A sad breakfast—The Sherman Family—The Language of Flowers—What a Young Man was sure of—The Parting
Pendleton—The Revelation at the Saloon—Euphonious names—The Encounter—Our Heroine Appears and Highwaymen Disappear
A Reign of Confusion—Bloody Jim—Little Wolf's Allies Prepare for Defence—Family Trouble
More Troubles—Who was Bloody Jim—His Attempt at Kidnapping Little Wolf—The Cause of His Hatred and the Terror he Inspired
Dr. Goodrich leaves with Daddy as Guide—Daddy's War-like Preparations—His Testimony to the Curse of Strong Drink—What they Discovered on their way to the Village
The Saloon Keeper—Comforting Reflections—The Unwelcome Call—Diabolical Plotting
Music—The Warning—Preparations for Winter Interrupted—The Welcome Boat
The Love-letter—Discussion—A Quick Ride—Too Late—Violence and Death
Bloody Jim's Advantages—The Fainting Captive—The Tragic Quarrel—Outwitted at Last—The Refuge
The Kidnapper's Surprise—On the Wrong Track—Bloody Jim's Capture—The Rotten Plank
Harmless Conspiracy—The Ghost—The Wife Murderer—Tippling and Tattling—Misrepresentations
The Cottage in the Grove—The Disguise—Back to Health—Impatience—Searching the Box—Antoinette La Clair's Story
Twofold Agony—Dr. Goodrich's Promise—Home Again—Lilly Foot—The Convalescent—The Neighborhood Wedding—News from Chimney Rock—The Sherman Family at the West
Rough Roads—The Happy Bridegroom—Jacob Mentor's Experience—Fairy Knoll—A Joyful Meeting
Busy Preparations and the Climax—The Lovers—Tom Tinknor's Discovery—General Rejoicings—The Idol Defaced
Painful Recollections—The Last Boat of the Season—Ruffled Plumes—Reconciliation
Winter Sports—The Doctor's Visits—Preparations for New Year's Day—A Discussion
The New Year's Ball—A Check to Festivity—The Midnight Ride—Death in the Old Brown House
Neighborly Sympathy—Little Wolf's Bosom Friend A Disappointed Lover
A Weight of Sorrow—Marrying a Drunkard—Suspense
Daddy's Diplomacy—A Passage at Arms—Fannie Green—A Catastrophe
The Rescue
An Indian Messenger—Frozen to Death
A Crisis—Pride and Folly
The Sleighing Party—Clara Hastings—Mother and Son
Letter Writing—Daddy's Nocturnal Labors and early Walk
Doing and Getting Good—Wycoff's Reform
Daddy's Soliloqy—A Beer-Soaker—A Knock-Down Argument—A Present for Little Wolf
A Chapter of Accidents and Deliverances
Another Saloon Scene—The Bridal Trousseau—The Lovely Nurse
Threats—Little Wolf and Black Hawk—Tragic Death of Hank Glutter
The May Day Weddings—Miss Orrecta Lippincott's Surprise—How Old Lovers Behave
The Old Brown House Deserted—The Pearl and Diamond Ring—Mr. and Mrs. Marsden's Conjectures
A Trip to California—Jumping Overboard—The Grand Supper and what Came of it—The Captain's Little Daughter
A Visit to Mrs. Sherman's Room—Daddy and his New Spouse—Ominous Signs
More News from Little Wolf—Tom Tinknor's Testimony
Another Death in the Old Brown House
Daddy's Temperance Lecture
Death in Mid Ocean—Love Making and a Double Wedding
A sad breakfast—The Sherman Family—The language of flowers—What a Young Man was sure of—The Parting.
arly in the morning of a long ago midsummer's day, the inmates of a quiet New England home were making unusual preparations for the approaching repast. The mistress of the house was ostensibly overseeing the table; but there was an uncertainty in her movements, which indicated a contradictory mingling of interest and abstraction, such as agitates the mind, when trifles intrude on more weighty matters. Not so the maid in attendance, who had served in her present capacity for more than twenty years, and was without dispute an adept in the culinary department, if not in affairs of the heart. She was not so obtuse, however, in the present instance, as not to perceive the uncomfortable state of her mistress, and, notwithstanding the pressure of business in hand, she magnanimously paused a moment to attempt a word of comfort. How to approach a subject which had been continually on the lips of the whole family for weeks, was now the poor girl's difficulty. Every instant was precious. She was in a measure neglecting the smoking viands under her supervision, and her long established reputation as cook was in jeopardy. At this critical juncture she blundered out, "Mrs. Sherman, it's a pity; indeed, it is, that he, that Edward, is bent on going."
