Wild Western Scenes

by J. B. Jones

  CHAPTER XVII.

  The bright morning--Sneak's visit--Glenn's heart--The snake hunt--Loveand raspberries--Joe is bitten--His terror and sufferings--Arrivalof Boone--Joe's abrupt recovery--Preparations to leave the west--Conclusion.

  The sun rose the next morning in unusual glory. Not a breath of airstirred the entranced foliage of the dark green trees in the valleys,and the fresh flowers around exhaled a sweet perfume that remainedstationary over them. The fawn stood perfectly still in the grassyyard, and seemed to contemplate the grandeur of the enchanting scene.The atmosphere was as translucent as fancy paints the realms of theblest, and quite minute objects could be distinctly seen far over theriver many miles eastward. Nor were any sounds heard save theoccasional chattering of the paroquet in the dense forest across theriver, a mile distant, and yet they appeared to be in the immediatevicinity. The hounds lay extended on the ground with their eyes open,more in a listless than a watchful attitude. The kitten was couched onthe threshold (the door having been left open to admit the pure air,)and looked thoughtfully at the rising sun. The large blue chanticleerwas balanced on one foot with an eye turned upwards as if scanning theheavens to guard against the sudden attack of the far-seeing eagle.Nature seemed to be indulging in a last sweet morning slumber, ifindeed not over-sleeping herself, while the sun rose stealthily up andsmiled at all her charms exposed!

  "Hillo! ain't you all up yit? Git up, Joe, and feed your hosses,"cried Sneak, approaching the gate on the outside, and thus mostunceremoniously dispelling the charm that enwrapped the premises.

  "Who's there?" cried Joe, springing up and rubbing his eyes.

  "It's me--dod, you know who I am. Come, open the gate and let me in."

  "What's the matter, Sneak? Are the Indians after you?" said Joe,running out, but pausing at the gate for an answer before he drew backthe bolt.

  "No--I thought-you had sense enough by this time to know no Indiansain't going to come this time a-year. Let me in!" added he,impatiently.

  "What are you doing with them long sticks?" asked Joe, opening thegate and observing two hickory poles in Sneak's hand. "Are you goingto try your luck fishing?"

  "No, nor _ducking_ nother," replied he, sarcastically.

  "Plague it, Sneak," said Joe, deprecatingly, "never mind that affair;you were mistaken about my being frightened. The next chance I getI'll let you see that I'm not afraid of any thing."

  "Well, I want you to go with me on a spree this morning that'll tryyou."

  "What are you going to do?" asked Joe, with some curiosity in hislooks.

  "I'm going a _snaking_," said Sneak.

  At this juncture the dialogue was arrested by the appearance of Glenn,whose brow was somewhat paler than usual, and wore an absent andthoughtful cast; yet his abstract meditations did not seem altogetherof a painful nature.

  "Joe," said he, "I want you to exercise the horses more in theprairie. They are getting too fat and lazy. If they cannot be got onthe boat when we leave here, we will have to send them by land to St.Louis."

  "Dod--you ain't a going to leave us?" cried Sneak.

  "Well, I thought something was in the wind," said Joe, pondering, "butit'll break Miss Mary's--"

  "Pshaw!" replied Glenn, quickly interrupting him; "you don't know whatyou are talking about."

  "Well, I can't say I do exactly," said Joe; "but I know its a verymysterious matter."

  "_What_ is such a mysterious matter?" asked Glenn, smiling.

  "Why, you--Miss Mary"--stammered Joe.

  "Well, what is there mysterious about us?"

  "Hang it, _you_ know!" replied Joe.

  "Pshaw!" repeated Glenn, striding out of the inclosure, and descendingthe path leading to Roughgrove's house, whither he directed Joe tofollow when he had galloped the horses.

  "Have you got any licker in the house?" asked Sneak, staring at theretreating form of Glenn.

  "No--its all gone. Why do you ask?" returned Joe.

  "Becaise that feller's drunk," said Sneak, with a peculiar nod.

  "No he ain't--he hasn't drunk a drop for a month."

  "Then he's going crazy, and you'd better keep a sharp look-out."

  "I know what's the matter with him--he's in love!" said Joe.

  "Then why don't he take her?" asked Sneak.

  "I don't know," replied Joe; "maybe he will, some day. Now for aride--how are you, Pete?" he continued, opening the stable door andrubbing the pony's head that was instantly thrust out in salutation.

  "I'll ride the hoss," said Sneak.

  "Will you? I'm glad of it," said Joe, "for that'll save me the troubleof leading him."

  "That's jest what I come for," said Sneak, "becaise this hot morningthe snakes are too thick to fight 'em on foot."

  "Can you see many of them at a time?"

  "Well, I reckon you kin."

  "Won't they bite the horses?"

  "No, the hosses knows what a snake is as well as a man, and they'llkeep a bright eye for 'emselves, while we stave out their brains withour poles," said Sneak.

  In a few minutes the companions were mounted, and with the fawnskipping in advance, and the hounds in the rear, they proceeded gaylyout toward the prairie on a _snaking_ expedition.

