Rensselaer Republican, Volume 13, Number 27, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 March 1881 — TWICE BURIED. [ARTICLE]

TWICE BURIED.

A Tale of the Rocky Mountains. BY MAJOB HAMILTON. Half way from Leadville to,the plains—half way, and by a new trail running into the southwest and down along the canyon of the Platte; half way only, and my horse worn, my food gone, and night close at hand. Night in February—death, cold! I wrapped my blanket yet closer about my shoulders, and urged my steed forward through the gloaming. “Curse my luck !”I muttered. “Except for Black Dan’s threat I would have gone by the stage in comfort. 4nd yet, to have to brave his gang would have been certain destraction. I’ll warrant they’ve ambushed the night coach, intending to catch me. But I’ve slipped them this time, and Uncle Sam has the proof that he wants at last. Three days more, my rascals, and you’ll jump there mountains or wear hahdcuflß, V I reach Pueblo alive.” I shook Charley’s reins to hasten his speed, and whistled cheerily to Don, my St Bernard. “We must reach Johnston’s ranch on the Platte, old friends, or sleep out, and it’s too cold for that,” I muttered. I was returning from a search for certain desperadoes wanted in the courts at Pueblo. The cut-throats had hidden in the mining camps about Leadville, and my search had been a long one. Finding them at last, however, and the proof of their crime with them, I was about to return and make arrangements for their arrest, when by some unknown means they learned Who I was, and I fled. Fled, pursued by the wrath of the worst man between the Gunnison and Denvere-Black Dan. Had he found me my life would not have been worth a toss of a card. I must reach the settlements quickly and return with a force in order to capture my game, and that without delay. In the gloaming of the morning I had begun my perilous horseback journey; in the gloaming of the evening I was continuing it. No soul had met me along the wagon trail, and I believed that I had tricked my enemies.

The blackness of the canyon crept up, the narrow trail ran down, and among great masses of boulders, across patches of snow, and again along the bare earth, 1 followed with watchful eye the indistinct path until, just at the verge of the last steep descent that should carry me into the river gulch I halted a moment to rest my weary horse. “Only a little farther, Charley,” said I, dismounting and patting his drooping head; "a couple of miles more and we’ll strike supper and a bed. You’ve done well, old boy, saved me— A sudden fierce growl from my dog, as he sprang toward the shadow of the pined behind me, a single lance of light, a ringing report, and without a moan I threw my hands quivering into the air, whirled heavily away from my horse and felL Black Dan had found me. Slowly, and with great pain, consciousness returned—consciousness, for my brain was still alive, but not personally, for of my body I knew nothing. What had happened ? Laboriously my mind traveled through the midst of death that still surrounded it. Slowly one idea followed another until at last came the knowledge that I sought. I had been waylaid and shot. ' Yes, I remember now. Remembered the cry of my dog, the ring of a rifle, the sheet of flame, the blow of the ball, arid than—nothingness. I had been shot and was dead. And yet not dead, for pain revived, and dead men feel no pain. I was shot but not dead. And so came at last the consciousness of matter. I still lived. I sought to rise, but .could not, for I was bound, bound hands and feet, arms, legs, body, neck and head, fingers, lips and eyelids even‘bound, yet not with cords. Where was IT What was the trouble? Nearer and still nearer came the truth as I groaned in spirit and struggled to gain knowledge of myself; nearer and still nearer, until with a mighty effort, throwing off all lethargy, I made one desperate attempt to rise ; but the damp weight of newly-turned earth pressed upon my heart, the clinging bands < newly dug earth bound me, and with a wild cry of borrm and despair I recognized my situation—l was buried alive. I did not feint at first—life was too dear —but lay simply deadened, crushed by the blow, the loose mould admitting air for my respiration, my poor stunned brain rolling these words up and down: “Buried alive! Buried alive!” until from sheer madness and loss of desire knowledge fled a second time. And then it was the tongue of my dog that awakened me. Don dug me out and lapped me back to life again. As the dull gray of the winter’s morning dawned, with groans I dragged my stiffened limbs from my narrow bed, and crept tremblingly down the trail toward the river, the blood oozing from a hole in my head, my eyes wild and fierce, my heart panting, my life half gone. At I thought, Black Dan must have followed and ambushed me, then, supposing me slain, he had the grace to bury me. It was owing to his haste or carelessness that my dog had been able to paw the loose dirt from my grave, and save me. If I could reach Johnston’s ranch I might live; if not, I had been saved but to die a second time, for a fierce storm was brewing along the mountain tops above my head. My horse was gone, my rifle, .pistol, knife, gone; only the dog remained, and faithful to the last, followed as I slowly and painfUly trod the descending trail in the aireetton of the rivet.