"Why, Recta," interrupted a musical voice reproachfully, "ma is already convinced that it is a pity Edward is going. It remains for us to persuade her that he will speedily return."
"Bless my heart, is that Miss Louise?" said Recta, turning to the person who had so unceremoniously interrupted her condolements. "Well, now, I declare," she continued, "if I ain't beat. Young girls have great arts of covering up their feelings. There's Miss Louise taking on, and walking her chamber all night, and now she's telling me what to say as unconcerned as if this wasn't the last meal she was going to enjoy with her only brother."
"O fie, Recta, haven't I told you that Edward is coming home again soon," said Louise, and, she added with a blush, "You must have heard kitty in your dreams, and magnified her step into mine. You know you have often said my tread was as light as Tabby's."
"But it wasn't, last night," persisted the other, "it was as heavy as lead."
The blush deepened on the young lady's cheek; not so much on account of the audacity with which this privileged servant had assailed her veracity, as for other and more private reasons, herein unfolded. It was not indeed, the distress occasioned by her brother's departure, which, as intimated in the preceding conversation, was about to occur, that she desired to hide; but there was one to accompany him, on whom she had bestowed more than a sister's love, and furthermore, this friend, having arrived the day before, had progressed, perhaps farther in his suit than on any former occasion, Such being the state of the case, it was natural, that, with her lover under the same roof, she should be jealous of exhibiting feelings, others than a sister's love would warrant. To cover her confusion, therefore, which Recta secretly exulted in having occasioned, she retorted;
"Heavy footsteps! ridiculous! Look at me," and she drew up her slight little figure; "for shame, Recta; confess it was your heavy ears, and I'll forgive you."
Recta compressed her lips and Louise immediately changed her tactics.
"What a nice breakfast! Recta knows what Ned likes, don't she, ma? Fie! Ned wont stay long away from Recta and broiled chickens, will he, ma?"
Recta's lips visibly expanded. "I reckon he won't stay long away from Miss Louise and flowers," said she, glancing at a beautiful bouquet, which Louise held in her hand.
"Aren't they lovely, Recta? I've just gathered them fresh for Edward. Now I'll arrange them on the table, while you put on the hot dishes.'"
"Gathered for Edward, as much as they are for me," muttered the unconquered servant. "Roses and forget-me-nots mean—well, George Goodrich will know what they mean; that's enough."
As dispatch was no mean part of the cook's accomplishments, it was not long before the parties mentioned in her private conjectures were seated at the breakfast table, in company with the family, the names of all of whom we know already. It will be observed that allusion has been made to but one parent. The memory of the other, still lived fresh in the affections of his wife and children, and deserves first notice among those whose plans and persons we shall endeavor in a few words, to introduce more minutely to the reader.
Judge Sherman was a man, who, through a long and active life, was distinguished for inflexible integrity, and, by means of sterling talents, he rose to the first rank in his profession as a lawyer. He married at an early age, although his courtship approached closely to the term of years which Jacob served for Rachel. Political differences of opinion were the obstacles which opposed his suit. In those days the Federalists and Democrats indulged in animosities as bitter as those which existed between the Jews and Samaritans. The latter party, being in its infancy, could ill afford to lose even a petticoat from its ranks. Luckily for the young Federalist, the lady of his choice was in her heart a rebel to her father's will and purposes. But after she became Mrs. Sherman, the united influences of both did not annihilate the opposite party, as its future history, clearly demonstrates. The ball, set rolling by Jefferson, continued to roll on, and Judge Sherman, to the day of his death, never saw his favorite principles triumph. In his efforts of a pecuniary nature he was more successful. He had accumulated a handsome property, consisting mainly of many broad acres of well-cultivated Massachusetts soil, which, for a long course of years, had been in charge of a faithful and efficient tenant, occupying a cottage a short distance from his own dwelling, a plain old-fashioned house, situated on an airy knoll near the centre of his domains.
