Year: 1877

Wearylng OF tne StaSnanJ beverage, one
of them determined to make the hazard
Gus journey down into the valley in
quest of fresh supply. Carefully creep
ing down the bushy slope, without shak-
ing tree or dislodging a stone, heenter-
ed the valley without discovery, wormed
his way through the tall grass, and
reached the river bank, filled his can
teens and returned in safety.


After this one of them came down al
most every day, and apparently with
perfect safety.


One day McClelland went on the
errand, sauntered along less watch
full than usual, filled his canteens, and
turned to retrace his steps, when he sud-
denly found himself face to face with a
couple of squaws. The surprise was
mutual, and the women gave a wild
whoop, and turned to fly. The scout
was quick to comprehend his peril. If
the alarm was to reach the Indian camp
his discovery and death seemed inevita-
bic. Self preservation is the moving
impulse with every living creature, and
the scout decided that his first duty was
to himself and his companion, and that
it was expedient that he should inflict
speedy and noiseless death upon the wo-
men, and so secretly as to leave no trace
behind.


Quick as thought he sprang upon
them, seized each by the throat, and
dragged them to the river, his vice-like
grip sitting their outcries. The old
squaw was quickly thrust under the
water and drowned, after which the body
was allowed to float down the stream in
the hope that it would escape observa-
tion He then turned his attention to
the young one, who struggled violently,
and succeeded in shaking off his grasp
or her throat, when to his great aston
ishment and horror, she exclaimed in
good English:


For Heavens sake do not kill me, L
am no Indian !"


These words, so strange and SO utterly
unexpected, nearly paralyzed the old
hunter, and releasing his hold on the
woman, he demanded to know who and
what she was. She quickly told her
story, which was that she was white
girl, who, with her brother, had been
captured in Virginia some five years be-
fore, when nearly all her family had
been murdered. Since then she had
been slave to her captors, overworked, =,
starved, and beaten, and she entreated
McClelland to restore her to her own
people.


1t was not in the nature of the old
scout to resist an appeal of such a char
acter, and giving the girl an assurance
of his protection, he started with her
for the place of concealment on the
mountain,


They had hardly made half the dis
tance, when the loud alarm cry of the
savages was sounded less than half q
mile away. Some Indians, in crossing
the stream, had discovered the body of
the squaw.


The fugitives quickened their speed,
and soon joined the other scout, who,
from his lofty perch, was watching the
unusual commotion among the savages,
but was ignorant of its cause Parties
of warriors were seen to strike off in
every direction; the terrible war-whoop
resounded on every side, and the dusky
foe was seen gathering around the noun
tain, until swarthy chain of painted
warriors completely encomp assed the po-
sition and closed every avenue of escape.


Certain destruction seemed inevitable,
but the two men resolved to sell their
lives as dearly as possible. Not wishing
to involve the girl in their fate, they ad-
vised her to return to the Indians and
represent that she had been taken prison
er. This she refused to do, and begged
for a gun, declaring that she was well
trained to its use, and could aid materi-
ally in the defense.


But there was no weapon for her, and
she was urged to take shelter behind the
rocks, and in case of their death or cap
ture, claim that she had been their pris-
oner. iA ' +t.-4 --+


Fortunately the position occupied by
the scouts could only be reached over q
high, rocky ridge, which was so narrow
that it could be traversed only in single
file, and there was no tree, bush, OF
shrub to afford protection to hostile
party. This ridge was constantly cover
ed by the unerring rifles of the beleaguer.
ed men, and every Indian who attempt
ed to cross 1t, was shot dead, and his