O'er Many Lands, on Many Seas Part 18

"Poor Shoe-Sally came to thank me with the tears streaming over her honest black cheeks.

"'For what you hab done dis day,' sobbed Sally, 'Hebbin will bress you ebery hour in your life. And, oh, sah!' she added, 'Sally will die for you!'

"I shudder even now, Ben, my friend, when I think of how true, how terribly true, the latter part of this little grateful speech turned out.

"Time pa.s.sed, and I felt happier far in that old Californian home than I believe I ever did anywhere before. I never once, however, met Joliffe the overseer, but he scowled a dreadful scowl at me, and I knew he was inwardly vowing deep revenge. As for the little boy, Tom, he was taken entirely out of the overseer's charge, and became message-boy and 'b.u.t.tons' about the house.

"It was before the tremendous civil war had broken out in America, Ben, and I was very young and just a bit romantic. Perhaps I really was in love with dear Miriam. At all events, there was nothing I would not have done for her, and I was never so perfectly, so serenely happy as when in her sweet presence. But everyone loved Miriam, ay, every slave about the place, and every beast and every bird. The wandering Indians that occasionally came around looked upon her as some being better than themselves, and I believe that even when they were on the war-path she might have gone to their camps, or to their fastnesses in the wilderness, and need have dreaded nought of ill.

"It came to pa.s.s that Miriam was invited to spend a week at the house of a friend who lived some twenty miles from the old mansion.

"Her father took her over, and--for sake of the drive we shall say, Ben--I went along with him. I never enjoyed any drive so much, at all events. At the end of the week, as my host was not over well, I boldly volunteered to go alone for Miriam, and my proposition was accepted.

"I should sleep one night at the house where she had gone, and together we should drive home next day. I knew every foot of the road and every feature of the scenery; even should we be belated, there would be bright moonlight. At any time, a ride through the forests and hills of the far West, when the full moon is shining down from a clear sky, is a treat to be remembered, but with such companionship as I should enjoy, why, it is bliss, Ben, and nothing less.

"Now, something out of the common occurred on the very day I left to bring Miriam home. It was this: both Joliffe and Shoe-Sally were missed. Poor Tom was disconsolate in the extreme, and went about all the forenoon with tears coursing along his nose, almost as big as the silver b.u.t.tons he wore on his jacket.

"That same day at noon a strange meeting took place between two braves, apparently Indians, in one of the deepest and darkest nooks of the great forest. The spot was on the brink of a deep canon almost filled up with fallen trees, the result of some terrible storm.

"One savage, who evidently belonged to the warlike Apaches, and was a chief, sat quietly and meditatively smoking. The other leaned upon his club, and did all the talking, and this most energetically.

"'Ugh!' said the sitting chief; 'but the paleface and I am at peace. I like it not. I care not for his scalp.'

"'But think of the gold I offer you,' said his companion; 'think of the fire-water it will buy you. You will be happy for ever with such wealth and riches, and think of the _prize_. You are a great chief, this paleface girl will be brighter than the sunshine in your wigwam, sweeter far than the wild bee's honey. Think.'

"Nearer and nearer to a rifted tree not far from these two men crept a dark figure, moving along low on the ground, and as silently as a snake glides, till their every word became audible, their every gesture visible.

"There was much more that the club-armed savage said which need not be repeated. Suffice it to say that the listener heard all, or heard enough, then retired with the same stealthy gliding motion as it had approached.

"Miriam and I set out about noon next day on our return journey.

"With our spirited horse, and light waggonette, three hours would have taken us home easily. But we did not hurry the horse, and it was two o'clock ere we had accomplished half the distance.

"'We must be quick,' cried Miriam, looking at her watch with some degree of anxiety depicted on her lovely face.

"She had hardly spoken these words ere an Indian woman tearing a child on her back in her blanket, suddenly appeared at the bend of the road, and begged for a few coppers. I felt too happy to refuse, and drew up.

The woman leaned against the wheel, a silver coin glittered in her hand, and next moment we had driven on.

"Our path now wound along through a beautiful forest, and close by the banks of a lake.

"The view was charming in the extreme, and I could not help stopping for just a moment that we might gaze on it. The day was hot and still; there was silence on the hills, silence on pine wood and lake, broken only by an occasional plash as a fish leaped up, or a bird stirred the gla.s.sy waters with glad wing. We were almost close to the edge of a fearful precipice.

"'Get me that flower,' murmured Miriam, pointing to a deep crimson anemone that grew by the side of the road.

"I sprang down to get it. I had hardly reached the ground ere one of the front wheels flew off and rolled over the rock; it took all my strength to support that side of the machine, until Miriam should alight.

"My thoughts at once reverted to the Indian woman who had leaned against the wheel. She had doubtless drawn the linch-pin.

"There was treachery of some kind in the wind. But what could it mean?

I never for a moment thought of Joliffe and his possible revenge.

"As quickly as fingers could work, I took out the horse and tied him to a tree, then I backed the carriage into a sheltering corner of the rock, and hardly had I done so ere the whole forest resounded with the howling of vengeful savages.

"I had expected no a.s.sistance from Miriam, and was surprised to get it.

But the dear girl had all the courage and coolness in danger of a true American woman. Armed with a revolver each, we gave those Redskins a warm reception; and though the bullets rattled on the rocks behind us like the hail on our window panes, Ben, they retired discomfited.

"We could hardly expect to remain where we were much longer, and hope itself was sinking in my heart, when the yelling was renewed, and the Indians came on a second time to the attack.

"Ah! but help was at hand. Savages can _yell_, but there is nothing so blood-stirring as the wild 'hurrah!' of a Briton or an American.

"We heard it now, and sent back cheer for cheer.

"I can hardly describe the scene that followed. It was a fierce _melee_, a hand-to-hand contest, and dreadful while it lasted. But the Redskins were beaten, Ben, at length, as Redskins always have been in the long run who crossed sword or spear against civilised man.

"For the life of me I could never tell how long that fight continued.

It might have been but five minutes--it might have been an hour.

"But there, in the midst of the dead and the dying, stood Miriam, locked in her father's arms.

"Ben," I continued, after a pause, "the most mournful part of my tale remains to be told. It was poor, droll, innocent Shoe-Sally who had followed Joliffe to the forest that day, dodged him while he disguised himself, and crept after him, and listened to all he had said to the Apache chief. She had hurried home again and exposed his treachery, and as it happened our friends were on the spot barely in time to save our lives."

"And Shoe-Sally?" said Ben; "what became of her?"

"We found her among the dying.

"'My brudder, my brudder!' was all she ever said ere death stepped in and closed the scene."

There was moisture in my friend's eyes as he bent down to stir the fire.

"'Poor Sally!' he said; 'and were these her last words? Well, Nie, we are all of us brothers and sisters in this world.'"

Yes, my dear readers, all of us, as Ben said, black or white. Remember that.

The End.