Suddenly, when a hundred feet distant, there came the report of another rifle, and the brute halted, and gazed about him. I also cast a wondering look around to see who my new friend was. No one was in sight, yet I saw a faint curl of smoke rising from the bushes above me. The bear also discovered it, and with another growl made toward it. He had evidently been struck, and his rage was turned in another direction. Hastily loading my rifle, I ran up the hill, intending to follow and assist my unknown friend, but both he and the brute had disappeared. I stood anxiously listening for some guiding sound, and soon heard the report of a gun in the distance, followed by a faint shout.

Tearing through the undergrowth, I dashed hastily forward, calling out in loud tones, so that my friend might guide me to him. There was no response homeward. I feared that he had suffered the fate which had well-nigh been mine. The trail of the bear was now very plain to be seen by the broken twigs, the rising branches, and the blood marks upon the ground. Soon I reached the spot where the last struggle had evidently taken place. The ground was torn up and cast about, and the blood was spattered for many feet around. Following further, I came upon the dead body of the brute. There was another bullet mark in the head, and a ghastly wound in the throat from which an enormous quantity of blood had poured.

But where was the author of this deed? Why had he fled? Who was he? I looked about expecting to see him near at hand, but I was disappointed. On the ground were the marks of a moccasin, and it was evident my preserver was an Indian. This fact suggested other questions. Had he been following me? Else how came he to be present just at the instant needed? And what was his object? It could not be that my life was sought, for, if such were the case, it had been really spared, as I had been continually exposed through the day; and in the occurrence just narrated, he had preserved my life at the imminent risk of his own.

At any rate, the affair was singular and unaccountable. The Indian was probably gazing upon me this moment, and I looked furtively about, half-expecting to see his glowing eye-balls in the thick shrubbery around.

It was now growing late, and I cast about for some place in which to spend the night. The wind still blew, and a fire was indispensable. I gathered several armfuls of twigs and branches, and pitched my camp upon the banks of a small rippling stream, a tributary of the river referred to. Here, after the expense of an almost incredible amount of patience, I succeeded in starting a fire, and with the feeling of a conqueror inhaled its glowing, cheerful warmth. The pangs of hunger now began to make themselves felt, as I had tasted no food the entire day. The grizzly bear lay but a short distance away, and, after a few minutes’ debate, I concluded that he should answer the demands of nature.

As I drew my knife, and started toward him, a shadow glided from before me, and I saw a human form stealthily make off. I stopped suddenly and hesitated, but finally went on, cut a piece from the animal, and returned. Just before I reached the crackling fire, I again saw a shadow flit before me and disappear. It was too distinct and plain to be a freak of imagination, and it was evident that something or somebody was following or watching. Whoever he might be, I determined that, upon the first opportunity, he should have the contents of my gun for his temerity.

The consciousness that some one was near at hand, watching, perhaps, every motion, lessened my appetite somewhat. However, after skewering a good-sized piece and roasting it, I made a hearty supper; and, as I produced my inseparable pipe, I think, had it not been for the instinctive presence of that invisible form, my enjoyment would have been complete.

The pleasant warmth of the fire, the soothing effect of the pipe, gradually threw a dreamy, half-unconsciousness over me, into which I sunk with willing delight. As my listless eyes rested upon the glowing embers, there came a strain of wonderful music, like the faint tones of some distant wind-harp. I stirred not, but listened, fearing to move lest the spell should be broken. Again came the wave of heavenly harmony, swelling to the most inspiring grandeur, and then dying away into faint, fluctuating tremors, fainter and fainter, till the strained ear could just feel their waves. It sounded in the air above me, and at that moment I knew that there was nothing real in my experience, and I listened breathlessly for it again.

The music continued, I think, over an hour, and to this day it seems I can hear it still. Such music I have never heard before or since. As I sat alone that dark, stormy night, in the wilderness of the northwest, hundreds of miles from civilization, it seemed there was a chord within me that responded to the air tones above. It appeared sometimes to sink until it had enveloped me in its wild thrilling power, and then it suddenly swept upward, until I was pained with intense listening. At last, it died away, and with a long sigh of relief I awoke to full consciousness.

I have heard others narrate experience similar to mine and I leave the explanation to the curious and investigating, convinced that I can offer none that will be satisfactory.

I replenished the fire, folded my blanket around me, and lay down to sleep. The night wind was howling dismally through the forest, and the distant rush of the river made melancholy music. In a short time I fell into a deep, and profound sleep.

I was aroused from this by feeling something working at my blanket. I lay motionless a moment to ascertain the character of the threatened danger. The next instant something struck me like the paw of an animal; and, thinking a wolf had attacked me, I sprang to my feet with a shout, threw off my blanket, and drew my knife. Instead of confronting wolves, I met the gaze of a half-dozen savages! For a moment I was completely bewildered.

“You go ’long with us,” said one, laying his hand upon my arm.

I saw that resistance would be useless. There were half a dozen fully armed, and my rifle was in their hands.

“I am in your power,” said I; “do what you please with me.”

CHAPTER VIII.
TRAPPING AMONG THE INDIANS.

One of the savages cast some wood upon the fire, and as it blazed up, I saw that five of them stood around me. Resistance would be useless, as my rifle, knife, and revolver were in their hands. Their faces were devoid of paint, and they were probably a party of hunters who had fallen upon my trail. I remembered my spectral visitant a few hours before, and doubted not that he was the means of the tedious captivity which had now only commenced.

After I had arisen to my feet, the captors continued conversing in an unknown tongue. It perplexed me to understand how one of them was able to address me in tolerably good English; but I supposed he must have had intercourse with the fur traders and hunters and the forts and stations of the northwest.

The debate of the Indians I judged to be a decision upon the course they were to follow. Singularly enough, I had hardly any fears at all in regard to my life, feeling pretty well convinced that they intended an endless captivity for me. I doubted not I should be adopted into their tribe, and doomed to the office of the meanest slave. This was not a very encouraging prospect it is true, but it was infinitely superior to that of death.