Suddenly amid a wild roar of wind and creaking of trees and whirl of freezing snow, toe storm burst, and in its fury swept me from my feet, and rolled me, crying and shouting, far down the canyon side, until a groat boulder caught and held me. Then it raged on. ' Fierce and relentless the wind tore through the forest, pitiless and cold the snow fell, and except I had dragged my broken and bruised body into a cravesse of the ledge, I had died where I laid. Then even blacker than ever fell the storm, and raged unceaseingly through all the slow hours of the day, until night came a second time to east its pall on the scene. And as the darkness crept up from the east my dog, Who all the day had laid at my feet, deserted me, speeding away through the shadow and snow. I was alone. And so, faint, wounded, cold, despartng, as the moments grew life flickered, and when at last midnight broke my lamp went out. Aagain I lay unconscious. All night the gale continued, and not until the dawn of the second day did it cease, when the newly-fallen snow lay deep and white over all. Within the deep crevesse of the rock, sheltered from the cold white death, and vet beneath it, I lay motionless. Above me ‘drop esopned ‘esojunrajp « tn ‘trazaij jp»n •qmo? Xux oj pamxpuod jo fur on os pnoiqs v puaids puq nuojs otp the forerunner of a swift-coming rest, a mere wreck of a man, I was stretched upon a rock, and the . glint of tho sunshine among the pines or the tread of the wild beasts of the forest overhead mattered naught to me. When my eyes opened they beheld nothing, when my hands were outstretched they touched only the stone and the snow, when my tongue cried out no ears listened. Again I was entombed, and this time by ahenemy more relentless than Blade Dan even, by hands more stem and pitiless than his. Fate and the storms ol the mountain combined against me. I was buried a second time, but now with death for a companion.

J knew that I could not escape, and the very thought quieted me. There was ho struggle, no moaning, no agohy; only a dull recklessness and want of care for life that betokened the depth of my despair. I was dying. Slowly the moments passed. My thoughts were few and simple—thoughts of fire and flood, thoughts of home and friends and comfort, thoughts of things warm and bright, but even these were fading and my mind was wearily wrapping itself in the cloak of annihilation, and my body was sinking toward inanition when a bit of snow fell upon my upturned face. Had it been fire it could not have aroused me more quickly. The next instant more fell, and still more, and then light began to gleam , and I heard the hurrying scrape of feet mingled With low whining. Don had returned and was digging me out. The revulsion of feeling was terrific. A moment before I had laid passive in a tomb, looking for death, now I fought and tore at the loosening snow like a madman, mad with the thought of life. Nearer and nearer came the rescuing feet, deeper grew the pile of snow beneath me, brighter the light above. The whining was mingled with growls now. Don had friends to aid him. The harrier was but three feet thick —two—one, it was i?one, and even as I breathed the air of heaven and my heart leaped within me and my lips uttered a glad cry, a dozen pairs of great hollow eyes burned into mine, a dozen gaunt forms crouched before me gnashing their gleaming fangs. I had been rescued by a pack of mountain wolves. For a single instant I surveyed my enemies—I, weak, wounded and unarmed; they strong, hungry and ferocious, a dozen to one—and then with a yell I sprang into theirmidst F - It was the act of a madman, but I was mad. Death should tear me.limb from limb now, and with brave hands I clntched at the first grey monster before me, and grasped his shaggy throat as with hands of steel seeking to throttle him. Then the entire pack with demoniacal iowls hurled themselves upon me. i The struggle was short I felt the hot breath of the brutes in my face, their red mouths yawned upon me; their strong claws tore my buck-skin shirt; their teeth snapped, when suddenly a great big white something was hurled from the bank of snow above into the midste of the melee. A half dozen dark forms followed. Wild shouts, mingled with pistol shots and heavy blows, broke upon my ears, the red blood of my assailants dyed the spotless snow; their hideous eyes faded before me, and foiling backward, I felt myself caught by strong arms, and the well-known voice of old Johnston cried, “Saved, thank God!” Aye saved! and this time for life. My trusty dog had found the ranch and arousing the men by his strange actions; they had followed him in early morning to where I was hidden, arriving at the spot just in the supreme moment of need. I was saved, and five days later confronted Black Dan before the bar of the criminal court in Pueblo, and had the satisfaction of hearing sentence passed upon him, while he trembled as he stared at the man whom he had buried among the peaks of the Rockies. Neither duty nor pleasure will ever again call me along the canyon of the Platte.