The Bottineau courant. (Bottineau, Bottineau County, N.D.) 1895-1929, 1920-05-13
CHAPTER XVII.
The Trail to Ottawa.

The Trail to Ottawa.
When my eyes again opened 1t was
to darkness and silence as profound
as that of my former Inconsistencies.
For the moment I felt no certainty
even that l was actually alive, yet
slowly. little by little, reality con-
quered, and I became keenly con-
scious of physical pain, while memory
also began to blindly reassert itself.
I could see nothing, hear nothing.
All about was ~impenetrable blackness
and the silence of the grave. l found
myseiT unaple 20 move my BODY II
when l desperately attempted to do
so, even the slightest motion brought
paia. I became conscious also of a
weight crushing down upon me, and
sitting my breath. One of my arms
was free; I could move it about within
narrow limits, although it ached as
from a serious burn. BY use of it l
~endeavored through the black darkness
to learn the nature of that heavy OBJ
ject lying across my chest, feeling at
it cautiously. My fingers touched cold,
dead flesh, from contact with which
they shrank in horror, only to en-.
counter a strand of coarse hair. The
first terror of this discovery was over
whelming, yet I p~ersevered. satisfying
myself that it was the half-naked body
Of an Indiana very giant of a fellow
-yyhi1n 1nu .tpr<nHnS2 u1urc, pa~ 1o
immovable weight. Something else,
perhaps another dead man, held my
feet as though in a wise, and when I
ventured to extend my n free arm
gropingly to n side, the fingers en-
cOuntered a mOccasined foot. Scarcely
ward and. far above, looking out
through what might be Il jagged, Over-
hanging mass of timbers, although
scarcely discernible, my eyes caught
the silver glimmer of a star.
I was a1ive-alive! Whatever had
occurred in that fateful second to de-
fleet that murderous tOmahawk, it's
keen edge had failed to reach me. And
what had occurred? Then it was that
the probable truth came to me-that
flash and roar; that last impression
imprinted on my brain before utter
darkness descended upon me, must
have meant an explosion, an upheaval
SCATTERING the cabin. bringing tho roof
down upon the struggling mob within.
the heavy timbers crushing out their
lives. And the cause! But one was
possihle-the half-keg of blasting
powder Kennedy had placed in the cor
ner as a last resort. Had Tim reached
it in q final, mad effort to destroy, or
had some accidental fame wrought
the terrible destruction? Perhaps no
n could ever answer that-but was I
there alone, the sole survivor? Had
those others of our little party died
amid their Indian enemies. and were
they lying now somewhere in this
darkness. crushed and mangled in the
midst of the debris?
Kennedy. Elsie Clark. the half
witted hoy Asa Hall-their faces
seemed to stare at me out of the black
ness. They must be dead! Why, l had
seen Kennedy fall. the needless feet
crunching his face. and Asa Hall
tossed into the air and shot at as he
fell. Eloise! Eloise! / covered my
eyes with the free hand, conscious that
| was crying like a child-Eloise. My
God, ElOise! l wonder if | tainted; I
knew so little after that SO little. ex-
rept that I suffered hslplessly. If
did not faint, then I must have been
upon the verge of insanity. for there
was a time-God knows how long
when all was blank.
Some slight. scarcely distinguishable
noise aroused me. Yes, it was actually
a sound, as though someone moved in
the room-moved stealthily, as though
upon hands and knees, seeking a pas
sage in the darkness. I imagined
could distinguish breathing. Who, wha1
could it be? A man; a prowling wilt
animal which had scented blood? Blu
for my dry, parched lips I would have
cried %out--yet even with the vail
endeavor, doubt silenced me. WIZ
could be Their who? Some sneaking
cowardly thief; som despoiler Of thu
dead? Some Indian returned through
the night to take his toll Of scalps
hoping to thus proclaim himself {
mighty warrior? More likely enem,
than friend. It was better that I Ii,
and suffer then appeal to such a fent
for mercy.
The slight sound shifted to the, RICH
of where I lay, no longer remindin,
me of the slow progress of a movin!
body, but rather as though someon'
were attempting blindly to scrape to
gether ashes in the fireplace. I presse,
my n free hand beneath my neck
and thus, by an effort, lifted mysel
so as to see more clearly beyond tn
shoulder OF the dead Indian. The frs
tiny, pickering spark of fire had caugh
the dry wood. and was swiftly burstin,
into fame. In another moment thi
had illumined that STOPPING figure, an,
rested in = hlaze Of light upon til