After a few minutes’ conversation, the Indians apparently came to a satisfactory conclusion; for they seated themselves around the fire, ordering me to do the same, and here they sat as grim and silent as statues, not a muscle moving, excepting an occasional wink of the eyes at long intervals. I watched them, it seemed for an hour, shivering with cold all the time, although my captors had not deprived me of my blanket.

At last, as I looked up, I saw that day was breaking. There was a faint light in the east, heralding the approach of the sun. Shortly after, it burst above the forest line, lighting up the interminable prairie and wilderness with its golden glory. The savages sprang to their feet, seized their weapons and started away.

“Keep close, and don’t run!” said the savage who had addressed me at first.

“No danger of my attempting it,” I answered, following almost cheerfully behind them.

And in truth it would have been the height of folly to make an attempt to escape. Each of the savages was a fleet runner, each possessed a loaded rifle (and one of them had another, together with my revolver, which, by the way, was a source of great wonderment and perplexity to him), and the utmost limit that I possibly could have gained, as will be evident to the reader, was perhaps ten feet. So I meditated no attempt, but followed close in the footsteps of my captors.

No halt was made for breakfast, and during the whole forenoon we tramped through the wilderness in a northerly direction. As I knew I was in the extreme upper part of the great Nebraska Territory when taken captive, I felt pretty certain that I was now in the Hudson Bay Territory, within the British line. But here my companions made a turn to the eastward, and then, strangely enough, proceeded south again, so that I was uncertain whether I was now in the United States or not. The reason of this detour on the part of the savages I never knew and could only conjecture. I afterward imagined it was for the purpose of misleading and bewildering me in case I should ever attempt to leave them.

When the sun was overhead, the Indians halted upon the bank of a small flashing stream, and prepared their meal. A half-hour before halting, one of the Indians had dodged off into the forest. Some time after I heard the report of a rifle, and in a few minutes he returned with a large ptarmigan in his hand. The feathers were plucked from this, and the body dressed much after the fashion of civilized communities. It was then partially cooked over the blaze, and despite the change of circumstances, I made as good and substantial a meal upon it as did any of my companions.

The meal finished, the savages squatted before the fire, drew forth their pipes and commenced silently smoking, their eyes glittering through the vapor with suppressed fierceness, as ever and anon a sidelong glance was bestowed upon me. One of the Indians—he who spoke English—was examining my revolver. He closed one eye and peered wonderingly into the six little barrels; then he fingered about the hammer, took off the cap, tasted it, and replaced it. (It may be remarked here that at the time of my experience, percussion caps were almost unknown in this region. As they were of comparatively recent invention, few of the trappers consented to use them until a long time after.) I was expecting each moment to see the weapon discharge itself, as it was fully charged, and was handled awkwardly. The Indian looked at it in every direction, at last gave it up. He took a smell of it, and snuffing the gunpowder, handed it to me.

“What is he?”

“A young gun,” I answered with a smile.

As I took the weapon I looked about me. There were five unsuspicious savages, and there were six messengers of death at my command. For an instant a wild resolve thrilled me; but it was for an instant only. My soul revolted at the wholesale slaughter I should be compelled to inflict, and I looked at my interlocutor with a pleasant smile.

“Does he shoot?” he queried, his dark eyes lighting up with curiosity.

“Of course. Would you like to see me fire it?”

“Yaw! shoot at him,” he answered, pointing at the trunk of a large tree.

“What part of it?”

“Hit him where you mind to.”

“Oh, let’s have a mark,” I laughed, stepping forward and tearing off a small piece of the bark, so as to offer a red spot several inches in diameter. The other savages were now surveying my motions with interest, and with some degree of suspicion the formidable looking little weapon in my hand. I saw there was an opportunity for making a good impression and I resolved to do it. I stepped back a few paces, took a careful, though apparently a careless aim, and fired the six barrels in succession with tolerable good effect.

“Just look at the mark,” I remarked, rather stiffly.

The Indian stepped forward and examined the holes, all within an inch or two of the center. Then with his knife he pried out each bullet, and showed them to his companions. They grunted their satisfaction, or rather wonder, and turned the diminutive six-shooter over and over in their hands, totally unable to comprehend how such a number of fatal shots could come almost simultaneously from it. I loaded and fired it a number of times, and my friend—he who spoke English—asked me to make him a present of it. I assented with the greatest pleasure, as I had no power to refuse, and volunteered to instruct him in its use, and all things considered we were getting on quite intimate terms.

This proceeding of mine was a stroke of policy, to which I believe I owe my life. My apparent cheerfulness, my readiness to acquiesce in all their wishes, convinced them that I cherished no sullen vindictiveness toward them, and I am well satisfied that had I asked my captors at this time to allow me to proceed unmolested upon my way, they would have done so. Yet I was perfectly willing to tarry with them a while, for reasons which, I trust, are obvious to the reader, and I made no request of them.

We remained in this spot for over an hour practicing with the revolver. At the end of that time its new owner had made such progress as to be able to strike a good-sized tree a yard distant, at nearly every shot.

“Him nice thing!” he remarked, shoving it carefully down in his belt.

“Very good in a close hug with a bear or foe,” I replied.

“He is, by dam,” he added, pulling it forth and again examining each part.

There was but one drawback to the savage’s prospect of pleasure. I had but a small quantity of caps, and of course there was no means of obtaining any among his own kindred. He however satisfied himself with the thought that he could obtain more at some of the trading posts in that section.

The line of march was again taken up, and continued until nightfall. They traveled in Indian file, my dusky friend bringing up the rear, and myself directly in front of him. This plan was adopted, not through any fear of pursuit, as they were in their own country, but because caution and watchfulness are habitual to the North American Indian. Every now and then the click of the revolver was audible behind, but I felt no apprehension as I knew the savage was only examining it for his own pleasure.

Just before dusk we reached a large and rapidly flowing stream. Here the rifles were slung about their persons, and we grasped hands and plunged unhesitatingly in. Had not this expedient been adopted, I should never have reached the opposite side. We sank to our shoulders several times, and the boisterous current lifted me clean from the bottom, but the strong arms of my captors were all-efficient, and held me firmly in my place until the opposite shore was reached, with no greater misfortune than the uncomfortableness of our soaked and clinging garments.

