Bill Biddon, Trapper Part 18

CHAPTER X.

AN AWFUL AWAKENING.

I have now reached a point in my life over which I would fain pa.s.s in silence. It is an experience so strange, so like some horrid vision of sleep, so different from what usually falls to the lot of man, that, at this remote day, I cannot look upon it without a recoiling shudder of horror. I have sometimes persuaded myself that it was unreal; but no, it is true, and time can never clothe the memory of it in a different dress than that of unearthly terror. Bleak and bare it stands alone, in my checkered lot, and the silver that now glistens prematurely in my hair, came upon that night.

I remember falling into a deep sleep, in which the last form that pa.s.sed before my eyes was that of the dark Medicine Man; there was a confused murmur of voices, and then all became blank and dark.

Gradually the darkness was swept by the glittering folds of a dream--a dream which had little form or theme, but the minutest particulars of which I remember to this day. There were airy, waving figures gliding silently about me without voice, but with every variety of motion.

They pa.s.sed and repa.s.sed before my face, frequently pausing and extending their arms over my body, and sometimes standing and intently scanning my countenance. This continued a long time, not a word spoken either by myself or the forms, when suddenly the whole changed. The waving figures darted with the rapidity of lightning among each other, and the quiet radiance became instantly as black as night. In this, I could distinguish the rushing forms growing fainter and fainter, until, at last, all was blackness again.

Then came a feeling as though the thick darkness in one volume were gradually crushing me beneath it, and then a strange feeling of being cramped and held forcibly still. Then came a long, deep, indrawn breath, and I awoke.

All was confused and inexplicable. Open my eyes as wide as I might, I could not pierce the Stygian gloom. I tried to move, but could not--could not stir a limb, and only the fingers of my hand. The air was steamy and hot, and I was surrounded by something which chained every part. I strove to collect my thoughts. I remembered the consultation in the hut, the coming unconsciousness, and--my present awakening. My first impression, after this, was that the house had fallen over me. I clenched my hands--_they closed upon earth_! I reached forward and licked the darkness. _I tasted earth!_--and then came the sudden, overwhelming knowledge--

I WAS BURIED ALIVE!!

No pen can draw the faintest picture, no soul conceive the unutterable horror, unless that soul has gone through the same awful experience that filled my soul at that discovery. Such a whirlwind of fire as seethed through my bursting brain, such a perfect blaze of all the pa.s.sions that can rack the human mind, I cannot portray with this feeble pen. For a moment I was frantic, and then suddenly a dreadful and frightful calmness soothed my frame.

Ay, I was buried alive! The savages had mistaken my trance-like stupor for death itself, and I had been hurried prematurely into the grave.

Oh, the appalling discovery! To die while in the grave! The thought was too horrible! I was not yet ready to give way to utter despair. I durst not pause a second for thought, for I knew it would surely come.

I twisted and struggled with the strength of fury. I could turn my body around, and use my arms. There was an open s.p.a.ce before my face, as I had been buried in the sitting position. Had I lain back I could not have survived five minutes; as it was, my limbs were immovably secured, and it _was absolutely impossible for me to free myself_.

It was a long time, for such an experience, before I admitted this, but I was compelled to at last. Death by suffocation was rapidly approaching, and all that was left for me was to prepare for it. The small breath of air around me had already been breathed over and over again, and was become hot, steamy, and sickening. I was gasping and panting, but strove to collect my thoughts and keep them from wandering. I commenced praying.

Suddenly a m.u.f.fled sound reached my ear, as though something had fallen to the earth above. I listened--it was repeated directly over me, now rapidly and regularly. What could it mean? Was it the sign of dissolution, or was it real? I listened, and heard it plainer and plainer above the mild throbs of my heart. _It was real!_ Something or somebody was digging at the grave above!

Could I now hold out till I was reached? The air had already become _thick and palpable_, and strange fires were flitting before my eyes.

I held my breath till the distended blood-vessels seemed bursting, and then as I respired, the earth turned to soft _mud_ around me; and then the long-labored inspiration was like drawing in some loathsome reptile.

But _what_ was above? It could not be a person, as I had been buried by them. It must be some famished animal hastening to devour me. Yet this would be a relief, to gain one more draught of the sweet, cool air of heaven before death.

Now I heard the murmur of _voices_! I shouted--there was a pause and stillness; then the efforts were renewed with greater vigor. I shouted again. I could feel the jarring tremble of the loose earth above. Some one was endeavoring to rescue me from my awful fate, thank G.o.d!

A moment after, and the cool air brushed my face; a strong hand seized my arm, and--Oh, joy inexpressible! I was on the earth again.

For a moment I was bewildered and dizzy, and my pulse fluttered wildly, for I had been very, very nigh death. I was recalled to full consciousness by the familiar voice of Jim.