Here, for nearly two years after her husband's death, Mrs. Sherman lived in seclusion, receiving only occasional visits from her children, Edward and Louise. The son being engaged in studying his father's profession, while the daughter was at school preparing herself, it would be safe to say, to follow her mother's business. Indeed, it was a fixed fact in her own mind, that when George Goodrich, her brother's warm friend and her ladyship's still warmer admirer, should become established in his profession as a physician, she would then trust herself to his care, without fear of poverty or disease. But the young M. D. having no patrimony, and becoming disgusted with the slow path in which he was treading to fortune, resolved to turn his course into a rougher road at the far West.
About the same time, Edward Sherman, having been admitted to the Bar, with no other reason except Yankee restlessness and craving, turned his thoughts in a similar direction. On discovering to each other their mutual proclivities, the friends determined to set out together, as soon as Edward could gain his mother's consent, for the Territory of Minnesota. With characteristic nobleness and fortitude, Mrs. Sherman sacrificed her her own to her son's wishes, and it was not until the morning of his departure, that her courage faltered.
Mother-like she sat at the head of the table, unable to swallow a mouthful herself, while urging every delicacy upon her darling son.
"Do, dear Edward, have another cup of coffee," she pleaded, observing that his cup was empty, while his breakfast remained untasted.
"Well, just to accommodate," said Edward smiling. "I really have not much appetite this morning."
"I'm glad you can relish it, Mr. Edward," said Recta, in a whining tone. "It's seasoned with old Spot's cream, and I'm thinking it will be a long time before you'll taste any more tame milk, out there among them wild cattle."
At this remark, the great square dining-room rang with the laughter of the younger occupants of the old-fashioned straight backed chairs,—this being the only room in the house, to which the progressive spirit had not yet extended, except, indeed, that which was manifested in the cut glass decanters, standing empty on the handsome sideboard.
A deep convulsive sob broke from Mrs. Sherman, and the merriment instantly ceased. The mother leaned forward and covering her face with her hands, gave vent to her long suppressed feelings. Edward was by her side in an instant, and throwing his arms around her neck, exclaimed:
"Mother, I will not leave you!"
"Then I can't go alone," whispered George Goodrich to Louise.
"Ma," said Louise, "Dr. Goodrich says he will stay, too."
"No, not quite that," said the embarrassed lover.
"O, you must both go," interrupted Mrs. Sherman, recovering with an effort her presence of mind; "and we are wasting precious time," she continued, pointing to the clock, with returning firmness.
The old clock which occupied one corner in seven feet grandeur, would as soon have thought of stopping to indulge in sighs and tears, as would Mrs. Sherman, when her spirit was moved to the necessity for action. So, all the scruples of her son were peremptorily shut out of existence, and Recta, frowned into silence, withheld the probe, which, having fallen into the common error, she had mistaken for the healing salve.
In passing briefly over the season of parting, there is an item which should claim special attention for a moment, as it is intimately connected with the destination of our adventurers.
As Edward stood by the family carriage, which was to transport them to the public conveyance, while waiting for his friend, who had appropriated to himself a private moment with Louise, Mrs. Sherman inquired rather anxiously, "Edward, have you that letter?"
"Yes, mother," and, more to fill up an unpleasant gap of time than to prove his veracity, he produced from his pocket the missive. It was superscribed, "Dr. DeWolf, Chimney Rock, Minnesota Territory."
Prompted by the same motive which had actuated the other, Mrs. Sherman repeated some of her previous instructions.
"Now, Edward, when you arrive at Penddleton, by all means make an immediate effort to discover the whereabouts of Dr. DeWolf. I should much like to hear from your father's early friend. I think he states, in the only letter we have ever received from him, that he has fixed his home at Chimney Rock, in the vicinity of Pendleton. However, he may have removed from there by this time, although he was not of a roving disposition. The persuasions of an affectionate wife, who saw with anxiety, her husband's growing love for the wine cup, induced him to emigrate to the far West. In breaking away from the associations which led him to form the habit, she hoped he might attain that rank in his profession, which his brilliant youth had promised. Edward," and here Mrs. Sherman's voice sank to a whisper, "your father was saved about that time. It was by signing the Washingtonian Temperance Pledge. Be warned, my son, and flee the temptation which had well nigh stigmatized you as a drunkard's son. I have always intended to tell you this, but the subject was too harrowing. I could not do it."