The sun had sunk behind the western mountains, and the deep gloom of night was settling over the wilderness, when as we reached the top of a swell, I saw for the first time the Indian village. It lay in a sort of valley, and numbered sixty or seventy lodges. As seen in the dim twilight these looked singularly picturesque and fanciful. I could see dark forms flitting like shadows about the lodges, and the low hum of their conversation was audible. We were descried, as our forms stood out in relief against the sky, but no signals were given by either party.

As we descended into the valley my heart began to fail me, at what I feared my reception would be. Stories of the tortures undergone by captives came over me, and I ventured my fears to my friend.

“What your name?” he asked, halting and turning toward me.

“Will,” I replied.

“Will stay here, and me come and fix things. My name Jim,” said he, taking the name probably given him by the whites with whom he was acquainted.

The other savages seeing us halting stopped also, and looked suspiciously. Jim (as I shall hereafter name him) said something in an unintelligible tongue and they passed on.

“Stay here, Will, and me fix things.”

With this he disappeared, and I seated myself upon the ground to await his return. It struck me as rather curious for him to give a captive such a good opportunity to escape, but it pleased me withal, and it need not be told I made no attempt to make off.

In a few moments he returned, bearing in his arms several Indian garments.

“Will put him on, and me fix things,” said he, throwing them down beside me. I hastily donned them, understanding fully their use and intentions.

“Keep close, and don’t say nothing to nobody,” he added, as they enveloped my person.

He now turned his face towards the village, and we were soon wending our way through it. We passed several savages who spoke to me, Jim however taking the responsibility of replying. At last we reached his lodge without my identity being discovered. This was at the extreme eastern end of the village, and as we entered I saw it was devoid of any persons except ourselves.

“You sleep there, Will,” said he, pointing to one corner, where a buffalo robe was visible by the dim light of a few smoldering embers. I repaired to the spot, thanking him for his kindly offer, and lay down, while he replenished the fire, seating himself by it, and commenced the never-ceasing pleasure of examining his revolver.

Lying half asleep on the buffalo robe, listlessly gazing at the savage, his features all at once struck me. I had seen them before, but where I could not recollect. Let me see—ah! it was plain now. He was one of the occupants of the mysterious canoe!

It soon became known throughout the Indian village that a white man was a captive among them, and the next morning the entrance to Jim’s lodge was thronged with hundreds anxious to get a peep at me. Knowing that this curiosity must be gratified sooner or later, I stepped boldly forth, and mingled among them, in order to have the matter finished at once. No violence was offered me, although several pinched my arms rather severely, seemingly determined to be satisfied upon all my points.

My Indian friend Jim was married, and, in the course of the day, his squaw made her appearance. She was a middle-aged woman, and tolerably good-looking for a savage. Jim informed her that I was to be her slave, and thus it may be said I was established in winter-quarters.

The heavy storm referred to in the previous chapter, was the close of the warm season, and the fierce northern winter commenced setting in. Winter in the northwest is far different from that season in the Middle States. It is full six months in continuance, and such is the intense coldness for the greater part of the season, that the thermometer sinks to thirty and often forty degrees below zero. Two weeks after my capture, it seemed impossible to prevent freezing to death in the lodge with a roaring fire a few feet off. Yet the savages minded it hardly at all. A few extra garments were added to their costume, and they flitted as incessantly through the village as ever.

In the tribe it was acknowledged that I was the property of Jim, and thus my lot was much more endurable than otherwise. He was really a good-hearted Indian, I believe; and the course that I ever maintained toward him won some of his regard. However, he was a lazy dog, like all of his male kindred, and, although I had an exalted opinion of him, it was impossible to discover in him any of those poetical attributes which are so generally conceded to the North American Indian. In conversation with me, he discarded entirely those extravagant, highly-wrought figures of speech common to his kindred, and added in their place an awkward oath or two, and a phrase learned from the Hudson-Bay traders. The greater part of the day he sat before his fire, smoking and gazing moodily into it, while his better-half busied herself about the apartment as willingly and contentedly as though she never dreamed of a different lot. Of course, I assisted her as much as lay within my power, and came at last to do all of the out-door work.

I have always regarded my capture by this tribe of Indians as a fortunate circumstance. I cannot imagine how else I could have maintained life through the unusually severe winter which followed. No mortal hand could have saved me from perishing from cold, while it would have been utterly impossible to have procured food, when the snow lay six feet upon the ground, and the rivers were sealed by great depths of ice. Although frequent occasions presented themselves, I determined to make no effort to leave my captors until the spring had arrived.

As mentioned, I had pretty well-defined suspicions that Jim was one of the savages who occupied the mysterious canoe, referred to in the preceding chapters. I was not positive of this, although, when I stood by his side and viewed his profile, the resemblance seemed perfect.

One great disappointment had already come. I was sure that I should learn something either of Nat, or of the fair, mysterious captive. When I questioned Jim, he answered with such apparent sincerity and truth, that I was pretty well convinced he knew nothing of either. In regard to the latter he laughed; the former he merely shook his head; he knew nothing of either. Sometimes when I fell into a deep reverie, and suddenly awoke, I could see Jim lift his eyes quickly from me, as though he had been endeavoring to satisfy himself of my identity. He questioned me artfully, and I told him all. At last, I resolved to put the question direct.

“Jim, didn’t you and another warrior, some weeks ago, pass down the river, some distance south, with a white woman?”

There was a perceptible start at this question, but he answered promptly:

“Don’t know nothing ’bout ’em.”

“Why, I was pretty sure that I saw you.”

He shook his head.

There was nothing to be gained by further questioning, and I gave it up. But I was satisfied he knew more of Nat and the sweet captive than he was willing to tell—and I was not mistaken.

