The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1883-10-06

anu lay upon 1hO SAOHNN'
who had motioned to her ran forward,
and snatching up the infant whirled II
twice or thrice about his head and
then, in full view of the pinioned
mother. and with her wild scream ring
ing in the still morning air, he dashed
its head against tree.
The Indians commanded the nearly
insensible mother to mount her horse.
By a strong effort of will she retained
her consciousness. She knew that her
life rested upon her being no hinder
ance to the party. Her movements
seemed to be directed by one powerful
Chief. He it was who supplied her
with food, who took charge of her
pony, who held the rope that was knot
ted about her waist. From their &C
tions they evidently feared pursuit.
After the first day they travelled only at
night, lying in ambush through the
day. They never relaxed their vigil
liant watch upon her. They showed
by their actions that her escape was
never to be made. She prayed for
death, she so feared what the diabolical
ingenuity of her captors might have
in store for her. Then again she thought
of her husband, and cherished faint
hope that some day they might be re-
united.
After about ten days of flight their
party was joined by another band of
Indians. They had some prisoners,
one woman and two children. No in
tercourse was allowed between the cap
tives. The woman appeared scarcely
able to retain her seat in the saddle.
A day or two after the conjunction of
the two parties her captors tied her to a
tree, and with wild yells and frantic
gestures discharged their poisoned ar
rows at her and left her to die. Little
did Mrs. Carthorne imagine that upon
the remains of this unfortunate woman
were to fall Richard Carthorne's tears
and they were to be inferred as the
bones of his wife.
In this harassed life of anguish and
isolation Mrs. Carthorne soon lost all
count of time, Day after day she rode
among her captors silent and despair
ing. When they reached their Indian
village all the squaws and pappooses
came out to meet the braves. The
Chief who had taken charge of Mrs.
Carthorne now handed her over to his
squaw, who received her with an ex-
pressive grunt. The light indoor raj
ment in which she had been taken pris-
oner was now in rags. The winter
was beginning to set in, and she suf-
fered from cold. The light slippers
were soon worn from her feet These
the squaws replaced with moccasins,
and an old blanket was given her.
Her long, black hair, uncombed, hung
down upon her shoulders like that of
the red women. After she had been
with them for some time they,
for some reason which she
never ascertained,. stained her skin
with some decoction which likened
her complexion to their own. They
treated her like one of themselves. She
had the same coarse fare, she wore the
same slovenly attire. Still she was their
prisoner, and they never let her out of
their sight. When they came in confer
ence with the whites she was more
zealously watched, and was never al
lowed to be seen by her countrymen.
So passed four dreary years. A stolid
apathy had overgrown her former
CHEEKY vivacity. She had learned to
speak the Indian language, and the
sound of her own mother tongue would
have been foreign in her ear. The last
English word addressed to her was the
cry of her murdered boy at the time of
her capture. Since then once, and only
once, had she heard a paleface speak.
The woman whom the Indians had
killed had cried aloud upon her Maker
as they dashed her to the tree.
Under all her stolidity the desire for
release burned keen and bright There
was not q moment when shewas not on
the watch. She knew well that to try
and fail would make her death certain.
with perhaps the addition of awful tor
lures. She was resolved that she would
make an attempt for freedom only with
the means of suicide in her hand. She
would never be retaken alive.
The day of her trial came at last.
They bad been moving their encamp-
ment in the early winter, and the party
Of women and children with which she
was were delayed and camped over
night in an open field. In the night a
heavy snow fell Her location was such
that the snow drifted over her, and when
morning came she was completely hid
den. She heard the Indians as they
searched for her and made their plans
for her recapture. They could not
how she could steal away
from them and yet not wake a single
sleeper. There were no woods near
them, and they all agreed that they
could soon overtake the supposed fugi-
tive. They hurried their preparations
for departure, and finally went away.
leaving her in her snug hiding-place.
She was warm and she was not hungry.
She remained twenty-four hours longer
in her hiding-place. When she emerged
from her concealment her. chances for
escape were so few that she almost re-
GREETED that she had not declared her
self to the Indians and gone with them.
She knew the country all about her.
Her late life had made her senses as
keen as those of the tribe with whom
she lived. If she could only provide
herself with food and escape the In
dians, she would soon gain her old home
and be able to learn whether her hus-
band was alive or dead.
her first act was to satisfy the GRAY
ings of her famished stomach on the
remnants of the last meal of the Indians.
There was some dried corn split upon