Knoxville journal. [volume] (Knoxville, Iowa) 1874-1986, 1875-12-30

| uiLi, uileiNg ldutH HpESts De
fore them. His weapons were at hand
ana, with these ready, he awaited theii
advance. As they came nearer he saw
that they were Indians of friendly tribe
returning from beaver hunt. Within
| gunshot they stopped, and one of them
addressed him 10 English. They accepted
| his invitation TO enter his tent; and, sit
ting by his side, thY entreated him, long
| and earnestly, to abandon the goods, 70
give up the vain hope of help from the
Mission. and to save his life by casting his
lot with theirs.
The wolves" said the man who had
first spoken in English Delaware In
dian" the wolves will give you no rest
day or night; and if the men of the Paw
nee tribe lind you out you will be robbed,
murdered and scalped. You have no hope
of rescue. Bad horses will not live 10 get
to you, and the whites of the Mission will
not risk good horses and their own lives
to save one man whom they will give up
for lost. Come with us"
But Mr.. Mollhausen, unfortunately for
himself, put faith in the Mission. He
was, moreover, bravely and honorably
anxious TO preserve the goods, only the
smaller share of which happened to be his
own property. Firmly persuaded that his
fellow white men would not desert him,
and that they would bring him easier
terms of travelling in his disabled condi-
ton than those which the Delawares could
offer, he still held to his first resolution,
and still said mo"
The Indian rose to leave him
6 The word of white, !" said the savage,
" is more to you than the will and deed of
red-skin. You have had your choice !;
may you not deceive yourself"
With these words he shook Mr.. Mol
hansen by the hand. and he and his com
panions departed. They never once looked
back at the traveller or his tent, but kept
on their way rapidly toward the south,
and left him doomed man.
For the next eight days snow-storms
ragged necessarily, and threatened to bury
him alive in his tent Although he was.
as yet, spared the pangs of hunger (the
friendly Indians having increased his
small stock Of provisions by the leg of an
antelopeJ, his suflerings of other kinds
were indescribable. He was so lame that
he had TO crawl on his hands and knees
when he fetched his supply of water: his
head swan, his memory failed him, and
he dared not close his eyes at night for
fear of wolves. Maddened by hunger,
they came nearer and nearer to him.
Howling and yelling, they circled round
and round the tent, closer at the end of
every day. One night he heard the snow
outside cracking under their feet; the next
he saw the teeth of one of them appear
through the leather side of his tent. He
could only scare them away by firing at
them in the darkness; but they returned
to the attack in few hours and they lett
him no chance to sleep till the broad day
light drove them back TO their lairs.
He was just strong enough on the ninth
day to make the ninth notch in the pole Of
his tent On the tenth day he was power
less. His courage gave way, and he de-
SPARED for the first time of his rescue. He
had medicine-chest with him, which he
had already used, containing small
bottle Of laudanum and II case of quinine.
Without forming any distinct resolution,
without well knowing what he did, he put
the laudanum bottle to his lips and almost
emptied il. A deep swoon followed the
draught; he remembered taking it, and
nothing more.
When he came TO himself again il was
pitch dark, and his tent poles were rock
IuE III u gaze Va Will. IN a
lesser degree, hunger were his awakening
sensations. He satisfied the first with
half-melted snow, and the second with
raw buffalo meat. When his fire, which
had dwindled to few glimmcring sparks,
was relighted, he roasted the meat and
recklessly devoured three days rations at
a meal. BY the morning he was so much
better (partly through the rest which the
L. %. 4. 10 ind vti
through the sustenance which the excess
of food had afforded his body that the
preservation of his life became once more
a matter OF interest TO him. He totterea
out, leaning on his rifle, to get little ex-
ercise. In few days he contrived 10
walk as far as the top Of a low hill, from
which he could look forth, all round, over
the lonesome prospect.
BY this time his provisions were at an
end, and the last faint hope Of rescue from
the Mission had died out of his mind. 1t
was a question now whether the man
should devour the wolves or the wolves
the man. The man had his rifle, his am
apd his steady resolution 10 fight
il out with solitude, cold, starvation and
to the very last--and the wolves dropped
under his bullets and fed him with their
dry, sinewy flesh. He took the best part
of the meat only, and left the rest. Every
the carcass abandoned at night
was missing. The wolves that were liv-
ing devoured TO the last morsel the wolves
that were dead.
He grew accustomed TO his wretched
and revolving food and TO every other
hardship Of his forlorn situation, except
the solitude of IL. The unutterable OPP
preston of his own loneliness hung upon
his mind, a heavier and heavier weight
with each succeeding day. A savage shy
ness at the idea of meeting with any liY-
ing human creature began to take posses.
sion OF him. There were moments when
he underwent the most fearful of all NOR
tai trials-the conscious struggle TO keep
up the control Of his own senses. AT such
times he sang and whistled, and extended
his walk TO the utmost limits that his
strength would allow; and so, by main
force, as it were, held his own lettering
reason still in its place.
Thus the woful time-the dreary, lone
ly, hopeless hours-wore on till he had
cut his sixteenth notch in the tent pole.
This was memorable day in the history
Of the Crusoe OF the snowy desert.
He had walked out to the top of the lit.
tie hill to watch the suns way downward
in the wintry western heaven, and he was
wearily looking about him, as usual, when
he saw two human figures, specks rs yet
IN the distance, approaching from far