"You might have saved yourself the pain, now, mother," said Edward proudly; "There is no danger of me."
That positive declaration came from just such a son, as many a widowed mother and affectionate sister have doted on. Generous, warm-hearted, and strikingly handsome, Edward Sherman, appeared a perfect type of manhood. Were it not that the noblest forms have sometimes hid blemished souls the world had not so often been baptized in tears.
The lovers were now at hand. Time had flown with them on a "dove's wings," and its flutterings lightened their last adieu.
Pendleton—The Revelation at the Saloon—Euphonious names—The encounter—Our heroine appears and highwaymen disappear.
journey of a few days brought our travellers to the lively, bustling village, which for convenience we have named Pendleton, situated on the Upper Mississippi. After several hours of rest and refreshment at their hotel, they sallied out to enjoy a pedestrian excursion in the cool of the day. Not much of the place of their sojourn was visible. Gaslight, had not wandered so far from its birthplace. The enterprising inhabitants, however, had manufactured an article by the same name, but it was never known to generate light. The wagging of the machinery was all that came of it.
"Lager Beer," pronounced Edward Sherman, glancing at the gilt letters, that stood out in bold relief on the illumined window of a fashionable saloon, which they were at the moment passing.
"Yes, lager beer," repeated George Goodrich, musingly. "Ned, what a nation of beer drinkers we are becoming. Not at the east only, but these western towns seem to have a beer saloon at every corner."
"Well, Doctor, what is more harmless than beer? Come, let us turn back and take a glass;" and suiting the action to the word, Edward had passed behind the screen which shaded the entrance, before the expostulations of his companion, who followed mechanically, could reach his ear.
While Edward was leisurely sipping his lager, the loud and angry voices of a party of young men, who were in the act of leaving an adjoining apartment, used as a billiard saloon, attracted his attention. As a lady proved to be the cause of the altercation, we will do them the justice to state that they were decidedly under the influence of stimulants, One of their number, less insane than his companions, was endeavoring to quell the disturbance.
"Gentlemen," he said, "the name of a lady, whom we all respect should not be used too freely."
"Just so," chimed in another, "I say, let the matter rest."
"The hatchet is buried. Peace, peace, to Dr. DeWolf and his lovely daughter, forever," sang out the third.
The name and place, introduced in the quarrel, quite satisfied Edward that the daughter of his father's friend was the subject of the altercation.
"I've had a revelation to-night, George," said Edward, when they were again in the street.
"Then your eyes were opened, and you saw the handwriting on the wall, did you? Pity, those poor fools we left behind, could not borrow your optics."
"Ah, Doctor, you're on the wrong track. It has been revealed to me, that Dr. DeWolf has a lovely daughter, and—come, now, don't interrupt me with your old-fashioned, worn-out temperance hobby—as I was about to say, I have in my possession a letter of introtion to said DeWolf. He was formerly a friend of father's, and, of course, it will be my duty to cultivate his acquaintance and that of his lovely daughter, as early as possible,—say to-morrow. What say you, friend sober-sides? You know, my particular weakness is a lovely lady."
"Why, it's no affair of mine, Ned. Flirting is out of my line. But, how do you know the lady is lovely?"
"Why, was it not revealed to me, through the imprudence of a whole bevy of her admirers."
"O, but, Ned, the ravings of a set of drunken rowdies is not conclusive evidence."
"True," said Edward more seriously, "but," smiling again, "it's a young lady, anyhow, and I hope she is handsome."
Nothing further was said on the subject that evening, but, on the day following, young Sherman was informed by the landlord, of whom he inquired, that Dr. DeWolf resided at Chimney Rock, about five miles distant, and to the question, "Has he a family?" replied, "But one daughter, a beauty of some celebrity."
The informant observed the gratified twinkle in the eye of his guest and was not surprised when Edward ordered a carriage to be in readiness for him directly after dinner.
"The road is precipitous in some places, and horseback riding is considered safer," suggested the landlord.
"Well, two saddle horses, then," replied the other.