  The sunlight was now intensely brilliant, and the atmosphere, thoughladen with the sweet perfume of the countless millions of wildflowers, began to assume a sultriness that soon caused the horses andhounds to loll out their tongues and pant as they bounded through therank grass. Ere long the riders drew near a partially barren spot inthe prairie, where from some singular cause the grass was not morethan three inches high. This spot was circular, about fifty paces indiameter, and in the centre was a pool of bright water, some fiftyfeet in circumference. The grass growing round this spot was tall andluxuriant, and terminated as abruptly at the edge of the circle as ifa mower had passed along with his sharp scythe.

  "Sneak, I never saw that before," said Joe, as they approached, whileyet some forty paces distant. "What does it mean?"

  "You'll see presently," said his companion, grasping more firmly thethick end of his rod, as if preparing to deal a blow. "When I was outhere this morning," he continued, "they were too thick for me, and Ihad to make tracks."

  "What were too thick for you?" asked Joe, with a singular anxiety, andat the same time reining in his pony.

  "Why, the _snakes_," said Sneak with much deliberation. "I was a-footthen, and from the style in which they whizzed through the grass, Iwas afraid too many might git on me at a time and choke me to death.But now I'm ready for 'em; they can't git us if we manage korect."

  "I won't go!" said Joe.

  "Dod, they ain't pisen!" said Sneak; "they're nearly all _blackracers_, and they don't bite. Come on, don't be such a tarnationcoward; the rattlesnakes, and copper-heads, and wipers, won't runafter us; and if they was to, they couldn't reach up to our legs. Thisis a glorious day for _snaking_--come on, Joe!"

  Joe followed at a very slow and cautious pace a few steps farther, andthen halted again.

  "What're you stopping for agin?" asked Sneak.

  "Sneak, the pony ain't tall enough!"

  "That's all the better," replied Sneak; "you can whack 'em easier asthey run--and then they can't see you as fur as they kin me. I'll swaphosses with you."

  "No you won't!" replied Joe, whipping forward again. But he had notadvanced many seconds before he drew up once more. This time he wasattracted by the unaccountable motions of the fawn, a short distanceahead. That animal was apparently striking some object on the groundwith its feet, and ever and anon springing violently to one side orthe other. Its hair stood erect on its back, and it assumed a mostferocious aspect. Now it would run back toward the men a moment, and,wheeling suddenly, again leap upon the foe, when its feet could beheard to strike against the ground; then it plunged forward, and aftermaking a spring beyond, would return to the attach.

  "Here, Ringwood! Jowler!" cried Joe, and the hounds ran forward to thespot pointed out to them. But no sooner had they g
one far enough tosee the nature of the enemy that the fawn was attacking, than theyturned away affrighted, and with their tails hanging down retreatedfrom the scene of action.

  They rode up and surveyed more closely the strange battle. The fawn,becoming more and more enraged, did not suspend hostilities at theirapproach. They paused involuntarily when, within a few feet of theobject, which proved to be a tremendous rattlesnake, some five feet inlength, and as thick as a man's arm. It was nearly dead, its body,neck, and head, exhibited many bloody gashes cut by the sharp hoofs ofthe fawn. Every time the fawn sprang upon it, it endeavoured in vainto strike its fangs into its active foe, which sprang away in atwinkling, and before it could prepare to strike again, the fatalhoofs would inflict another wound on its devoted head. It grew weakerand weaker, and finally turned over on its back, when the infuriateddeer, no longer compelled to observe cautionary measures, soon severedits head entirely from the body and stood over it in triumph.

  It grew weaker and weaker, and finally turned over onits back.--P. 247]

  "Pete can do that if a deer can!" said Joe, somewhat emboldened at thedeath of so formidable a reptile, and beholding the fixed thoughcomposed gaze of the pony as he stood with his head turned sidewaystowards the weltering snake.

  "Sartinly he kin," said Sneak, standing up in his stirrups, andstretching his long neck to its utmost tension to see if any snakeswere in the open area before them.

  "Do you see any, Sneak?" asked Joe, now grasping his rod and anxiousfor the fray.

  "I see a few--about forty, I guess, lying in the sun at the edge ofthe water."

  "Sneak, there's too many of them," said Joe.

  "Dod--you ain't a going to back out now, I hope. Don't you see yourpony snuffing at 'em? He wants to dash right in among 'em."

  "No he don't," said Joe--"he don't like the smell, nor Ieither--faugh!"

  "Why, it smells like May-apples--I like it," said Sneak; "but thereain't more than one or two copper-heads there--they're most allracers. Come on, Joe--we must gallop right through and mash theirheads with our sticks as we pass. Then after a little while we mustturn and dash back agin--that's the way to fix 'em."

  "You must go before," said Joe.

