Crawfordsville Weekly Journal, Crawfordsville, Montgomery County, 6 July 1894 — Page 6

By CHARLES LEWIS (M. QUAD).

{Copyright, 1892, by American Press Association.)

CHAPTER X.

Outlaws and renegades!"

Taylor had been deliberating aud planning since leaving camp, and he had firmly decided to assassinate Harkins.

It was a golden opportunity. The two were alone, far from camp, and who was to deny any story he might tell when he returned without bis partner? With Harkins out of the way he was the sole possessor of the golden secret.

Taylor's chango of demeanor should have put the Englishman on his guard, but it had the opposite effect. The warnings uttered by Bess and Joe were forgotten, and the man reproached himself with the thought that he had unjustly accused one \vho was that very moment thirsting for his life.

Dinner being over, Taylor was ready for action. His face was pale, his hands trembled and he could not control his voice as he said: "You examine that ledge over yonder, •while I bear off here to the right a bit. I won't go far."

With an "all right" on his lips Harkins shouldered his rifle and moved forward without a look behind him. Reaching the ledge he leaned his gun against It and began to investigate. He moved to the left, and was at the corner of the mass and on the edge of a gully or ravine •when he felt the ground giving way under his feet. At the same instant he heard Taylor twice shouting "Indians!" and felt a hot flash across his shoulders. He went down ten or twelve feet with a mass of dirt and rock, but was not injured by the fall. Believing that they had been discovered by Indians, he wisely decided to remain where he was at the bottom of the ravine until something further was heard from the savages.

Not a sound reached him from above. He was sure he had heard the report of at least one rifle as he was falling, apd others might have followed it without his hearing them above the noise of his fall. Had the Indians killed Taylor at the first fire? Would they make search for him? If Taylor had escaped, wouldn't he return after the coast was clear?

For a full hour Harkins lay quiet in the ravine, half buried under.the dirt. As nothing to alarm him had occurred, he determined to crawl out and make a survey. It was only after he was clear of the dirt that he discovered that he was bleeding from a flesh wound in the shoulder. The bullet had scarcely cut below the skin, and it was a hurt to be laughed at, but it settled Harkins' doubt regarding the Indians. Both men had been fired upon at the same time. He had been wounded and Taylor had been killed.

But if this was the case, the man speedily reasoned, why had not the Indians searched for him? If alive they would want to finish him or make him prisoner. If dead they would want his scalp. He could not make it out, and after waiting a few minutes longer he moved down the ravine to a spot where he could ascend the bank. He worked his way up with great caution, and when he had a clear view of the ground above there was nothing in sight to increase his anxiety. He had expected to behold Taylor's dead and mutilated corpse, but nothing of the man living or dead met his view.

Harkins kept his place of observation for a quarter of an hour, and then boldly climbed out of the ravine to make an investigation. The first thing he saw was his gun, which had been tucked away under a cedar bush. He walked down to where he believed Taylor stood when he shouted his alarm, and there on the ground was a cartridge shell. It was proof that the man had fired from that spot and stood right there to throw the shell out of his gun. If there had been an attack he would have been on the move. Harkins was slow in reaching a conclusion, but he had arrived

at

the truth when he sat down and soliloquized: "It was Taylor who fired a# me. He wanted me out of the way so that he need not share the gold with me. He shot just as I was falling and he dared not advance to see whether he had made a sure job or not. He hid my rifle because he means to go back to camp and claim that I was killed by Indians."

It was now midafternoon and Harkins was at least ten miles from the camp. Having no skill as a woodsman, he had trusted entirely to Taylor to observe landmarks, and he now doubted if he even knew tbe general direction in which the camp was situated. He cast about for the highest point of ground, and when he had ascended it he discovered that he could 6ee a portion of the valley up which the train had come. This gave him the general direction and he set off with feelings much relieved. Taylor had no doubt started for camp at once, and as he would have to account for his appearing alone he would tell a story which would bring grief and distraction to at least one heart. "Poor Bessie! What would she do?'' the father kept saying as he hurried along, and the thought of her wild grief at learning of his death made him hurry tllfl faster

He was compelled to bear to the left to avoid obstructions, and when he had covered half the distance he suddenly found himself on the brink of a canyon. It was a wild, gloomy chasm in the hills, and so dark at the bottom that ho could make out nothing. He kicked *1 loose stone at his feet into the gulf, and it went sheer down seventy-five feet before it struck with a dull thud.