Accordingly, at the time above specified, our adventurers, each mounted on a dapple gray, set out for Chimney Rock. The scorching sun, and dusty streets, and poor little withered flowers by the wayside, prodigals from the adjoining valley, were soon exchanged for the "Valley Road," fringed with the loveliest specimens of the floral family, and cooled by the shade of the surrounding bluffs. Like all other things in life, this part of their journey was of short duration.
"Half a mile on this road," said Edward, reining in his steed, and repeating previous instructions, "brings us to the 'Siamese Twins' a double bluff singularly joined towards the top by the projection of an enormous rock. Now, we are here, and no mistake, then turn to the right."
"And keep the road as best we may," said Dr. Goodrich, raising his hat, and wiping the perspiration from his brow. "Well, come on."
They went on, on and on, over rocks and ledges and fallen trees; fording streams and climbing heights (for they had lost their way) until the lengthened twilight, attendant on the summer evenings of Minnesota, began to darken into night.
At this junction, when it may be readily imagined that Edward Sherman's ardor had somewhat cooled, and the emotions of his fellow traveller were not of the most agreeable nature, alternate snatches of song-singing and whistling were heard, not far distant. The bewildered parties rode hastily forward, and met the musician.
"Can you tell how far we are from Chimney Rock, my friend? We have lost our way," said Edward frankly.
"Why no, you ain't lost your way neither," replied the stranger roughly. "You are there, now. Just ride round the 'tother side of this bluff, and you'll see all there is of it."
"Well, can you inform me where Dr. DeWolf lives?"
"I guess I can. Keep right straight ahead, when you get the 'tother side of the Pass, there. That road takes you down to Hog Run, and the Run takes you to Beer Holler, and the brewery is right in the Holler, and 'tother side of that, on the hill, is Dr. DeWolf's."
"What a huddle of euphonious names," exclaimed the Doctor, after having proffered a "Thank you, sir," to the individual who had so opportunely appeared. "Beer Hollow will be just suited to your mind, Ned. In that romantic spot, inhaling the perfume of your favorite beverage, love making will be doubly intoxicating."
"Hush, Doctor, eavesdroppers ahead," said Edward, pointing towards the Pass.
Now, the Pass was nothing more than a narrow strip of table land, serving as a passage way between the Mississippi River, and a towering bluff. The view of the river was here intercepted by a thick grove of trees and shrubbery, which our horsemen had already entered. They did not, therefore, see the tiny green skiff, with its sprinkling of white letters on the bow, christening it "Comet," shoot ahead, and dart into the little cove near by, one of the most romantic and cosy of those emerald-hung parlors opening from the grand reception hall, of the "Father of Waters." Neither did they see the fair occupant rise on tip-toe, and peep mischieveously, through the festooned loopholes of the forest.
But they saw the dark objects to which the last speaker had called attention, partially concealed by the trees. The beast on which Edward was mounted stopped suddenly, shivering, apparently with fear. Instantaneously, two dark figures darted from their lurking places, and, in low gutteral tones demanded money. Unarmed, and completely in the power of the ruffians, who each, pistol in hand, held firmly by bit and bridle, the horse of his victim, the part of wisdom, seemed to be to surrender.
At that instant, a slight figure glided from the thicket behind the waylayers, and cautiously drawing forth a revolver which projected from the belt of the nearest, placed the muzzle at his back and fired. He fell with a deep groan. Another discharge followed quickly, and his companion reeled several yards, seizing convulsively trees and shrubbery, and finally, was heard sliding down the bank towards the river.
"Now, ride for your lives, there's more of them," said their deliverer, in a voice husky with excitement.
"What will you do?" said Edward.
"Take my skiff."
"No, mount here, quick," and he drew her up, and set off at full speed.
"Now, turn here, now up that hill; now we are there," the lady faintly articulated, as they flew along, and drew up before her father's door.
The house at which they had arrived, was the residence of Dr. DeWolf, and the heroine of the adventure, was no other than the Doctor's only daughter, quaintly named, Little Wolf. She had been, as was her wont, on a short independent trip up the river. In the full enjoyment of the romantic scenery and twilight hour, night had stolen upon her unawares. Warned of her imprudence by the distant clatter of horses, she immediately turned homeward. The swift current aided her efforts, and she neared the Pass, just in time to overhear all that was said. Not satisfied with the dim outline of objects, which a peep through the leaves disclosed, she sprang to the shore, and catching by the branch of an overhanging tree, drew herself up the steep bank. The part which she performed in the perilous encounter is already known to the reader, but the leading motives which prompted it, will be better understood hereafter.
