Quasqueton guardian. (Quasqueton, Buchanan County, Iowa) 1856-1858, 1857-12-10

I~No q oeioiiS Coltioi VI IedSOH uO wal
my failing horse slowly up the hill, Will
the Indians were foundering after M
through the swamp. But brightly judg
ed that little breathing time would no
be wasted on him. l turned the SUNNI
OF the hill just as the discomfited Indi
ans were beginning to crawl out of th,
bog, and again putting spurs to my iadet
horse, once more we sprang forward il
that mad race of life and death. On
ward we rushed, over hills and valleys
across streams and through rayines, in
headlong flight, puFsuers and pursued.
The timber which marked the camr
grew more and more distinct-now for ,
moment concealed by an intervening hill
and again, as we flew over its summit
rising nearer and clearer to view. NV
horse was rapidly failing great flakes o.
foam flew from his mouth. Covered
with mud and drenched with sweat. he
still, however, toiled gallantly onward,
spurning the wild sod of the prairie with
his living hoofs. But the goal was near
ly won. Oh if he could hold his pace
little longer ! The treless mustangs
OF the Indians, no match for his fleet limbs
In short stretch, now exhibited theil
wonderful powers of endurance. Onward
they swept after us with undiminished
speed, their unshorn names and eeoing
tales mingling with the flowing drapery
OF the wild riders, and flying out upon
the wind.
The timbered banks of the Little
Blue" which | had so earnestly lonced
for, had been for some moments con
cealed by long but gentle ascent, the
summit of which l was approaching. If
from here the white wagons of our camp
should be visible over the uninterrupted
plain, | should yet reach them. But oh |
if another of these interminable ridges
should intervene |! Ny horse was OH his
last legs. But to perish in sight of safe
ty-to be taken within view of the camp
by these implacable savages My brain
teemed with these maddening doubts as l
neared the spot which was to decide my
fate, and | trembled with eagerness for
the view which might consign me to ut
ter despair.
We neared the summit another bound
and we were over, and flying with falter-
swept away in gentle undulations to the
longed for timber, still about mile ahead.
| strained my eyes for indications of my
comrades and oh rapture unspeakable !!
far away, but directly before me, nesting
at the base of the dark line of cottonwood,
in full view of the painting fugitive, loom
ed up the white circle of tents and wag-
ontops, dearer to my longing gaze than
to the desertworn pilgrim the lofty min
arets and marble palaces of eastern story.
A shout of triumph and exultation
burst from my lips as l discovered the
welcome scene, and recognized the gate
of my deliverance.
looked back. One after another of
the savages came bounding over the
ridge, pressing on with the wild fury of
disappointed rage. But their practised
eyes were not slow to discover my refuge,
and one after another pulled up his pant
ing steed, and gazed with baffied malig
nifty after their expected victim.
But was saved. Covered with sweat
and foam, my gallant preserver burst into
camp, and, as | sprang from the saddle
into the midst of my startled companions,
with groan of exhaustion he sunk quiv-
ering to the ground. The faithful crea-
ture toiled to the last; he had done his
best his powers were exhausted, and,
yielding at last to utter prostration, he
stretched his weary limbs upon the sward,
and / thought that the last race of my
gallant gray was run. How | nursed
him that long night, how l covered him
with my own store of blankets, and sup
piled him carefully with grass and water,
how l trudged along on foot, day after
day for the next two weeks, and cherish.
ed him as carefully as feeble child,
have not time to tell but, although many
mile he carried me in after days, over
those drearv deserts, and many a time
brought me alongside the flying buffalo
in his mad career, yet never again die
he run an eight mile steeple chase agains
the field, with untamed coursers of the
desert for his competitors, and fifty paint
ed warriors yelling in his rear.
The Smiths will never die. In Eng
land alone, three thousand of this yer,
distinguished name annually marry, and
fifteen hundred more are born every yeal
than disappear by death. Will no par