The lakes and rivers and mountains and valleys are wonderful things in nature's handiwork, but the canyons are more wonderful still. Think of the mighty power required to split a great mountain in twain for miles and miles, beginning where it rises from the plain and continuing back until the walls of the chasm area thousand feet high!

Think of the mighty wrath let loose upon the earth that day—the sun hanging blood red in the murky heavens, the awful roar of the hurricane sweeping a continent, the crash and explosion, the trembling of a world!

And deep down in these awful rifts there is ever darkness—ever midnight. The water drips and drips and drips with sound so monotonous that a human being would be driven insane in a day. No serpents crawl there—no living thing can endure that grimness and solitude. The grizzly bear—the king of terrors—shunned and dreaded by all and hating all, makes his lair in these drifts, but goes back only to the edge nf the shadow cast by the sun. He fears nothing living, but he fears that darkness and silence.

Hai'kins followed down to the edge of the canyon, and after half an hour's walk he came to the spot where it began, and this permitted him to make a descent to the more level ground. As he stood for a moment looking up the rift it seemed to him as if he had seen the place before. This was, as ho reflected, impossible, but a sudden idea made him almost gasp for breath. "I am about five miles to the right of Custer's peak," he whispered to himself., "and this must be the canyon the old hunter told us of in his dying hour."

Had it been earlier in the day he would have investigated, for he had not the least fear of Indians, but the rapidly declining sun warned him that he mast be on the move if he would reach the wagons before dark. His wav to the south was almost blocked bv a huge mass of rock, and he was about to flank this when he heard the sound of hnman voices. Some one was speaking on the other side of the rock.

For a moment Harkins was filled with %uch alarm that he was ready to bolt up the ravine. Then came the thought that he had been standing very quiet for some time past, and that had his movements been heard the owners of the voices would have attacked him, if enemies, or hailed him, if friends. He argued that his presence was entirely unsuspected, and this being the case his curiosity was aroused to know who was so near him. He crept forward on hands and knees, hearing the voices more distinctly each moment, and at length he reached a spot from which he could see what was goinr on on the south side of th«» rock.

There was a campfire burning very low, and on either side of it sat a white man—two of the wickedest looking fellows he had ever put eves on on a heap of brush near at hand lay two more, seemingly fast asleep. "Outlaws and renegades!" whisnered Harkins as he drew back a little.

So they were—men more to be dreaded than the dusky savages, because having more reckless bravery and being endowed with keener intelligence.

CHAPTER XI.

Let us go back a little. On the day the wagon train with which we had to do turned aside and erected its defense against the Indians massed to overwhelm it, another train was creeping over the plains not more than thirty miles to the north.

It was the outfit of a party of gold hunters which had crossed the state of Nebraska from Sidney and was moving for the east side of the Black Hills. There were seven wagons and fifteen horsemen, and one of the wagons contained the wife and daughter of one of the gold hunters.

It seems singular that husbands and fathers would not leave wives and children behind to safety when setting out on expeditions fraught with such hardship and peril, but the history of the pfreat west shows that woman has been one of the foremost in encountering the perils of frontier life. Men have grown dissatisfied with civilization and pushed out until beyond all protection and in hourly danger, and wives and children have cheerfully gone with them.

A few Indians had been encountered, many alarms had been experienced, there had been hardship and suffering but on the day of which we write there was nothing to alarm, and the people of the train were in good spirits at the knowledge that their long journey was almost ended.

In tho making up of the expedition numerical strength had been considered more than character. Any and every one was taken that could provide himself with a wagon or a horse and rifle. The first day's travel proved that a great mistake had been made. While the owners of the wagons were mostly men of steady habits and good character, looking for homes as w«ll as for gold, the majority of the horsemen were turbulent and unruly characters, some of whom at least were leaving civilized Nebraska and pushing into tli« Indian country from fear of the law. They carried a plentiful supply of whisky with them, pnd they made it plainly understood that they would obey the captain's orders only when it suited them to do so. At the first campfire six of the wagoners, disgusted with the outlook, were in favor of turning back, but the captain, who was an old plainsman, encouraged them to go on by saying: "These men are like sailors who always start on a voyage full of liquor. After we get beyond civilization they will tone down and become as humble a a

.Dui, uo was a. ittiao yxupneii so rax as four of them was concerned. These four men were well mounted and armed, and they had the look and demeanor of border ruffians. They had evidently joined the train to enjoy its protection, and in return defiantly refused to afford it any of theirs. To compel them to stand guard and assist in the various other duties would be to bring on a fight, and this the trainmen wished to avoid, If the four men were driven away it would only be after they killed some one, and the train would then be so crippled in strength that it might fall a prey to the first roving band of Indians encountered.