A reign of confusion—Bloody Jim—Little Wolf's allies prepare for defence—Family trouble.
shout from the fugitives brought several faces to the window, and from the door hobbled an old man. He cautiously peered into the gloom, and finally at the sound of a familliar voice sidled up to Edward and his charge.
"'Tween you and me, what's the matter?" said he.
"It's me, help me down, daddy, do, I'm tired," said Little Wolf, in feeble tones.
"O, lamb, O, honey, O, pet, is it you?" exclaimed the old dotard, trembling with apprehension. "'Tween you and me, what has happened to the darling?"
"O, nothing, daddy, only I saw Bloody Jim, and I'm afraid there's more of them."
"O, my Lord, did you? O, my Lord, the men are down to the brewery. O, my, 'tween you and me, what shall we do?"
Perceiving the old man's utter incapacity to the exigency, Edward threw his rein to the Doctor, and immediately bore the young lady into the house. The old man followed, grasping his arm, and shouting in his ear at every step, "'Tween you and me, she saw Bloody Jim, did she—she saw him—did she—ha!"
"In the ante-room, they were met by a little bustling elderly woman, in cap and spectacles. "O, daddy, what is it?" she exclaimed.
"O, mammy," he cried, releasing Edward, and laying hold on his wife,—a method by which he invaribly compelled attention, "'tween you and me, she's seen Bloody Jim she has; she says there's more of them, she does."
"Why, you, old fool, why don't you do something?" said the woman, shaking him off with a jerk. "Lock the doors, shut the windows, call Sorrel Top; blow the horn. Is the love hurt?" turning anxiously to Little Wolf, who was reclining on the sofa.
Mammy had hastily snatched up the small lamp, with which the apartment was dimly lighted, and, as she was scrutinizing her pet, Edward obtained a full view of the young lady's features. He gave a sudden start, and the blood rushed to his face. Was it the lady he had so frequently seen on Broadway, a few months since? he asked himself. Yes, the very same; that countenance was not easily forgotten. Why, she was a New York belle, was his first reflection. Our heroine's voice was still low and agitated as she replied, "O, no, mammy, not hurt, only frightened. You attend to the gentlemen and the house I can take care of myself. I feel better now."
"Well, then, rest here, love; you look pale. Now don't move; don't get excited; nobody shall hurt the pet, I'll tell Sorrel Top to bring you a glass of water."
Amidst the slamming of doors and rattling of windows, mammy was heard calling at the top of her voice, "Sorrel Top, Sorrel, take a glass of water to the parlor;" and to the parlor hastened Sorrel Top. But meeting daddy at the door, she was forcibly detained, and subjected to his deafening vociferations, rendered doubly aggravating, by his using the ear of his auditor as one would a speaking trumpet. The burden of his song, was still "Bloody Jim, Bloody Jim!"
"Who cares for Bloody Jim;" said Sorrel Top angrily; "I don't care for him, nor none of his tribe. Let me go, you, torment."
Daddy held his ground, for he bore in mind firstly: that Sorrel Top was his fellow servant; secondly, she possessed no great strength of muscle or nerve, and, thirdly and lastly, that she was a helpless widow, whom it was no sin to call Sorrel Top, because of her enormous growth of reddish hair.
Edward stepped forward to relieve Sorrel Top of the glass of water, which she was holding at arm's length, and at the same time suggested that a little brandy might be beneficial to the lady.
"Brandy! Brandy! did you say?" sounded in his ear like a knell, and he was caught in the old man's trap. "Laws! young man, she'd as soon drink a rattle snake; she's down on brandy; she's down on the hull of that infarnel stuff. Spirits of every kind is her abhorrence.
The Doctor was highly amused at his friend's predicament, and, giving him a sly wink, remarked, "Beer will do as well, Ned, and it is perfectly harmless, you know."
The Doctor's turn had come, In a still higher stage of excitment, daddy pounced upon him. "Young man," he thundered, "beer harmless? 'tween you and me, lager beer is the devil's pison, slow but sure. Don't you believe me?"
"Coax him away, Sorrel Top," said Little Wolf, rousing herself.
