Eastern times. [volume] (Bath, Me.) 1846-1857, 1851-08-14
mains of fire. One of the brothers thrust his

They crossed the river, and in the soft sand
on the opposite bank saw again the print of
small moccasined footsteps. Here they were
at loss, for the rank prairie grass had been
consumed BY one of those fearful fires so COM
mon in the prairies, and in its stead grew short
sweet heritage, where even an Indians eye
could observe no trace. They were on the
point OF abandoning the pursuit, when Richard
the younger of the two, called his brothers
attention TO Nero, who had of his own accord,
left his mistress to accompany them, as if he
now understood what they were about. The
hound was trotting to and fro, with his nose
to the ground, as if endeavoring to pick out a
cold scent. Edward laughed and pointed to the
track of deer that had come to drink at the
river. At last he agreed to follow Nero, who
was now cantering slowly across the prairie.
The pace gradually increased, until, on a spot
where the grass had grown more luxuriantly
than elsewhere, Nero threw mp his nose, gave
deep bay, and started off at so furious a pace,
that although well mounted they had great diff
ficulty in keeping up with him. He soon
brought them to the borders of another forest.
where, finding it impossible to take their hors-
es further, they tethered them to a tree, and
set off again on foot. They lost sight of the
hound, but still from time to time they heard
his loud baying far away. At last thev fan
cied it sounded near instead of becoming less
distinct and of this they were soon convinced.
They still went on in the direction whence the
sound proceeded, until they saw Nero sitting
with his fore-paws against the trunk of tree
no longer mouthing like well-traiued hound,
but yelling like a fury. They looked up in
the tree, but could see nothing; until at last
Edward espied large hollow about halfway
up the trunk. Il was right, you see, he said.
After all, it's nothing but bear but we
may as well shoot the brute that has given us
so much trouble
They set to work Immediately with their
axes to fell the tree. II began to toiter, when
dark object, they could not tell what in the
dim twilight, crawled from its place of con-
cealment to the extremity of branch. and
thence sprung into the next tree. Snatching
up their rifles, they both fired together, when,
10 their astonishment, instead of bear a
young Indian squaw, with a wild yell, fell to
the ground. They ran 10 the spot where she
lay motionless, and carried her 10 the borders
of the wood where they had that morning dis
mounted. Richard lifted her on his horse, and
springing himself into the saddle, carried the
almost li!eless body before him. The poor
creature never spoke. Several times they
stopped, thinking she was dead; her pulse
only told the spirit had not flown from its
earthly tenement. When they reached the
river which had been crossed by them before.
they washed the wounds, and sprinkled water
on her face. This appeared to revive her. ard
when Richard again lifted her in his arms to
place her on his horse, he fanced he heard
ed 1t was strange sight, these two power
ful men tending so carefully the being they had
few hours before sought TO slay, and endeav-
ing TO staunch the blood that flowed from
wounds which they had made, Yet so ii was
1t would have appeared to them a sin to leave
the Indian woman to die; yet they felt no re-
morse at having inflicted the wound. and
doubtless would have been better pleased had
it been mortal /; but they would not have mur-
dered wounded enemy, even an Indian war
rior, still less a squaw. The party continued
their journey until midnight, when they
stopped TO rest their jaded horses. Having
wrapped the squaw in their bearskins, they
lay down themselves with no covering save
the clothes they wore. They were in no want
of provisions, as not knowing when they
might return, they had taken good supply of
bread and dried venison, not wishing 10 lose
any precious time in seeking food while on the
trail. The brandy still remaining in their
TASKS they preserved for the use of their cap
tive. The evening of the following day they
reached the trapper's hut, where they were
not little surprised to find Susan. She told
them that although John Wilton had begged
her TO live with them, she could not bear to
leave the spot where every thing reminded her
of one to think of whom was now her only
consolation, and that while she had Nero, she
feared nothing. They needed not to tell their
mournfu tale-Susan already understood it
but too clearly. She begged them to leave
the Indian woman with her you have no
one,' she saiJ to tend and watch her as can
do 4; besides, it is not right that | should lay
such burden on you Although unwilling
to impose on her the painful task Of nursing
her husbands murderess, they could not but
allow that she right; and seeing how
earnestly she desired it, at last consented to
leave the Indian woman with her.
For many long weeks Susan nursed her
charge as tenderly as if she had been her sis
ter. At first she lay almost motionless, and
rarely spoke then she grew delirous, and
raved wildly Susan fortunately could not
understand what she said, but often turned
shudderingly away when the Indian woman
would strive to rise from her bed, and move
her arms as if drawing bow or yell wildly,
and cover in terror beneath the clothes, react
ing in her delrium the fearful scenes through
which she had passed. BY degrees reason
returned she gradually got better, but seemed
restless and unhappy, and could not bear the
sight of Nero. The first proof of returning
reason she had shown was to shrek in terror
when he once accidentally followed his mis-