Shortly after this conversation, Jim told me that he and several of his tribe were in the employ of the Hudson Bay Fur Company, and traded numerous furs with them every spring. I asked him whether he was not in the territory of the Northwest Fur Company. He replied that that made no difference; each trespassed upon the other’s grounds, and he had been engaged for both.[2]

A few weeks subsequent to this, there came a storm which laid the snow six feet deep, and Jim informed me that, in company with several others, he should proceed to set his traps for the winter’s work, and he willingly consented that I should accompany him. Preparations were accordingly made. Extra garments were donned, a couple of traps taken by each, and, placing our snow-shoes upon our feet, we sallied forth. This was the first time I ever attempted to travel with snow-shoes, and, as may be supposed, I made awkward work of it. These were fully six feet in length, resembling a canoe somewhat in shape, and of extreme lightness. The interior is filled with a gauzy network, which allows the light, sand-like snow to fall through without impeding one’s progress. They are fastened loosely but securely to the feet, and when the snow is not dampened by thaws, twenty miles can be easily made in a day. Without these convenient things, it would be next to impossible to travel during six months of the year in the fur-bearing regions.

We proceeded westward some eight or ten miles before all of the traps were set, when, turning, we retraced our steps, intending to visit them the following night. The trap used by the Indians of this section is much the same as the common steel-trap of the States, being, however, much larger, and without the saw-like teeth of the latter. A long chain, with a heavy stone attached, is fastened to the trap, and concealed beneath the snow, to prevent the animal making off with the whole concern. The trap is placed just beneath the surface of the snow, and bits of frozen fish are scattered around, which attract the half-starved foxes, lynx, beavers, and wolves in the region. Having completed all arrangements, we retraced our steps, and reached the village just as night was setting in.

Nothing of note took place the next day, and, as the night came on, Jim informed me that they were going to visit their traps to ascertain what luck they had. As he made no objection, I again donned my snow-shoes and joined them. There was but one savage beside himself. The snow was crisp and fine, and the traveling comparatively easy. Jim dragged a small sled behind him for the purpose of bringing back anything found in the traps.

It was a bright moonlight night, and as we journeyed through the forest, there were patches of snow almost as light as day. We shunned the trees, as the snow-crust was brittle around them, and once or twice crossed broad belts of snow, devoid of timber, which Jim informed me were the beds of rivers. As we traveled on, nothing broke the silence, except the muffled sliding of our shoes over the icy crust, or a single word from one of the savages; and it occurred to me that if my friends at home could have seen me at this particular moment, they would have imagined I was searching for gold in a strange country.

The first trap we reached had the fore-leg of a fox in it only. I looked at Jim inquiringly, unable to understand what it meant.

“He gnawed him off, and run away; look out next time.”

The fox had been caught by his fore-leg, and, finding himself unable to get loose, had eaten off the imprisoned limb and escaped on the others. In a month’s time he would probably suffer no inconvenience from it. In the next trap was found a red fox, whose fur bears but a trifling value. He was killed, placed upon the sled, the trap reset, and we proceeded to the rest. None of them had been visited, except the last. In this was imprisoned a beautiful black fox, the capture of which nearly set the two savages into ecstasies. The fur, of this animal is more valuable than that of any other caught by the trappers, one alone sometimes bringing as high as two hundred dollars. It is so rarely captured, and such a prize, when taken, that a hunter would be satisfied with one single animal during the whole season.

Our two animals being secured upon our sled, and the traps carefully reset, we commenced our return journey. The night was far advanced when we reached the Indian village. As we entered our lodge, Jim’s squaw arose noiselessly and replenished the fire. While removing my snow-shoes, I remarked to Jim that my feet had felt for the last hour or two as though they were asleep.

“Let me see him,” he asked quickly, jerking off the thick moccasins which I had donned a few weeks back. He looked at my feet a moment, and then exclaimed, “By dam, him froze up!”

I was considerably startled at this, and anxiously asked him if they were badly frozen.

“Yaw, but me fix em,” he answered, and commenced immediately rubbing until I begged him to desist. He paid no heed to my entreaties, but continued this treatment until he had restored completely the congealed circulation, and saved the useful members.

The savages had but poor fortune in trapping this winter, and there was considerable suffering. The Indians of the northwest rely solely upon what they are able thus to take, for their food during the cold season; and, as there is generally plenty of game, they fare well. But now and then some unaccountable cause drives all the animals away, and cases of actual starvation have occurred. Jim told me that three winters before a case of cannibalism had occurred in their tribe, and years before that, when a mere child, there came an appalling time. Half the families were obliged to devour some of their members to support life until spring, and, for over a week, an old, miserable bison supported the whole tribe. Jim said he had more than once cooked his moccasins and eaten them.

The tribe was driven to no such extremity as this while I was with them, and I saw no want myself. Jim was one of their best hunters and he supplied his own lodge before that of others. Yet, there were others who were not so fortunate, and who were often compelled to endure the pangs of hunger for days at a time. When food was secured, they gorged themselves nearly to bursting, and were the happiest of mortals, until the wants of nature again made themselves felt.

I could write far more of my experience with this tribe of Indians; but I feel it would be hardly in place here, as there are other characters in this narrative who must claim notice. My aim has been only to dwell long enough upon particulars, for an understanding of the events that follow. During my captivity, several things occurred to make me suspect that the mysterious captive referred to was in this village the whole time, and I was satisfied that the Indian Jim knew more of Nat than he would impart to me. These imaginings filled me with moody misgivings, and I made a resolve that as soon as spring came I would make my escape; and if I could learn nothing of the two beings whose fate was unknown to me, depart for the States. The life I was leading was a wearisome, monotonous one, and in time would become unbearable. Spring was but a month or two distant, and in its approach I placed my fondest hopes; but it was doomed to open an experience in my life of which I little dreamed.

CHAPTER IX.
THE BUFFALO HUNT AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.

During my captivity among the Indians, as stated in the last chapter, there was considerable suffering on account of the scarcity of food. The country to the north of Nebraska is the paradise of all species of game in the summer months, but during the winter the large animals proceed to the southward, and the deep snows prevent the capture of the smaller ones, except by means of traps. Spring, therefore, was looked forward to with eager expectation, as the harbinger of enjoyment and the season of the chase.

