severed family.

The Indians never do a generous act by piecemeal. They are either warm friends or bitter enemies, knowing no medium between the two. They will lay down their lives to serve a friend, and murder a friend's enemy for the same reason, although they have never seen him before, and personally have no animosity towards him. The Arapahoes applauded the noble design of their chief, and furnished fresh horses to him and Cole, with which to accomplish the distance to the frontier, where Mr. Duncan and his companions were.

Mr. Duncan and family were seating themselves at their evening meal, as the two horseman halted at the door. A glance was sufficient to tell them one was a stranger, and the other—could it be?—was the Arapahoe chief, who was taken captive with his lost ones! They all with one impulse started for the door, but Mrs. Duncan, too overcome with anxiety, stood trembling, pale and speechless, leaning on a chair, from which she had just arisen. Mr. Duncan reached the door, but the words he would have spoken died on his lips, as Lewis bounded past him, and grasping the chiefs arm convulsively, cried—"Do they live!—speak, if you would not see them die!" pointing to his father and mother—"do they live?"

"All live!" said the chief; and as the words fell from his lips, a cry of joy and gladness resounded from the chastened hearts of the family. The certainty that the lost ones still lived, though they yet knew not where nor under what circumstances, roused their enervated energies, nerved their limbs and called back the healthful flush to the cheek, and the light of joy to their eyes.

"To be sure they are well," said Cole to their inquiries, "and we have come all the way from the Sierra Nevada mountains to bring you the news, and take you to them."

"Yes, yes; we will go. To-morrow we will be on the road to see them," said Mrs. Duncan.

"Not so fast as that," returned Cole; "I lost all my traps by the red-skins, and must collect some more. Besides, you need more preparation than could be made in that time, or you will fall into savage hands the second time."

"Let it be a week, then; we can be ready in that time," said Mr. Duncan. Their wanderings were recounted by Whirlwind, and when he had concluded, Mrs. Duncan's joy was nearly turned to sorrow, for fear they had not escaped the dangers of the Sierra. Accordingly, their arrangements were made to set out after a week's preparation. Mr. Duncan's equipments being nearly the same as those with which he had started two years before, when his journey was so unfortunately interrupted. Their destination now was somewhat different than what it was then; their only object being to recover their lost children. Cole had given such glowing descriptions of the country west of the Sierra that they thought it probable they should settle there; still, this was a minor consideration with them.