  The number that Sneak mentioned was not exaggerated. On the contrary,additions were constantly made to the number. The surface of the poolwas continually agitated by the darting serpents striking at thetadpoles and frogs, while on the margin many were writhing in variousfantastic contortions in their sports. Nearly all of them were large,and some could not have been less than eleven feet long. They wereevidently enjoying the warm rays of the sun, and at times skippedabout with unwonted animation. Now one of the largest would elevatehis black head some four feet from the ground, while the otherswrapped themselves around him, and thus formed the dark and horridspectacle of a pyramid of snakes! Then falling prostrate with theirown weight, in less than a twinkling they were dispersed and flyingover the smooth short grass in every direction, their innumerablescales all the time emitting a low buzzing sound as they ran along.Every moment others glided into the area from the tall grass, andthose assembled thither rushed towards them in a body to manifest awelcome.

  "Now's the time!" cried Sneak, rushing forward, followed by Joe. WhenJoe's eyes fell upon the black mass of serpents, he made a convulsivegrasp at the reins with an involuntary resolution to retreat withoutdelay from such a frightful scene. But the violence of his graspsevered the reins from the bit, and the pony sprang forward after thesteed, being no longer subject to his control! There was no retreatingnow! Sneak levelled his rod at a cluster just forming in a mass twofeet above the ground, and crushed the hydra at a blow! Joe closed hiseyes, and struck he knew not what--but Sneak knew, for the blowdescended on his head--though with feeble force. In an instant thehorsemen had passed to the opposite side of the area and halted in thetall grass. Looking back, they beheld a great commotion among thesurviving snakes. Some glided into the pool, and with bodiessubmerged, elevated their heads above the surface and darted out theirtongues fiercely. Others raced round the scene of slaughter with theirheads full four feet high, or gathered about the dead and dying, andlashed the air with their sharp tails, producing sounds like thecracking of whips. The few copper-heads and rattlesnakes presentcoiled themselves up with their heads in the centre in readiness tostrike their poison into whatever object came within their reach.

  So sudden had been the onset of the horsemen that the surprisedserpents seemed to be ignorant of the nature of the foe, and insteadof flying to the long grass to avoid a recurrence of bloodshed, theycontinued to glide round the pool, while their number increased everymoment.

  "What'd you hit me on the head for?" asked Sneak, after regarding thesnakes a moment, and then turning to Joe, the pony having still keptat the heels of the steed in spite of his rider's efforts to thecontrary.

  "Oh, Sneak," cried Joe, in tones somewhat tremulous, "do, forgoodness' sake, let us go away from here!"

  "I sha'n't do any such thing--what'd you hit me on the head for?"

  "I thought I was a killing a snake," replied Joe.

  "Do I look like a snake?" continued Sneak, turning round, when for thefirst time he discovered the condition of his companion's bridle.

  "Sneak, let's ride away!" said Joe.

  "And leave all them black sarpents yander poking out their tongues atus? I won't go till I wear out this pole on 'em. Ha! ha! ha! I thoughtyou hadn't spunk enough to gallup through 'em on your own accord,"said Sneak, looking at the pony, and knowing that he would follow thesteed always, if left to his own inclination.

  "Come, Sneak, let's go home!" continued Joe, in a supplicating tone.

  "Come! let's charge on the snakes agin!" said Sneak, raising the rod,and fixing his feet in the stirrups.

  "Hang me if I go there again!" said Joe, throwing down his rod.

  "You're a tarnation coward, that's what you are! But you can't helpyourself," replied Sneak.

  "I'll jump off and run!" said Joe, preparing to leap to the ground.

  "You jest do now, and you'll have forty sarpents wrapped round you inless than no time."

  At that moment two or three racers swept between them with their headselevated as high as Joe's knees, and entered the area.

  "Oh goodness!" cried Joe, drawing up his legs.

  "Git down and git your pole," said Sneak.

  "I wouldn't do it if it was made of gold!"

  "If you say you'll fight the snakes, I'll git it for you--I'm a goingto stay here till they're all killed," continued Sneak.

  "Give it to me, then--I'll smash their brains out the next time!" saidJoe, with desperate determination.

  "But you musn't hit me agin!" said Sneak, dismounting and handing upthe weapon to Joe, and then leaping on the steed again.

  "Sneak, you're no better than a snake, to bring me into such a scrapeas this!" said Joe, leaning forward and scanning the black mass ofserpents at the pool.

  In a few minutes they whipped forward, Sneak in advance, and againthey were passing through the army of snakes. This time Joe did goodservice. He massacred one of the coiled rattlesnakes at a blow, andhis pony kicked a puffing viper to atoms. Sneak paused a moment at thepool, and dealt his blows with such rapidity that nearly all the blackracers that survived glided swiftly into the tall grass, and one ofthe largest was seen by Joe to run up the trunk of a solitary blastedtree that stood near the pool, and enter a round hole about ten feetfrom the ground.

  But if the serpents were mostly dispersed from the area around thepool, they were by no means all destroyed; and when the equestrianswere again in the tall grass, they found them whizzing furiously aboutthe hoofs of their horses. Once or twice Sneak's horse sprang suddenlyforward in pain, being stung on the ham or shoulder by the tails ofthe racers as they flew past with almost inconceivable rapidity.