For two or three days all hands had been expecting to meet with a force of redskins who would attempt to block the way, but to their great surprise the country seemed entirely clear of them. They were gathered, as the reader knows, to attack the party coming across from Brule City.

When the train halted for dinner the four men we have referred to drew off by themselves and held an earnest conversation as they broke their fast. "It isn't over twenty-five miles to the Hills from this," said one, "and if we are to do anything it must be done tonight." "How maiij' wagons do we want, Bob?" asked a second. "Only one. We want the best wagon and the best team." "And that's Brown's," said a third "Just what 1 was going to say," added the fourth. "I had already settled on that," observed Bob, who was evidently the leader of the gang. "First, because it's the best outfit and second, because 1 want revenge on the whole family." "They don't like us any too well," chuckled one of the men. "I reckon not, and now's our chance to get even. We want to fix that wagon in about two hours from this. It's about four hours' haul to the south fork of the Cheyenne, and that's where the train will camp tonight." "What about Brown?" asked one of the men.

Bob drew his finger across his throat. "And the old woman?" Bob repeated his gesture. "And the gal?" "I want the gal spared," he replied. "Mebbe I shall turn her loose after awhile, and mebbe I shall trade her off to some Indian chief for a dozen ponies. I'm told that the big chiefs are paying fancy prices for white gals this summer."

At this there was aloud laugh from the four, and when it had subsided Bob resumed: "Yes, that gal must be considered my property, and don't you fellows get up any kick about it. We'll make a square divide on the gold, but keep your hands off the gal." "Have you got a plan?" whispered one of the men as he saw that a number of the trainmen were suspiciously regarding the group. "Leave that to me. You fellows just go on about your business and be on hand when wanted. If the plan I've got miscarries, I'll let you know in time to try something else."

After a halt of an hour the train moved on. It was fair traveling now, and the sight of the mountains in the distance and the thought of the gold to be obtained put every one in fine spirits and created a desire to push on as rapidly as possible. Six miles from the south fork there was a halt, and a scout went forward to select a route for the wagons over a bad piece of ground. The four renegades nodded to each other, but while three of them rode forward and officiously offered their services to the captain, Bob made his way to Brown's wagon, which was the last in the line. Its occupants were on the seat in front, all interested in what was going on ahead, and in three minutes the renegade had removed the linchpins from both hind wheels of the heavy wagon. The "prairie schooners," as the big wagons of that date were called, had these pins in the place of burrs, now so generally used.

A quarter of an hour later, as the wagons started forward, the wheels had made only a few turns when both rolled away and the rear end of the wagon came down with a crash. By this time the leading wagon was half a mile in advance. "Very careless of you, Brown, not to look your wagon over occasionally," said the captain as he halted the train and rode back to ascertain the cause of delay. "1 did look it over at noon and everything was all right," replied Brown. "Well, those pins dropped out somewhere within a quarter of a mile, and the thing is to find 'em."

Half a dozen mea walked back over tho trail for a hundred rods, but without avail. Then each wagoner was asked fur spare pins, but none could be had. More than one had an extra set, but their nearness to gold had brought forth a selfish spirit. "I may want theui myself," each one argued, and each one denied that it was in his power to accommodate.

Another and closer search was made, and while it was going on there were loud murmurs all along the line. "Let us go on!" "We can't be responsible for his carelessness!" "What's the matter that he can't follow our trail to the river?"

The thirst for gold closes the human heart to friendship, pity or Christian spirit. Each momeut of delay was felt to be dollars lost, and finally the teams began to push on without orders. "See here, Brown," said the captain when he saw them going, "the boys are off, but it's only an hour to the river. Just take a sharper look for those pins and you'll turn 'em up and be able to come on. If you don't join us in an hour I'll send you the pins from my wagon." "And you are all going forward and leave me alone and liable to be butchered by the Indians!" demanded the wagoner.