"Come, daddy, Miss DeWolf wants us to be off, she says so," said Sorrel Top, resolutely approaching him.
"Me go! O, no, 'tween you an' me, I must stay and protect the love." The Doctor was instantly released. His assailant had embarked in a new enterprise. But Sorrel Top was firm.
"What good are you doing, I should like to know," she said.
"What good be you a doing, you, hussy?" reiterated daddy; don't you hear mammy blowing the horn; 'tween me an' you, she's short winded. I'll protect the pet."
"Never mind me, daddy," said the young mistress, now quite revived; "if you ain't afraid, you had better assist mammy."
She had touched her would-be-protector in a sensitive spot, and he vehemently ejaculated "me afraid; not I. 'Tween you and me, what should I be afraid of, I would like to know?"
"Why, of Bloody Jim."
The old man glanced dubiously towards the door, and slid out.
Edward eagerly seized the propitious moment to formerly introduce himself and companion, to their fair preserver. Mutual explanation followed, and Little Wolf cordially welcomed our friends to Chimney Rock. "Father is at the brewery," she said, "he'll be in directly; the horn is our alarm bell."
"Is there any further danger to be apprehended?" said Edward; "I think you killed them both."
Little Wolf suddenly changed countenance.
Her beautiful, bewitching face had been half hidden by curls, and covered with blushes, from the moment her faintness had passed off, and, but for the twinkle of those mischief-loving brown eyes, and certain unmistakable movements of her slight figure, she might have passed for meekness itself. To those, therefore, who were unacquainted with her peculiarly nervous and impulsive temperament, the change in her apperance was rather surprising. With one sweep of her plump little hand, she tossed back the ringlets from her brow, and frowningly declared she wished she had killed them. "I didn't kill them, though," she said, "or, at all events, I killed but one; the other, Bloody Jim, he's called, I cannot kill. I've tried it before. He's my evil genius. He carried me off bodily, once, just before I went away to school."
"Indeed," said Edward, deeply interested, "how did you escape?"
"O, a gentleman rescued me."
Edward said "indeed" again, but his tone was slightly changed. He did not feel quite as comfortable, as he had a moment before; but in the unpleasant scene which immediately followed, his chagrin passed unnoticed.
The sound of the horn, had brought to the house, all the loungers at the brewery who were in a condition to render aid, and some who were not. Among the last named was Dr. DeWolf, who staggered to the parlor, and boisterously demanded, "What's all this fuss about?"
He was in the first stage of drunkenness, and consequently more difficult to manage than he would have been an hour or two later, when he was usually brought home in a helpless condition.
Little Wolf made a desperate struggle to appear composed.
"O, nothing," she replied with the slightest possible quiver in her voice, "I saw Bloody Jim, that's all."
"That's enough," murmured the parent, sinking into a chair. The very mention of that name seemed to have completely sobered him. For, bloated and inebriated though he was, paternal love still lived, a green spot in the waste, which alcoholic fires had not yet burned out. He sat for a moment in silence, pressing his hand to his brow, and then, without appearing to notice his guests, abruptly left the room.
His daughter hastily excused herself, and followed him. Once outside the door, she drew a long breath, but shill choking down her mortified feelings, she bounded across the adjoining room, and meeting mammy, paused to give a few necessary orders.
"O, laws, honey," objected mammy, "I can't do nothing, and I can't get nobody else to do nothing. O, laws, honey, what if Bloody Jim should come? the men are half of 'em drunk; we'll all go to destruction together."
"O, fudge, mammy, Bloody Jim is shot; there's no danger. Come, now, you do as I tell you. I must go to my room a minute." and she flew into the hall and up the long staircase, as if she had wings, leaving mammy muttering to herself.
"Poor motherless child; sich as this is enough to make the honey stiddy; dear me, there's no stiddying her—clean gone mad, I declare.
More troubles—Who was Bloody Jim—his attempt at kidnapping Little Wolf—The cause of his hatred and of the terror he inspired.
uite like a little fury, Little Wolf burst into her own private apartment. Locking the door, she stopped suddenly and stamped, in a paroxism of grief and vexation.
"A drunkard's child!" she said scornfully "Disgrace!—I hate everybody!—I wish I'd shot myself!—I wish I was dead!—I wish father—" she did not finish the sentence; a loud knock at the door interrupted her.