  "Oh! St. Peter! Sneak!" cried Joe, throwing back his head, and liftingup his knees nearly to his chin.

  "Ha! ha! ha! did one of 'em cut you, Joe? They hurt
like fury, buttheir tails ain't pisen. Look what a whelk they've made on the hoss."

  "Sneak, why don't you get away from this nasty place! One of them shotright over the pony's neck a while ago, and came very near hitting meon the chin."

  "You must hit 'em as they come. Yander comes one--now watch me!"Saying this, Sneak turned the steed so as to face a tremendous racerabout forty paces distant, that was approaching with the celerity ofthe wind with its head above the tall grass. When it came within reachof his rod, he bestowed upon it a blow that entirely severed the head,and the impetus with which it came caused the body to fly over thesteed, and falling upon the neck of the pony, with the life yetremaining (for they are constrictors,) instantly wrapped in a halfdozen folds around it! Pete snorted aloud, and, springing forward, rana hundred paces with all the fleetness of which he was capable. Butbeing unable to shake off the terrible incumbrance, with his tonguehanging out in agony, he turned back and ran directly for the horse.When he came up to the steed, he pushed his head under his neck,manifesting the greatest distress, and stamping and groaning as ifbecoming crazed.

  "Dod! let me git hold of him!" cried Sneak, bending forward andseizing the snake by the tail. The long head-less body gave waygradually, and becoming quite relaxed fell powerless and dead to theearth.

  "Oh, Sneak, let's go!" said Joe, trembling, his face having turned aspale as death while Pete was dashing about in choking agony under thetight folds of the serpent.

  "Smash me if I go as long as there's a snake left!" replied Sneak,striking down another huge racer; but this one, having its backbroken, remained stationary.

  Thus he continued to strike down the snakes as long as any remained onthe field; and, as they became scarce, Joe grew quite valorous, anddid signal service. At length the combat ceased, and not a livingserpent could be seen running.

  "Sneak, we've killed them all--huzza!" cried Joe, flourishing his rod.

  "Yes, but you didn't do much--you're as big a coward as ever."

  "Oh, I wasn't _afraid_ of them, Sneak," said Joe; "I was only a littlecautious, because it was the first time I ever went a snaking."

  "Yes, you was mighty cautious! if your bridle hadn't broke, you'd havebeen home long ago."

  "Pshaw, Sneak!" said Joe; "you're much mistaken. But how many do youthink we've killed?"

  "I suppose about a quarter of a cord--but I've heard tell of men'skilling a cord a day, easy."

  "You don't say so! But how does it happen so many are found together?When I go out I can never find more than a dozen or so."

  "There's a _snake den_ under that clear place," said Sneak, "wherethey stay all winter--but its not as big a den as some I've seen."

  "I don't want to see more than I have to-day!" said Joe, whipping pastthe steed as they started homewards, having mended his bridle. But ashe paced along by the decayed tree mentioned above, he saw theglistening eyes of the large racer peering from the hole it hadentered, and he gave it a smart blow on the head with his rod andspurred forward. The next moment, when Sneak came up, the enragedserpent sprang down upon him, and in a twinkling wound himself tightlyround his neck! Sneak's eyes started out of his head, and being nearlystrangled he soon fell to the earth. Joe looked on in amazement, butwas too much frightened to assist him. And Sneak, unable to ask hisaid, only turned his large eyes imploringly towards him, while insilence he vainly strove to tear away the serpent with his fingers. Hethrust one hand in his pocket for his knife, but it had been leftbehind! He then held out his hand to Joe, and in this dumb and piteousmanner begged him to lend him his knife. Joe drew it from his pocket,but could not brace his nerves sufficiently to venture within thesuffocating man's reach. At length he bethought him of his pole, andopening the blade thrust it in the end of it and cautiously handed itto Sneak. Sneak immediately ran the sharp steel through the many foldsof the snake, and it fell to the ground in a dozen pieces! The poorman's strength then completely failed him, and he rolled over on hisback in breathless exhaustion. Joe rendered all the assistance in hispower, and his companion soon revived.

  "Dod rot your skin!" exclaimed Sneak, getting up and seizing Joe bythe collar.

  "Hang it, it wasn't _me_! it was the _snake!_" said Joe, extricatinghis neck from his companion's grasp.

  "What'd you _hit_ the sarpent for?"

  "Why, I wanted to kill him."

  "Then why didn't you help me to get it away from my neck?"

  "You didn't _ask_ me," said Joe, with something like ingenuousness,though with a most provoking application.

  "I couldn't speak! The tarnation thing was squeezing my neck so tightI couldn't say a word. But I _looked_ at you, and you might 'aveunderstood me. Never mind, you'll git a snake hold of you some ofthese days."

  "I'll keep a sharp look out after this," said Joe. "But Sneak, I'llswear now you were not born to be hung."

  "You be dod rot!" replied Sneak, leaping on the steed, and turningtowards the river.