LlNo dair^r—not the slightest. There

isn't a redskin within twenty miles of us. I've got to go on, but perhaps some of the horsemen will stay and help you to fix up." "Aye, that wo will!" answered Bob, who was waiting for the opportunity. "Here are four of us who won't see you left defenseless. Here, Jack, you ride on to the river with the train and bring back those pins, while the rest of us -will keep up the search and be on hand to help put on the wheels."

The four who were to stay were the renegades. Brown had rather been left alone, for he was firmly satisfied that they were bad men, but he could not make a decent excuse to rid himself of their presence. And besides he felt that there was danger from the Indians, no matter what the captain thought.

Mrs. Browu was a woman past forty, but in excellent health and having a man's courage. Her daughter Lizzie was twenty years old, born on the frontier and inheriting more than the average woman's nerve and endurance. While the three outlaws left behind were making what seemed to be a very careful search of the trail and were out of earshot, Brown queried of his wife: "Mother, don't you think there is something queer about it?" "I do, Daniel—I do," she promptly replied. "I believe those pins were purposely removed. Indeed, I remember to have heard the noise of their being knocked out when we were halted." "Just what I suspect! Who could have done it and for what?" "Daniel, I am most afraid to tell you that I believo these three men know all about it, and that one of them removed the pins!" "But if they wanted to break us down and leave us in the lurch, why did they offer us their assistance when all tho others hurried away?" "I don't know—I don't know, Daniel! Who knows but they mean to murder us and run off with the team! Let us unharness the horses and mount them and ride on. I feel that some great shadow of danger hangs over us." "Do, father!" added the girl. "I am sure it is a plot to murder us all!"

CHAPTER XII.

lie came up and seized her as she sank down. "We are too mistrustful and suspicious," replied the father as he looked from the wagons, still in sight, to the renegades searching the trail. "No one would dare molest us with the camp only a few miles away, and the man will be back with the pins before sundown anyhow."

He spoke thus to encourage himself as well as his wife and daughter, bat neither of the three felt any the less anxious. The settler looked to his Winchester to see that it was in order, removed the bridles from the horses that they might feed while he waited and then stood on the alert for what might happen.

The sun was only a handbreadth above the horizon when the three renegades returned to the wagon and exhibited one of the pins, which they claimed was found a full mile away. A pry was now got in position, the heavy body of the wagon raised so that the wheels could be slipped on the axletree and then one wheel was made secure.

The settler and his family watched the three men closely while they worked, but they seemed intent only on helping the people out of their trouble. "We may be rough in looks and bad in spots," exclaimed Bob as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with his buckskin sleeve, "but we ain't mean 'nuff to abandon alone family to the tomahawks of the Indians." "It is very brave and generous on your part, and I thank you a thousand times over," replied Brown. "1 wouldn't have believed that the train people would act so selfishly." "I reckon we've been parceled out as the worst of the lot. but that don't make us so. I don't claim we are saints, but I do say that-when the pinch comes we can be depended on as white men. There comes Pete, and 1 reckon your troubles are about over."

It was dusk now, and the man called Pete was not seen until within a few rods of the wagon. He dismounted on coming up, handed Brown a couple of linchpins and said the train had gone into camp at the river. Brown walked to the wheel which needed the pin and was placing it in position when a sudden great light flashed before his eyes and he sank to the ground in a heap, having been struck on the head with an ax which on9 of the men pulled from the wagon.

While the women had been nervous and anxious, the arrival of the man with the pins seemed an act of good faith, and they were congratulating themselves on soon rejoining the train when Bob sprang up in front of them, seized one with either hand and said: "Come out of this! We've got business with you!" *"Daniel—father!" shrieked mother and daughter, but there was a laugh from all the men. and Bob pulled the women to the ground with the leering remark: "Daniel has got particular business on hand just now, and he begs you will excuse him!"

For a moment the women were helpless with surprise and fear. They saw the body of husband and father stretched on the sod, and both realized that he had been struck down by the renegades. As they stood trembling and helpless two of the men began hitching the

horse to the wagon, a third was busy robbing the dead, while the fourth looked to the wheels to see if all was right.

Brave men and women think fast and plan quickly. When life is in peril one must not give way to feelings of grief.