"Got in a tight fix, Bill. Ole Jim jus' in time."

I took the savage's hand without a word, and, sinking upon my knees, sent up a deep, heartfelt prayer to the Merciful Being who had thus s.n.a.t.c.hed me from the most appalling death. There was a bright moon shining, and, as I turned, I saw the dark Indian's eyes fixed wonderingly upon me.

"Jim," said I, solemnly, "may the G.o.d who has put it into your heart, reward you for this act. I _never, never_ can."

"Jim didn't do it," he quickly interrupted. "_She_ did!" and, disengaging his grasp, he darted out of sight I turned and looked behind me. There, standing motionless as a statue, her slight form wrapped in a thick mantle, her sweet, white face appearing like a spirit's, stood the fair, mysterious captive.[3]

[3] In the northwestern part of Oregon is a tribe of Indians called Chenooks, who bury their sick, as soon as the Medicine Man p.r.o.nounces them beyond recovery. This horrid practice is not confined to them alone, for other tribes in the northwest have been known to inflict it upon their captives.

For a moment, I was disposed to believe it was a spirit before me, so still and motionless she remained. Suddenly she turned to depart.

"Hold!" exclaimed I, springing forward and seizing her arm; "hold one moment, till I thank thee."

"Thank the Great One above," she replied, in a low, sweet voice. "He it is who has preserved your life."

As she uttered these words, she turned her dark eyes upward, and the moonlight streaming down upon her face, threw a vail like the halo of glory around it. Then looking me calmly in the face, she added:

"You have escaped an awful death, it is true; and you are not the only one who has thus risen from the grave. When delirious, you spoke of home and of friends there, and I know your presence is prayed for. The chance of reaching them is now placed within your reach. A horse is saddled and bridled, and awaiting you, but a short distance away. Jim will furnish you with a rifle. You know the direction to take, and let me urge you to flee."

Again she turned to go, but I restrained her.

"You are a white person, and do you wish to live and die with these savages?"

The tears glistened on her face as she replied, "I have not a friend in the civilized world. My parents were murdered by the Indians, and myself and sister carried away in captivity. We were separated; I was taken eastward, and she westward beyond the Rocky Mountains. She cannot be living, for she was a delicate child, younger than me, and incapable of bearing one-half the suffering that must have been imposed upon her. Should I ever see the land I left when a child, I should be a stranger among strangers. There are those here who love me, and I will remain behind and die among them."

"Flee with me," I impetuously urged. "You will not be a stranger.

Hundreds will love you, and you can die with your own kindred. Jim, who is faithful to you, will furnish us both with a fleet horse, and we can elude all pursuit. I--"

I paused, for her agitation had become painful. She was sinking to the earth, when I caught her, and, leading her a short distance, seated myself beside her upon a fallen tree. Then I gently pulled her head over on my bosom, and looked down upon her features. Her gaudy head-dress was removed, and her white face lay among the ma.s.s of jetty hair like a jewel set in darkness. The dark, sweeping lashes, the faint roseate glow of each cheek, the delicate nose and lips, as the moonlight rested on them, were indescribably beautiful. There was, too, an utter abandonment about her,--a tumultuous throbbing, that showed what a powerful emotion was agitating her.

What was that emotion? Was it a response to my own great pa.s.sion? What else could it be? Encouraged by the certainty that the latter was the case, I urged my suit with redoubled ardor. I pictured the happiness that would be hers in a civilized country, and the utter misery that must follow her life among the savages. She informed me that she was a captive, not of the tribe near at hand, but of one further north, which had held her ever since the ma.s.sacre of her parents; and that she had been told, in case she attempted to leave them, instant death would be the result. I saw she wished--she _longed_ to flee, and the objections she offered were only suggested by her fears.

"Hist!" she whispered, "there is some one."

I turned on the defensive. In an instant Jim stood beside me.

"How soon goin'?" he asked, anxiously, turning toward me.

"Shortly; why do you ask?"

"Day clus comin', and if you cotched, no use!" he replied, meaningly.

"I was not aware, Jim, that I had enemies among you."

"You hain't; but--"

The rest of the sentence was gesticulated, first pointing to me and the fair one beside me.

"Do you not understand?" asked the latter. "There are several in the tribe who look upon me with envious eyes, and were they conscious that you knew of my existence, you would not be spared a moment. This is what Jim means, and his words must be heeded."

"Must I travel afoot and alone?" I asked of the Indian.

"There's the hoss what tossed you over the buffler there," he answered, pointing to a clump of trees, "and I've brought you them other things," he added, handing me my knife, powder-horn, and rifle, "and I'll show you through the woods to the peararie."

"Thank you; but I shall not need you, as I know the way well enough."

"How soon you goin' to start?" he asked, turning to depart.