  "I would have cut him off myself, Sneak," said Joe, musing on the oddaffair as they rode briskly along, "if I hadn't been afraid of cuttingyour throat. I knew you wasn't born to be hung."

  "Ha! ha! ha! that was the tightest place that ever I was in," saidSneak, regaining his good humour, and diverted at the strangeoccurrence.

  "Didn't he bite you?" asked Joe.

  "No, a black snake can't bite--they havn't got any fangs. If it hadbeen a rattlesnake or a viper, I'd been a gone chicken. I don't thinkI'll ever leave my knife behind again, even if I wasn't to go tensteps from home. Dod--my neck's very sore."

  The companions continued the rest of the way in silence. When theyreached home, and returned the horses to the stable, they proceededdown the path to Roughgrove's house to report their adventure.

  Glenn and Mary, William and La-u-na, were seated under the spreadingelm-tree, engaged in some felicitous conference, that produced a mostpleasing animation in their features.

  Mary immediately demanded of Joe a recital of his adventures thatmorning. He complied without reluctance, and his hearers werefrequently convulsed with laughter as he proceeded, for he added manyembellishments not narrated by the author. Sneak bore their merrimentwith stoical fortitude, and then laughed as heartily as themselves athis own recent novel predicament.

  La-u-na asked Sneak if he had been bitten by any of the poisonoussnakes. Sneak of course replied in the negative, but at the same timedesired to know the name of the plant that was used by the Indianswith universal success when wounded by the fangs of the rattlesnake.The girl told him it was the _white plantain_ that grew in theprairies.

  "I'll go and get some right straight," said Joe, "because I don't knowwhat moment I may be bitten."

  "Never mind it, Joe," said Glenn, rising. "We are now going to gatherwild raspberries on the cliff south of and we want you and Sneak toassist us."

  "Well--I like raspberries, and they must be ripe by this time, if thechickens havn't picked them all before us."

  "Dod--if the chickens have ett 'em can that make 'em _green_ agin?"replied Sneak to Joe's Irishism.

  "You'd better learn how to read before you turn critic," said Joe,taking up the baskets that had been brought out of the house. He thenled the way, quarrelling all the time with Sneak, while Glenn, placingMary's arm in his, and William imitating the example, followed at adistance behind.

  When the party reached the raspberry thicket, they found truly thatthe fowls were there before them, though quite an abundance of thedelicious berry still remained untouched. A few moments sufficed todrive the feathered gatherers away, and then without delay they beganto fill their baskets.

  Many were the hearty peals of joyous laughter that rang from theinnocent lovers while momentarily obscured by the green clusteringbushes. Ere long they were dispersed in various parts of the thicket,and Glenn and Mary being separated from the rest, our hero seized theopportunity to broach a tender subject.

  "Mary," said he, and then most unaccountably paused.

  "Well," said she turning her glorious d
ark blue eyes full upon him.

  "I have something of moment to say to you, if you will listenattentively--and I know not a more fitting time and place than this totell it. Here is a natural bower surrounded by sweet berries, andshielded from the sun by the fragrant myrtle. Let us sit on this mossyrock. Will you listen?" he continued, drawing her close to his side onthe seat in the cool retreat.

  "Have I ever refused to listen to you? do I not love to hear yourvoice?" said the confiding and happy girl.

  "Bless you, Mary--my whole heart is yours!" exclaimed our hero,seizing a rapturous kiss from the coral lips of the maiden. Maryresisted not, nor replied; while tears, but not of grief, glistened onher dark lashes.

  "You will not reject my love, Mary? Why do you weep?"

  "It is with joy--my heart is so happy that tears gush out in spite ofme!"

  "Will you then be mine?" continued Glenn, winding his arm round heryielding waist.

  "Forever!" she replied, and, bowing her head slightly, a shower ofdark silken tresses obscured her blushing face, and covered our hero'spanting breast. Thus they remained many moments in silence, for theirfeelings were too blissful for utterance.

  "Are you always happy, Mary?" said Glenn, at length, taking her littlewhite hand in his.

  "No!" she replied, with a sigh.

  "Why?"

  "When you are away, I sometimes fear the Indians--or a snake--or--orsomething may harm you," said she, falteringly.

  "I thank thee, Mary, for thinking of me when I am away."

  "I always think of thee!" said she.

  "Always, Mary?"

  "Ay, by day--and thou art ever with me in my dreams."

  "And I _will_ be with thee always!"

  "Do!" said she.

  "But dost thou not sometimes repine that thy life is thus spent in thewilderness far from the busy world?"

  "I sometimes wish I could see the beautiful cities I read of--but whenI think of the treacheries and miseries of the world, I look at thepure fresh flowers, and list to the sweet birds around me, and then Ithink there is more happiness to be enjoyed here than anywhere else."

  "And such is truly the case," said Glenn, pondering "But then, Mary,we all have obligations to discharge. We were created for society--toassociate with our species, and while mingling with kindred beings, itis our duty to bestow as many benefits on them as may be within thescope of our power."

