Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1855-05-07
beheld the same red face that had neered
fhrnnrh ffa bushes IL NAG H.. -. -

through tie bushes. 1t was bat one Iook
he had chance to give it ere il vanished.
but in another instant from the rear of
the wigwarn issued the same cooling notes
that had so sweetly disturbed his mourn
ful reveTie once before. In another in
slant the shadow again intercepted the
sunbeams, fleeing almost as soon as seen.
As it passed Hugh felt, rather than saw,
that something was thrownin but when,
as the sunshine played upon his knees,
ne beheld a pair of moccasins resting
there, wilder, strong pulse beat in his
bosom, for he felt that his deliverance
was nigh. He remembered that on the
morrow grand hunt came of, and he
knew that on such occasions all the BRAY
est of the braves usually went, and in
ferred, that as he should be left, as he
had been many times before, in the care
Of only the squaws and perhaps one or
two Indians, his deliverer had selected this
as the propitious time to effect his es.
cape.
With leaden wings rolled on the hours
that interyened between the token and
time. But the morrow's sun dawned at
length, and with its first rays the hun
tiers sped away. But so many duties had
they left for their captive to perform that
it was late in the afternoon ere he could
| repair to his accustomed seat beside the
river. But all day his somewhat weary
heart had been cheered by those cooing
sounds that first woke hope. Now thew
seemed circling in the air above him.
now stealing up out Of the messy ground
beneath him, and anon floating as it were
on the breath of the few flowers that vet
| smiled into life. As he neared the water.
louder and clearer rang the notes. and
following them he was led mile or two
down the bank to q spot he remembered
as one where the river indented the grassy
soil with tiny bay.
Scarcely had he stopped ere light ca
noe darted from under q shelving bank.
| and at the helm stood the Indian friend.
Hugh had lived long enough with red
men to understand unspoken language,
and sign from bis deliversr was enough
to tell him that be must crouch in the
bottom of the tiny craft and be notion
| less under some skins.
The sun set and the moon rose and still
the canoe sped on over the calm blue
waves, aud not until midnight was it
moOred, and then Hugh knew that he
was safe. Up o steep ledge of rock did
| ms conductor lead him, and through
Ong, narrow, dark aisleS, whose bottom,
but for the friendly moccssins, would
nave sadly torn and bruised mis- feet. At
length they stopped, and the Indian re-
leased his grasp, lighted a torch and re-
vealed to the white man the fact he had
| guessed, that they were deep in the
| earth, and In one of those Wierd-like
cayerns, of which legend loves to sing.
fire was kindled, the smoke somehow
| finding vent for itself without annoying
| be lockers on, and soon over the Grim
son Goals that dropped on the rude hearth
| stone, they broiled a verison steak that
| The Indian had taken from his wild-look-
ing larder; and, refreshed and happy,
Hugh in less than two hours sfter be had
| entered the cavern, slept soundly on his
couch of dried grass, and dreamed beau
| tiful visions Of home.
For several days they tarried there,
the Indian going out each morning, but
returning regularly at sunset, and always
bringing plentiful supply of game.
When week had elapsed, simply say
ing to Hugh, 1--WE 20, now they no find
US, he led him forth and commenced
jOurneying toward the south. One night,
after they had been long on the road,
they walked to a much later hour than
uSual-wslked till Hugh, who had fan
cied several times through the day that
he had discerned familiar trails, and
thought he must be close to his home,
became lost, as it were,and followed his
guide blindly, thinking in his WEAKNESS
and perplexity he must be mistaken, and
was still in strange wood. They rested
at length, but the white man had scarce
ly, it seemed to him, closed his eyes, ere
the Indian friend awoke him, and to-
gether they toiled up steep and wooded
hill, that rose directly before him. But
the intense and sound-thrilling Joy of the
long absent one can only be conceived,
when on reaching its summit, be beheld
close at hand the valley of bis choice, the
home of his heart.
When his emotion was somewhat
passed, he turned to his deliverer, and
in the mute but expressive signs of the
Indian language, told his thanks. The
red man heard him through, and then
pointed to dwelling of Hugh, and in the
brief words he had learned in the English
tongue, said, MANY moons ago, Iniun
sick, tired, hungry. He 60 to the white
mans cabln-he no turn him off he give
him supper-let him sleep on his skins
take blanket from his pretty squsw he
good to me till me want 60. Ithank In
diam. Me no forget. Now l pay you.
Go home"
Oftener than ever did Hugh's little
ones, as they bounded on his knees, beg
for the story of the "live Injun;" and
when he had passed away to the green,
silent graveyard, they in turn told it to
their little ones, nor failed to draw from
it moral, beautiful and holy as was the
Indians gratitude.
= Nam .