"Who's there?" she asked.
"Me," said Sorrel Top.
"Go away," said her young mistress, imperatively.
"Mammy sent me," said Sorrel Top, "the Doctor is dying."
"O, God!" exclaimed Little Wolf, in an agony, "I have got my wish."
Trembling violently, she descended to the parlor and found her father stretched out on the sofa in an apoplectic fit. Wild and reckless as her words had been, Little Wolf would not for the world have seen her wishes fulfilled, and she was spared the remorse, which under the peculiar circumstances, her father's death would have occasioned.
Not having perceived how completely her information respecting Bloody Jim, had brought her father to his senses, she little dreamed that, while she was giving orders to mammy, he was in another part of the house inspecting the fastenings of the doors and shutters. Finding all secure, he returned to the parlor, in order to learn the particulars of her meeting with the being, whose very name had created such terror and dismay throughout the household. Observing young Sherman and Dr. Goodrich, he attempted to address them, but suddenly lost the power of speech.
It was many hours before Dr. Goodrich dared give any encouragement of his recovery to his almost distracted daughter. All night long, she watched, with the young physician and Edward, by his bedside.
Daddy and others, kept a bright look out for the enemy; but he had been too badly wounded, to attempt any further violence that night.
For reasons unknown to any except the parties concerned, Dr. DeWolf had, in the person of Bloody Jim, a revengeful and deadly enemy. He belonged to the Red River half-breeds. Several years before, while a company of his people were encamped in the vicinity of St. Paul, on the upper Mississippi, for the purpose of trafficking with the whites, Dr. DeWolf had paid them a chance visit.
As some alleviation to the insupportable loneliness, which the recent death of his wife occasioned, he accepted the invitation, of his friend and financial adviser, Squire Tinknor, to spend a few weeks with him, in the place above mentioned. This friend, was unfortunately, for a man of the Doctor's irregular habits, wealthy, wild and dissipated. Together they sought out and visited every place of amusement. Returning in company, from a horse race, one pleasant afternoon, they came in sight of the tented village, occupied by this demi-savage people. The novelty attracted the Doctor's attention and he insisted on alighting. "I must see what they've got in there," he said, pointing towards a tent from which the sound of music was heard.
Peeping slyly through a crack in the canvas, he saw the music-maker, a young girl, carelessly drawing a bow across the strings of a dilapitated violin, while her own very sweet voice, dropped out a gay stanza, in broken English. She was alone; so the Doctor boldly lifted the door and went in. Five, ten and fifteen minutes, his companion impatiently awaited his appearance, and at length, seriously disturbed at his absence, he shouted his name.
"Yes, yes," said the Doctor from within, "I'm coming."
"What detained you so deuced long," said his friend, when they were again on their way.
"O, playing the agreeable to a little fool, who was sawing away on a greasy fiddle," said the recent widower of forty-five, or more. He was careful not to mention that the "little fool," was beautifully formed, with ruddy checks, with dark, loving eyes and, being rather handsome himself, he had conceived the idea of captivating her silly heart. The story of the "Spider and the fly," fitly illustrates the means by which his purpose was afterwards accomplished.
His inamorata had innocently informed him that her protector, "brother Jim," spent the most of his time in the city, and the Doctor soon discovered that her savage looking relative frequently drank to excess. Under such favorable circumstances it required but little management to elude his vigilance. But, after the mischief was done, it was not so easy to escape a brother's revenge; especially as that brother's naturally ferocious nature had already acquired him the title of "Bloody Jim."
Not many months after the Doctor had returned home, his punishment began. He had just gone to the brewery to spend the evening, when his little daughter came running in.
"O, papa," she exclaimed, panting for breath, "I met such a great tall man out here—he wasn't an Injin—he talked a little like one, though. He had on a blue coat with bright buttons, and he had such awful eyes; O, dear!"
"What did he say, daughter?" said the Doctor, catching up his child, and pressing her to his heart.
"O, he said, 'what name?' I told him papa always called me daughter, mamma used to call me Little Wolf, and daddy and mammy called me honey, pet, dove, love, and every thing, I wish I had a regular name, papa—I mean to give orders to be called Little Wolf, for mamma knew best, and she called me so."
"Little Wolf it shall be," said obedient papa. "But what next did the man say?"