  "You think, then, we should leave our western home?" she asked, withundisguised interest.

  "Wilt thou not consent to go?"

  "If you go, I will go!" said she.

  "And now I declare I will not go unless thou art willing."

  "But is it a _duty_?" she asked.

  "Your fa--Mr. Roughgrove says so."

  "Then let us go! But why did you not say _father_?"

  "He is not your father."

  "No!" exclaimed the maid, turning pale.

  "I will tell thee all, Mary." And Glenn related the story of themaiden's birth. "Now, Mary," he continued, "thou knowest thine ownhistory. Thou art of a noble race, according to the rules of men--nay,thy blood is royal--if thou wouldst retract thy plighted faith (Ishould have told thee this before,) speak, and thy will shall bedone!"

  "Oh! Charles! I am thine, THINE ONLY, were I born an angel!" shecried, throwing herself into his arms. At this juncture a violentrustling was heard in the bushes not far distant, and the next momentJoe's voice rang out.

  "Oh me! Oh St. Peter! Oh murder! murder! murder!" cried he. Instantlyall the party were collected round him. He lay in a small open spaceon the grass, with his basket bottom upward at his side, and all theberries scattered on the ground.

  "What is the matter?" asked Glenn.

  "Oh, I'm snake-bitten! I'm a dead man! I'm dying!" cried he,piteously.

  "That's a fib," said Sneak, "bekaise a dead man can't be a dying."

  "Let me see," said William, stooping down to examine the place onwhich Joe's hands were convulsively pressed. With some difficulty hepulled them away, and tearing down the stocking, actually saw a smallbleeding puncture over the ankle bone!

  "What kind of a snake was it?" asked Glenn in alarm. "A rattlesnake--Oh!"

  "Did you _see_ it?" continued Glenn, knowing Joe's foible, though itwas apparent he suffered from some kind of a wound.

  "I heard it rattle. Oh, my goodness! I'm going fast! I'm turningblind!"

  La-u-na told him to run to the house and cover the wound with salt,and remain quiet till Sneak could obtain some plantain leaves from theprairie. Joe sprang up and rushed down the hill. Sneak set out inquest of the antidote, and the rest directed their steps homeward.

  When they reached Roughgrove's house, they found Joe lying in themiddle of the floor on his back, and groaning most dolefully. He hadapplied the salt to the wound as directed, and covered it and hiswhole leg so plentifully with bandages that the latter seemed to be asthick as his body.

  "How do you feel now, Joe?" asked Glenn.

  "I'm a dead man!" said he.

  La-u-na told him not to be alarmed, and assured him there was nodanger.

  "But I'll die before Sneak can get back!"

  "Your voice is too strong to fear that," said William; "but do yousuffer much pain?"

  "Oh, I'm in agony!" said he, rolling back his eyes.

  "Where does the pain lie?" asked Glenn.

  "Oh, St. Peter! all over me! In my toes, ankles, legs, arms, heart,throat, mouth, nose, and eyes! Oh, I'm in tortures! I'm blind--I can'tsee any of you!"

  At this moment Roughgrove, who had been over the river on a visit toBoone, entered the apartment with the renowned hunter at his side.When fully informed of the circumstances, Boone stooped down and feltJoe's pulse.

  "The strokes are irregular," said Boone.

  "Oh heaven!" exclaimed Joe.

  "But that may be caused by fright," continued Boone.

  "Oh goodness! it ain't that--I'm a dying man!"

  "Is the leg much swollen?" asked Boone, endeavouring to ascertainwithout taking off the bandages.

  "Oh! oh! don't do that! it'll kill me in a minute--for its swelled fitto burst!" cried Joe, shrinking from Boone's grasp.

  "All the cases of snake-bite that I have seen differ from this. I havealways found the swollen limb nearly devoid of feeling. Did you killthe snake?"

  "No--Oh!"

  "Tell me precisely the place where you were standing when it bityou--there is a mystery about it that I must solve."

  "Oh--it was--I can't speak! my breath's going fast! Oh! Paternoster--"

  William then described the spot to Boone in such precise terms thatthe old woodman declared he would immediately repair thither andendeavour to find the snake. He accordingly set out in the directionindicated without further delay; while Roughgrove, believing that poorJoe was really on the verge of eternity, strove to comfort hisdeparting spirit with the consolation that religion affords.

  "Oh! that ain't the right one!" exclaimed Joe, pushing away theEpiscopal prayer-book held by Roughgrove.

  "Then here is one you cannot object to," said Roughgrove, opening theBible.

  "Oh, that's not it, either!" cried Joe, in great distress. "Is thereno priest in this region? I'm a Roman Catholic--oh!"

  "Can you not confess your sins _directly_ to God--the God who iseverywhere, and governs all things?" said the aged man, impressively,and with animation.

  "I have prayed," said Joe; "but now I want the ointment!"

  "Your body, which must be placed in the damp cold earth, needs no oil.It is far better to purify the soul, which perishes not," saidRoughgrove, in fervent and tremulous tones.