And it came at last. First, the sun grew hotter and blazed more fiercely; the snow became damp and cloggy, and the dripping of water could be heard through the day and night. Snow-shoe traveling was now nearly impossible, as long as the thaw continued. Huge streams of melted snow poured into the rivers all along the banks, and the ice became weaker and weaker each moment, till, at last, with a terrific crashing and thundering, the whole mass started, and, a week after, the clear, blue running water only was seen. The thaw continued, until at last all the snow had disappeared, and with feelings of indescribable joy, we once more saw the face of the earth. Vegetation now commenced with surprising growth, and, in an almost incredible short space of time, bright, radiant, glorious spring held indisputed reign. Indians were departing and arriving every day with loads of fish, wild fowl, and game, and the village was a scene of unbridled feasting for many a day.

One forenoon, a savage, who had been absent a day or two, announced that a herd of buffaloes were quietly browsing a few miles to the southward. This produced violent commotion throughout the village, and preparations were at once made for the grand hunt. Some twenty or thirty splendid Indian ponies were mounted by as many warriors, and, to my inexpressible delight, Jim informed me that I should accompany them. A small, high-spirited animal was given me as my charger. He was of a dark color, and his dappled haunches glistened in the sun like polished ebony.

About noon we sallied forth from the village, and struck a southward direction, restraining our animals to a walk, in order to preserve their wind for the severe test at hand. While riding along by the side of Jim, the thought of escape—which had not been absent from me for the last six months—came with double force. I was now mounted upon a fleet, long-winded animal, who could hold his own with any horse bestrode by the Indians, and what was to prevent my escape? In the bewilderment and excitement of the chase, I might wander miles away, and be gone many hours, without exciting suspicion. My captors, I suppose, had no thoughts of my attempting a flight, as I had permitted so many opportunities to pass, and I felt there would be no suspicious eyes watching my motions. The prairie stretched hundreds of miles to the southward, and it seemed my animal longed to bound away upon it. At any rate, I felt the time had come, and resolved that I should never return to the Indian village a captive.

An hour or so after, we came in sight of the drove, cropping the new grass of the prairie. So numerous were they, that, as we looked over them, it was impossible to see their extent. Far away, until they touched the horizon, the ocean of dark, swarming bodies could be seen.

Our animals now partook of the excitement of their masters. Arching their necks, they scented the prey afar, and it was nearly impossible to restrain their impatience. They snorted, and plunged, champed their bits, and shook their heads, and seemed determined to rush forward despite all restraint.

We continued stealthily approaching in a body, preserving strict silence, in order not to alarm the game. In this way, we came within a hundred yards, when a bull raised his alarmed gaze at us, and, giving a loud snort, heaved his huge body round, and plunged madly into the herd. All took the alarm, and went thundering away, making the earth tremble with their multitudinous tread.

It was now wholly useless to undertake to check our animals longer, and, setting up a wild yell, the Indians scattered and plunged after them. The buffalo is not a runner, and, owing to the shortness of his fore-legs, appears to roll in his gait. The Indians’ horses soon bring their riders alongside the bisons, and as soon as the shot is given, they shy off to avoid the infuriated animal’s horns. Before I was prepared for it, my animal was abreast of a buffalo, and waiting for my shot. Here I committed a blunder common to all beginners of the hunt. I fired while holding the reins in my hands. The consequence was, my bullet struck the animal somewhere about the head, got entangled in his mane, where it would drop out in a day or two. My horse immediately veered to one side, and allowed the buffalo to run until I could reload. I now saw my beast knew more of the chase than I did, and dropping the rein upon his neck, allowed him full freedom.

Cautiously, but rapidly, he came alongside the plunging buffalo, and taking more care, I sent a bullet through the fore part of his body. It was his death-wound; and, seemingly conscious of his fate, and determined on revenge, he wheeled instantly round, drove his fore-feet into the ground, and dropped his head to rip up my charger. This movement was so sudden, and we were so close upon him, that my horse could neither check his speed nor turn to one side. But he avoided him for all that. Dropping upon his haunches with a snort, he made a terrific bound upward and went clean over the buffalo. The maddened animal expected this, and plunged his horns upward at him, expecting to still kill him. The instinct of the horse was too much, however; he, too, feared such a fate, and leaped high enough to avoid him. As he came to the earth again, he plunged swiftly away, the enraged buffalo in full pursuit; but he easily kept clear from him, wheeling and dodging, and still remaining nigh enough for me to give my shot. My gun was unloaded, and before I could charge it, the buffalo had fallen to the earth and was fast dying.

I now looked about me. Buffaloes were flying in every direction, and the forms of the savages could be seen darting to and fro among them, dealing death and destruction at every turn. The main herd was pouring simultaneously southward, while the scores which had been cut off, were endeavoring to rejoin them, carrying us along with them. In different parts of the prairie could be seen the dark, motionless forms of the slain buffaloes, showing how successful the chase had been thus far.

The sky, which in the morning was fair and clear, was now becoming overcast with heavy clouds, and two or three warning rumbles of thunder were heard in the distance. Still, the savages were too excited to notice the interruption, as long as a single buffalo remained. I saw Jim plunge his horse unhesitatingly into a crowd of a dozen or so, when, as he commenced dealing destruction, his horse became entangled, and he was compelled to make a flying leap over the backs of the animals around him. This he accomplished successfully, leaping from one back to the other, until he was clear of them all.

Suddenly, it occurred to me, while holding my fiery horse, that if I meditated escape it was high time to be about it. Turning to the southward, I could just descry the drove thundering away, a vast cloud of dust circling above them. The rein was dropped upon the neck of my horse, and, stretching out his head, he bounded away like the wind. He was a noble animal, and was now in his element. He enjoyed the chase as much as any of the savages; and, as mile after mile of prairie flew beneath his feet, he was only warming into the excitement. As I looked back, I could just discern the Indians, like specks in the distance, still at their bloody work.