Both women knew that murder had been done, and both fully realized the plot of the renegades, but after the first shock of surprise and the first moment of weakness their courage returned. "Run!"

It was the mother who whispered the word as she noticed that all the men were busy for the moment.

They sprang away together, but separated almost at once, and were hidden by the darkness before being missed. "Jack, you stay by the horses—the rest come along!" shouted Bob, and neither woman was a hundred yards away when pursuit began.

Tho mother bore to the right, the daughter to the left. The mother made a half circle to come back toward the wagon on the opposite side from which she had started, but the daughter ran straight away. Hidden by the darkness and having the advantage of the start, she would have escaped but for accident. As she ran she stepped on a stone and twisted her ankle until the pain made her cry out.

That cry located the girl for one of the renegades who was rushing hither and yon at random, and he came up and seized her as she sank down, helpless to bear a pound's weight on the injured limb. The search ended here, "Let the old one go," said Bob as Lizzie was carried back to the wagon. "She's headed back for Nebraska, and if the wolves don't pick her bones before daylight the Indians are sure to come across her. Now let's be off at once."

The team was all ready to move, and the route had been decided on in advance. They were to bend to the left, cross the south fork higher up and then enter the Hills between the foothills and the mountains themselves.

Nature makes her first effort to form mountains a mile or so from where the real mountain is to be heaved up. The ground is thrown up into foothills, which are like an abatis in front of a breastworks. Weary for the moment with this effort nature creates a long, narrow valley, rich in springs and sweet grasses, and beyond that builds up the grim and frowning mountains. These valleys are so numerous and bend and angle so often that they furnish secure hiding places for parties who desire to escape observation.

Lizzie did not ask after her father. She realized that the villains had made him their first victim. Her mother, as she knew, was a wanderer on the plains. As for herself, she was so overwhelmed for the first quarter of an hour that she could not speak. Bob rode beside her and guided the horses, while the others rode on ahead and on the flanks. "Needn't be afraid of me, honey," said the leader as he put a hand on the girl's shoulder "I ain't bad. I'm the best feller in tho country onless I'm riled. We wanted the wagon and we wanted you, but you've tumbled into good hands, my gal—best hands in the world."

CHAPTER XIII.

A wolf crept out of his lair. Sailors wrecked at sea go mad sometimes from the mere situation.

They may sail in their small boats or float on their rafts for days and days with the same monotony of scene—the water beneath, the sky above. There is a horror, a loneliness about it-* feeling as if shut out from the world—and even where there are three or four together to keep one another company some one will go raving mad within the week.

When a man is lost on the plains those who may set out to search for him go prepared to shoot him down.

They may have to do it to save thenown lives. If lost for but a single day he will fall down and weep at sight of his rescuers. He is weak and maudlin, like one drunk.

If lost for two days he may be so under the influence of terror that he will run away at sight of human beings.

If he has been wandering about for three days and nights—beware! The chances are nine in ten that he is dangerous.

And if this feeling is so strong upon men in their prime and men who may have weapons of defense and the experience of years, what must it be in the case of a woman fleeing out into the darkness to escape the murderers of her husband and the abductors of her child?

The mother was near enough to hear her daughter's cry of pain and the shouts of the man who overhauled her. For a moment she thought of returning to give herself up, but then came the thought that if Lizzie was to be rescued and the murderers punished all depended on her. She could see through the entire plot now, but she could not believe that it included any one except the four renegades. If she could reach the camp on the river tho men would turn out and hunt the four to their deaths.

The widow and mother was crouched on the earth within thirty rods of the wagon when it drove away. She feared to move until she could no longer hear the rumble of the wheels, and then she rose and ran forward, believing she was following the trail of the train. She remembered it was only six miles, but it was two long hours before she stopped for a moment's rest. She saw no signs of a stream. She had come far enough to reach the south fork, but where wa's it?

Almost like a flash of lightning the thought came to the woman, "I have

The train had gone on. It was not like Americans—it would have been disgraceful to heathens to thus abandon one who had come with them so far and met with an accident to render him helpless. It was avarice—the thirst for gold—the fear that some one would be ahead of them at the base of yonder grim mountain.