  "Oh!--Oh! Ugh!" cried Joe, in a deep guttural voice, and turning overon his face. His fears had evidently been increased by the solemn toneand look of Roughgrove.

  "Don't be alarmed, Joe," said Glenn, turning him again on his back."Sneak will soon be here, and La-u-na says the plantain will be sureto cure you. William tells me that he has seen the Indians permit thesnakes to bite them for a mere tri
fle in money, so certain were theyof being restored by the plant. And indeed he never knew a bite toterminate fatally."

  "But I'm afraid Sneak won't come in time," replied Joe, somewhatcomforted.

  "Pshaw! he won't loiter in a case of this kind--he knows it is nojoke," continued Glenn.

  "But suppose he can't _find_ any plantain--then I'm dead to acertainty! Oh me!"

  "Does the pain increase much?" asked Mary.

  "Oh, yes! its ten times worse than it was ten minutes ago! I'm goingfast--I can't move either leg now," he continued, in a weak utterance.

  Glenn grew uneasy. Joe was pale--very pale, and breathed hard.

  Boone entered, with a smile on his lip.

  "Have you got the plantain?" asked Joe, in feeble accents, with hislanguid eyes nearly closed, thinking it was Sneak.

  "Sit up and tell me how you feel," said Boone, in vain striving torepress his smile.

  "Oh, St. Peter! I haven't strength enough to lift my hand," said Joe,his eyes still closed.

  "Did you find the snake?" asked Glenn.

  "Yes," replied Boone. Joe groaned audibly. "I will tell you all aboutit," he continued; "I found the spot where Joe had been gathering theberries, and tracked him without difficulty to every bush he visitedby the bruised grass under his foot-prints. At length I came to thecluster of bushes where he received the wound. I stood in his cracksand saw where he had plucked the raspberries. When about to cast downmy eyes in quest of the snake, suddenly I felt a blow on my ownankle!"

  "Did the same snake bite you?" asked Mary, quickly.

  "Yes," replied Boone, still smiling. Joe opened his eyes, and aftergazing a moment at Boone, asked him if he did not suffer much pain.

  "Fully as much as you do--but hear me through. I sprang back with someviolence, I admit, but I did not run away. Lifting my cane, I returnedwith a determination to kill the snake. I stooped down very low toascertain the precise position of its head, which was concealed by alarge mullen leaf--I saw its eyes and its _bill_--"

  "What!" exclaimed Joe, rising up on his elbow with unwonted vigour,and his eyes riveted on the speaker.

  "Yes, its _bill_", continued Boone. "And while my cane was brandishedin the air and about descending on its devoted head, a low cluckingarrested my arm, and approaching closer to it than before, and gazingsteadfastly a moment, I lowered my cane to its usual position, andfell back laughing on the grass among the raspberries you haddropped."

  "Mr. Boone--Mr. Boone!" cried Joe, springing up in a sitting attitude,and seizing the hand of the veteran, "for Heaven's sake tell me whatit was?"

  "It was an old SITTING HEN!" said Boone.

  "Upon your honour?" continued Joe, leaping upon his feet, and staringthe aged hunter in the face, while his eyes gleamed with irrepressiblehope and anxiety.

  "It was nothing else, upon my honour," replied Boone, laughing inconcert with the rest.

  "Huzza! huzza!! huzza!!!" shouted Joe, casting the bandages hither andthither, and dancing nimbly over the floor. "Fal-de-lal--tider-e-i--tider-e-o-- tider-e-um!" he continued, in frenzied delight, and,observing Sneak at the door with an armful of plantain (who hadreturned in time to witness his abrupt recovery, and now continued toregard him with wonder and doubt--at times thinking he was delirious,)skipped up and held out both hands, as if inviting him to dance.

  "Dod rot it, your leg ain't swelled a bit!" said Sneak.

  "Don't use that bad word, Sneak," said Mary.

  "I won't--but dod--he's had me running all over--"

  "Tider-e-i--tider-e-um!" continued Joe, still dancing, while theperspiration streamed over his face.

  "Have done with this nonsense, Joe!" said Glenn, "or else continueyour ridiculous exercises on the grass in the yard. You may rejoicenow, but this affair will be sport for others all your life. You willnot relish it so much to-morrow."

  "I'd rather all the world would laugh at me alive and kicking, thanthat one of you should mourn over my dead body," replied Joe, leapingover Sneak, who was sitting in the door, and striding to the grassplot under the elm, where he continued his rejoicings. Sneak followed,and, sitting down on the bench in the shade, seemed to muse withunusual gravity at the strange spectacle presented by Joe.

  This was Joe's last wild western adventure. The incident was soonforgotten by the party in the house. Serious and sad thoughtssucceeded the mirthful scene described above. Roughgrove had broughtBoone thither to receive their last farewell! The renowned woodman andwarrior wore marks of painful regret on his pale features. The restwere in tears.