We were now at no great distance from the herd, and my horse catching sight of an old worried bull, somewhat in the rear, instantly made toward him. He was too jaded to hasten his pace, and I could see his fury was roused. I prepared to shoot him, as it would go to show my pursuers, if I should have any, that the excitement of the chase had alone carried me away. While yet some distance, he shied to one side, and turned his head warningly toward us, but without halting. The horse, however, finding that I still restrained my shot, continued to bring me closer. At last, the bison struck into a swifter run, and made desperate efforts to rejoin his companions. In an instant I was beside him, and holding my gun to my shoulder, was just on the point of firing, when he suddenly stood at bay, in precisely the same manner as the other. My horse, instead of making a running leap this time, stopped instantaneously, planting his feet firmly in the ground. I was not prepared for this, and shot a dozen feet over his head, falling upon my face within a foot of the buffalo. The shock was terrible, and I was severely injured. I endeavored to rise, fearing that I should be gored and trampled to death, but was unable, and heard the buffalo scampering away. I placed my hand to my face, and found it covered with blood, and a strange bewilderment was coming over me. I arose to my knees, and gazed about me. The buffalo was plunging in the rear of his drove, while my horse was galloping wildly around me, his mane and bridle flying in the wind. I heard the bursting of thunder overhead, and everything was growing dark and confused. I tried again to rise, but failed. There was a thick darkness about me, a heavy hand pressing me to the earth, and all become chaotic.

When consciousness returned, all was blank darkness. The rain was pouring down in torrents, and, stunned and bleeding, I lay on the soaked, cold, spongy earth. Gradually, the remembrance of my misfortune came over me. I must have been lying several hours upon the prairie, exposed to the cold, dismal storm. My clothes were saturated with the chilling rain, and my face and hands bedabbled with mud and dirt.

I struggled desperately to my feet, and endeavored to pierce the Stygian gloom around; but it was useless; not the smallest point of the faintest light could be seen in any direction. Up, down, on every hand, the same solid walls of darkness enveloped me. I was many miles from the Indian village, and had lost its direction. At that moment, I would have given worlds to have been within Jim’s lodge. Flight, in my present condition, was not to be thought of, and I must soon receive succor or I should perish.

I listened. In the dismal sweep of the rain something like a footstep was heard. I called out, but there was no reply. Again the splash of a foot was heard, now from a different point. Soon I discovered some animal was walking around me in a circle. Feeling round in the spongy prairie, I found my rifle, but it was useless as a means of defense, as the charge was thoroughly wetted. I clubbed it, and waited for the attack. Still around and around the same step went. At first I fondly hoped it might be Jim, or one of his companions, but its footfall showed it to be a quadruped, and its approach was too cautious. Suddenly it halted and walked directly toward me. I drew my rifle back, ready to brain it the minute it was within my reach. A faint neigh was heard—joy inexpressible! it was my faithful horse. As I called to him, he approached, and lowered his head for me to take his bridle. With a feeling of deep thankfulness and hope, I clambered into the saddle, and he bounded away, his unerring instinct leading him straight toward home.

The rain continued to beat, cold and dismal, and I felt already burning within me a hot, fiery fever, from the terrible suffering I had undergone. I should soon be prostrated, and without some kindly hand to nurse me, would inevitably perish. But the horse was certain; and, after an hour or two, my heart leaped, as we entered the silent Indian village. But one light was burning, and that was in the lodge of Jim, showing that he expected my return. I rode instantly up to the entrance and dismounted, while my noble horse made off to look out for himself. Jim arose as he heard my approach, and, lifting his torch, advanced to meet me.

“You had long hunt—”

He started back in horror at my appearance. Then, holding his light over his head, and peering at me, he asked:

“What de matter? Been in fight?”

“No; I was thrown from my horse, and lay senseless upon the prairie until a short time ago. I feel bad, Jim, and fear I am severely injured,” said I, starting to seat myself.

“Wait minute; am hurt; let me fix ’em.”

He clapped his hands, and instantly the bundle of blankets at the side of the lodge arose to an upright position, and his squaw walked forth. My wounds were now dressed, my garments changed for dry ones, and with a hot cup of drink, I was swathed in blankets, and placed by the fire. Jim said it was not far from morning, and if at that time I was worse, he would call in the Medicine Man.

All night the fever burned and raged, and when morning came I was partially delirious. Jim examined my pulse, shook his head doubtingly, and departed from the lodge. In a short time he returned, and with him came the Medicine Man, an Indian considerably advanced in years, and much loved and honored by his tribe. He, too, looked grave, and held a consultation in an undertone with Jim. From these signs, I knew I was dangerously, probably fatally injured.

And now came days of those strange, indescribable visions that come over one in high fever. I was in all imaginable places, and saw wonderful persons and scenes. Now and then, there were moments when reason flitted to its throne. At such times I saw the Medicine Man or Jim near me; and once, as I wonderingly opened my eyes, I saw the mysterious captive bending over me. I looked straight into her dark, liquid eyes, and reached forth and touched her garment, to satisfy myself that it was no freak of mind. My fixed stare alarmed her, and she looked inquiringly at the Medicine Man. He mumbled something, and she departed.

About a week after my accident, as I subsequently learned, I awoke with my full reason. As I looked wonderingly about me, the first object that encountered my eyes was the captive to whom I have alluded. My fixed stare at her seemed to alarm her, and she arose to pass out.

“Wait,” said I; “pray do not leave me.”

“But you should not talk,” she replied, much agitated; “the Medicine Man would not allow it; you will surely injure yourself.”

“You and the Medicine Man are both mistaken, if he thinks thus. I know I have been sick and delirious, but my mind was never clearer than it is this instant, and I know a few moments’ conversation cannot injure me. Let me beg you not to refuse me this, as I cannot tell whether the opportunity will ever again be offered.”

The being before me was much embarrassed, and for a moment hesitated, seemingly in doubt between duty and inclination. Seizing the opportunity, I urged my wish with greater fervor than ever. Finally she glanced furtively around, as though she expected to meet the twinkling orbs of the Medicine Man, and then answered:

“I cannot refuse your request, and yet it seems wrong that I should thus disobey the injunctions that were given for your good. What is it that you wish to ask me?”

“Am I out of danger?”

“Not yet. You have been crazy for a long time, and more than once the Medicine Man has shaken his head in doubt when he looked upon you.”

“Have you not watched by me nearly all the time I have been thus?” I gazed full in her face as I uttered this question, and she dropped her eyes in confusion, as she replied:

“I have assisted the Medicine Man several times as he wished me to, and I have done no more to you than I would to any one in similar circumstances.”

