Edgefield advertiser. [volume] (Edgefield, S.C.) 1836-current, 1871-09-21

The little hand grasped mine,
and led me forward. There was not
a ray of light, but she drew me on
ward with a speed and promptness
that bewildered me. Suddenly I
heard the low whinny Of my horse
it was peculiar and unmistakable. I
put out my hand, and touched the
animal. The next minute we moved
on, and I found that my companion
was leading him.
We must have proceeded in this
way for several hundred yards, when
we heard the distant sound of eager
and confused voices. 1 surmised
that my escape was discovered. My
companion stopped, and I felt her
hand close nervously upon mine.
Where is the horse?' I said.
at will mount him, and run for itl'
"No; it is too late" she whispered.
"Come with rne. :"
Turning sharply, she proceeded in
another directi0n-still leading the
pony, who paced along briskly to our
headlong speed. It, was a strange
flight, for twas who seemed the
blind one. I felt that we were
threading our way through the trunks
of trees, but 1 passed them all safely,
guided by the small hand which
drew me unhesitatingly on. The
darkness, which would have baked
my course unaided, was no difficulty
to one to whom it was always rayless
night. With one hand in mine, the
other holding the halter of the pony,
she must have avoided the trees en-
tirely, without touching them, and
merely to have felt their propinqui-
ty.
At length we commenced rapid
descent. Suddenly the pony slipped,
and rolled to the bottom. Fortu-
notely he was unhurt. He rose
shook himsell-and sagaciously await
ed our arrival. Again securing him,
we moved on.
| The air around me was dense and
warm, and 1 suspected that we were
in ravine or crevasse,
Stop, now ,yand be careful" said
my companion; and I found that we
entered cave, the bosom of which
was strewn with dried leaves which
rustled loudly beneath our feet. At
length we paused. :,
"You must stay here now" said
my little, guide. Lie down and
rest. I8il watch"
In my weakness I did as she COM
manded. The pony also lay down.
AS for herself, she took up her sta.
ton at the mouth; of the cave, and
remained mute as death.
"Will they come here?" I asked,
when, after few moments, had re-
covered from my exhaustion.
"No," she answered, after listen
ing an instant. "They do not know
of this place.
1 was literally starving, and two
weak to speak. I fell into light,
headed slulnber at last-weighed
down by sense Of misery rather
than which. death would have been
preferable. When l awolSe, the hot
May sunshine penetrated even to our
retreat, and the young girl was COM
ing softly into the cave with a brace
of small birds. She showed me that
she had woven in the night lair Of
her own soft hair. by which she had
cntrapped. them at daybreal1. She
had also handful of succulent
roots
When l realized that she was
'kindfing fire, in order to cook these
things as food, l raised faintremon-
STRANGE:
"They Will see the smoke ?"
No, she answered. Z" They have
all gone west. 1 heard them go.
They think that you rode away on
your horse, and expect to overtake
you.
She requested me to watch the
cooking, while she went out, and
returned with other birds, which she
dressed and hung in the smoke to
dry, -,
she cooked for me, and dried the tiny
birds-for which she kept fire all
day and night, | suspected, for | fell
asleep at dark, and knew nothing un-
til the next morning. Then, for the
first time, felt equal to the situa-
ton. | sprang up.
/" Rest now, and 1 will cook your
breakfast, I said.
She crept into the leaves, and lay
down like little child. After she
had fallen asleep, I saw that she
showed traces Of her efforts for me,
and looked worn and weary. felt
that I had been selfish and inconside-
rate to depend so far on the strength
of a delicate girl, disabled though |
was.
In a few hours she awoke, and
came to the mouth of the cave. She
ate little, and then commenced
stringing the dried birds upon a loop
of grapevine.
"These will last you four days,
she said. Z" In that time you can
find your way back to the frontier.
You must 60 back. If you try to go
on, some of the Indians will kill you.
They are all your enemies.
"And youP" I asked.
at can find some of the tribe to
which my friends belong Through
them shall finally find my foster
mother.
"Who is she?"
"Old Nesho, whom you saw. >,
s"How did you come to be with
the Indians?"
al was captured by them, from
the people I lived with, long ago. /
was an orphan child, whom some
good people adopted, from an orphan
asylum in an eastern city, when |