  "William," said Roughgrove, "listen to a tale concerning thy birth andparentage, which I feel it to be my duty to unfold. Your sister hasalready learned the story from your friend, who sits beside her. But Iwill repeat it to all present. You who are the most interested canthen determine whether it shall ever be disclosed to other ears. Thesecret was long locked in my bosom, and it was once my purpose to buryit with my body in the grave. I pondered long on the subject, andprayed to Heaven to be instructed. I have satisfactory evidence in myown heart that I have acted correctly." He then related the history ofthe twins, as we have given it to the reader. When he concluded,La-u-na, who had betrayed much painful interest during the recital,threw her arms round William's neck, and wept upon his breast.

  "Why do you weep, La-u-na?" asked the youth.

  "La-u-na must die!" said she; "her William will leave her and forgether. The wild rose will bend over her grave--the brook will murmur lowat her cold feet--the rabbit will nip the tender grass by hertombstone at night-fall--the katydid will chirp over her, and thewhippor-will will sing in vain. William will forget her! PoorLa-u-na!"

  "No--La-u-na! no! Thou shalt go with me and be my bride, or else Iwill remain with thee! Death only shall separate us!" said the youth,drawing the slight form of the Indian maiden closer to his heart, andimprinting a rapturous kiss on her smooth forehead.

  "We will all go together," continued Roughgrove, "save our belovedfriend here, who tells me that no earthly consideration could inducehim to dwell in cities among civilized men."

  "True," said Boone; "I would not exchange my residence in the westernwilds for the gorgeous palaces of the east. Yet I think you do rightin returning to the society which you were destined to adorn. I shallgrieve when I miss you, but I will not persuade you to remain. Everyone should act according to the dictates of his conscience. It is mybelief that Providence guides our actions. You, my friends, werefitted and designed to move in refined society, and by your exampleand influence to benefit the world around you. The benefits bestowedby _me_ will not be immediate, nor altogether in my day. I am aPIONEER, formed by nature. Where I struggle with the savage and thewild beast, my great grandchildren will reside in cities, I mustfulfil my mission."

  At this moment Joe and Sneak appeared at the door.

  "There's a covered flat-boat just landed down at the ferry," said Joe.

  "It is from the island above," said Roughgrove, "and the one I havehad constructed for our voyage down the river."

  "Are we going, sure enough?" asked Joe.

  "Yes; to-morrow," said Glenn.

  "Dod--are you _all_ going off?" asked Sneak, rolling round his largeeyes, and stretching out his neck to an unusual length.

  "All but me, Sneak," said Boone.

  "And you won't be any company for me. Dod--I've a notion to go too! IfI could foller any thing to make a living in Fillydelfa--"

  "If you go with us, you shall never want--I will see that you areprovided for," said Glenn.

  "It's a bargain!" said Sneak, with the eager emphasis characteristicof the trading Yankee.

  "But poor Pete--the horses!" said Joe.

  "There are stalls in the boat for them," said Roughgrove.

  "Huzza! I'm glad. Huzza!" cried Joe.

  * * * * *

  The next morning beamed upon them in beauty--and in sadness. The sunrose in majesty, and poured his brilliant and inspiring rays on peakand valley and plain. But the hearts
of the peaceful wanderersthrobbed in sorrow as they gazed for the last time on the scene beforethem. Though it had been identified with the many perilous and painfulencounters with savages, yet the quivering green leaves above, thesparkling brook below, and the soft melody of happy birds around, wereintimately associated with some of the most blissful moments of theirlives.

  La-u-na retired to a lonely spot, and poured forth a farewell song tothe whispering spirits of her fathers. Long her steadfast gaze wasfixed on the blue sky, as if communing with the departed kings fromwhom she descended. At length her tears vanished like a shower in thesunshine, and a bright smile rested upon her features, as if herprayer had been heard and all she asked were granted! Propheticvision! While the race from which she separated is doomed toextinction in the forest, the blood she mingled with the Anglo-Saxonrace may yet be destined to sway the councils of a mighty empire.

  William mused in silence, guarding at a distance the bride of hisheart, and not venturing to intrude upon her devotions. The past waslike a dream to him--the present a bright vision--the future aparadise!

  Glenn and Mary were seated together, regarding with impatience thebrief preparations to embark. Boone, Roughgrove, Sneak, and Joe werebusily engaged lading the vessel. Sneak had hastily brought thitherhis effects, and without a throe of regret abandoned his _house_ forever to the owls. Joe succeeded with but little difficulty in gettingthe horses on board. The fawn, the kitten, the hounds, and thechickens were likewise taken along.

  And now all was ready to push out into the current. All were on board.Boone bid them an affectionate adieu in silence--in silence, but intears. The cable was loosened, and the boat was wafted down on itsjourney eastward. William and La-u-na sat upon the deck, and gazed atthe receding shore, rendered dear by hallowed recollections. Glenn andMary stood at the prow, and as they marked the fleeting waters, theirthoughts dwelt on the happy future. Roughgrove was praying. Joe wascaressing the pony. Sneak was counting his muskrat skins. And thus wemust bid them adieu.

  THE END.