“No, sweet being, I know you haven’t,” I exclaimed, in admiration; “your heart is open to any one. Who you are I know not, but I can see your race is similar to my own, and judge you to be a willing prisoner among these Indians. Your image has long been before me, and I can never forget your fair, angelic face. What first was merely interest upon my part, has grown into a stronger passion for you, though I fear—”

I paused as she suddenly arose to her feet, and raised her hand in a warning manner. Before I could ask the meaning of this, a shuffling step was heard, and the next minute the Medicine Man made his appearance. He gesticulated angrily toward her, and she passed quietly out of the lodge. I followed her with my eyes, and as she reached the passage way, she turned toward me with a look that told more than words.

The Medicine Man evidently suspected what I had been doing; for I could see he was excited, and mumbled continually to himself. He forced a bitter, scalding drink into my mouth, which was soothing in its effects, and in a short time I slept.

Now comes a long blank in my memory. After this incident, black night shut around my mind. There is a faint recollection of again seeing Jim and the Medicine Man bending over me, and the sweet pale face of the fair captive, and then again came utter oblivion.

CHAPTER X.
AN AWFUL AWAKENING.

I have now reached a point in my life over which I would fain pass in silence. It is an experience so strange, so like some horrid vision of sleep, so different from what usually falls to the lot of man, that, at this remote day, I cannot look upon it without a recoiling shudder of horror. I have sometimes persuaded myself that it was unreal; but no, it is true, and time can never clothe the memory of it in a different dress than that of unearthly terror. Bleak and bare it stands alone, in my checkered lot, and the silver that now glistens prematurely in my hair, came upon that night.

I remember falling into a deep sleep, in which the last form that passed before my eyes was that of the dark Medicine Man; there was a confused murmur of voices, and then all became blank and dark. Gradually the darkness was swept by the glittering folds of a dream—a dream which had little form or theme, but the minutest particulars of which I remember to this day. There were airy, waving figures gliding silently about me without voice, but with every variety of motion. They passed and repassed before my face, frequently pausing and extending their arms over my body, and sometimes standing and intently scanning my countenance. This continued a long time, not a word spoken either by myself or the forms, when suddenly the whole changed. The waving figures darted with the rapidity of lightning among each other, and the quiet radiance became instantly as black as night. In this, I could distinguish the rushing forms growing fainter and fainter, until, at last, all was blackness again.

Then came a feeling as though the thick darkness in one volume were gradually crushing me beneath it, and then a strange feeling of being cramped and held forcibly still. Then came a long, deep, indrawn breath, and I awoke.

All was confused and inexplicable. Open my eyes as wide as I might, I could not pierce the Stygian gloom. I tried to move, but could not—could not stir a limb, and only the fingers of my hand. The air was steamy and hot, and I was surrounded by something which chained every part. I strove to collect my thoughts. I remembered the consultation in the hut, the coming unconsciousness, and—my present awakening. My first impression, after this, was that the house had fallen over me. I clenched my hands—they closed upon earth! I reached forward and licked the darkness. I tasted earth!—and then came the sudden, overwhelming knowledge—

I was buried alive!!

No pen can draw the faintest picture, no soul conceive the unutterable horror, unless that soul has gone through the same awful experience that filled my soul at that discovery. Such a whirlwind of fire as seethed through my bursting brain, such a perfect blaze of all the passions that can rack the human mind, I cannot portray with this feeble pen. For a moment I was frantic, and then suddenly a dreadful and frightful calmness soothed my frame.

Ay, I was buried alive! The savages had mistaken my trance-like stupor for death itself, and I had been hurried prematurely into the grave.

Oh, the appalling discovery! To die while in the grave! The thought was too horrible! I was not yet ready to give way to utter despair. I durst not pause a second for thought, for I knew it would surely come. I twisted and struggled with the strength of fury. I could turn my body around, and use my arms. There was an open space before my face, as I had been buried in the sitting position. Had I lain back I could not have survived five minutes; as it was, my limbs were immovably secured, and it was absolutely impossible for me to free myself.

It was a long time, for such an experience, before I admitted this, but I was compelled to at last. Death by suffocation was rapidly approaching, and all that was left for me was to prepare for it. The small breath of air around me had already been breathed over and over again, and was become hot, steamy, and sickening. I was gasping and panting, but strove to collect my thoughts and keep them from wandering. I commenced praying.

Suddenly a muffled sound reached my ear, as though something had fallen to the earth above. I listened—it was repeated directly over me, now rapidly and regularly. What could it mean? Was it the sign of dissolution, or was it real? I listened, and heard it plainer and plainer above the mild throbs of my heart. It was real! Something or somebody was digging at the grave above!

Could I now hold out till I was reached? The air had already become thick and palpable, and strange fires were flitting before my eyes. I held my breath till the distended blood-vessels seemed bursting, and then as I respired, the earth turned to soft mud around me; and then the long-labored inspiration was like drawing in some loathsome reptile.

But what was above? It could not be a person, as I had been buried by them. It must be some famished animal hastening to devour me. Yet this would be a relief, to gain one more draught of the sweet, cool air of heaven before death.

Now I heard the murmur of voices! I shouted—there was a pause and stillness; then the efforts were renewed with greater vigor. I shouted again. I could feel the jarring tremble of the loose earth above. Some one was endeavoring to rescue me from my awful fate, thank God!

A moment after, and the cool air brushed my face; a strong hand seized my arm, and—Oh, joy inexpressible! I was on the earth again.

For a moment I was bewildered and dizzy, and my pulse fluttered wildly, for I had been very, very nigh death. I was recalled to full consciousness by the familiar voice of Jim.

“Got in a tight fix, Bill. Ole Jim jus’ in time.”

I took the savage’s hand without a word, and, sinking upon my knees, sent up a deep, heartfelt prayer to the Merciful Being who had thus snatched me from the most appalling death. There was a bright moon shining, and, as I turned, I saw the dark Indian’s eyes fixed wonderingly upon me.

“Jim,” said I, solemnly, “may the God who has put it into your heart, reward you for this act. I never, never can.”