The woman rocked and crooned and dozed all through the long afternoon. A wolf crept out of his lair in the nocks and approached the spot. "Has Lizzie come?" queried the watcheras a savage growl suddenly aroused her. "No, it is not Lizzie I Go away from us! You are one of the renegade gang! You helped to steal my child!"

The wolf drew back. It was only a woman watching the dead, but he feared her.

The deserted one resumed her lonely vigil, rocking weakly and muttering vaguely. As the sun sank in the western sky her voice grew fainter, and when its dying rays illumined the mournful scene she fell forward besido her murdered husband and expired without a sigh. gone wrong—i am lostl" The thought took away her courage in a moment, and she found herself unable to reason intelligently.

She was lost—lost on the great plains, and that by night! Then the poor woman did exactly what many a man has done. Instead of resting until tho alarm had passed away and until daylight should come to guide her aright, she rose and ran away from herself, or tried to. All night long she wandered about in an erratic way and daylight found her back within half a mile of the spot where the wagon had stood.

She seemed to have aged twenty years in a single night. Her face was pinched and drawn her eyes wero sunken her form bent as if she bore a burden ou her shoulders. "They are lost! I've got to find 'emDaniel and Lizzio!" she muttered as she faced the sun. "I've called and called, but they won't answer. Coo-ee! Coo-ee! No, they won't answer."

She was advancing slowly upon the dead body of her husband. "Where's Daniel? Where's Lizzie?" shouted the woman. "Why, this is Daniel! He is asleep! Poor man, but he must be tired!"

She had discovered the body. "Poor Daniel, but you were lost!" crooned the woman as she sank down beside the body. "You are tired and sleepy. Yes, you may sleep. I will keep very quiet. Maybe Lizzie will soon come."

She rocked her body to and fro as if she had a child in her arms, and now and then she reached out her hand and patted the arm which lay stiffly extended on the earth beside her.

The sun climbed up and up. Would some of the trainmen ride back to see why Brown had not joined them? The fact that he had not come up the night before would be proof that he was still in trouble. Would they leave the river without knowing or caring what had become of him and the helpless women? And they would also miss the reuegadefe, and perhaps suspect 6oine plot of evil.

Higher climbed tho sun.

.. [TO UK CONTIN'UKN.J

WHEN SMILES ARE IMPOSSIBLE.

Woman's Pitiable Plight on a Wet and Windy Day.

The utter absence of a sense of humor from the average feminine composition is never more clearly visible, says the Pall Mall Budget, than in a busy thoroughfare on a wet and windy day. A woman may be a philosopher, she may have original ideas and brilliant theories on the fundamental questions of morality and ethics, but she rarely rises superior to a muddy boot or a draggled petticoat. The woman is an exception indeed who manages to preserve a smiling face in the teeth of an east wind which plays shuttlecock with her umbrella, and a dreary sleet which bespatters her clothes and freozes her fingers young or old, fair or plain—scarcely one of them who does not frown ominously as she hurries along, forgetful of other people's feelings and umbrellas and toes, hustling and jostling, with never a glance for the absurdity of the situation. For there is something unmitigatingly ridiculous about pedestrians on a really bad day nobody wants to walk on the outside of the pavement because of the splashing omnibuses and cabs everybody wahts to pass everybody else, regardless of the limited space afforded by the conglomeration of umbrellas everybody pushes and elbows and shoulders, and when an umbrella appears in sight all #onsiderations of gallantry or politeness or sex or age are forgotten—it becomes an object lesson in "the survival of the fittest" and a free fight or something near it ensues, in which the fair sex undoubtedly manage to bear their part with more than a tolerable grace.

s- A WEDDING NOVELTY.

Marriage Certificate Six Feet Loner Engrained and Framed.

An expert engrosser in Philadelphia tells of a recent society event in which an example of his work figured as the chief object of interest. This was a highly ornate marriage certificate, executed chiefly with a bamboo pen on the finest "Yellow Mill" drawing paper. The signature of the legally authorized Camden official who performed the ceremony was written with the same pen. When framed and hung above the folding-doors facing the dining-room of an uptown mansion, it measured six feet in length and twenty inches in width. "The young couple were delighted with my work," said the engrosser, and after I had helped to conceal it with an artistic drapery of white sillt, the wife remarked: 'I shall not undrape this until all our guests are seated at the table this evening, and then,' she added, with scornful emphasis, 'I guess they will know whether we are married or not.'