“Jim didn’t do it,” he quickly interrupted. “She did!” and, disengaging his grasp, he darted out of sight I turned and looked behind me. There, standing motionless as a statue, her slight form wrapped in a thick mantle, her sweet, white face appearing like a spirit’s, stood the fair, mysterious captive.[3]

For a moment, I was disposed to believe it was a spirit before me, so still and motionless she remained. Suddenly she turned to depart.

“Hold!” exclaimed I, springing forward and seizing her arm; “hold one moment, till I thank thee.”

“Thank the Great One above,” she replied, in a low, sweet voice. “He it is who has preserved your life.”

As she uttered these words, she turned her dark eyes upward, and the moonlight streaming down upon her face, threw a vail like the halo of glory around it. Then looking me calmly in the face, she added:

“You have escaped an awful death, it is true; and you are not the only one who has thus risen from the grave. When delirious, you spoke of home and of friends there, and I know your presence is prayed for. The chance of reaching them is now placed within your reach. A horse is saddled and bridled, and awaiting you, but a short distance away. Jim will furnish you with a rifle. You know the direction to take, and let me urge you to flee.”

Again she turned to go, but I restrained her.

“You are a white person, and do you wish to live and die with these savages?”

The tears glistened on her face as she replied, “I have not a friend in the civilized world. My parents were murdered by the Indians, and myself and sister carried away in captivity. We were separated; I was taken eastward, and she westward beyond the Rocky Mountains. She cannot be living, for she was a delicate child, younger than me, and incapable of bearing one-half the suffering that must have been imposed upon her. Should I ever see the land I left when a child, I should be a stranger among strangers. There are those here who love me, and I will remain behind and die among them.”

“Flee with me,” I impetuously urged. “You will not be a stranger. Hundreds will love you, and you can die with your own kindred. Jim, who is faithful to you, will furnish us both with a fleet horse, and we can elude all pursuit. I—”

I paused, for her agitation had become painful. She was sinking to the earth, when I caught her, and, leading her a short distance, seated myself beside her upon a fallen tree. Then I gently pulled her head over on my bosom, and looked down upon her features. Her gaudy head-dress was removed, and her white face lay among the mass of jetty hair like a jewel set in darkness. The dark, sweeping lashes, the faint roseate glow of each cheek, the delicate nose and lips, as the moonlight rested on them, were indescribably beautiful. There was, too, an utter abandonment about her,—a tumultuous throbbing, that showed what a powerful emotion was agitating her.

What was that emotion? Was it a response to my own great passion? What else could it be? Encouraged by the certainty that the latter was the case, I urged my suit with redoubled ardor. I pictured the happiness that would be hers in a civilized country, and the utter misery that must follow her life among the savages. She informed me that she was a captive, not of the tribe near at hand, but of one further north, which had held her ever since the massacre of her parents; and that she had been told, in case she attempted to leave them, instant death would be the result. I saw she wished—she longed to flee, and the objections she offered were only suggested by her fears.

“Hist!” she whispered, “there is some one.”

I turned on the defensive. In an instant Jim stood beside me.

“How soon goin’?” he asked, anxiously, turning toward me.

“Shortly; why do you ask?”

“Day clus comin’, and if you cotched, no use!” he replied, meaningly.

“I was not aware, Jim, that I had enemies among you.”

“You hain’t; but—”

The rest of the sentence was gesticulated, first pointing to me and the fair one beside me.

“Do you not understand?” asked the latter. “There are several in the tribe who look upon me with envious eyes, and were they conscious that you knew of my existence, you would not be spared a moment. This is what Jim means, and his words must be heeded.”

“Must I travel afoot and alone?” I asked of the Indian.

“There’s the hoss what tossed you over the buffler there,” he answered, pointing to a clump of trees, “and I’ve brought you them other things,” he added, handing me my knife, powder-horn, and rifle, “and I’ll show you through the woods to the peararie.”

“Thank you; but I shall not need you, as I know the way well enough.”

“How soon you goin’ to start?” he asked, turning to depart.

“In less than an hour I shall bid you farewell.”

“Jim,” interposed the fair captive, “bring my horse to the same spot. I think I shall also leave for home to-night. If inquiry is made, you can tell them this, and add that I shall probably be with them in a few days again. As I know the wilderness well, I will guide our friend here through it.”

The savage looked cautiously at us both. If he was shrewd enough to suspect the truth, he was polite enough not to show it. He replied that her wish should be gratified, and he disappeared as noiselessly as he came. It was now getting far in the night. The moon rode high in the heavens, and shed a full, perfect light down upon us.

“So you are going,” said I, looking at her.

“I am going to attempt it,” she answered, firmly.

“And through no action of mine shall you ever regret this step,” I added, warmly.

“Oh! I hope he will soon return, for I wish to go,” she said, as with a shiver of apprehension she looked hurriedly about in the dark shadows of the forest.

“As yet, we know not each other’s names,” said I, pleasantly.

“True,” she answered, with a faint smile. “Mine is Imogene Merment.”

“And mine is William Relmond; but where can Jim be?”

“Ah! there he is now,” she answered, with a deep flush; and the next minute the savage stood beside us.

“The animals are there; and I’m thinking you’d better be off. Soon as you git away, I’ll cover up the hole, so thee won’t think him has crawled out; but I’m much afeared there am some peeking about here.”

“We will go at once,” said Imogene, gathering up her dress.

I turned to give a last word to Jim, but he had vanished.

“Let us hurry,” said she, “for I have a dread that we are watched, and will not get away after all. I pray God that nothing may prevent us, now that we are started.”

She almost ran, and in a minute we reached the grove referred to. Here we found two horses saddled and bridled, and ready for a journey. Without losing a moment, we mounted and struck to the northward.

“Why this direction, Imogene?” I asked.

“To avoid pursuit,” she answered. “At daylight we will change it, and proceed to the south-east.”

The open prairie was some miles distant, and as long as we were in the deep shadows of the wood, the greatest danger was to be apprehended. It was more than probable that the extended absence of Jim and Imogene, at the same time, had aroused the suspicions of more than one savage. As all must have known that I was buried while still living, and that she had battled their determination as long as there was hope, when the morning came and showed her abrupt departure, they could not help suspecting the true cause.